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#max lord x you
absurdthirst · 6 months
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Kinktober 2023: October 8th
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Day 8: Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die, Chastity, Sexual Competition
Max Lord x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Magic stones, ancient inscriptions, DUB-CON, compulsion to have sex, wordless consent, public sex, frantic sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of biting
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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The TV guy has been hanging around for the last few days. Causing a disruption in the everyday workload as the director had pushed for a personalized tour to the CEO of Black Gold since he was promising a sizable donation to the foundation. If there was one thing that could turn your normally stalwart director into a groveling slut, it was the promise of funds. 
You hear a booming laugh and roll your eyes. Unsure of what the joke was down the hall, but you know it was Barbara that was giving him the tour so it couldn’t be that funny. Nothing against her, but she wasn’t the joking type. You look back down at your large magnifying glass, looking through it at the inscription etched into the stone that has been a source of intrigue to you over the past few days since it had arrived. 
When your name is called, you try not to get annoyed, knowing that your boss would want you to place nice. Looking up and plastering a smile on your face as you watch Barbara and the TV guy, you forget his name, walk in. 
Well, she walks. He seemingly saunters in like he owns the place. Perhaps he thinks that because he’s going to write a check, he is an owner. 
His eyes are quick, clever. Far more clever that you would imagine seeing those cheesy commercials he always has played on the tv during Jeopardy. The smile you could do without. It’s screaming slightly sleazy, put on and false in order to get what he wants. The only question is, what does Max Lord want?
Introductions are made, Barabara bouncing almost nervously as you shake the salesman’s hand. Pulling your hand away quickly and turning towards her so she can tell you what she wants. She never approaches you unless she needs something. You aren’t one of the posh, beautiful scientists she wants so desperately to be close to. 
“Can I ask a favor?” She asks, clapping her hands together and giving you a pleading look. “I have a meeting that I can’t reschedule.” Her eyes flicker over to the suit and then back to you. “Could you please finish up the tour for Mr. Lord?” “Please….” He winces. “Call me Maxwell.” He offers with a sugar sweet smile that he seems to think to be a gift. He’s not bad looking, but he would look better if he took the Sun-in out of his hair and lost the boxy shoulder pads. You were one of the few that hated the way fashion has gone. 
“I have a lot to do here.” You protest but Barbara gives you an even more pleading expression. “But…..I can finish it up.” She nearly claps in relief. “After I finish up my work.” You warn seriously. 
“Yeah….sure….” She’s bobbing her head quickly and looking over Maxwell. “That’s great. Well, I know you’ll have a great time, so I’ll just run along.” 
You ignore the flirting and flustering as Maxwell makes a slight scene at Barbara leaving, kissing her hand and making her giggle like she’s five again. Soon enough, there’s blissful silence back in your lab so you can concentrate. 
“So what are you studying?” The question comes after two blissful minutes of silence. Two minutes that you had obviously hoped would be longer. Your eyes cut up from your magnifying glass to find Maxwell looking at the stone curiously. 
“A rock.” You glibly answer, keeping your tone just as dry as you possibly can. Barely resisting the urge to smirk when his grin slides off his unfairly handsome face. 
Maybe you feel a little guilty, but it’s not enough to make you apologize as you look back down at the inscription with a frown. While your Latin was rusty, you swear this is talking about fertility. Just as you tilt the glass down more, a finger appears in front of your magnifying glass, making it look even larger than normal, showing you the grooves in his skin. “What’s-”
“No!” You cry out, knowing that the stone cannot be touched without gloves. The instructions had been very clear in the crate that the stone was packed in. “Don’t touch it!” 
Your fingers collide, both of you touching the vivid jade stone at the same time. The piece seemingly glows at the contact and both of you gasp as you snatch your hands away, knocking over the magnifying glass. 
The next few moments are nothing short of a blur of pain and confusion. Nearly blacking out until a pair of lips smash against yours in the most inelegant, needy kiss of your life. 
“Ohhhh!” Your eyes fly open, finding Maxwell’s face right in yours and his mouth opens, groaning. 
“I can’t- I need-” He doesn’t stop kissing you, his words are just cut off by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Your tongue. The feeling of him pressing against you awakening something base inside you. 
You don’t know why, but you need him. The word fertility flashing in your mind and you push it away because of the burning of your skin and the throbbing of your cunt. 
He apparently feels the same way. Something hard and pulsing starts to push against your hip as he backs you up against the table you had been working at. Nothing but fervent kisses being exchanged, and his hands start to pull at your clothes. 
You never even think to push him away. It doesn’t even cross your mind. Too busy grabbing handfuls of him and ripping open the obvious faux Gucci belt so you can rip those ridiculously baggy pants off of him. 
His hands are bigger, harder than you ever would have imagined when watching those commercials of his. Wonderful on your skin as he slides them up  your thighs under your skirt. Hot as find the edge of your panties and hooking under them to start dragging them down. 
It’s not like you’ve talked about this, but neither one of you cares. Both of you groaning when your own hand dives into his briefs and wraps around an impressive cock. He hides it well under those bulky suits. 
Both of you need each other in a way that can’t even be described. The pain flaring in your stomach drives you, squeezing and pumping his cock, pulling back the foreskin and smearing the bead of precum around the head while he pants into your mouth. 
Your name, not even spoken by him before, sounds like ambrosia as it drips from his tongue. His own fingers sliding through your folds before he is pushing you up onto the table and spreading your legs to step between. 
Your cry would draw any number of personnel if there had been anyone. It had already been late in the day, and then the meeting had drawn everyone else away, leaving your floor empty with the exception of you and Maxwell. “Max!” Your eyes widen when he pushes inside you, filling you to the hilt with a needy, frantic thrust. 
He groans again, twitching violently inside you and gripping the edge of the table behind you. Pulling his hips back and shuddering when he thrusts forward again and moans at how tight you are. 
Rocking the table with how hard he’s fucking you, you can’t do anyting but hold on and whine for him. Every piercing thrust of his cock pushing the pain away and making your cunt feel amazing. Hitting all the best spots, deep inside you and scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. 
Kisses are littered on your skin, his teeth being used far more that you ever thought possible as a man fucks into you as frantically as Maxwell does. Chasing that same goal with the urgency that is burning underneath your own skin. Both of you pulling and grabbing at each other, clothes bunched between you as you grind your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. 
“I didn’t- fuck, it’s so good.” Maxwell rambles. “You’re so good. I can’t - it’s so- fuck.” 
You can only moan in agreement, not even coherent enough to speak right now. Your entire focus on the connection of his cock in your pussy. 
Your body is so sensitive that you are shocked by how quickly you cum. Taking you by surprise as your head falls back and your hands hold onto his broad shoulders. Cunt clenching down around him and the heat of your orgasm rushing through your body and seemingly quenching that fire that had been burning since you touched the stone only minutes before. 
“Oh fuck, oh mierda.” He groans, clenching his teeth and shouting when he thrusts once more, pulsing heavily inside you as he paints your womb with his seed in hot spurts. Panting and whining as he rocks his hips to push every drop into your quivering cunt until he’s spent and collapsing against you and both of you drop to the table top. 
Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath as you roll your head to the side and feel Max nuzzle against your neck, his own breath still undstead. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the stone. “What the fuck was that?” You ask, bewildered and almost giggly as you look at the fertility stone that had compelled both of you to fuck like wild animals in your lab. 
“I don’t know.” He pants. “But I might need a minute if we do it again.” 
Breaking into a giggle, your hand slides up to pet the hair that you had been snorting at earlier. Maybe Max Lord wasn’t soooo bad. “Hell of a tour, huh?” 
“Fuck.” He chuckles, still not moving on top of you and snuggling into you even more when your fingers scratch his scalp. “The best.” 
158 notes · View notes
whiskeynwriting · 1 year
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Greed
Sugar Daddy!Maxwell Lord x Female Reader
Word Count: 8.1k
Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) 
Alcohol consumption, dirty talk, praise kink, body piercings, mentions of hair, body worship, dry humping, choking, use of sex toys, vaginal fingering, anal play, daddy kink, collaring (kinda?), vaginal sex, rough-ish sex, exhibitionism, Max is a switch (this is canon it’s just fact)
A/N: We have some Spanish in here but as always the translations will be right beside the sentences where it’s used. Maybe I am attracted to Maxwell’s accent. 
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Living for him, breathing for him, was unlike anything else. Devoted entirely to the man before you, he held your heart in the palm of his broad and dominant hand. There wasn’t anything else that held your focus more than him. To Max, you existed for him, for his own benefit; you were placed on this Earth for him and him alone. You’re here to love and be loved, to worship and be worshiped, to propel him into the greatness he’s sure to receive. And he’s already received so much. 
Maxwell was a strong man when you met him, that trait only continuing to grow with the more he conquered in life. And he knew how to conquer.
Throughout your life together, you watched him become the man he is today. You’ve seen his business grow, his mindset change, his goals and ambitions become… more. Maxwell is rarely a satisfied man. He has a rather voracious appetite for the finer things in life. But his most recent endeavors were tearing him apart, ripping open his insides and making blood run into his eyes. 
“Have I asked you?” He inquired, dilated and bloodshot orbs staring up into your own. “Have I asked you for your wish?”
He held you close, resting on his knees before you. Both arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, his hands passionately rubbing your soft skin. Little whimpers slipped from his mouth as you looked down at him, fingers combing through his golden hair. A small smile creeping on your lips, your heart beating profoundly in your chest as you stood before him. You knew what you were going to wish for. 
“I wish…” You’d cooed to him, smiling warmly while holding either side of his head. And he stared up into your eyes with a wild desperation, wondering if your wish would benefit him. “For you to be the wealthiest man on earth.” 
So much changed after that day, after that sentence, really. You were gifted with riches that had you absolutely enamored, Max’s desire for wealth finally being fulfilled. And his desire for you grew fantastically, too. 
“Mi princesa,” He’d moaned delicately into your ear; he couldn’t help but take you after fulfilling your wish. You’d just made all his dreams come true. (My princess) 
“It’s about time I spoil you, huh?” Max grinned beside your ear, biting the cuff of it shortly after. “Give you everything you want, everything you could ever need.”
“I need you,” Came your immediate, breathy return. “I only need you to be with me.” 
This made him so incredibly happy, hearing you voice your desire to be with him, beneath him. It’s what you were made for. 
The man kneeling before you now isn’t dissimilar to the one who had asked for your wish. He’s still bleeding in his heart, his insides twisting and turning under the incredible weight. At first, when he gained these powers, it was a fantastical revelation, and to the both of you. You saw him gain the Dreamstone, even supported him to go through with doing it. But in turn, you also saw it tear him apart. 
“Max…”
“Sh…” His hands are running over your body, thick fingertips touching you softly. “You look so heavenly like this…” 
In the present moment, he’s dressing you, covering your body with golden chains and various jewels. Your naked body holds them beautifully, each piece adorning your limbs and slinking down your graceful dips and curves. And you’re at home, relaxing in the house you both share, the place that offers you the most peace. 
Leaning back, he rests on his heels, still wearing his business suit. He sighs, captivated by your body. Lifting a hand, he places it on your sternum, smoothing it down your stomach. His palm grazes the body jewelry slung over your breasts and draped across your hips, and it makes him moan. 
“Hay tantas cosas que quiero hacerte.” He’s whispering, his darkening eyes fixated on you. (There are so many things I want to do to you)
Reaching down, your hands lift his jaw, tilting his head upwards so he can face you. “You can do it, Maxwell.” You sing softly, smirking at him. “You can do anything you want to me.” 
He huffs out a low moan, lowering his head and gazing up at you from beneath his brow. Sloppily, he mouths at you, placing his lips first on your stomach. Once they make contact with you his eyes close, sighing at the sensation of your warm skin. His tongue follows the lines of the gold chains on your body, licking you and the jewelry covering your limbs. And when he moans, his breaths warm you, his plush lips continuing to kiss you. 
“Hm…” It’s a pleasant hum, releasing when he sucks a mark onto you. Your fingers comb through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. 
He’s obsessing over you, pressing his fingers into the sweet flesh of your grabbable thighs, massaging you in his strong hands. It’s an incredibly erotic sight to you see you like this, to see you dressed in his wealth. And leaning up, he continues, licking a stripe up the valley between your breasts before moving to the side and grabbing your arms. 
You can’t lie, whenever he did things like this, it made you feel like an absolute goddess. Max truly got off on the wealth you’ve given him, and seeing it covering your body was like his biggest fantasy come to life. He can’t help himself, can’t stop as his lips find your hands, kissing the rings adorning multiple large gems atop them. He licks over them, kissing the top of your hand and dragging his lips up to your shoulder. This is done on both of your arms, Maxwell’s incredible groan vibrating through you when he reaches your breasts. 
“That’s so good…” You sigh airily, your eyes not once leaving him. 
It’s like he’s shattered, broken inside. Not emotionally of course, he was thriving in that arena. But this stone… the things it did to him were ungodly. But he didn’t care; he was never really interested in religion. Maxwell does not need god, he was his own god. 
Lifting himself so he’s fully resting on his knees, he brings his hands up, pawing at your breasts while he rubs his face over them. He’d bought you many things during your time together, one of them being diamond-studded nipple piercings. They were by far his favorite things to play with. 
“Max,” Comes your forceful gasp, feeling his tongue flick quickly over one of them. 
Your reaction makes him snarl, pushing forward to wrap his lips around your pierced and pebbled peak. He suckles on you, swirling his tongue around the expensive metal. Loosely, he sucks your nipple into his mouth, letting it fall shortly thereafter and watching your plump flesh jiggle from his force. He’d bought you these pieces specifically so he can play with them with his tongue. 
Max’s own hands are covered in jewelry, too, rings and chained bracelets, a watch as well. The cold metals run across your body, brushing your smooth skin. They chill your back muscles when Maxwell reaches out, fully enwrapping you in his hold. 
“Oh… hermosa.” He moans beneath you, rubbing his cheek ever so gently across your stomach. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?” (Beautiful)
“I do,” You respond cockily, smiling. “I can feel you.” 
And it’s true. He’s been scooching closer to you, rubbing himself against your leg while his hands and mouth worship you. When you say this he grins, groaning against you. And now that you've acknowledged his movements, he shifts closer to you, grinding himself against your leg even more. 
Again, he flicks his tongue over your nipples, switching back and forth while he whimpers, his full erection pulsing in his slacks. He’s been considering getting you another piercing, one he can play with while eating you out. Speaking of…
“Will you taste me?”
“Hm?”
“I want your tongue on me.”
“¿Quieres más?” He teases, grinning while glancing up at you. (You want more?)
“Sí. Por favor, cariño.” (Yes. Please, baby)
“Oh, princesa…” Comes his euphoric moan, lowering himself to rest on his ankles once again. “Such good asking.” (Princess)
Leaning in, he kisses your smooth mound, inhaling calmly, pleasurably. “I will take care of you.”
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One thing Maxwell seemed to adore was the sea. Once he was wealthy enough, he’d recruited a crew to board his newly built yacht, entirely furnished with his own designs in mind. He asked for your opinions too, of course, as this was to be your home away from home, as well. But you didn’t mind much, didn’t have too many preferences for this sort of thing. All you wanted was to sit back and watch Max enjoy himself. 
“Come,” He grins, grabbing your hand. “Let me show you.” 
It was finished, and tonight would be your very first night seeing it. Maxwell was over the moon to hear the news, immediately ordering his staff to board and prepare for a small trip out to sea. It wouldn’t be long, a couple days at most. You wonder if he’ll choose to ravish you differently here. 
He’d dressed you fabulously for the event, gifting you with a short dress made of rich velvet, colored in a deep maroon. There was a slit up the side, with a plummeting neckline. You’re wearing black, strappy heels, ones that make you look taller than you actually are. Max loved to see you take them off, to see how much shorter you are than him. Held up by two thin straps, it was the perfect outfit for the warm weather. And what made it even more perfect was the jewelry that you wore. He put it on for you, of course, your rings and bracelets, your earrings and anklet. There was one piece, however, that he only had the opportunity to put on once. A choker he’d gifted you with. Gold in style it held a small “M”, the initial sitting beside a gemstone, your birthstone. 
Walking onto the fancier ship you immediately saw its many tiers. There are four levels, each one with a specific purpose. The very top for the captain, of course; and while Max had his license to operate such a fine piece of sea equipment, he wanted to spend his first night aboard with you. He could sail the yacht himself another time. 
The rest of the levels were for the two of you, areas where you could entertain if you so wished. The third level, just below the captain’s quarters, held the master bed and bath. It has retractable walls, allowing you to open and close them as you please. On the second deck is a main dining table, along with a few smaller hightops. This is also where the kitchen has been placed. And lastly, the bottom deck is where the jacuzzi is, along with two small couches and a few deck chairs. 
“Isn’t it brilliant?” He’s beaming, holding your hand the entire way. 
Smiling, you look around, each step forward revealing something new. There are large stones from your personal collection, things you brought home from your worldly travels. Maxwell liked to collect maps and artifacts, many of which are framed and displayed through your new vacation home, too.
“You did all of this?” He just looks at you, nodding while smiling wildly. “I’m… so impressed.”
“It’s wonderful.” Maxwell breathes out a sigh. “Are you hungry?”
“Why? Do you have something planned?” Alongside your question is a grin. 
Your partner mirrors your smile, lifting your hand to kiss the back of it. “Sígueme.” (Follow me)
While walking up the first flight of stairs, you begin to smell the dinner he’s ordered, the aroma of cooked seafood filling the air. And when you reach the second level, you’re greeted with a wonderful sight. The entire table is set, entrée dishes ready to be filled. On one of the hightops sits a champagne tower, your mouth watering when you think about the taste. The food, however, hasn’t been plated. Not yet. 
Without realizing it, your feet carry you forward, looking in awe at the space before you. What brings you back to reality is the warm sensation of Max’s broad hands, his palms landing on your shoulders and sliding down to your biceps. He inhales deeply, smiling, tilting his head downward to place his cheek beside your own. 
“Are you content with it?” Maxwell craved your attention and approval, even before you gave him the world. Tilting his head downward, he kisses your shoulder lovingly. 
Turning in his hold, you smile, reaching up to hold either of his cheeks. “Me encanta.” (I love it)
“I’m so glad.” Comes his quiet, cooed response. He smirks, appearing cocky. “We can enjoy dinner together once it is done.”
This confuses you. Furrowing your brows, you ask, “How much longer until everything is done?”
Max offers a thoughtful pout, shrugging. “An hour.”
“Oh…” Thinking to yourself, you analyze your lover’s facial features. What’s going on in his head right now? “What will we do until then?”
“I think I have an idea.” 
Maxwell leads you up to the yacht’s third deck, your bedroom. The entire space is lavish, clean lines and monochromatic colors. It’s refreshing to be surrounded by such luxury, the bright blue sea glimmering on the horizon. 
But this is only what you absorb at first glance. Because of Max’s swift movements, you’re not able to take in much else. As soon as he walked in behind you, he was shutting the door, quickly shoving the wood with his palm. He spins you around, sighing as he meets you with a kiss. You gasp into it, closing your eyes as he lures you in this way. His large hands curl around to hold your back, both of your own sliding up to his clean-shaven face. Smiling against his fervent lips, you allow him to guide you backward, your thighs eventually hitting the end of your soon to be shared bed. 
“I have a surprise for you.” He mutters against your lips, his breaths becoming heavy. 
“More?” You giggle in response, sitting down on the bed and pouting when he pulls away. But he doesn’t get far before he’s leaning back down, harshly cupping your jaw and hissing more, before delivering a harsh and sloppy kiss. 
It leaves you breathless, your wide and innocent eyes watching as he moves across the room. Pulling open a drawer in the dresser, he retrieves a small, wooden case. He brings it over to you, setting it down on the bed. He then sits on the edge, fingers running across the long, thin case. 
And suddenly, with a sharp and desperate breath, he looks up at you. “I want you to open it.”
His eyes are dark, irises wide. There’s an intense sensation of passion clouding his vision, his tongue sliding out to lick his lower lip before you do as he says. There’s a clip at the front, which you snap open, now able to lift the top of it. And what’s revealed to you… it’s not anything you would have expected. 
All at once, Maxwell’s palm is on your cheek, holding you tightly. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours while he heaves out his breaths. Whispering, he says, “I want to hear how you sound with each one inside you.”
Releasing a small moan, your bottom lip falls from its upper counterpart, your eyes fixated on the toys sat in front of you. There are four of them, the smallest of them being the one on the far left, the largest on the right. 
“When did you get these?” You ask airily, feeling Max’s lips fall to your neck. 
“Does it matter?” He’s leaning on one hand, the other lifting to the side of your neck. 
You can’t help but allow your head to fall to the side, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his lips and tongue. Inside, you’re stirring, your emotions running high but in the best of ways. You and Max have done anal play, but never like this. A finger or his tongue, sliding his cock into it more times than you could count. He really enjoyed that. Plugs though… this is different. 
“Will you let me put them inside you?” He groans against your neck, moving up to nip at your jaw. 
Crawling forward over the bed, he leaves the case of toys near the end while slowly pushing you onto your back. And when you are, he kisses you, urging your legs to lift to either side of him. 
“Princesa,” His sigh is rough and low, a smirk creeping across his face. “¿Lo quieres?” (Princess, do you want it?)
A small breath slips from your lips, feeling his own pepper your face in fervent kisses. “Yes.”
And just like that he’s removing your clothes, shoving the straps of your dress down your shoulders and yanking it off your body. Immediately, his hands cup your breasts, releasing a feral groan when he sees your nipple piercings once again. His right hand comes down while his mouth makes quick work of sucking on you, his fingers rubbing over your barely covered sex. 
“Max,”
You’re nearly naked beneath him while he’s still entirely dressed, wearing his business suit with his hair styled so neatly, his jawline shaven so smoothly. The way he takes care of himself, the way he carries himself, makes you so incredibly hot for him. His confidence was there before the Dreamstone came into his possession, and it certainly flourished once the mystifying gem consumed him. 
Slipping your panties to the side, he slides a finger into your warmth. His tongue explores you while he does it, running over the curves of your chest before flicking it across the diamonds sitting at the very peak of your breasts. 
“Baby,” Your fingers slide into his hair, back arching into his touch when the pace of his single finger becomes languid and smooth. 
“I want to use the smallest first,” He tells you, choking out a gasp when your heated walls squeeze around him. He curls his finger in response, smiling to himself at the sound of your tiny whine. “I want to see how you sound with each one inside…” 
Inhaling deeply, he leans up, removing his finger and reaching back for the case. He slides it up near your head, allowing you to look over and see them. He picks up the smallest toy, the one with a pure diamond on the end. And before lowering it, he lays out his tongue, dragging the tip of the toy across it. 
“Max…” 
His body dives down, covering your own again. Distracting you expertly is the plushness of his lips, the talent of his mouth. He drags the plug down your stomach, over your mound, sliding it briefly between your lips. It’s cold, and it makes you gasp.
“Are you ready for this one, hm?” His eyes are closed, and he’s rubbing his forehead over your own. 
“Yes, baby.” You’re nodding, reaching for either side of his face. Fingers curling around to the back of his neck, you inhale a sharp breath, feeling the coolness of the object apply pressure between your cheeks. 
Widening your legs for him, your jaw drops open, feeling the smooth and easy slide of it as it enters your tighter hole. To your surprise, you open up without hesitation, accepting it effortlessly. 
“Oh…” Max seems surprised, too. “Have I truly played with you to such extent?”
“Mhm,” You grin in return, fingers petting at the hair at the nape of his neck. They comb through his golden locks, lifting your chin to kiss his cheek as you hum. 
He smirks, turning to kiss your lips while giving the toy a small wiggle, feeling your hips sway as they chase the feeling. 
“Perhaps we should try another… you took this one far too easily.”
“¿Te gusta verme luchar?” (You like to see me struggle?)
“Me encanta.” He repeats your words from earlier, wiggling the plug again before removing it from you. (I love it) 
And it’s true, Max really loved to see your body accommodate whatever he gave to you. Putting the first toy back, he picks up the second, this gem a bright and dazzling blue. 
“What is it?” You question quietly, mesmerized by the color. 
“Sapphire.” He responds easily. “Open.” 
Without even thinking about it, you do, opening your mouth so he can insert this new toy. He twists it, rubbing it against your tongue until he’s satisfied. Taking it out, he dives down before you can close your mouth, dragging his tongue over your own. 
He then nods to you once, his bloodshot eyes looking deeply into your own. “Roll over,” Comes his breathy demand. “Lay over the side of the bed.” 
Shuffling to the left, you do as he says, all while plastering a huge grin across your face. You never knew what position Max would take when in bed with you, and honestly, you liked either outcome. It’s clear he wants to be dominant today. 
Landing on his knees behind you, he sighs, instantly spreading you open from behind. 
“How beautiful…” Reaching out, he drags his pointer finger down over your crease, eyes flickering to the side as he grabs the toy. “Take a deep breath for me.” 
Inhaling slowly, deeply, you feel that similar pressure once more, wiggling back into his touch. It’s an incredibly erotic sensation, to have Maxwell spread you open from behind, doing whatever he wishes. 
At first, this one is a bit more difficult to take. He applies pressure in tiny pulsing motions, leaning forward to kiss your left cheek. 
“Take it,” He whispers, “Take it for me…”
Opening up a bit, you allow the toy to slide in. And with the view he has now, he groans, eyes briefly rolling back into his head. The gem is perfectly nestled between your cheeks, sitting snugly inside you and even more so when he pulls your beautiful curves further apart. Leaning in, he kisses the blue jewel, licking lightly around it. 
“Max…”
“You did so good with this one.” His praise was always a reassuring thing to you. “You are an incredible thing.”
The way you sound makes him moan, makes him feel feral inside. It’s a wanton and drawn-out sound, a small, girlish gasp toward the end of it. But he wants more than that, he wants more than a simple sound. 
“Again.” 
This word surprises you. You’d assumed he’d keep this one in a little longer than the last, but he’s moving on. 
“Ugh,” Comes your choked-out groan, feeling him rip the toy from your hole.
“Too rough?” He asks with a sinister grin, leaning in to kiss your plump curves. He expects an answer but you just whimper in response. “Here,” He then says, his attractive accent and low baritone making your arousal burn bright. “Let me kiss it better.”
“Maxwell,” The word comes out as a high whine crawling up from your throat, the noise piercing the air when you feel him kiss you on the very center of your crease.
“That’s it…” He coos to you, “Say it again, preciosa. Say my name again.” (Precious)
“Maxwell…” By now he’s switched from gentle kisses to kitten licks, closing his eyes while he moans. He does this for his own enjoyment, but to also prepare you for the next gem. You’re only halfway through, after all. 
“An emerald is next,” His humid breath warms your skin. “Bigger than the last.” 
“I’m ready.” It’s a choked-out gasp, one followed by a thick swallow. “I want more.”
“Hm…” Maxwell hums, smiling. “Voracious little thing.” And then he bites you, sucking on your sweet flesh and digging his teeth in. He listens to you moan, satisfied with himself when he pulls back to see the blossoming bruise. 
“You’re satisfying me, sweet thing.” He purrs happily, smoothing his hand over your backside while reaching for the third toy. 
You’re shocked by the sound of him spitting on you, dragging the dark green jewel down between your cheeks. Without even looking at it, you can feel how much bigger it is than the last one. And to think, you still have another after this. 
Breathing deeply, you whine, “Maxwell…”
“Sh…” Another smooth swipe of his hand over your backside, his voice and touch calming you. 
Using the tip of the toy to rub in his spit, it makes him grin, chuckling behind you. His free hand grips your hip when he starts to push it into you, watching as you toss your head back.
“Mm,” 
“There it is,” He immediately says. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“Oh,” Moaning loudly, your eyes pinch shut, taking more and more of the plug. 
This is what he’s craved, your sweet symphony. While twisting the toy and pulsing it against your taut hole, he listens to your erotic melody, as if you were a siren calling him out to sea. 
“Dime,” Comes his gritty voice. “¿Cómo se siente?” (Tell me, how does it feel?)
Reaching around with his left hand, he finds your naked sex, rubbing slow and firm circles over it. And it makes you moan again, thrusting your hips back against him.
“Yes…” He releases a breath of amazement, laughing happily. “Answer me, sweet thing. Tell me how it feels, how much you crave it.”
“I l-love it,” You’re clutching the bedsheets, pressing your forehead into the mattress and gasping. “I love what you do to me.”
With a small, wet suck, the toy enters you fully, making him groan. “Just look at that.”
He hasn’t stopped rubbing you, the pleasurable tingle making it much easier for you to continue. Breathing deeply, you release a small mewl, feeling his finger once again enter you. 
“Stuffed so full…” He’s talking to himself, muttering beneath his breath. 
In and out, he pushes his finger, watching your wetness drip out around him. Your plugged hole pulses around the toy, and Max watches intently. 
“I want you to take this last one,” He then commands, his breaths picking up. “We don’t have much more time.”
Has an hour truly gone by already?
“I want you to take it for me before going to dinner; I want to see you do it, bonita niña. I need it, I need it now.” (Pretty girl)
When he takes the third one out of you, you’re fluttering and moaning all over again. Before he even reaches out to retrieve the last toy, he bends forward, mouthing at your aching hole. 
“Max,” Eyes shutting gracefully, you smile against the bedsheets, embracing the feeling. You’ve always loved his tongue. “Eso es muy bueno…” (That’s so good…)
 But he isn’t even listening to you, he’s too enamored with the task of fulfilling his own needs. He runs the tip of his tongue around your hole over and over again before laying it out over your taut muscles entirely. 
“Breathe for me.” He tells you calmly, deeply, pressing a hand to your lower back when he reaches over to grab the last toy. 
“This one,” He breathes out, settling back on his knees. “Will go so nicely with that pretty dress.”
“Let me see.” You smile, pushing yourself up onto your forearms. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of his handsome grin. Lifting a hand he grabs your chin, forcing your lips onto his before whispering, “You’re doing so good for me.” 
He then shows you the jewel, this one with a deep red tint. 
“Is that…”
“A ruby.” He finishes for you, turning the larger plug slowly in his hand. “So rare.” And then those menacing orbs find your eyes. “I want it inside you.”
Instantly, your eyes widen, his heavy breaths and deep voice truly mesmerizing you. As he leans in, you can practically hear his heart pounding, can see the veins in his neck as he sucks in a harsh breath. 
“Princesa,” He coos to you, lifting a hand to brush over the side of your face. “¿Lo usarás para mí?” (Princess, will you wear it for me?)
“Yes, baby.” A bright smile grows on your face. “I wanna see how it feels.”
Maxwell grins, leaning over your body. He presses his front to your back, kissing his way down your spine before landing on your hips and sliding down to your ass. Spreading you open once again, he licks you gently, making sure you’re ready. 
“Baby, please.” The anticipation is making you fidgety, needy. 
With a satisfied hum, he places the toy on your sensitive skin, sliding it forward with gentle force. The sting of this one is entirely dissimilar to that of the others, as it’s nearly the same size as him. With a deep breath, you close your eyes, moaning gently when it’s halfway in. Turning it slightly, Maxwell spits on you again, grabbing your left thigh and groaning while he presses his nose into your plump flesh. 
“Baby.”
“Do you like it?” Comes his immediate return, massaging your thigh in his hand. “Do you like how it feels?” 
His passion overcomes him, his fingers pushing the plug the rest of the way in. You squeal loudly, whining out for him. And he sighs when you do this, incredibly satisfied. 
“Oh… I knew you’d sound the prettiest with this one in.” 
“Max, baby.” Chest heaving, you swallow heavily. “Fuck…”
“Hm…” Lifting his body, he leans over you again, lacing your skin with tender kisses. “You did good for me, honey.”
Alongside a sudden knock on the outer door is a voice calling out to him. “Mr. Lord?”
You jump slightly, wondering if she’s going to come in. But Max just smiles, raising his voice to shout back, “Not now, Raquel.” 
“Mr. Lord, dinner is ready.” She continues, her voice filled with anxiety. She always tries to keep him on a strict schedule. 
“We’ll be there shortly.” With that, she leaves, allowing you a moment of relief. 
He then nudges your jaw with his nose, happy when you turn your head to kiss him. And while he distracts you with his lips, he pulls the plug out, groaning when he feels you gasp into his mouth.
“Ugh,” Releasing a heavy grunt, you close your eyes, feeling him press his lips to your cheek once the toy is entirely out. 
“Come.” He tells you, giving your shoulder a loving kiss. 
With that he removes himself from you, dropping the toy into the box alongside the others. Standing, he adjusts his business suit, looking down to smooth out the fabric of his jacket. 
You’re still panting, now rolling over onto your back. Sitting up, you sigh lightly, looking him up and down. He always looked so good like this, slightly disheveled while wearing his business suit. His hair is a mess, but he brushes it back, smirking when he looks down at you. 
“You’re an enticing little thing…” Bending down, he urges you onto your back again. “Looking at me like that.”
“Baby,” Reaching up, you grab either side of his face, whispering, “I love the things you do to me.”
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When you return to the second deck, the dishes that had been set were now filled with seafood of nearly every kind. King crab, lobster, scallops, oysters, and even octopus are displayed on the large table. Alongside the main entrées are multiple side dishes, as well, including steamed vegetables, Greek salad, and garlic bread. 
The two of you sit on either end of the table, filling your plates before diving in. You’re also each given a glass from the champagne tower that had been poured earlier, along with a glass of water and a drink menu. And while this is all very lavish and entertaining, you can’t seem to focus on the delectable sight in front of you. 
“Is it not to your liking?” Max frowns, noticing you haven’t started eating. Even through all of his shit, Maxwell was still a gentleman; he wasn’t going to eat if you weren’t. 
“No! No it is.” Grabbing your fork with a smile, you lean forward to take a bite of salad, but not before releasing a shaky sigh. 
He smirks. “Are you sore?”
His blatant and not at all quiet question makes your face burn. You’re not sure any of the staff heard, as they all seem to be fairly busy with their duties. Regardless, your insides still twist with anxiety upon hearing the question. 
Timidly, you nod, glancing down at your plate. You might also have a tiny smirk on your face. 
Grinning, he lifts his glass to take a sip, his voice echoing over the liquid. “I like that.” 
Throughout the entire dinner, Max is smirking at you, content with the knowledge you’ve given him. Try as you might, your arousal is unwilling to subside. You feel quivery, your insides fluttering when he makes you the object of his gaze. 
After a moment of silent eating, Maxwell speaks. “Gracias, mi belleza.” (Thank you, my beauty)
Looking up, you tilt your head. “¿Para qué?” (For what?)
“You have given me everything I have wanted in life.” 
Smiling, you take a deep breath, his words prompting a variety of emotions to bubble up inside. You never expected anything in return for your wish; you wished for this because you love him. But he has been incredibly grateful for it, for you, and you’re thankful for that. Max was a greedy man, but he was a respectable one, too. 
“But why not want more?” You question, grinning. 
He repeats you quietly, passionately. “But why not want more…”
“I love you.” You tell him genuinely, nodding. “I only want to see you happy. I will give you whatever you want.”
Suddenly standing, he wipes his hands, holding them out as he approaches you. "I am happy,” Closing in, he reaches for your face, cupping your cheeks with a firm passion. “You are my happiness.” 
The words he says come out with a genuine tone, speaking directly to your soul. You let him hold you like this, his smile coming to the surface. It’s a beautiful sight, seeing his grin grow in size, so much so that his little dimple forms on the side. 
“You’re so handsome, mi amor.” (My love)
“And you…” He nearly growls, his darkened eyes dipping down to admire your form. “Are a ravishing thing.”
This makes your heart pound profusely, inhaling a shaky breath. 
“You want more?” He asks, met with your eager nod. “Follow me.” He tells you, “I will show you more.” 
With one last sip from your glass, you stand, allowing Max to take your hand. With dinner now done he leads you to the bottom deck, the one closest to the water. He ushers you along, sliding his hand around to the small of your back as you walk toward the edge of the deck. Reaching out, you place your hands on the railing, watching the sunset. 
Maxwell comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your shoulder. Breathing in, he inhales the sweet smell of your perfume, sighing lightly from the scent of it. 
“This is mine.” He whispers into your ear, “All of this is mine, and it’s all because of you.”
“I will give you more, mi amor.” You promise him sweetly, knowing that your wish will deliver him anything he could ever yearn for. (My love) 
“I owe you a great debt, my little love.” Max’s smile presses to your cheek, his hold on your tightening. 
With a smile you respond, “You owe me nothing.” Reaching back, you comb lightly through his hair. “Your love is enough.” 
Your collective pursuit and material goods has been a driving force in your relationship. It made you attracted to him, seeing the passion he had to complete his life goals. No matter what, Maxwell was always a persistent man. He didn’t give up easily, if ever. And when he first saw you, that excessive need to have whatever he damn well pleased took over then, too. 
“It’s gorgeous here.” You tell him softly, quietly, staring at the beautiful shades and purples and blues. 
You’re a mesmerizing thing to him, a true work of art inside and out. He thinks you match his own personality rather well, your confidence and attitude toward life remaining the same. At first, he was attracted to your body, your face, your beautiful hair and your dazzling smile. You turned heads in any and every room. He knew he had to have you. But then he got to know you. And that’s when he decided to keep you.  
“Isn’t it?” He responds half-heartedly, not really focusing on what you’re saying anymore. He’s brushing your hair to the side, moving to mouth at your neck. 
You can tell by the way he says it that he’s very obviously distracted. He’s already rising behind you, the feeling of his mouth hot and wet. Pressing yourself back into him, you grin, wanting to spur your lover on. And as soon as you do, his hand flies down, gripping you harshly on your ass. 
“I want to have you.” He grits out into your ear, his lips pressing to its outer shell.
“Maxwell,” You chuckle, turning your head to the side he’s nearest. “You do have me.” But he just squeezes your flesh harder in his hand. 
“Do not play games with me.” It’s a warning, one seethed out from his mouth. 
Smirking, you turn away to face the water again. He’s right, you knew what he meant. But just as you’re beginning to admire the view again, he does something unexpected. Almost as soon as you look away from him, his hand rises to your jaw, yanking your head back in his direction. 
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
It makes you gasp, his authoritative tone and choice of words. His hold on you is tight, his curved nose pressing into your cheek. 
“Let me have you, mi princesa, mi preciosa niña.” (My princess, my precious girl)
“Right here?” Your pulse quickens against your skin. Now, you’re unsure of what he means. Surely he isn’t suggesting you do this here, he’s never touched you in a public setting. But he doesn’t give you a definitive answer, not verbally, not really.
“Lift up your leg, hermosa.” (Beautiful) 
Before you even have a chance to move, he’s doing it for you, placing his hand beneath your knee to lift it in the air and bend it over the rail. 
“That’s it…” He smooths his hands up beneath your dress, over the soft curves of your ass. “I want you riiight here.”
A small breeze brushes over your skin when he lifts your dress up to your hips. Your face runs hot when he does this - you feel so exposed. 
“Just like that.” He hurriedly rushes out, hands now dropping to his belt. 
Whipping your head in either direction, you gauge your surroundings, wondering if anyone is near. Right now, you don’t see or hear anyone, which is relieving. But at the same time, you’re not exactly sure of the crew’s schedules. They could come down at any moment. 
“Yes…” Maxwell’s erotic hiss brings you back to the present, as well as his naked and prodding tip. 
“Max,” Gasping out when he pushes you forward, your fingers curl around the railing while your heart leaps into your throat. 
Quickly, he lifts his fingers up to his mouth, swiping them across his tongue before bringing them down. He rubs the pads of his digits over your naked sex, thankful you decided to forgo panties for the night. 
“B-Baby!” Your squeal turns into a shout when he shoves himself in, Max’s mouth dropping open completely. 
“Oh…” It’s a loud and forceful groan, a harsh bite digging into your shoulder shortly thereafter. “I’ve been waiting to do this since I put those toys inside you.” 
Both of those large hands slide over your hips, slowly beginning to rock you back and forth before you have any real time to adjust to him. Hanging your head down, you suck in a deep breath, excitement rushing through your veins. And he can hear this, your flustered state making him laugh. 
“You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” He asks, now rolling his hips into you. Each thrust shoves you over the railing just a little, but to make you feel safe he slinks one hand up and around your waist. Pulling you close, he kisses your ear, whispering, “My rich little slut.” 
“Max,” An incredible smile blooms across your face. He could be so good at talking dirty. “You like spoiling me?”
“Bebita,” The arm he had around your waist retracts, that broad palm sliding up to your neck. Fingers gripping the choker around your throat, he tugs you back, grunting into your ear. “Sabes que lo hago.” (Baby girl, you know I do)
“I love that,” With his exciting words, you gain a bit of confidence, now bouncing back against him. He’s diving entirely inside every time, hitting you deep and moaning when he feels you grow tight. 
Your next words are calculated, ones you know will make him fall to his fucking knees. Reaching back, you grab onto his hair, whispering, “I love my sugar daddy.” 
“Fuck,” His eyes roll back, hand tightening on your throat. An airy gasp falls from your lips, feeling his hold on your windpipe. “Yes, yes, mi bonita niña.” (My pretty girl)
It’s impossible for him to not react to those words, and you know it. Maxwell fucking loves spoiling you with everything he has. Dressing you in his wealth, keeping you safely tucked away in lavish homes, taking you places only royalty would come to know. It’s the least he can do for the woman who gave him the world, for the woman who made him a god. 
You’re glad that you decided to do this on the yacht, you could never get away with it anywhere else. You can’t see any land from where you’re at, it’s just you two and the crew. And apparently to Maxwell, he doesn’t even care about that. After he called you his rich little slut, his thrusts have sped up significantly, thick fingers not once letting go of your throat. His dominant hand stays cemented to your hip, the sound of him delving into your sex traveling across the water and ringing in your ears. He’s swollen inside you, and you’ve never heard such passionate grunts emanate from his mouth before. 
“M-Max, Maxwell,” You’re choking slightly, coughing from his firm hold. The blood is your fingertips is straining against the firm curl of your knuckles on the railing, your pelvis knocking against the metal with each of his thrusts. 
“That’s it, princesa,” Sweat forms along his hairline, a wide grin on his straining face. “Be a good girl for your papí, make him happy.” (Princess, daddy) 
Leaning forward, he attaches his mouth to your neck, to the skin above his fingers’ harsh hold. While kissing the back of your neck, he grinds up into you, sighing out when he feels your subtle pulse, when he hears your quiet gasp. 
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” Nodding, whining, you reply with, “Yes.”
He huffs out a chuckle, doing it again, and again. The way he’s holding you, the way he’s fucking you, makes you feel like you’re the most captivating thing on earth. 
“Please, harder,” You mean to say more, but you’re interrupted by a short gasp. One that doesn’t belong to either one of you. 
Apparently, Raquel has stumbled upon your current situation and is standing a little ways behind the two of you. Looking over his shoulder, he grins, those black and bloody eyes staring at his assistant. 
“I, M-Mr. Lord,” 
“Not now, Raquel.” He repeats his earlier words, grin growing wider before his lips return to your neck.
She watches with wide eyes as he sucks on your throat, those surprised orbs traveling down to witness Max’s bare cock sliding in and out. The way he’s bending you over allows her to see your entire lower half, forcing her to stutter out a breath before spinning around to face the opposite direction. 
“Max!” Your next whine finally forces her to scurry away, crying out from his harsh movements. “Baby,”
He’s colored you in multiple bruises, all over your shoulder and neck - he can’t help it. Every time he’s inside you it feels like the first, he could never get enough. He always wants more, more, more. 
Snarling, he grips the chain around your neck. “Do you know why you wear this?”
All you can do in response is whimper, head resting back on his shoulder.
“Because it makes you mine.” And then a quiet, maniacal laugh. “It makes you mine.”
“I, M-Max,” Smiling, he releases you slightly, petting at your throat. “I’ll never, never take it off.”
“I know you won’t.” 
Whenever he’s rough with you, he always finds the choker around your neck. He gave it to you as a statement, a declaration. And you’ve worn it ever since. 
“What, fuck,” Eyes rolling back, they close completely, still resting your head on Max’s shoulder. “What about R-Raquel?”
“What about her, cariño?” (Sweetheart)
“She saw us.”
“Let her see.” Easily, he shrugs this off, the motion of his hips now becoming erratic. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” 
“Maxwell,” Rolling your eyes, you grin. “You’re so insatiable with me.” 
“I know, I know, I know,” As if he can’t control himself, he growls, briefly baring his teeth behind you. “And I’ll never get enough.” 
Snarling, he leans forward, forcing you to hold onto the railing again. The hand on your throat slides down, shoving itself beneath the hem of your dress. He cups one of your breasts, swiping his thumb across your nipple piercing and grinning. It makes him chuckle breathlessly, his precum continuing to leak from his tip while he fucks you raw. 
Slamming himself into you he grunts, eyes pinching shut. “Te amo, mi belleza.” (I love you, my beauty)
“Baby, te quiero; te amo, papí.” You’re both babbling out your emotions for one another, one of the many things that tells you he’s close. “Let me feel it, please.” (I love you; love you, daddy)
Max never tells you when he’s going to cum, he doesn’t need to. It’s such an obvious thing, his trembling limbs, his forceful huffs of air, the way his mouth drops open and his eyes force shut, the way his body curls tightly over yours. And you embrace it, every second of it, reveling in the sensation of his release as it warms your insides. 
“Ngh,” He shouts into your ear. “Ugh…”
His orgasm sparks something wild inside him, his chest choking out desperate gasps as he holds onto you. His pelvis juts against your body, his arms keeping you close. And even if you don’t cum with him, you still squeeze him impossibly tight, your wet, warm walls never ceasing to milk him dry. 
While Max’s body quivers behind you, you open your eyes, met with an incredible sight. The sun is nearly beneath the horizon, stars now beginning to come out. It takes your breath away, seeing the sea like this. It provides the moment with an ethereal sensation, one that makes you both relax. Max opens his eyes, too, but he barely looks at the sky. Still reveling in his high, he only focuses on you. 
The only unfortunate thing about sex with Max was that he was still an incredibly greedy man. He always came, whether you did or not. He prioritized how he felt, prioritized his own pleasure before even considering yours. Whether it was you or him on your knees, he always made sure to get the most out of your activities. But in the long run, it didn’t matter to you, not when his mouth made up for it so beautifully.
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coastielaceispunk · 1 year
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The Gift of Lingerie
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Kinktober22: Lingerie/Stockings with Maxwell Lord
Maxwell Lord x f!reader 
A Man’s World-Verse
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: Language, established relationship, family fluff, switch!Maxie and switch!reader, lingerie kink (men’s and women’s), edging, some orgasm denial, thigh riding, lots of praise (good boy and good girl), light mocking, touch of begging, dry humping, fingering, oral f receiving, unprotected PinV, creampie, cumplay.
Masterlist | Kinktober Outline | Absurdthirst’s Kinktober Prompt List
+++++ 
It is finally Friday. The Friday you’ve been looking forward to for quite a while now. A Friday of surprises for your dear husband, Maxwell. He has been such a good boy and deserves the gifts you are about to bestow on him today. He also has a very big day of meetings as an investor of a new green-energy wind farm company, and it's been forever since he has had to business up and perform. So, yes, Max deserves his treats and deserves to enjoy them with you.
You leave earlier in the morning than he does, so as part of your routine you lay out his pressed black slacks, white button down, and deep burgundy tie. This morning is a little more open because Alistair is away at Science Camp for a long weekend; he was so excited to finally go. Talked about it all summer. Max, on the other hand, was reluctant, “He’s just growing up so fast.” Sweet man is so worried and stressed he needs the distraction, and comfort, today.
After making sure his jacket is hanging ready, you place his white undershirt and one last touch. His first treat of the day and accompanying card of encouragement, luck, and instructions. 
Prior to leaving, you turn to take him in, still sleeping. Max is twisted in the sheets, laying face down in his pillow with his arms above his head, his bare back exposed and so kissable. His beautiful face is relaxed and his open mouth is releasing little snores. Damn he’s adorable. All rumpled and soft. You plant a little good-bye kiss on his temple and he smiles lazily in his slumber. After one last rub of his warm back, because you can’t help yourself, you pull away to depart so you don’t wake him. He still has forty-five minutes before his alarm. Off to the office you go, excited to see the state he is in when you return home to him.
+++
Max wakes to his offensive alarm with a jolt. As he sits up with a groan, he rubs the remaining sleep from his eyes, then it sets in why he is up this early. His nerves start to take over while he sips his cup of coffee, coffee you had made during your morning routine, and they only get worse during his shower. Max finds himself staring at the water running down his arms. He is zoning out, but he's got to get himself together. He can do this. 
With his towel around his waist he drys his curls and steps back out into the bedroom. The house is so quiet without you or Alistair here. It's now that he realizes he doesn’t like to be alone anymore. Thinking of how far he has come, his gaze finds where you have set out his clothes for the day. Max throws the smaller towel on the bed and mutters, “Oh sweetheart, I don’t deserve you.” He speaks it into the empty room like you can hear him.
There’s a note and something wrapped in gray tissue paper on top of his undershirt.
“What’s this?”
My dearest Husband,
You will be amazing today, tell your nerves you’ve got this because you do! I believe in you, my love. Seriously though, being a little nervous is natural and hopefully I can offer you a tiny distraction so you can be your best! Open your first treat of the day now…I will wait.
Max reaches for the gift with a shining grin, thinking he couldn't love you more  than he does right now in this moment, then he opens the paper and his smile falls as his jaw drops at what he sees.
Maxwell, I want you to wear these sexy black briefs under your work clothes today, feel the silky material all day, and most importantly…for me baby…DO NOT COME. If you’re a good boy you will get the rest of your treat right when I get home, and all night long. I can’t wait to see you in them. 
Be good pretty boy, and do great!
I love you Maxie!
“Fuck sake,” Max breathes as he picks up the black material to feel it through his fingertips, “how am I supposed to…”
Soft. Silky. Smooth. It feels so fucking good in his hands. He has to wear them…for you. Now he is excited for the day. He rips his towel off and slides the briefs up his long legs, when he settles the waistband at his hips…he moans. Max can’t help it when he roughly grabs his cock over the soft material to adjust himself in the crotch. Fuck. He starts to stroke his growing length, he was already half hard from your note alone. When he shudders he remembers your words and reluctantly removes his palm. He will be hard as a rock all day.
Max finishes getting dressed, learning just how sensitive he is to the silky briefs. Every major movement rubbing his cock just right and he curses his love for lingerie. He knows why you did this, he knows you know he is very tactile and gets so turned on by the soft sensations. Having something on his person all day making him this hot will be a challenge, one in which he gladly accepts for you. 
His ride to the meeting is pretty uneventful, except for the fact that he has remained hard in his slacks. The less movement he makes, the less he will have to strangle a groan in his throat. It's only when he’s moving from standing to sitting, and vice versa, does it really get him, so the long meetings help. Max had to cover a whimper with a cough just once when he got too comfortable and rolled his hips to situate in his seat. Big mistake. Directly after that meeting he nearly ran to the bathroom to shove his hand down his pants in the stall to relieve some of the pressure. So soft. So smooth against his sensitive tip. Fuck. Max releases himself with a growl, your words echoing in his head…DO NOT COME.
You have never edged him for this long. He can’t stand it and he loves it. His dick rests tucked in his waistband for the rest of the day, with no sign of ever softening in the silky underwear.
+++
All day you think of Max. Is he enjoying his challenge? Is he following your instructions? He’s a good boy, he will. Oh, he’s going to be a needy mess, it’s going to be a great night. You’re so eager to get home to him now you’re holding the wheel too tight as your thoughts of Maxie start to run wild.
You’ve known about his infatuation with lingerie and stockings for a long while. He’s like most men, they love their pretty girl wrapped in something sexy and dainty and alluring. You learned quickly it was a little more for Maxwell. He loves the look sure, but he also gets off on the feel. His fingertips love to trace the lace edges and seams all over your body. He loves the look of his hand tightly underneath the patterns and see through material. He can’t keep his hands off your legs when you are walking around in your thigh highs. You have been late to many dinners and events due to him rubbing up against you while you get ready in the mirror. Him being so desperate with his hands and cock makes you wet just thinking about it. You always give in to him and let him take you. Max gives and takes pleasure so damn well.
Max also loves lingerie because he can ruin it. He worships you in it most times but then there are the more feral times where he wants nothing more than to stain it and rip it off of you. You secretly hope he didn’t ruin his new briefs today because you want to watch him do it. In the past you’ve taken your discarded nylons and jerked him off with them in your hand, squeezing them around his cock. Max was so loud you had to shove your other nylon in his mouth and he came so quickly it surprised both of you. He made you come five times that night.
All your reminiscing made your drive home quick and you are now pulling in the driveway. You turn the key in the front door and as soon as you walk in you are greeted by Max’s hands on either side of your face pulling you into a desperate, hungry kiss. He is dressed only in his long robe, loosely open, with his silky black briefs underneath. So hot. 
“Hi, baby, how are you?” You grin into his kisses placing your hands onto his exposed freckled chest in an attempt to calm him down.
“Please, darling, I was so good all day. I didn’t come. I waited for you like you said. Please. Please.” Max begs in between harsh pants with his mouth on yours. You glance down to see just how needy he is and gasp, the thin fabric hiding nothing, the large damp spot darkening the briefs from a full day of leaking pre-cum.
“I believe you, baby boy,” you reach down to cup his balls and he whines, “you feel so good filling out these sexy little briefs, Maxie. You’re almost too big, look at you, so needy.”
Max whimpers as he latches his mouth to your neck, his hands pushing off your blazer and bag. 
“Are you ready for your next surprise, handsome?”
He nods his head vigorously and his hands grab at every part of you as you continue to stroke him over his underwear. You haven’t even left the foyer and his knees are already faltering under your touch. That’s when you turn in his tight grasp. “Look baby,” you place a hand on the back of his neck so he looks down to watch as you hike up your sensible black pencil skirt to reveal his other gift. 
Max moans in your ear, deep and hot, while staring at the tops of your thighs as you unveil your burgundy red garter belts that connect your new matching lace lingerie and nude stockings. His hands roughly grab your hips, his fingers slinking under the edges of the lace immediately. As you push your ass back against his cock, pulling his lips to yours with the leverage, you whisper, “I matched your tie today, and I wore my lingerie all day, just like you baby boy, and I can confirm I am just as wet as you are.”
That’s when Max snaps with a growl and pushes you against the front door. He rips your blouse off, buttons flying in every direction, so he can see the rest of you. The rest of his present. He pulls your skirt down and over your ass and it drops to the floor alongside his robe. The both of you stand pressed flush against each other in the foyer of your home with nothing on but sexy lingerie.
Max starts to dry hump the round of your ass, making the most erotic sounds. He cannot help himself and it’s so fucking hot. You hold on to the back of his neck and his thick forearm for dear life as he ruts you into the door. 
“That’s it, Maxie, come in your new underwear. Ruin them, I know you want to. Then you can ruin mine too.”
“Fuck! Fuuuck…” Max’s hips stutter then he stills when he lets out a ragged cry. He comes for a long time, you can feel him pulsing at your lower back as he holds you tight to him caressing the lingerie under your breasts. His breathing is harsh as he slumps against you further. “Oh my fucking god, that felt fucking amazing, I need more, please sweetheart, I’m still hard and I need to be inside of you, please.”
You lean off the door and pull him by his hand to the bedroom, he’s a little sluggish after such a powerful orgasm but he's ready and on you as soon as he pushes you onto the bed. You feel him throb within his soaked briefs when he lays his weight on your body. Edging him all day was so worth it. 
After having his tongue in your mouth for a few minutes, Max finally starts to really appreciate what you’re wearing for him. He bites at the deep red dainty straps. He mouths your nipples through the thin lace, making you moan his name. He caresses your stomach where the teddy beautifully lays across it, sliding his large hand underneath appreciating the pattern. Then his hot mouth finds your clit over the lace and he hums, “So wet for me, darling, so beautiful.”
“Always for you, Maxie.” 
Then he has you panting in a matter of seconds as he hungrily sucks on the fabric stretched over your cunt. His hands squeezing your ass, holding you to his face. When he opens his lips wide to have all of you in his mouth, you look down, shocked by the sensation to find him watching you with lust blown hooded eyes. Max is drunk on you, has been since you walked through the door. You whine, it’s so much and not enough. Max doesn’t hesitate knowing what you need and bites the seam of your lingerie to move it to the side. You yelp and grab at the sheets frantically. That's when he inserts two thick fingers into your pussy.“Here, sweetheart, something for you to come on before I give you my cock.”
As he starts to fuck you on his fingers, Max leans back to take you in and remove his ruined underwear. He moves to straddle your leg as he keeps his pace that has you writhing beneath him. Max starts to rock back and forth over your stocking covered thigh and groans as the soft material gives him some much needed friction. You place your hand on his hip as he times his soft thrusts with his hand between your legs. You can’t help but stare at his strong body, the freckles over his stomach that you’ve mapped and kissed, the ripple of his muscles as he moves above you. You’re so close, your eyes rolling back, and then you scream when he presses his soiled briefs against your swollen clit with his thumb.
“Isn’t - it…doesn’t - it - feel - amazing,” Max pants above you and then you’re seeing stars as your orgasm rips through you and soaks his hand. “Fuck, sweetheart, I could come again just like this, but I have to be inside this sweet cunt.”
You’re still reeling from your release as you feel him situate between your thighs and thrust into your pussy with one steady push. You moan and he moans back at you. He hikes your legs up around his waist, his soft tummy pressed against your own, and that's when you realize you are still very much clothed in your lingerie. Max never removed a thing from you. He is really enjoying his treat. 
“Maxie,” you whine as he sets a brutal pace, both of you slightly overstimulated.
“Maaxiee,” he whines back at you, “I love when you’re so fucked out all you can do is cry my name. Such a good girl, treating me so well today. Thank you darling, now come again on my cock, one more baby, and I will fill you up.”
All you can do is whimper and pant as he fucks you deep into the bed, the canopy frame swaying above you. You worked him up all day and this is your reward. Fuck yes. 
Max sucks on your nipple over the lace as his fingers find your clit again to throw you over the edge. He fucks you hard as you come all around him, clenching him tight inside you. Max bares his teeth, chasing his own second release, and with the remaining energy you have you unlock your ankles to caress his ass and thighs with your nylon covered legs. His eyes roll back at the sensation. “Oh fuck yes,” he chants and then he stills deep inside you, his mouth open for a silent cry as his face contorts into ultimate ecstasy. His cock throbs as he pumps you full of his come and he shudders when he falls on top of you, spent. 
After a few moments catching your breath, stuck together with sweat, he leans up sharing a sloppy kiss. He pulls out of you with a groan then smiles down at himself and the mess you’ve made together.
“What is it?”
“I just feel incredible, darling, this is the first time all day my cock hasn’t been hard as steel.”
You both laugh, and then you quietly gasp as his fingers lightly touch your puffy lips to collect some of your combined release, Max becomes entranced as he drags it over the delicate lace over your stomach. All you can do is sigh happily as he ruins your lingerie too. 
“I am so happy you enjoyed your treats, baby boy, you deserved them.” 
Max kisses you again before getting up to stretch and get you cleaned up, but you follow him to the bathroom. You wrap your arms around his tummy and look at him in the mirror, he’s glowing and relaxed, just how you wanted him.
“Why don’t you undress me, handsome, we can shower and you can tell me all about your meetings over take out?”
“Okay, my darling, but promise me you only put lingerie back on, it’s still early and I want to make love to you all night.”
You agree with grabby hands over his tummy and he smiles.
“Oh, and, we need to see about getting me more of those silky briefs, today was exhilarating!” 
With a mischievous smile you bring your lips to his ear while locking eyes in the mirror, “Don’t you worry, baby boy, I bought the three pack.”
+++++
A/N: No regular taglist for Kinktober but I will tag my beautiful beta @lowlights, @littlemisspascal, and @absurdthirst for the inspo. Thanks for reading loves!
Next: Cumplay with Dieter Bravo
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Are we allowed to submit more than once? Feel free to delete this, but I was looking at the character list and master list and a name jumped out at me.
I always think Maxwell Lord needs more love. From a Pisces, more specifically. ♥️
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Maxwell Lord Virgo | @missredherring Pisces
Virgo Maxwell Lord and Pisces you are opposing signs, but your attraction is very strong - as strong as the allure of the Dreamstone. Earth-bound Virgo Max is a purist who needs the counterbalance of Pisces you to see the big picture of the narrowed-in, obsessive, and materialistic worldview he’s crafted for himself. Your sensual, Water sign love is the fine balance of rationality and emotions that Earthy Max needs, as long as you don't allow your mutable qualities to sway your outlooks or seek perfection where it is not meant to exist. You won’t need to make a wish to find the true love between you, because it’ll shine true in your actions and validate Max as being worthy of everything the Universe has to offer.
Written in the Stars Masterlist
(A joint venture of @furious-rogue-stuff and @just-here-for-the-moment)
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wardenparker · 9 months
Text
In the Heights, part 1
Maxwell Lord x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 17.5k   Warnings: Cursing. Alcohol/food consumption, single dad Max, mention of divorce and unhappy marriage, probably inaccurate portrayal of being a high school student in the 60s, yearning, mutual pining, friends to lovers, the love is requited they're just idiots, the one that got away, high school crush, poor communication, mistaken sexuality assumptions, people being skeptical about Max, reader is full of sunshine, tipsy behaviours. Summary: A long time ago in a life that seems completely forgotten, you had a crush on your classmate Max Lorenzano. The world has changed a lot since then - but when you discover that your old friend is your new neighbor, it seems like some things have stayed the same after all. (This story contains flashbacks.) Notes: Part 1 of 2! I won't lie to you, guys. I love Max Lord. I love him in a way that is probably not healthy at all, so Keri has once again humored me and allowed for a little One That Got Away story with this sad puppy of a man. Also, I apologize for any errors I may have missed in editing. Cold medicine and being sleepy is a bad combo.
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The sight of a moving truck isn't odd in any part of New York City. People come and go from these buildings so quickly that some people never bother to get to know their neighbors at all. The only reason you'd really noticed the one this morning was because it was out front when you were leaving for work and causing a little bit of a commotion with traffic. You'd skirted it and strode across the street to grab your usual cup of coffee and bagel with cream cheese from the bodega across the street before hitting the subway. Midtown doesn't seem far when you get to just sit and read during your commute, and you've never minded. But you tuck away the information about having a new neighbor and consider baking a batch of welcome cookies for them when you get home from the office tonight - it seems like the neighborly thing to do. You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the girl.
******
Max sighs as he hauls the last box up the stairs. Alistair has already started unpacking his room, and thank God he managed to pay the moving company to at least get the large items upstairs to the third floor wall up, but then the rest of the boxes had been left on the curb when they had figured out where they knew him from. He’s just lucky they didn’t take what he had with them, but it was again a reminder of how he had fucked up. New York is supposed to be a fresh start, a new beginning, but he doesn’t know if that’s possible for him.
The positive of someplace busy like New York was supposed to be that people would ignore or look past him. They always say New Yorkers are too busy to bother with their neighbors, and that’s something he wanted this time. To just blend into the background if he could so that Alistair could have a fighting chance and not be despised because of what he had done. Alistair, for the most part, remains as optimistic and sweet as ever. He knows that people are upset with his Daddy but his love never wavers. It’s enough to push him through the bad days, thank god, and to remind him that he’s doing this for a good reason. Starting over is for his son. He will find a way - any way - to make this work.
Things are different than D.C., the energy is different. He’s reminded of the days that he was in school, hopeful for the future. Max Lorenzano was teased and bullied in school, made fun of because of his poverty, his weird foods that he ate, the holes in his shoes, and his proclivity for learning. It had been his first life lessons, but the bullying in school was better than the beatings at home. Unsure of why he is thinking about those things, he takes the first load of boxes to the trash chute.
****
It’s sometime after dinner that the batch of chocolate chip cookies you put together are finally cool enough and ready to pack up. Stacking them neatly on a plate, wrapping it in cling film, and tying it up with ribbon, you head across the hall to meet the folks that just moved into Mrs. Cristian’s old place. An empty box marked Toys in the trash chute had clued you in to a child being present, so cookies seems even more appropriate now.
Even though Max is a miserable cook, he’s unpacking the kitchen when he hears the knock at the door. Frowning slightly, he wonders if the pizza he had ordered has already gotten here. He had assumed that it would take longer than fifteen minutes. “Coming!” He dusts his hands on his jeans and walks towards the door. Opening it up as he reaches for his wallet.
“Hi neighbor!” The words - bright and sunny - are out of your mouth before you even look up, having gotten distracted by the Torres’ cat in the hallway. But the second you do, your eyes go wide. “Max?” There’s no questioning it. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him all over the news or that you didn’t remember what had happened. Everyone remembered. Just…most of the billions of people in the world hadn’t known Max Lord since he was Max Lorenzano in Lubbock, Texas.
Instantly on guard, he’s halfway expecting to be attacked, or cussed out. That was the reaction of the majority of people who recognized him. He needed to dye his hair back to his natural brown. When the diatribe doesn’t come, he frowns and takes a closer look at the pretty woman in front of him for a moment before his eyes widen and your name comes off as a whisper like a ghost from his past
****
“Hey Lame-zano!” Max hunches over his books and speeds up, trying to ignore the boys behind him. Knowing that it would do no good to turn around and confront them. It would just speed up the beat down he knows is coming. “Hey weirdo! Fuckin’ stop!”
The boys don’t stop hollering as Max speeds up. They never do. Torture is the specialty of high school jocks, or at least these particular ones, and Max is their favourite target. “Max!” His name is hisses from somewhere off to the side, and an arm shoots out to pull him out of the hallway like he’s a bad Vaudeville comedian. He’s almost yanked off his feet, but for the girl he crashes into in the disused classroom. You hush him immediately, hand over his mouth, and quickly shut the door so the scions of the football team won’t see where he’s disappeared too. “Quiet.” You warn, carefully peaking through the window to make sure they walk by.
He crouches down, grateful that you had pulled him out of the line of fire, face burning in shame at the same time. To be rescued by the prettiest girl he’s ever seen seems to be his luck, knowing you are completely aware of his lack of masculinity. “Thanks.” He murmurs quietly.
“They’re shitheads.” You mutter, shaking your head as the group of boys howls on their way by. “Absolute shitheads.” There’s no real reason for any of the other kids to be so mean to Max, but logic never stopped cruel people from being cruel. Max is different so they’re mean. It’s as simple as that.
“They are still better than I am.” He huffs, terrified they will find him and humiliate him in front of you. It’s a dirty feeling, to know that you are going to be here to witness his utter ruination.
“How?” That doesn’t make any sense to you, and your brow furrows at him as you lean back against the door. You’ll give it another minute or two before you both go out there. Maybe the trio will move on to another target for a while. Sometimes that target is you, but you’d take it every time if it meant they would leave Max alone. “You mean they’re better at playing football than you? Who cares?”
“They are popular.” He reminds you. “Their parents are influential. People respect them.” Respect is what he craves, yearns for.
"They're bullies." And it stings, because one of those awful idiots out there is your own cousin. But because you have different last names, most people don't know. You want nothing to do with him and vice versa. "People don't respect them, they're either ass kissers or afraid." Shrugging slightly, you cross your arms over your chest, knowing that you don't exactly sound very ladylike at the moment. You could care less at the moment, though. You would only care if cussing offended Max.
“You don’t understand.” Max shakes his head and stares at you. “Why are you hiding from them? They don’t torment you.” He’s jealous of that, if he’s honest, but he’s also grateful that they don’t. Knowing that you are too good for that, for him to even talk to.
"Sure they do." It might not be as loud or as often, but they still pick on you. "Yesterday Lewis Sinclair practically pulled up my skirt in chemistry class because I answered too many questions correctly." You shake your head again, scowling this time. "They're all awful. You shouldn't listen to what they say."
“They are right, I am a loser.” Max snorts, standing up when they have passed by and don’t seem to be doubling back. “Everyone knows it.” He’s learned that he will have to reinvent himself, become someone people want to know. It’s how he will become important and successful.
"You're not." At least, you've never thought so. But maybe that doesn't count for much in his view of things. It's not like the boy you've had a quiet crush on since seventh grade has ever looked at you more than a few times - and even then it was to ask you for help in class. This might be the longest conversation you've ever had with him. "They're mean because you're different from them. That doesn't mean you're a loser."
“I guess it doesn’t matter.” He sighs and looks down at his feet. “Are you going home after this? I think we’ve missed the bus.” That means he will get home late to do his chores. Which means he will get yelled at if his father comes home early.
"We could walk?" Neither of you lives too far from the school despite most of the town being spread out to small farms or ranches, or even just decent-size patches of land. You know for a fact that the Lorenzanos live pretty close because you moved closer to them just last summer. The implosion of your family's happily little bubble wasn't public knowledge, thank goodness.
“Okay.” He bites his lip and wonders why you want to walk with him. If it’s some sort of trick. He nods and decides that walking with you is better than being alone. “Do you need anything from your locker?”
"Yeah." Nodding, you hold up the books in your arms. "I need to swap these and grab my jacket. It will only take a second, I promise." It shouldn't make you feel so warm and pleased that a boy - this boy - wants to walk home with you, but he's sweet. He's always been sweet. Ever since he moved here when you were kids. It was a shame when he came to school one day with no trace of his accent left, but it hadn't made him any less cute.
“Hopefully they won’t double back, so you can take your time.” He doesn’t want to rush you, even though every second counts. It’s the most he’s ever talked to you and he likes it. You are nice. It doesn’t hurt that he has been harboring a crush on you.
Opening the classroom door carefully, you poke your head into the hallway to see it mostly cleared and swallow a sigh. "I think they're gone," you murmur, reaching back to wave for him to follow you. "C'mon. We'll be on our way home in no time."
“Hopefully I beat my father home.” Max huffs as he follows you out of the classroom and both of you hustle down the hall.
"Will you be in trouble if you don't?" That idea bothers you, but not knowing anything about his father, you're not sure if it's realistic or not. He wouldn't be the first kid to get yelled at or even hit for not following a rule.
“It- it’s best if we hurry.” Max admits, biting his lip. “I don’t know if he planned to stop by the bar before coming home and he doesn’t like it when my chores are not done.”
"I can help." You promise instantly, tugging your locker open to exchange your books and shove them into your bag to go home. Your mother is still working and will be for hours. As long as you're home and have dinner ready for her when she gets there, she doesn't keep track of what else you do.
“You-“ he’s momentarily lost for words at your offer. No one has ever offered to help him. With anything. “You don’t have to do that.” He promises.
"It's okay." The smile you give him at the opportunity to be helpful and spend a little more time with him, is brilliant. "Come on, we should hightail it and between the two of us we'll have everything done in no time."
“Are you sure?” He frowns, not wanting to take advantage of your kindness.
“Absolutely.” Slamming your locker closed, you grab his hand and head for the exit, feeling positively brave. Your crush on Max might be unrequited, but at least you can be his friend. Everyone deserves a friend.
“My house.” He grimaces and swallows slightly. “It’s not….fancy.” He feels his face get hot and he’s a little defensive. “But it’s clean. My mother says that being poor is no excuse for being dirty.”
“My house isn’t fancy, either.” When he doesn’t pull his hand away you just keep it, wondering why it’s taken you all the way to senior year to even do this much. You’ve never been particularly brave, but this is just…it’s just talking to someone. Right? “It’s okay. Fancy doesn’t automatically equal better.”
“Yes it does.” Max argues, looking at you like you are crazy. “Fancy is always better. It means that you can have the best.” He sighs. “One day I will have the best of everything.”
****
“You remember me?” As much as you remember him - every detail, down to the curve of his nose that he hates and the hair that he had dyed and apparently dyed back again - you didn’t expect him to remember you. It’s been years since the last time you saw him face to face. A whole ten years or more. He stopped coming back to Lubbock after a while and you didn’t exactly blame him. There was never anything exciting going on there.
“Of course I remember you.” You were one of the few good memories he had from Lubbock. “What are you doing here?” Of all the people in New York, he had never anticipated seeing you. And apparently his neighbor. He had expected you to be married and have kids, although that could still be true. His eyes drop down to your left hand and he can’t see it because it’s holding a plate of cookies.
“I—I live across the hall.” As startled as you are, you’re still standing in the hallway of your apartment building and you shift your weight nervously from foot to foot. “I saw a box in the chute marked for toys, so I thought I’d bring cookies and introduce myself.” Now that you know it’s Max, though, your cheeks are burning hotter than the early July heatwave. “Just…wanted to be friendly, that’s all.”
“It’s- it’s good to see you.” Max opens the door wider, motioning for you to come in. “How long has it been?” He knows exactly how long it has been since he’s seen you. Twelve years, two months and six days since he’s last seen you.
“Twelve years.” You answer far too quickly, but you step inside his apartment anyway. It’s identical to yours except being flipped - a mirror image that lets you know where everything is with only minimal thought. “It’s good to see you too. You’ve…well, it’s been a long time. I’m sure you’ve been up to a lot. You always had big dreams.”
He frowns, certain that you must have known about the dream stone incident. Been affected by it. “Yes, I did. That is over now.” He looks back at the closed bedroom door at the end of the hall. “All I want is to be a good dad.”
“Who says that’s not a big dream?” Carefully setting the plate down on the corner of his kitchen counter, you wipe your hands nervously and shove them in your pockets. “If you ask me, that's about the biggest dream there is. Parenthood is a big deal.”
“Yes.” He nods seriously. “I let Alistair down once, but I will not let him down again.” He sighs and looks up at you guiltily. “Do you have kids?”
“I was never lucky enough.” Something that your mother considers the ultimate failing. She considers your choice to be a career woman to be a betrayal of her plan for you. The fact that you wouldn’t just settle for any guy who would have you was a tragedy in her book. “I have a job I love, and a cat to keep me company.”
“I like cats.” Max offers nervously, looking around the apartment and wondering what you think of the mess he has accumulated. “Sorry I’m not unpacked.” He offers, eyes finding you again and finding you just as pretty as he remembered. Maybe more so.”
“I didn't expect you would be.” A smile quirks up the corners of your mouth and you can’t help being glad to see his hair back to its natural brown. You had seen the blonde in his tv commercials and on the news — it didn’t suit him. “Hell, I think it took me a month to unpack and it was just me and Dantes.” You fluster slightly, finding his eyes on you. “That’s…that’s my cat.
“Dantes huh?” His lips quirk up in a grin, something that hasn’t happened in a long time. “Like the Inferno?” He jokes.
"I named him after the Count of Monte Cristo, but he's as temperamental as a volcano." He still has the most beautiful smile, it twists your stomach exactly the way it did when you were teenagers. "You can come over and say hi anytime you like. I'm just across the hall...and even if I'm at work Dantes loves company."
“Alistair would love that. He has always wanted a pet, but….” He frowns, remembering that he had always said that he would get him one later and later never came. Another failing. “He would love it.” He finishes lamely.
"Come over anytime," you repeat, smiling a little brighter when that old, familiar crease notches in Max's forehead. "I'm sure Alistair and Dantes will get along famously." It will have the added benefit of getting to see him sometimes, and despite feeling ridiculous for still nursing your schoolgirl crush, you won't deny yourself a small, private pleasure. "It's nice to have an old friend around again."
You had been a friend to him, one of the few. The bittersweet pang of regret thumps inside him and he nods. “That would be good.” He agrees. “My- my ex-wife had animals and he- he misses them.” He admits.
“No problem.” Instinctively your hand goes out to him, touching him gently on the arm. “But I’m…I’m sorry to hear that. The ex part…”
Max can only blame himself. He had spent too much time chasing his dreams and Genji had grown tired of waiting for him to pay attention to her. He was lucky she let Alistair live with him, although it left her able to travel with her new husband. He shrugs. “She is happier and I am grateful for our son.”
“Sounds like you got the winning end of the deal to me.” You offer him a smile, knowing that transitions can be difficult. And divorces are never easy either.
“Only after almost losing him.” Max acknowledges, frowning as he remembers how frightened Alistair was, and how he had to run away because of Max’s mistakes. “But that is now the past. We are here for a fresh start.”
“New York is a great place for a fresh start.” He’s probably more than sick of talking about what happened, and you have no desire to sully this unexpected little reunion, so you don’t say a thing about it. “Definitely more to do than in Lubbock,” you joke instead.
“What brought you here?” Max asks, interested in your life since he last saw you.
“The intense desire to get away from my mother.” It’s only half a joke, and you chuckle when the corners of his lips turn up in understanding. “I work for a publishing house in Midtown. It’s good work and decent pay. And it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than editing articles for the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal and sitting through tedious dinners with whatever men my mother was trying to set me up with.”
“You never married?” He frowns slightly, unable to believe that someone would not have snatched you up.
“I was engaged once. It…didn’t work out.” Finding out he’d been cheating on you for half your relationship doomed that marriage before it could even start. You’re just glad that you had found out about it before walking down that aisle. You’re almost grateful that that girl out in St. Louis had decided to call you up and cuss you out. “What they say about airline pilots might not be true of all, but it’s certainly true of some.”
“I’m sorry.” He winces and shakes his head. “He must have been an idiot to let you slip away.” You had been his dream girl for a long time until he had met Genji.
"He wanted the world on a string." It was what he always said. It just wasn't until later that you had realized what he meant by it. "Sounds like we both had idiots in our lives. Otherwise she wouldn't have let you get away, either."
“I was never there.” Max admits. “Even when I was. I was too focused on becoming someone.”
"You'll be there for him now." You can hear him playing in the back bedroom, crowing happily over a spaceman toy. "And he's lucky to have you."
“I hope so.” Failure is one of Max’s greatest fears and he’s already done that.
"You never could see how special you are." It slips out before you can stop it, a slight shrug of your shoulders is the best you can do in pseudo-self-defense. He never did think much of himself, but the more you had gotten to know Max, the more obvious it was to you that that was a result of how his father treated him.
“You don’t know the things that I’ve done.” It’s selfish but he hopes you never find out. “I better finish unpacking the kitchen before the pizza gets here.” He knows you wouldn’t want to stay and he doesn’t want to be rejected so he doesn’t invite you for the pepperoni pizza.
"I, uh--I'll get out of your hair." The way he shuts down breaks your heart a little, but you nod your understanding. You've overstayed your welcome and he has never felt as strongly about your friendship as you did. That's just...well, it's just life. "It's...it's really good to see you, Max."
“It’s good to see you again too.” He promises, smiling slightly. “I’m sure we will run into you again. We are neighbors.”
"Yes. It's good to see you, too." With your heart in your throat, you nod and make yourself smile as you step back to go out the door. "I'll see you around, neighbor."
****
“So prom is coming up.” Max frowns slightly as he walks with you. He’s nervous because you haven’t said anything about prom and you talk about everything. He wonders if you have a date that you don’t want to tell him about. “Are you going?”
"I don't think so." Walking home together has become a ritual. Today you wrap your jacket a little tighter as you walk to block out the early spring chill and try not to get excited about the question he's just asked. No one else had asked you to prom, that's true. But you would have turned them down anyway -- you've been holding your breath hoping that Max would ask. "Can't go to prom without a date."
“We should go.” Max argues. “It’s Senior Prom. We can’t miss out on memories like that.” He’s been working on the weekends with his dad to save up for a tuxedo rental and a corsage. “The theme is ‘Enchantment Under the Sea’.” He reminds you.
"You...want to take me to prom?" You know the smile on your face is far too wide, but this is exactly what you've been dreaming of. These walks home, spending a little time at his house before his dad gets home from work, even starting to chat a little with his mother sometimes. You may not be Max's girlfriend, but you want to be, and you've made every effort possible to show him that.
“If you want to.” Max bites his lip. “I know you will probably have someone else ask you, and it’s okay if you’d rather go with them, but I’ve been saving up to buy a corsage and take you out to eat.” He admits. “I’ve been working with my dad.”
"I want to." It's too quick of a reply to be ladylike, but you don't much care about that. Not when you're actually being asked by the right boy. "With you. I want to go to prom with you. Yes."
“Yeah?” He’s surprised, but grins happily. “Then let’s go to prom together.” He nods, beaming and his posture straightens proudly. “You and me, we will have fun.” He promises.
"Yes, we will." Already convinced of it, you don't care a single second for anything or anyone else in the world right now. Max asked you to prom. That's all you've wanted for ages. "I'm going to make my dress," you announce, smiling up at him as you walk down the sidewalk. "My mother has some extra fabric from a wedding that she made dresses for. It's the most beautiful shade of blue you've ever seen."
“That will be good.” He nods. “Do you want me to match your dress?”
"If you want to." The idea is a little thrilling - looking like you belong together - and you nod. "I think you'd look very handsome in blue."
“Then that will be the tuxedo that I order.” He promises, looking forward to the idea of going with you and seeing you dressed up. For him.
It doesn't seem real that he would actually want to go with you, but as you walk alongside him toward his house it feels like the very best kind of dream. He isn't shy about wanting the best of everything, and you always encourage him, but it isn't like you're the prettiest or most popular girl in school. There are other, arguably better choices. But he still asked you. "I can't wait."
He smiles, amazed that you had said yes. He doesn’t know why, but you seem to like being around him. “We will have a good time. Dance and see what the fuss is about.”
"I don't think I've ever seen you dance." There's no reason you would have, all things considered, but the thought spreads your smile a little further.
“I can dance.” He huffs, almost insulted by the idea that he couldn’t. The fact that he’s been practicing in his bedroom by himself is irrelevant.
"I never said you couldn't!" When he pouts like that it makes you want to find out if his lips are as soft as they look but you would never try to kiss him out of the blue. Only fast girls kiss boys they aren't going steady with - and your mother warned you what happens to fast girls. Well...she's said 'And you know what happens to fast girls, don't you?', but you were always too scared to admit that you didn't have any clue what she was talking about.
“Good, because I can.” Just to prove his point, he stops walking and grabs your hand to pull you into his arms to dance a small little circle around right there on the sidewalk.
It's like a movie scene when he reaches for you, his hand on your back burning through you despite the chilly weather. You could just melt right into the pavement on the spot. "Well, look at you," you hum, feeling breathless with your heart beating so fast. "A real dancer."
“All gentlemen know how to dance.” He informs you, grinning widely as he lets go and steps back to bow gracefully.
"Then I'll have to work on becoming a little more ladylike for you before prom." A soft giggle escapes you when he bows, and you shift your bookbag on your shoulder.
“Don’t change a thing about yourself.” He protests, shaking his head. “You are just right as you are.”
"You're very sweet." As the two of you turn to start walking together again, your hand itches to reach for his so you shove it in your pocket. "The sweetest boy in the whole world is taking me to prom."
There’s nothing that he can say to that, his mind going completely blank except to repeat that you think he’s sweet over and over again. He bites his lip and tries not to look too happy about your comment.
"Have you heard back from any colleges yet?" He has talked about wanting to go. You've talked about it together, and he has so many ideas for what his business degree could turn into that it makes your head spin. But he hasn't said yet if he has had any acceptance letters so it's made you wonder.
“A few.” He sighs and wishes that he were rich or his family was rich. “I can’t go though.”
"You have to have been offered scholarships." You know what trouble he would have with being able to go. It's the same one you have which is exactly why your own mother told you to stop being stupid and forget about it. Colleges, apparently, aren't for girls.
“Not enough for Harvard.” He had already done the math, several times and just couldn’t afford it. “I have to turn down an Ivy League school because I’m too poor.” It stings and he hates it.
"I'm so sorry, Max..." His dreams mean the world to him, and you know it. But there are some things that are beyond even his grasp. If you could find a way to make the world perfect for him you would do it instantly, but that dream is still out of your grasp.
“It’s not your fault.” He swallows. “Have you been hearing from colleges?”
"No." You shake your head, staring down at your shoes as you walk. "All that work you helped me put into the applications and my mother took them out of the mailbox and threw them away." The words ring in your mind, her voice echoing in your head. "College isn't for girls."
“College is for everyone.” He argues, immediately upset for you. You had worked hard on those applications and they were really good. You would have gotten three of your choices for sure. “We can redo them, hope they accept them late?” He offers quickly.
"She wouldn't help me with tuition." And unfortunately, he knows that you would need financial help to go to school, too. "I would have to get a full scholarship somewhere, and even with good grades I just don't know if it would happen."
“If you don’t try, you won’t ever find out.” He reminds you. “Great rewards sometimes require great risks.”
He has no idea that he sounds wise when he says things like that, and when you tilt your head to peek up at him again he's looking at you so earnestly that you sigh quietly. It makes your heart ache to know how special he is to you and that he couldn't ever feel that way about you, but you'll soak up every ounce of his attention while you can possibly get it. Before he goes off and conquers the world or something. "You really think so?"
“I do.” He nods seriously and frowns as he thinks. “After- after my parents are asleep, I could sneak over and help you.” He murmurs quietly. “Apply to your top three and I’ll mail them off from my house. That way she can’t throw them away.”
"Tonight." You decide, ready to believe anything is possible if he has that kind of faith in you. "Do you really think you can manage to sneak out? I don't want you to get in trouble on my account." His father could lose his temper over almost anything, and the last thing you wanted was for Max to suffer any extra. Not for you.
“I can.” He smirks slightly and straightens proudly. “We will make sure you go to college.” He knows you want to be an editor, maybe even a writer one day and he knows that a good college will make that happen.
Overwhelmed with the idea that it could be possible, you surge forward and grab his arm, planting a grateful kiss on his cheek before you pull away again just as fast. Your own face is burning, but just in this moment you find that you don't actually care that much. "Thank you," you murmur, beaming at him with gratitude and excitement. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve such a good friend. Thank you, Max."
“Thank you.” He murmurs quietly. “You are the one who befriended me.” He reminds you. You had pulled him into that classroom and saved him for another beating.
"I should have done it a long time ago." The embarrassment of not being braver stings, but there's nothing you can do besides swallow it down.
“No.” Max shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong. We all do what we have to. You were just trying to protect yourself.”
"Still." There isn't any point in wishing to change the past. You know that and he's right that you were trying to protect yourself. "You deserve the world, Max. Really."
“One day I will have the world.” He vows, grinning at you. “And so will you.”
****
It's a random, seemingly unimportant Saturday morning when a small knock sounds on your door. You had been sitting with a cup of coffee and a muffin trying to convince yourself to work on the draft of the book that you had been chipping away at for years when you heard it. Dantes mewed at the sound like it was rude for interrupting his long morning of staring at the ceiling, and you just laugh. "No, no," you chuckle at your cat. "Don't disturb yourself. I'll get it." The prim Russian Blue doesn't move when you get up from your seat and you peer through the peephole to see no one standing there at all. Opening the door curiously, you find a little boy with impossibly wide eyes standing on your doorstep. "Well, hello." You've seen this little boy before, coming in and out of the building or on the stairs, always hugging tight to Max's side. "You must be Alistair."
“Dad said that you have a cat that I could play with?” He asks, curious to find out the truth of this. “He knows I was coming over. He said he would be just a minute behind me. Is that okay?”
"Of course it is." Stepping back to let him inside, you point through the kitchen to the cat tree. "That's Dantes. Let me get you some of his favorite toys and a few treats you can give him, and you guys can play in the living room, okay?" This is a cat who loves kids, so you're sure everything will go well, but you want Max's son to go into the first meeting armed with all the right tools.
“Okay!” He grins at you and nearly bounces on his toes with glee. “I’m excited to meet him. I’ve wanted a pet for a long time but dad didn’t have time, but I don’t blame him.” He tells you seriously, nodding for emphasis.
“Your dad is doing his very best for you, and that includes making sure you had a neighbor with a cat to visit. You’re welcome to come over any time you like, and your dad is too.” You leave the door cracked open for Max to follow, careful that it isn’t enough for Dante’s to escape, and bring Alistair to get the cat’s favorite things so they can meet.
Max had been washing your plate to bring it over to you again. Alistair had been too eager and had decided that he couldn’t wait to go meet Dantes. Max didn’t have the heart to tell him to wait, so he had sent him over and hoped you would understand.
When he tentatively pushes the door open a few minutes later, Alistair is on the living room rug dangling a toy for Dante’s to bat around with a bowl full of kitty kibble and assorted small treats for the cat and a muffin and glass of juice for himself. You’ve set yourself back up at your little kitchenette table a few feet away, though your manuscript is now pushed aside in favor of the New York Times crossword. “Hey.” When you spy Max’s head peak around the door, you wave him in. “Morning, neighbor.”
“It’s not too early, is it?” He asks, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I wrangled him as long as I could.” He grins and shrugs. “But then breakfast was over.”
“It’s never too early.” Not for him is what you want to say, but instead you say, “not for friends.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Not until coffee for me. I used to take all these supplements and herbs, but now it’s just pure caffeine.”
“Can I pour you a cup? I always make a full pot for some reason and never drink it all.” Up and out of your seat before he can even answer, you’re grabbing a mug out of your cupboard and pulling out the bakery box from your trip down the block this morning. “I also have more muffins than one human can manage. I guess the wind told me to be ready for guests today.”
“I’m sorry we showed up unannounced.” Max winces and looks around. “If you have plans…..” He doesn’t want to intrude on your day if you are busy. It would be easy to get Alistair to leave. He’s been promising to take him to Central Park.
“I was going to sit and curse at my manuscript all day,” you admit with a shrug and pour out his cup. “You saved me from getting frustrated with myself.”
“Oh! A book?” He asks, remembering your dream of writing a book. “Is it your first? Or are you published under a pen name?”
"This would be my first. I've been fighting with it for years and I'm still not satisfied with the second half of the story." Coming back to the table, you set down a mug of coffee and the box of muffins for him with a plate. "Alistair asked for the chocolate chip, I hope it's okay that I said yes."
“Of course.” He can’t help but huff in amusement. “Probably better than the burned eggs and cereal we had for breakfast.”
“Help yourself,” you insist, motioning to the box. Sitting down across from him like this is oddly familiar - like your high school cafeteria should materialize around you any second - but you don’t dislike it.
“I appreciate it.” He’s remembering all the times you had eaten together over the years. Including the one meal he bought you before prom.
“How is the job search going?” The few little talks you had had in the stairwell or while grabbing your mail from the boxes in the lobby had clued you in to how Max’s life is running these days and it’s an unfortunate reality. Since the incident people have been wary of him and even downright rude.
“I will find something soon.” He forces out cheerily. “I am hoping that a few places will call me back.” He doubts it, but all he can do is hope someone gives him a chance.
“I know it isn’t…Your dream or anything, but the publishing house I work for is expanding so they’re hiring all sorts of positions.” It was something you had been discussing ad nauseam in the office and had been meaning to mention to him anyway. Now is as good a time as any. “I can get a complete list from my friend in HR if you like? And I’ll vouch for you if you decide to put in for anything.”
“Are you sure you want to be associated with me?” He asks seriously. Some of the comments you have made lead him to believe that you know what happened last winter. “I don’t want to put your profession or your own job at risk.”
“I’m sure.” You’ve always been sure about him. He might not understand it - hell, sometimes you didn’t always understand it - but that’s just how you feel about him. “I know you, Max. I trust you.”
“You haven’t seen me in twelve years before this week.” He reminds you quietly, looking down at the blueberry muffin in his hands. “I wasn’t a good man.”
“I might not know anything about Maxwell Lord,” you lower your voice, not conspicuously but not wanting to perk Alistair’s ears. “But I know Max Lorenzano. He helped me get into college. Took me to prom. Listened to every story and fear and triumph that I had for years. You were my best friend, Max. Let me repay you for helping me believe in myself.”
Max swallows harshly, overcome with the glowing review of a boy who had been so ashamed of being poor. It sounds like you preferred him. “Thank you.” He replies hoarsely.
“I know it’s been a while.” But you’ve thought about him constantly, and even though you might not admit that to him so that you don’t have to have an awkward conversation with your first love about him actually being your first love, you’re not shy about wanting to help. “I’d like to be friends again. Like we used to be.”
“Like we used to be.” He nods. Friends where a shy and awkward boy had an unrequited crush on you. He had survived it once and he could do it again to have you back in his corner.
“Alistair’s very sweet.” It changes the topic cleanly because you don’t want Max to get a whiff of the fact that your feelings for him have come back nearly full force. Not that he had any idea the first time around. Or if he did, he hadn’t let you know it. Instead you put your focus on his son, the excitable little boy that he has put all his focus in himself.
“He is a good kid.” Max can easily agree with that. “I don’t deserve him, but for some reason he loves me.” His eyes drift to the living room and he smiles when he sees Alistair petting Dantes and cooing happily at the attention loving cat.
If you were bold, you’d promise him that he’s not difficult at all to love, but you’ve never been bold. You hadn’t even been bold enough to kiss him at prom. Instead you smile warmly and pick up your coffee. “You deserve much more than you think.”
“I think we will have to disagree on that.” He murmurs, snorting softly. “I didn’t realize what I was doing until I almost lost him. An angry mob, coming for me, scared him and he was wandering the streets of D.C. by himself.” He stares down at his coffee mug, glad to get this off his chest. “I would have never forgiven myself if he had been hurt.”
“What is life if not making mistakes and learning lessons?” You had been watching right along with the rest of the world while it all happened, but being on the outside must have been a very different experience than being where he was on the inside. “He’s okay. He’s safe, and he has a father who loves him. In time you’ll learn to forgive yourself like he’s already forgiven you.”
“Perhaps.” Max won’t agree with that, but he also won’t count it out. “First I need to prove that I can be useful. Helpful.”
"Sometimes it's okay to just have fun, too." But you won't push. Or press. "I haven't seen you since college," you say instead. "What have you been up to, besides having that angel of a little boy?"
“Married…divorced.” Max sighs and shrugs. “Tried to make Black Gold work. I really did. Convinced I was going to find oil.”
"There are lots of places in the world with oil. It isn't so crazy to think that you would find some." Anytime you had seen his name in the papers, you had tried to follow it. Unfortunately it seemed to be more bad news than good for the last few years.
“Except I never did.” He has made an uneasy peace with his past and shrugs slightly. “Perhaps it was for the best. I certainly learned humility.”
"There must have been bright spots." You can't believe that his entire adult life has been miserable.
“Not as many as there were during our senior year.” He admits with a small chuckle. “I was chasing the dream and didn’t stop to admire the roses.”
"Maybe that's what this is, then." The urge to take it as a compliment to you is there, but it would be conceited to think that he means you were what made it good. "Time to stop and admire the world around you."
“Admire the world around me, huh?” He contemplates it for a moment, wondering where you go so wise, but then he remembers that you have been living your dream for some time. Max just needs to figure out what his new dream is. “I think you are right.”
****
It took a couple of weeks for Max to go through the interview process, and your bosses had pulled you into a conference room with an HR rep for an hour of round table "Are you fucking serious?" about the fact that your name is listed as a personal reference on his resume. In the end they had relented. In eight years with the company you had never had a single mark against you on your file and you're one of the most productive editors on staff. If they're going to take anyone's word at all about a potential new hire, it's going to be yours. Now, two weeks into Max's time as a member of the office's janitorial staff, your coworkers are starting to take notice. They've noticed that you arrive together every morning and leave together every evening, and that sometimes you chat quickly in the hall in passing. Almost all of them have recognized him at this point, of course, and it seems like they've deputized your closest work friend to ask you about him.
Max is eager to please, finding that the work is not beneath him as he might have once imagined. He pushes his cart around the offices with pride and tries to ignore the dirty looks and comments. Especially the prick in editing that purposefully made a mess for him to clean up. Seemingly enjoying watching Max clean up after him. He sees one of your co-works walking up to you so he doesn’t stop, just giving you both a respectful nod and a small smile as he makes his way to the bathrooms for their twice a day cleaning.
It’s good to see him taking pride in what he’s doing now. Tangible results of his work being something that seems to satisfy Max in a way you hadn’t expected but are grateful to see. “Hey Kim.” She’s buzzing directly over to you without being subtle, so you slow down to talk to her.
“Soooooooooo.” She lifts her brows and looks at Max’s retreating back. Instead of the boxy power suits he had been wearing, he was wearing a pair of work chinos and a polo shirt. Perhaps a little more dressy than most janitors but it’s an effort to look professional. “This is interesting.”
“The hallway?” You raise a skeptical eyebrow at her, continuing to walk back toward your desks at the other end of the floor. “I don’t know that I would call it interesting.”
“You know what I’m talking about.” She huffs and jostles your shoulder lightly. “Max Lord.” She clarifies, rolling her eyes. “How do you know him?”
Yes, you knew, but that doesn’t mean you’ve exactly been excited for someone to come asking about it. You know what people still think of him. “We grew up together,” you tell Kim honestly. “Same home town in Texas.”
“You grew up with Max Lord?” Her eyes widen and flutter back towards the hallway where Max’s cart is sitting outside the Men’s restroom.
“Yep.” Trying to not make it seem like a big deal, you shrug. “We were friends. Now he’s my neighbor and we’re friends again.”
“Friends.” She’s skeptical about that, but she can’t deny that Max is far more attractive in person than he was in those horrible television ads. “Uh huh, if you want to keep your cards close…” she eyes you, waiting to see if you say anything else.
“What?” Her face says she doesn’t believe you, and she’s fucking right not to but you do your best to look innocent.
“You haven’t noticed that - despite being Max Lord - your friendly, neighbor janitor is a very good looking man?” She scoffs slightly and sends you a knowing look. “And just your type based on the men you like looking at when we drag you out to happy hour.”
“There isn’t any despite being with Max,” you defend instantly, feeling a little indignant. “He’s a good guy who did wrong and he’s doing everything he can to rebuild his life now.” It’s bad enough he got bullied in school, he doesn’t deserve that bullshit at work, too. “And—” Clearing your throat carefully doesn’t help you sound less guilty at all. “I…don’t have a type.”
Her brows shoot up at the vehemence in your voice and she doesn’t remind you that he almost destroyed the entire world with that wish granting trick he had pulled. She doesn’t think that you would listen and you are a good friend. “If you say so.” She murmurs quietly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
"There's nothing for me to get hurt about." A fact which makes swallowing hard for longer than you're proud of, and you avert your eyes back to watching your shoes tread the carpet like you used to do in the halls of your high school walking side by side with him.
“Do you want to come out with us tonight?” Sensing that you are wanting to change the subject, she obliges. “We are going out for apps and drinks.”
“Sure.” It’s been a while since you had a night out with the girls - since Max appeared in your life - and it sounds like a good idea. Like having fun instead of sitting in your apartment hoping and wondering if he’ll come over to say hello after already being at work together all day. “The usual spot?” There’s a bar not far from the office that does great food, and sometimes there’s single guys from other nearby offices to flirt with. It usually makes for an entertaining Friday night.
“Absolutely.” She nods, shooting you a grin.
“Okay. I’ll just let Max know.” It will be the first time since starting his job that he’s committed home alone, but it’s not a difficult trip. He already knows the connections by heart.
“You…..you should bring him.” Kim says after a moment. “Let him hang out socially. Might help.”
"Are you sure?" The look you give Kim is skeptical, knowing that some of the girls you usually get drinks with might not be so warm about getting to know Max. And usually there aren't many guys that tag along. "Are any of the guys coming tonight?"
“There’s Brad and Dan.” She acknowledges, shrugging slightly. “It could be good for them to see him as a normal man.”
"It would be good for them to see normal human interaction." You roll your eyes, but only playfully. Brad is more than a little bit of a horndog and Dan seems to have learned everything about how to be manly from Brad. It isn't a bad thought. Getting to get to know some people outside of their roles at the office is probably a really good idea, actually. Contemplating it for a second, you nod. "I'll invite him. But if he ends up not being able to come it's probably because his babysitter couldn't stay late on short notice, not because he doesn't want to be social."
“Then I won’t tell anyone that he might come.” She decides, knowing that surprising them might them best thing anyway. You both stop at your desk and she reaches out and touches your arm, “I don’t want you to be cross with me.” She tells you. “I just wanted to see what was going on.”
"I'm not cross." Kim has always been a good friend, and you squeeze her hand back gently. "I just wish it were easier for him to get the clean slate he came here for. But you're right. Socializing will be good."
“It doesn’t help that he broadcasted his mistake.” Kim reminds you quietly. “But I have to admit, he’s been nothing but polite since he’s been working here. And the bathrooms are spotless.”
"He knows he did wrong. And everyone deserves a chance to start fresh." At least, that's what you've always said. And so far you haven't had too many people who made you briefly regret your optimism. "It's nice of you to think of inviting him. He really is a good guy underneath everything that happened."
“He’s attractive.” She has to admit, “especially with the darker hair that looks more natural on him.”
“The blonde didn’t suit him.” A nostalgic smile drifts across your face that you barely even notice but Kim surely does. “He dyed it back to its natural color. The way he looked when we were growing up.”
“And you didn’t date?” She smiles skeptically.
“No.” A thing that makes you glance away and fluster more than you’re proud of. “We went to prom together, but we never went steady or anything.”
“Oh.” She nods and bites her lip. “Well, let me know about tonight, okay?” She doesn’t want you to be upset if it’s a case of unrequited love and that seems to be what it is.
“I will.” Your nod is enough to make her comfortable taking away, and it’s about an hour later that you catch Max moving across the hall to restock the kitchenette that services this floor of the building.
Max reasons that the staff of the publishing house is lucky. The management provides complimentary snacks and drinks beyond packs of peanuts and coffee. It’s really impressive and it makes him think of what he would have offered his own staff if Black Gold had actually become successful. He regrets how he had to tell Raquel that he couldn’t pay her that last paycheck, but he had managed to send it to her three months later when he had sold his house.
“Hey.” Slipping into the kitchen to pour a fresh cup of coffee, you grin seeing Max so diligent and seemingly satisfied with each thing he gets done. Any job is good that can be satisfying. “How’s your day?”
"I do not know how some people can be so disgusting in public." He shudders and shakes his head. "The men are the worst....but," he grimaces and lowers his voice. "I do not know how some could keep their....sanitary products unwrapped when they are used."
"Women are absolutely gross." You tell him sagely, nodding with a solemn expression to keep from giggling. "If Alistair had a sister you'd see it full force, I promise."
"I am not unused to women's monthly issues." He insists. "I was married to Alistair's mom and would often buy her the things she needed." When he remembered, which was less often than he should have. It was another regret he had, but he couldn't make up for it now.
"Speaking of things we do monthly." Waggling your eyebrows at the lame segue to make him laugh, your smile spreads when you get a confused look out of him. "Some of our coworkers are going out for drinks and stuff after work tonight. You're invited, if you'd like to call Señora Ramos and ask her to stay with Alisitair a little later."
His expression is one of shock and then he frowns. "I don't know if I should." He admits, glancing towards the door of the break room. "I don't want to cause you issues." He knows that you have taken some flack since you had convinced your bosses to give him a chance. Even if you deny it, he's caused you problems. The last thing he wants is for you to suffer more when you've been an incredible friend to him.
"You're not." And no matter how many times you need to repeat it, you always will. Max is never going to get his confidence back as long as he thinks of himself as a burden. And to you? He is anything but. "It might be good to spend time with people out of the office. Make some new friends?"
"I doubt that." He scoffs slightly and bites his lip. It would be nice to spend some time with you outside of the apartments and the office. Socially. Like that one dinner that he had managed to pay for all those years ago. "Do you want me to go?"
"Of course I do." There is no possible way you would want anything else, unless going out would truly make him unhappy somehow. "I love spending time with you." Yup. That's how that sentence goes. Absolutely.
He quietly thinks about it for a long moment before he nods. "I will call Señora Ramos and see if she can watch Alistair for a few more hours." He decides and despite his worries, his posture straightens and he looks excited.
"You deserve a night to be an adult," you remind him, but the way he straightens has you hoping that he's looking forward to it now. "I'll see you at the end of the day, okay? We can walk over to the bar together."
"I will see you then." He nods, knowing he will have to call the babysitter right away before he can really start looking forward to the idea of going out with you and your friends.
******
When the end of the work day comes, you're eager to leave your desk behind. Max hadn't come by your desk to tell you that there was a problem with plans for the evening so you're looking forward to being able to just relax with your friends - both old and new.
Max finishes up his work early, busting his ass to make sure he was done and able to put all of his supplies away and be ready for you at the elevators on time. He has gotten the go ahead from Señora Ramos and was looking forward to buying you a drink.
"Ready to go?" Though you beg your mind not to brim with memories of him picking you up for prom, they're at the top of your mind anyway as the elevator opens and Max strides out into the lobby.
"I am." He had to dry his hands on a paper towel on the way down to the lobby and shove it in his pocket. "Are you?" He asks, lifting his brows and giving you a chance to reconsider. He wouldn't blame you.
"Absolutely." You would take his hand under different circumstances. As it is, your fingers twist around the strap of your purse as you nod toward the doors. "Kim and some of the others just went ahead to grab us tables."
“Oh.” He frowns slightly but nods. “Then we should hurry, no?”
"It's not a race." It does make you chuckle, though, and you nod toward the doors before starting to walk. "We're five minutes behind at the absolute most."
"Where do you normally go to do this 'happy hour'?" Max asks as he guides you out of the building and lets you turn him in the right direction.
"There's a place called Pollard's a couple of blocks away that has really good drink deals and small plate stuff. I'm a big fan of filling myself with margaritas and flatbread on a Friday night." In fact it was something of a ritual, and you're glad to share that with him if he's inclined to it. Alistair is a strict cheese-only kind of kind when it comes to pizza but there is a whole world of more adult flavours to get behind.
"It has been a long time since I have had a margarita." He admits, wondering how you act when you have alcohol. Genji used to make fun of him for being too earnest, too eager to please when he was drunk. He had switched to champagne to make himself seem more sophisticated but actually hated the taste.
"Then you'll have to share with me." The idea lights you up inside and you nudge him while you walk. "They do this margarita tower thing...it sounds impressive but it's two or three drinks each and ridiculously cheap. Best margaritas in the city."
"Then we will have that." Max grins and nods. "And you like the...flatbreads?" He doesn't know what it is, but you seem happy about having one.
"It's just fancy pizza." You grin when he sounds confused and put your nose in the air while you walk. "Fancy metropolitan pizza. I thought you might like a change of pace from all the cheese all the time."
Max groans and rolls his eyes. "Aliastair has to try something else." He pouts slightly. "Even if it's just pepperoni."
"One day we'll have him eating a huge variety. But not quite yet." That pout hasn't changed in twenty years. It still makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and cuddle it away. Which is why you immediately shove your hands in your pockets when you see it. "For now, we'll have some adult treats."
"Something other than Fruit Loops." Max snorts with a grin. "He had me buy two boxes when we went to the bodega last weekend."
"I promise." You hold up your pinky to him after scurrying across a busy street. "No Fruit Loops."
Chuckling as he rings his own pinky around yours, he feels like he's back in high school with you. Promising that he won't become friends with your cousin, as if that could have ever happened. "I want to buy your drinks and food tonight." He tells you.
"You don't have to do that." In fact, you had been planning on just paying the tab for both of you. Considering that you're the one who invited him, you didn't want him to feel pressured or have to count pennies.
"I want to. To say thank you." He shoves his hands into his pockets and concentrates on the steps in front of him. "For helping me find the job, for being a good friend." He lowers his voice slightly. "For not hating me."
"I could never hate you." Sure there had been things you didn't understand. Or times you were hurt when he lavished attention on other people. Like the girls at college that he had told you about during their holiday breaks. But hate? You could never. "I'm glad to have my best friend back."
Friend. He reminds himself that was what he was to you. No more. He frowns slightly as he suddenly thinks about something that makes his heart drop. "You- is there someone you meet at your happy hour meetings?" He asks, slightly jealous of the idea.
"There's a couple of people who always come. Kim, Jennifer, and Gretchen for sure. And usually Carmen. Apparently this time Brad and Dan are coming, too," you tell him, fully misunderstanding the question.
"And which one are you happiest to see?" Max asks, happy mood suddenly souring.
"I mean...usually Kim, I guess?" It's impossible to stop on the pavement in the middle of Midtown, but you tilt your head and your forehead furrows when he looks upset. "Why? Do you...not like some of them?"
"I see." He shakes his head. "No, I do not know them." He reminds you. "I understand now why it never...." He breaks off and shakes his head again, adopting a charming smile. "Never mind, I am eager to meet your friends."
There's a train of thought there that you can't quite follow, but you nod vaguely and keep walking. The two of you are quiet when you pull open the door to Pollard's and Kim waves enthusiastically from a place in the corner where a half dozen small tables have been pushed together for your group. "Looks like we're over there."
Max hangs back slightly, both wary of everyone's reception of him and mulling over the knowledge that you had never been interested in him because you liked women. He had wondered why you never seemed to want to take things farther with him. One of the reasons he had looked so hard for someone in college, to get you off his mind.
After giving hugs to your friends and sitting down beside Kim, you pull out the chair on your other side for Max. The group looks like they've been told to behave themselves - something you'll thank Kim for later - and you look around you only to notice that he hasn't sat down yet. "Max?"
"Hello." Max nods to everyone and bites his lip. "Do you mind if I join you?" It's important that he doesn't insert himself where he's not wanted. Something that he would do too often in his bid for respectability and investments.
"You're more than welcome," Kim insists, waving her hand at the chair on your other side. Everybody had agreed to play nice tonight for your sake. Generally speaking you're just too nice for your own good, and most of your extended work-friend group is curious. "Food here is great. I don't know if our girl told you or not on the way over."
Our girl. Max smiles politely and sits. "She has told me about the margaritas and the flatbread pizzas." He nods and looks around at everyone and wonders what they really think about him being here. "So I believe I will like it."
"Let me guess," Kim hums, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Margarita tower?" "Of course." It's kind of your go-to anytime you have someone to share it with, and you stretch out with a happy grin at the table. "Max needs a rest from the world of juice boxes and cheese pizza."
"You have a child?" Jennifer asks curiously. "I didn't know that."
"His son's an angel." You offer, smiling at Max, who looks uncomfortable again. "He's my cat's new favorite playmate."
“Alistair is eight.” Max tells them. “The best son anyone could ask for. Sweet and kind, loving.” All traits that Max needed to improve on as an adult, but Alistair’s faith in him, your faith in him, kept him pushing forward.
“Eight is such a good age.” Gretchen goes a little dreamy. Everyone knows her kids are hell on wheels now that they’re teenagers, and she misses when they were little. “Curiosity is at a premium at that age. They’re like little sponges. And so sweet. Oh you’re so lucky.”
"Very lucky." Max can wholeheartedly agree with that. "We have been exploring the museums on the weekends and he asks so many questions that the tour guides don't know." It makes him regret not taking him to more museums while they were in D.C., but he is enjoying the outings with his son and is proud of his curiosity.
“Does he have a library card yet?” She asks, obviously enjoying memories of that age. “My youngest loved the themed story hours until she was eleven or twelve.”
“He doesn’t, but I should get him one.” Max tilts his head in interest. “He loves to read and watch movies.”
“It’s worth it.” Gretchen promises with a smile, and she picks up her menu. “No matter where you are in the city, you can always find a branch.”
“Thank you.” Max replies sincerely. “I will take him to get a card this weekend. We are planning on picnicking in Central Park.” He chuckles. “Which, to Alistair, means pizza at the park.”
“Central Park and the library sounds like a perfect day.” It twists your heart a little - the number of times you’ve thought about what would have happened if you have been brave enough to tell Max how you felt years ago. If Alistair would be your little boy instead of someone else’s. The result has been that you soak up every minute of time that Max’s son is willing to spend with you.
“Would you like to come with us?” Mac is always happy to have you with him. You make the even brighter with your company, just like when you were in high school.
"I'd love to." There's no hesitation for you. No question or even need to consider. Any chance you get to spend with Max, you're going to take it. "You guys have been spending a lot of time together, huh?" Kim asks, amusement twitching in the corner of her mouth. She had thought that you were acting a little defensive earlier because of some unrequited thing, but now she thinks you might just be oblivious to how requited it could be. Not that she would ever get mixed up with a guy like Max Lord, but you seem to have a unique history with the guy.
“She has been very kind to us.” Max is careful to not sully your reputation with telling them how most evenings are spent together and you’ve taught him to make more than mac and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. “New York is very different from D.C. and we are grateful to have someone who knows the area like she does.”
"Rekindling the old friendship, right?" It's a little bit of prodding, sure, but she's also trying to peel away at that Maxwell Lord veneer that they all saw on tv for so long and make him a real person to your other friends.
“I was very lucky to have her as my friend.” Max admits, looking down at his hands shyly. “Believe it or not, I was not well liked when I was younger.” He chuckles at how true that still was, although that was because of his mistakes rather than his misfortune of being poor or an immigrant.
"Neither of us was," you amend, not wanting him to feel singled out by that fact. "If not for Max, I wouldn't have survived senior year. And I definitely wouldn't have gone to college."
“That was a long night.” He remembers, smiling slightly at the memory. “But your admission papers were perfect.” He had sent them off like he had promised and you had been accepted to all of them, with scholarships.
"My mother was furious." A fact which makes you giggle now, so many years later. "Until it became a bragging point. She found out that one of the colleges I applied to was all women, and suddenly I was making a modest, pious choice to educate myself to be a good wife." You roll your eyes heavily, knowing that your years at Sarah Lawrence had radicalized you in ways that your mother could never have dreamed of. "Imagine her disappointment when I went and got a career after college instead of a husband."
“She should be proud of you.” Max shakes his head, still unable to believe what your mother had put you through. “I was. I am. You are in a prestigious position and working on becoming a published author.”
"All thanks to you, it sounds like." Kim is actually smiling, and Gretchen's expression has turned from curious to fond. "You know, this is the most we've ever been able to get her to open up about the old days. Normally she just glosses over any hometown or family questions."
“Oh.” He tosses you a look, hoping that he has not overstepped. “Life was not great for us, but we managed together and we had fun. Prom was possibly the best night of my life until the day Alistair was born.”
"Did you go to prom together?" Gretchen looks like she might melt at that, while Brad and Dan are clearly regretting that there isn't something less girly to talk about.
“Yeah.” Max nods and grins slightly. “It was a good night. We had fun and I still have the pictures we took.”
"You still have those?" Somehow you hadn't expected that, and it makes you light up and soften at the same time. "My mother got rid of my copies...along with pretty much everything else."
“She was always a…difficult woman.” Max sighs. “Genji made sure that she kept them when we divorced but returned all my stuff when we moved to New York.”
"Sounds like your ex-wife and my mother would have gotten along well," you grumble sympathetically when the waitress appears to take your drink orders.
Max defers to you, letting you order first and adding a glass of water in addition to the margarita tower.
Several beers, Gretchen's Long Island Iced Tea, and Kim's white wine selection later, you're all engrossed in looking through food options. The reason you like this place that is it's easy to blend into the background and still get decent service. Yours isn't the only office that empties into this building on a Friday night, and a group of tables nearby is taken up by some folks from a nearby marketing firm that you recognize as fellow regulars. It's just a cordial, relaxed atmosphere that is more than welcome after a long work week.
“They have a lot of options.” Max hums as he looks through the menu. “Have you had anything other than the flatbreads?”
"Not much," you admit with a guilty grin. "Do you want to try something else? I don't mind broadening my horizons a little."
“We could always get the appetizer thing.” He points to a sampler. “And your flatbread. Splitting it and trying more things?”
"If that's what sounds good to you, I'm in." He could suggest almost anything and you would go along with it, so this is barely a compromise. All you want is for him to enjoy himself tonight.
He nods, smiling at you and relaxing slightly. No one has been rude yet and it feels almost like the old days, although he’s still slightly upset he never realized that you were into women.
It's a comfortable evening, with people loosening up after some drinks and food. Brad drags Jennifer away from her seat to dance at one point, even though this is definitely a bar that does not have a dance floor. It's warm and comfortable and there is something extra in the air tonight that is probably just the margaritas talking, but it has you smiling and laughing even more than usual.
As the evening goes on, Max relaxed a little more. Somehow the buttons of his polo pop open and he leans back and ruffles his hand through his hair as the alcohol mellows him out. Sticking close to you and to Kim, he has tried to figure out the dynamic and it’s driving him crazy. He wants to be a good friend and be supportive of you, but he also wishes that he had taken that chance so many years ago and kissed you when it seemed like the right moment for it.
You're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...you'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much... Frankie Valli croons through the speakers in the bar, making your head jump up and your eyes snap over to Max. Like the memory of senior prom wasn't enough, that song throws you back in time harder than a slingshot.
******
Max tries to suppress his nerves, praying his hands aren’t sweaty as he guides you through the song. It’s romantic and one that he’s heard before, making him think of you. At long last love has arrived….And I thank God I'm alive “Are you having a good time?” He asks, desperately hopeful that you don’t hate the night with him.
"Of course I am." You're here with him, there's nothing realistic that you could think of to make it better. Realistic being the key. Those little daydreams you've had about going out to Lover's Lane with him or cuddling up under the stars? Those are just fantasies. "A--are you?"
“I am.” He nods and smiles at you. “Your dress is the prettiest one here.” You had taken his breath away and he was grateful that the corsage matched and his suit complimented it.
"Do you think so?" The pattern is a little old fashioned probably, but you love it. the flowers that you had carefully embroidered for embellishment and the few crystals that you managed to get your hands on had made you hopeful that he would like it, but your mother had scoffed that boys don't care what dress you wear. After that, even though you had finished the dress, you had been a little less giddy about it.
“It is beautiful. I cannot believe that you made it yourself.” He smiles and reaches up from your back to rub the edge of your shoulder strap. “If you wanted to, you could be a very accomplished seamstress.”
"Maybe I'll just make my own dresses." You beam at him, unable to contain how hard you're smiling at such a compliment. "Dinner dresses to go out in. Or even my wedding dress one day."
“It would be breathtaking.” His heart pounds in his chest thinking about your wedding day. Painfully wishing that he was the lucky man who got to meet you in front of the priest.
"Not that...that I think that will happen any time soon." Mostly because you can't picture the day at all with anyone but him, and he doesn't seem to like you that way. Even all through the nice dinner he took you to before the dance tonight, he hadn't tried to hold your hand or anything. Which is okay. It's not like you don't know that boys don't like you. But you're trying not to lose hope before the night is over.
“No, you must get through college first.” Max insists seriously. “It is important that you establish your dreams first.” Max decides that he will become wealthy before he asks you out, not wishing for you to pity him. He had been so nervous tonight he couldn’t form the words to ask you to the movies, even though he wanted to.
"I've been waiting for the right time to tell you." Deciding that this is it - this moment, this dance, this song, you are absolutely beaming at him. "I spoke with the financial department at Sarah Lawrence yesterday. They're actually going to give me enough scholarships and grants that I can manage it."
“What?” Max gasps, lighting up. “That’s great.” He lunges forward to hug you tightly, excited that you were getting to have your dream despite your mother trying to sabotage you.
“It’s all thanks to you.” You hug him back tightly, nearly giggling with excitement. “I never could have gotten it all done alone.”
"You could have." He protests, but he beams at your praise. "We will both have our college degrees in no time and I will know a famous publisher and you will know a powerful businessman."
Know. You will know each other. Nothing more. You try so hard not to let your smile dim and end up clinging to him a little harder. If you weren't so terrified of losing him altogether then you wouldn't care what the other girls said. You could live with being considered 'fast' for kissing him first if you were just brave enough.
You seem so happy by the prospect, he bites his lip and wonders if he imagines that you sometimes look at him like you want to kiss him. Perhaps it is just his own wants projecting onto you, he has a habit of doing that, but he cannot help it with you. If he had one person in the world to save, it would be you. Whispering your name, he gathers the shreds of his courage and presses slightly closer to you.
For a second you can't tell if it's your imagination or if the world really has stopped moving around you. Your vision has narrowed down to just him and he's filled your other senses -- but when does he not? When do you ever think of anyone in the whole world before Max? Sometimes you could swear he thinks of you as more than just a friend, and right now his hands grasping you a little tighter has your heart jumping directly into your throat as it starts to beat wildly out of control.
Staring into your eyes, Max wets his lips, finding them suddenly dry and chapped. He doesn't want your (hopefully) first kiss to be dry. He swallows again and decides to go for it. His fingers flex on your hip and his eyes drop down to your lips as he leans in more. "Ladies and gentleman! It is time to crown our prom King and Queen!"
The sheer volume of the announcement has you both jumping out of your skins, startling apart from each other like a cartoon and breaking the moment. You could have sworn that he was inching closer to you. He looked like he was going to kiss you. And now you've completely lost it.
Max's heart sinks down to his toes and he gives you a small smile before the two of you turn towards the stage. Cursing himself for not being fast enough, the moment is gone and with it, his courage.
******
“Did you have fun tonight?” Walking from the subway stop to your apartment building, you have your hands once again shoved into your pockets in that long-established custom of keeping yourself from reaching for him. A few margaritas each has you feeling loose and relaxed, but it isn’t like you’re not in control of yourself.
"It was really fun." Max sounds bewildered, as if he was surprised that having drinks with your co-workers, his co-workers could be a pleasant time. "I see why you like her." He still feels bad that he hadn't noticed it before, but he's trying to be there for you.
"Bars are girls?" You ask him, wondering why he gave a building a pronoun. Maybe it's one of those weird things like how cars and ships are female somehow.
"Nooooooo." He manages to giggle slightly, fully feeling the effects of the alcohol now. "Not the bar." He snorts and nearly trips over a piece of the sidewalk that has lifted up and he stumbles forward before straightening and looking down in bewilderment. "Kim."
"Did you not like her before tonight?" If he had disliked her you hadn't noticed, and that makes you feel a bit silly. But the silly might also be the couple of margaritas you had.
"No, I like her." He shakes his head, not willing to let you think he doesn't like your crush. "I think that she's nice. I see why you like her." He stresses. "I'm jealous."
"Why are you jealous?" That makes you frown very deeply, and your nose wrinkles. "She's just my friend." Not your best friend, or anything more -- like you've always considered him to be.
"I can't help it." Max hangs his head and his shoulders round slightly. "I will get past it. Support you."
"Stop." At the front door of your walk up, you swing around in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stand a little bit taller and actually look at you. "What are you talking about? Support me how?"
"By being happy for you." He frowns and motions towards you like it should be obvious.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Your head drops and shakes animatedly, a pout turning down the points of your lips. "I'm fine, I guess? But I'm not...happy happy."
"Because you have not told her." Max nods, understanding and reaches out and takes your hand. "You must, otherwise you will live with regret. Like I do."
He isn't making any sense, but his large hand covering yours is warm and making you fuzzier than even the tequila had. "I should tell Kim that she's my friend?" You ask, trying to understand him. "She knows that already."
"No." Max winces and shakes his head. "You should tell her that...." he closes his eyes, in pain for the lost chance, or maybe the chance that never was. His unrequited heart aching. "That you love her." He whispers.
The swirling confusion that started at your toes and went all the way up to fogging your brain stops dead, and all of a sudden you're standing up - stone sober - in front of Max with a clarity that makes you feel more foolish than you ever have in your life. More foolish than the first time you ever met a lesbian, way back in college. "But..." you look at him with resignation in you somewhere. "I don't. I mean she's my friend and I love her platonically but...did you think I was gay this whole time?"
"You shouldn't have to hide it." Max swallows and opens his eyes. "I figured it out, it- it hurts because I know that my feelings would never be returned, and I wondered if I imagined the times you looked like you wished- it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I am your friend and I will be here for you. Be your friend, no matter if I am jealous."
If the last revelation hadn't instantly sobered you, this one certainly would. You're practically gawking at him in the middle of the sidewalk as people move around you in all directions. "What feelings?" You insist - demand - feeling your heart strangle in your chest so tightly it could rip into pieces.
His shoulders round again and he sends you a look that is a mixture of humiliation, apology and heartache. "Please don't- I had tried so hard to move on from you in college, to pretend that it didn't matter that you would never date poor Max." He chokes out. "You- you have been exactly like you were in high school, of course my infatuation with you came back."
"Is this some kind of joke?" You never thought that Max would be cruel enough to pull a practical joke this personal on you, but your hands retract and you cross them over your chest like a very poor set of armor. "If it is, it's mean, and I never thought you were mean. But pretending you had a crush on me when I've spent my entire life in love with you is just cruel."
Max frowns, unsure of what you mean when he has just told you his feelings, but he swallows harshly. "I- I didn't- I'm sorry." He gulps, having completely missed your confession of love. "I know you don't - it's - I can't help it. You have always been the girl I wish I kissed that night at prom." He murmurs quietly, shoulders slumping even more and he turns to walk away, sure that you want nothing to do with him now.
It's too much to process and yet your mind gets through it at lightning speed. Fast enough with your reflexes to throw yourself through the other door of your apartment building and end up in front of him, your body is reacting a lot faster than you can even tell it to. He's barely inside the lobby before you're in front of him, and both of your hands hit his chest at the exact same time. Grasping the collar of his shirt to bring him down to you, this is the moment of boldness that all missed opportunities has been building to. If you miss this, you miss everything. And unlike prom, there is no dj to interrupt you this time when you pull him down to you and press your lips to his.
The alcohol and the melancholy fade instantly and his eyes widen, his groan of surprise loud against your lips but he doesn't pull away. He can't. Not when he has you pressed up against him and kissing him. His arms snake around your body and he pulls you close, deepening the kiss and feeling you melt against him.
It seems completely impossible for this to be happening, but he has deepened the kiss instead of pushing you away, letting you slide your tongue along the seam of his lips and inviting you inside the map the contours of his mouth the way you've dreamt of ten thousand times. Your hands clutch each other inelegantly, holding on for dear life, but you don't care how awkward it looks from the outside - you've been waiting for this moment for more than twenty years.
All he can think of is you. How you sound, how you taste. So much better than his imagination twenty years ago and even just today. Unable to believe that this is real as he fulfills a fantasy he never thought he would get to have.
In true city-life fashion, what breaks you apart is not a lack of enthusiasm, but the grumbling of a loud neighbor who shouts, "Get a room!" As he storms out the front door with his arms thrown up in disgust, as though two people kissing is the most offensive thing he has seen in his entire life.
Max flushes and looks back at you, wondering how you feel about the kiss that was just shared and his heart is pounding in his chest. “I- what was that?” He asks, unable to stop the goofy grin from spreading across his face.
"It's what I wish I had done in high school," you admit, the adrenaline making your heart beat wildly in your ears as you seem to vibrate in place. "What I wish I had done every single day. I was scared my whole life, Max. But then I finally said it and you didn't hear me and that scared me more than anything else in the world. That I could have told you and you still didn't know."
“You- you like me?” He asks dumbly, shaking his head and points to himself. “Me?”
"Yes, you." But since Max has had as terrible a time believing in his own self-worth as you have, there is no bite to your insistence. "Since well before senior year, if I'm honest. But courage isn't my strong suit."
“I- you don’t like Kim?” He frowns in confusion and closes his eyes. “Me. You like me. You’ve liked me.” He repeats softly. “Why?”
"Because...even though we were different we had important things in common. We had a whole town and our own families telling us to give up on our dreams and we worked our way up from the dirt. Both of us. You're...you're so smart, Max. And so much sweeter than you have ever given yourself credit for. And unbearably handsome, even when we were teenagers and everyone was some kind of gawky and awkward. You just...you made me want to be a better, stronger person." You shrug slightly, suddenly feeling self-conscious all over again, and shove your hands back in your pockets. "I always thought if I learned enough about the world and showed you I could be as smart as you that you might...you might think I could be more than just your friend. But when you came home from college you would always tell me about other girls and I just...I figured that if I had ever had a chance, I lost it on prom night."
“I didn’t think I had a chance.” Max admits quietly. “Believe me, I wanted you. You were just always way too good for me.” He shrugs his shoulders and shoves his own hands in his pockets. “I was lying about the girls. No one was talking to me. Not until Genji. I was trying to impress you, but you just seemed to be okay with it, so I thought you were just my friend.”
“I just wanted you to be happy,” you murmur, wishing you had been better at seeing the signs or braver about asserting your own desire. “Even if it was with someone else…even if it broke my heart.”
“I wish I had told you how I felt. Alistair could have been ours together. But I would not have wanted you to leave me like Genji.” Max murmurs.
“I wouldn’t have left.” He may not believe you, but it’s true. Some people would probably call you blind with devotion. Maybe it is? Who knows. “When you were up there…Doing your broadcast?” The breath you let out is shaky at best. “I just kept wishing you could hear me. That that might make a difference to you somehow…I guess it didn’t work.”
Max frowns slightly and tilts his head. “What was I supposed to hear? There was one voice in my head that kept telling me to be happy.”
“To remember your happiness?” You look up at him with such hope that it is almost too much, but you can’t help it. “Maybe it was conceited of me. Or desperate. I just wanted you to remember that people love you as you are.”
“To remember my happiness.” Max nods. The influx of emotions and wishes were much more than he had anticipated and it seemed to jumble together at one point but that voice stood out. “That is...something I am working on.” He admits quietly.
"If that isn't me...or you don't want to..." Looking around reminds you that you are very much in public still and you press your lips together nervously. "Maybe we should talk about this upstairs?"
“Upstairs. Yes, upstairs.” He glances around and flushes slightly. “We should talk upstairs. And I can let Señora go home. Alistair should be asleep.”
When you make it up to his apartment, Señora Ramos is watching a movie on tv without a care in the world. Alistair apparently tired himself out reading an hour ago and all has been quiet since.
“So-“ as soon as the door closes behind Señora Ramos, Max is nervous and claps his hands together. Feeling vulnerable now that you know everything. “Do you….want….” He looks around. “A drink! Do you want a drink?”
“Maybe just water.” After the amount you both had earlier, and what you have to talk about, you want a chance to clear your head.
“Water is good.” He agrees, bobbling his head and rushing towards the small, galley style kitchen that he was lucky to have. Some apartments didn’t even have a kitchen.
“Max…” Leaning against the counter, you take down two glasses and slide them over to him. “You don’t have anything to be nervous about.”
“Sure I do.” Max snorts, opening the freezer to grab the ice tray. “It’s not like you tell the girl you’ve had a crush on since you were twelve that you thought she was a lesbian.”
“I’m still wondering why you thought that.” Mostly out of curiosity, of course. Though the news that he’s liked you as long as you’ve liked him is both satisfying and a little bittersweet. You could have had something so long ago if just one of you had been brave.
“You said that Kim is the person that you most enjoyed, you never talk about any men, now or back in school.” He shrugs, mildly embarrassed. “I know that people have been….more open….than they were back when we were close. Maybe…I don’t know, maybe I thought it made sense.”
“I never talked about boys I liked to you because I’ve always liked you.” It isn’t exactly an easy thing to admit to him, but the cat is very much out of the bag at this point. “Kim has been my closest friend for a long time. I absolutely adore her. But my love for her isn’t romantic. She’s like the sister I never had.”
"I am foolish." Max hangs his head and sighs. "I am sorry." He murmurs quietly.
“Please don’t be.” Stepping cautiously closer to him in his little kitchen, you take the glass of water he hands you and have a sip. “If you hadn’t thought so, you might not have said anything. And then we never would have come clean.”
He hadn't looked at it that way and he bites his lip as he watches you. "What do you want?" He asks softly, still irrationally fearful of rejection, but also hopeful.
It’s a vague question, but the context is so specific. Specific enough that you are shocked he feels the need to ask, but grateful that he isn’t simply assuming. “Ideally?” You ask, and wait for him to nod shyly. “I want what I’ve always wanted. To be with you. But I understand if that’s too much to ask.”
"I- you know that people hate me, no?" He asks, scrunching up his brows. "Mi amor, it would be hell to be with me. Are you sure that is what you want?"
It isn’t a trick question, but you put down your water after another sip and hoist yourself up to sitting on the edge of the counter. “I want you to respect me. To love me and treat me well, and listen to my day regardless of whether it was good or bad. I want you to trust me and talk to me and confide in me and be silly with me. I don’t give a damn what anybody else thinks of you. Be a good partner to me and I’ll be one to you, and that’s all that matters.”
"I do respect you." He promises. "I wasn't a good partner, not to Genji, but I want to be one. I will be one for you." He knows that he has made mistakes, but he feels like he won't make them again. His ideas for success have changed and as long as he can take care of his son and provide him with a happy, safe childhood, he will consider himself blessed.
"Then that's all I need to know." The shy smile on your lips tips up the corners of your mouth and you shrug guiltily. "Almost all." You admit when he gives you an incredulous look. "I also kinda want to know if you meant it when you called me amor a second ago..."
His eyes widen when he realizes his slip of the tongue and his tan complexion darkens further as he flushes in embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say it, but it was something that he thought often. "Yes." He admits quietly, but his shoulders don't round. "I did."
“Then that’s all I need to know.” You know your cheeks are burning but you truly don’t care. This is more than half a lifetime of pining coming to a head right now and you are so unbelievably touched that you aren’t the only one that has held onto the flame this long. It makes it special in a very unconventional way - as if you were being rewarded somehow.
He doesn't quite understand what you might be thinking but he nods. "Yes." He murmurs, wondering what he could say right now that would be interesting and flirty.
“So…” You shift slightly on the counter and tilt your head at him. “Are you sure you want to be with me, then?”
Max has had to bluff his way through many meetings, promising things that he couldn’t give the men who wanted to invest with him, or were thinking of investing with him. He doesn’t use that smarmy, painted on charm to reassure you. This time, it’s his own thin courage that has him stepping closer and reaching out to hold onto your waist as he steps closer again. “Yes.” His voice breaks softly from how low it dips. His lips curving up slightly. “Very sure.”
"Better late than never, right?" The warmth of his hands seeps through your clothes, waking up every inch of your skin and making you sit up a little straighter as he comes closer. That little smile of his is contagious.
“Only a lifetime of regret and enough stories to fill a book.” Max snorts.
"Some things are good enough to slog through all the hell for," you remind him softly. "It gave you Alistair."
“It brought me back to you. As well.” He reminds you, smiling at the thought. “But I want to do something else right now.”
"Oh you do, do you?" There is a distinctly boyish - maybe even mischievous - expression on his face that you've never seen before and it works for him. "What would that be?"
“I want to kiss you.” He admits, leaning in and his eyes flicker to yours. “Can I kiss you?” You had kissed him before, so he wants to do this.
It's beyond you to not be excited about it, even more than a little giddy as you nod and let your legs naturally slide apart to make a place for him to stand between them at the counter. "As much as you want."
He steps forward again, this time fitting himself in the space you allocated for him and leans in more, pressing the evidence of his desire against your belly as he cups your cheek and drops his lips onto yours.
The first press is soft but sure, and you almost startle feeling him press so obviously against you, but it is delicious. Instead of drawing away or jumping back or politely pretending not to notice, you lean in that much more surely and trap his hard on between both of your bodies. You may not have soaked through your panties just yet, but the heat rolling off of you is unmistakable. as unmistakable as your enthusiasm for kissing him again.
Groaning, he’s happy you don’t push him away. Instead you’re pulling him closer and his arms are wrapping around you to deepen the kiss.
Your knees bracket his hips, holding him tight against you and letting yourselves get lost in the moment. It's slower this time, deepening less frantically but no less ardently. Twenty years of wanting from both of you is being poured into this moment and you'll be damned if you're going to rush it.
He doesn’t try to push this beyond a kiss, although he aches to. He has no idea how long he leans into you, making out with you as if you are teenagers again.
No one could accuse either of you of a lack of enthusiasm. If you had not already been sitting on this counter you might have swept everything off of it just to get him to sit you here, enjoying what easy access you have to all of the most important parts of him. Access that - despite the fact that you have absolutely soaked through your panties and probably your pants as well - you don't know if you should be taking. Pulling yourself back from the edge of control and catching your breath is tricky, but you focus your eyes on him and feel your heart skip that all-important beat. "Max..." As much as you want to whine, your voice pitches down to be soft and rasping. "Is it too fast to ask if I can touch you?"
He’s conflicted. Not because he thinks it’s too fast, but he’s still coming to terms with the idea you want him. “You-“ he clears his throat when his voice breaks again. “You can do whatever you want to me.” He answers honestly.
"Then we should not stay in this kitchen." The grin you flash him is mischievous but oh so promising, and your hands slide up his shoulders to let your fingers just touch the trim edge of his hair. "Take me to bed, Max."
______
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prolix-yuy · 11 months
Text
Sheer
Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Plus Sized F!Reader
Summary: You owe more to an unlikely savior than you could ever imagine.
Word Count: 4.6k
Warnings: T, discussion of off-screen character death (cancer), negative body image and self-worth talk, light spicy thoughts, angst. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.
Notes: This story was a real surprise and a treat to pop out of my head one morning, especially with a Pedro boy I haven't written for! Our reader is a plus sized girlie in this story, and we're dealing with some negative body image and self-worth talk on both sides. The reader also discusses the death of a friend, so if that may be triggering to you feel free to scroll along, lovely reader.
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This should have been your best first day. The first day at the job that will finally get your head above water. The first time you’ve felt qualified, and that you’d fit in. And the first where you could see the stepping stones to something bigger and better in front of you.
It was your fucking thighs that ruined it all.
You’d wanted to make a good first impression. Bought a whole new outfit just to show how committed you were, down to the thigh-high stockings and matching underwear. That was for you, something under the pencil skirt and blazer that made you feel even more powerful. It had cost a pretty penny too. Your ample bottom and full figure needed good support, and that plus lace was always the highest price at the lingerie boutiques. But you shelled it out, along with their recommended garters and thigh highs “for peak professionalism,” and were feeling yourself as you strutted off the subway. There was practically a soundtrack playing behind you. Maybe “Uptown Girl,” the notes making a smile come to your face and your head bob as you exited the train.
You’re normally more careful, aware of how much more space your body takes up than the other knockout New York girls streaming around you. But confidence had you swinging your hips and stepping confidently…right until you bumped into a woman’s handbag with an aggressive closure, the metal skimming past your calf and over the delicate nylon.
It ran instantly, a testament to how much of a rip-off these undergarments were. You felt it split along the length of your shapely leg as you hurried out of the station and towards the gleaming monolith of your office. Scurrying inside, you slipped into the bathroom unnoticed to assess the damage.
The run had split into a gaping maw down your leg, the smooth fantasy of the nylon revealing the more mottled flesh underneath. You held back tears as you wracked your brain for a solution. You could run to a shop, get a replacement pair. You’re still early to clock in, wanting to arrive punctually to impress your supervisor. That’s it, you’d just pop out to a drugstore for a new pair and no one would be the wiser.
It was a perfect plan. You just needed to move. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot. 
The mirror mocks you, internal monologue screaming to the forefront from where you battered her back this morning.
Wouldn’t have ripped them if you were smaller.
Why do you need to take up so much space?
Did you think all this would change what you are?
Nastier names you call yourself only in the torture chamber of your mind echo in your ears. Your mascara is dangerously close to running, eyes catching on every flaw in your outfit, every wrinkle, everything that screams don’t look at the parts I hate, every unflattering angle. You reach deep to return to that carefree state you held just fifteen minutes ago but it’s dissipated like steam from a coffee cup. 
Grabbing a handful of tissues you storm into a stall and lock it, leaning over to let the tears drip onto the floor without ruining your makeup. The minutes are ticking away, time running out to fix your minor wardrobe malfunction, but the ache in your head and behind your eyes has become the only thing you can focus on now. Your sobs are quiet little sniffles and short gasps, thankful for the privacy.
Suddenly, the door to the bathroom slams open, and you shoot up, holding your breath. You’re not alone anymore.
Someone in smart leather shoes smacks across the floor, walking past the stalls and coming to a stop. A zip, then the tinkle of urination. Your expression crumples on itself in confusion.
Then a deep, masculine sigh reaches your ears, and your face quickly burns with embarrassment.
Fuck, did you walk into the men’s room?
You didn’t even check, just burst in to the first door with a toilet on it. There may have been urinals, but you were too preoccupied in the moment to pay them any mind. You clap your hands over your mouth, lightheaded at the fact that you’re listening to a grown man piss and he has no idea you’re in here. This day has turned from amazing to devastating to mortifying so quickly you could throw up. 
The man finishes, striding over to the sinks to wash up. You breathe a sigh of relief, ready to make a mad dash out before someone else enters. The water turns off, a few flicks of his hands in the sink, and then…
He starts talking.
“This is your day,” he says, an order that you can imagine him doing in the mirror. “You will succeed in what you do, and you will find satisfaction in that success. You will continue to grow, and be proud of yourself. You will start doing that today.” With every word you cringe inwardly. He’s so earnest-sounding, really enunciating his daily affirmations in a public restroom. His voice is pleasing to listen to at least. If he was a late night radio DJ you would certainly tune in to him to fall asleep. 
A moment of silence, a silent hope.
“This is your day…”
Oh for fuck’s sake, embarrassment be damned, you can’t keep listening to this.
“Hi there,” you squeak out, your whole body tense as his monologue cuts off sharply. The pause is at least ten months pregnant before he speaks.
“I-I’m so sorry, I thought I was alone,” he stammers out, two quick steps heading towards the door.
“No, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t even be here, it’s…” Your words run out of steam when you realize his footsteps have stopped.
“You’re a woman. In the men’s room.”
You can’t help but smirk. He’s a little slow on the uptake. It’s surprisingly sweet.
“It’s been a rough morning.”
Another pause.
“Are you in trouble?”
You peal out a weak laugh.
“Nothing like that, just…” Taking a deep breath, you blow it out. Might as well admit your failures to a stranger. “I ripped my pantyhose on the way here, and it’s my first day and I wanted to make a good impression, and then I got overwhelmed and…” Your breath starts to quicken, and below the Pepto Bismol pink stall you see two shoes slowly approach. They’re well cared for, supple shining leather, but scuffed all along the toe. Tan slacks overtop the laces, a crisp pleat ironed into the length. You even see a glimpse of striped socks underneath, a collection of garish colors that makes you smile.
“Hey, it’s okay,” the voice says soothingly, closer than before. His accent sounds Spanish before he manually flattens it, forcing it back into his throat in favor of an all-American good boy accent. It eases the tension in your shoulders, sitting down on the toilet seat and dabbing at your eyes. 
“I know it’s stupid. And I should just go out and get another pair. I just…” you say, but struggle to voice what’s really bothering you to a man who hasn't seen your face. Who probably doesn’t care who you are beyond a bizarre Monday morning anecdote. Most don’t, after all. You can’t remember how many times a man has looked through you because of the roundness of your tummy, or the thickness of your thighs. Or even worse, devoured your curves with roaming eyes but won’t look you in the eye, or call you back. 
“It’s not stupid. You wanted to feel ready to take on the day, and something bad happened. We all deal with it,” he says, the gentle register he’s taking on soothing to your frayed nerves. “Do you have a place to go for another pair?” he asks. You bite your lip, shaking your head before realizing he can’t see you.
“First time out here, but I can manage,” you say timidly. The embarrassment of your predicament is climbing back up your throat, the thrumming need to get out and away making your hands shake.
“I know a place, but it’s probably quicker for me to run out for you. Do you want to stay here while I get them?” 
You sputter, a thousand excuses why he should not do that roiling in your brain. “You don’t have to,” is the only one you manage to get out, heart hammering. A little chuckle wafts to your ears, and the heat in your cheeks blooms in your tummy as well. He sounds handsome, and that is short-circuiting your brain even more.
“I have gone on an errand or two in my life,” he jokes, feet making their way towards the door. “Lock it behind me so no one else comes in. I’ll do this -” He knocks on the door in a quick but recognizable pattern. “- when I’m back. It should only be a few minutes.”
“You’re that good huh?” You stammer again, your whole body threatening to light on fire in this stall. This man may come back to a pile of ash instead of a woman dying of embarrassment. 
“Eh, I could be better,” he says, and the door to the outside opens with a rush of lobby noise. “Be right back.”
A thick slam lets you sneak out to bolt the lock. Returning to the mirror that betrayed you just minutes before, you watch your reflection. Behind the roundness in your face you pick at and criticize, you recognize another emotion. Determination, and fortitude you push yourself to stop downplaying. You can overcome this setback. Nothing is lost. If anything, you might have gained a confidant, someone you could laugh about this comedy of errors with over coffee in the break room. 
You’ll be sure to thank him properly when he gets back.
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Maxwell Lorenzano hurries out of the office building he’s worked in for six months, down the street and to the Macy’s two blocks away. He knows these roads like the back of his hand, and all of the stores that line them. A good thing to keep in his back pocket when he was pitching new products and charming sales people. Especially good when he knows exactly which door to go through to get to the women’s delicates section.
He strides in with all the glorious purpose of a man on a mission, and people part for him. He likes to think it’s because he cuts an impressive figure, tan suit over a white button-up, brown and yellow striped tie flapping with urgency. But there’s always the nagging worry that it’s because they recognize him. That the scurry away is fear. He’d been confronted in the past, a handful of angry men and women who wanted to take out their frustrations with their fists. But worse is the anxiety, the fear, like he could snap his fingers and magic them out of existence.
The aftermath of that damn stone still hangs heavy around his neck.
“Can I help you?” a petite saleswoman asks when Max comes to a stop in the nylon section. His sudden drop in demeanor from confident to hesitant must have signaled her over. In his eagerness he didn’t even ask his damsel in distress which kind she needed, or her size. He chews his lip in contemplation.
“I’m looking for a pair of nylons for my…” He pauses, no words coming to mind. His unlikely acquaintance? His mystery girl locked in the men’s room? His noble quest? The saleswoman - Karla, her name tag informs him - puts him out of his misery.
“I can help you with that. What kind does she wear? Control top? Thigh highs?”
Max’s mouth dries out. The most he knows of her is the glimpse he got of her feet, sensible black heels, well worn. The sight warmed something in his chest. She must be a hard worker, someone on her feet all day and always up to run an errand for a friend. He bets they ache at the end of a long day. Does she have someone to rub them for her?
“What do…most women wear to an office?” he asks, flitting his eyes over the variety of styles and shades.
“All the professional women I know use thigh highs. Easier in the office than a full set.” Karla directs him to the right section. “What size is she?”
Damn, this is where his lack of foresight fails him. He should have asked, but the intimacy of that question died on his tongue. Why did they size nylons in weight and height, the two most sensitive topics? He’d rather swallow a mouthful of glass than ask. Picking up one of the packets, he flips it to the size chart. There are only four options, which is easier than he expected.
“I can’t remember, better safe than sorry. One of each,” he says, Karla’s well-manicured eyebrows shooting into her hairline.
“And what color?” Karla asks. He noted that at least. 
“Sheer black.”
Karla moves to grab a handful of the basic style, the cheapest on the display, before Max stops her.
“These ones,” he amends, tapping the more expensive set. If she’d already torn one pair, another flimsy set wouldn’t do. It had nothing to do with the fact that the lace edging the expensive ones is more delicate, a prettier pattern, and thinking of giving it to you raises goosebumps on the back of his neck. 
He doesn’t even know you. It’s just…practical.
Karla rings up his purchases without further question, though maybe a little side-smile. She gives Max a brighter one when he takes the bag.
“You’re a good boyfriend,” she comments, scurrying off before he can respond. His face burns hot as he exits the store, checking his watch. The innocuous word - boyfriend - pings in his mind.
It had been some time since Max had run an errand for anyone. A few empty flings followed his divorce but nothing substantial enough to require a trip to the drugstore, or even a coffee shop. It was one of his favorite things about being a husband. He lived for the little memos on his desk blotter - Mrs. Lord needs you to pick up hairspray and milk - and followed them to the letter and beyond. He prided himself in knowing her favorite scents, what brands she preferred, what she turned her nose up at and what feminine products she needed. Sometimes he’d slip in something extra, a bouquet of flowers, a simple card. She’d groan at the expense, especially in the most dire times, but it always ended with her on her tiptoes kissing him, whispering, “My hero,” in his ear. 
He really enjoyed being her hero, even after everything that happened. 
It’s still early enough that his bathroom stowaway won’t be late to her first day. He’ll get to swoop in and save the day, be a hero to one person for a short moment. Jogging back into the office, the clash in humidities making his shirt stick to his back, he returns to the bathroom door. Rapping his pattern on it, he waits for the shick of the lock and a few moments more in case she wants to be back in the stall when he enters. 
Stepping in and locking the door behind him, the open space is still empty, her shoes in her stall. Her toes are pointed towards each other, legs nervously rubbing.
“I, uh, forgot to ask your size,” Max blurts out, cringing immediately at the first thing that comes to mind. He knows she’s holding her breath, so he speeds through the next part. “Those sizing charts are more invasive than a doctor’s visit, so I just got one of everything, and the shop lady said that thigh highs are what everyone’s wearing but I’m not an expert so I hope it’s…okay.” He trails off before stepping further in and sliding the bag under the stall door. He scolds himself not to look further but he does catch a glance at her shapely calves before straightening back up. 
“I can…leave now. Unless you want me to stay until you’re ready to go. What…whatever you want.”
She still hasn’t said anything and it’s heavier than his anxiety on his chest. He’s sure he’s offended her, or completely screwed this one small task up. Leave it to him to take helping a stranger to new, wildly creepy levels. Should he have just gone to reception to ask a woman for help? Is she mortified a man she’s never seen bought her something so intimate? 
He waits in agony.
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You try to comprehend what this stranger has handed you. In his absence you practiced thanking him for what you assumed would be the wrong size of pantyhose. You planned how you would reassure him that he could leave so you could escape to the women’s room and struggle into whatever he returned with. 
But instead, he surprises you with a folded bag tucked discreetly under the bathroom stall. 
Four identical pairs of thigh-highs, all matching your outfit, and in every size you could hope for. Pulling out the correct packet, your breath catches in your throat. They’re nicer than you allow yourself to buy, the high-quality nylon silky under your touch. The lace along the edge is finely textured, beautifully designed.
“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, your voice faraway to your own ears, a ball forming in your throat. The man’s feet shuffle against the tile floor. 
“I hope you don’t think I’m being a creep. My ex-wife always said I was good at finding exactly what she needed.”
His voice is tight, and it plucks at your heart.
“Not a creep, you’re definitely my hero today,” you manage to say, rolling down the ruined pantyhose. The other follows, tucking your bare toes into your shoes to protect them from the cold floor. The man paces outside while you stretch each new nylon up your legs. 
“Definitely not how I thought my day would start,” he says, the smile in his voice making your first real one grace your lips. 
“Me neither. I can pay you for these.”
“I could never accept. I’ll return the extras, but please. Consider them a ‘welcome to the office’ gift. Or consolation after the morning you’ve had.”
“Oh, so you work here too? Great, now I’ll have to worry about bumping into you in the other men’s bathrooms.”
“I would gladly approach all bathrooms with caution if I got to run into you in one again.”
A softer pause than before.
“Would you like me to leave?”
Smoothing the lace band around your plush thigh, you let your fingertips trace the edge. Briefly, you imagine fingers other than your own following the same path before hooking underneath to slide them down inch by inch, replaced by soft lips. 
“I’d like to thank my savior face to face,” you tease, smoothing your skirt and toeing your shoes back on. You dab some toilet paper under your eyes, pat your hair, and take a deep breath before exiting the bathroom stall.
The stall door slams shut as the man who saved your day turns to face you. His eyes light on your face first, open curiosity melting into a charming smile that is…familiar. In fact, a lot of him is familiar. His wide shoulders, suit jacket stretching against them. The sweep of his blond hair, not as light as it used to be but still caramel with burnt sugar strands. His large hands, no longer sporting a Rolex or an ostentatious pinky ring. And his face, one of the most recognizable in recent years, wearing an expression you’ve never seen. If you weren’t so dumbstruck you’d think it was appreciation. It was the look someone might give before calling you beautiful. 
“Max Lorenzano…”
“Max Lord.”
His introduction trips over your recognition, dazed expression sharpening and shattering under those two words. The hope in his eyes dims as he schools his expression into acceptance, honey-golden aura swapped for the cool light of cold winter mornings.
“I’ll go. My apologies,” he says, simple, direct. You’re sure this has happened to him many times, possibly followed by shouts or sneers. Your own words stick in your throat as he claps his hands together and moves to leave. Thankfully your hands are fast enough, wrapping around his arm and pulling him to a stop.
“No, please, wait,” you finally manage, your bodies so close you’re burned by the heat radiating off his jacket. He turns in your grip, which you release to clasp your hands in front of your stomach. 
“I didn’t mean…you startled me, I never expected…” you start, rolling your next words around in your mouth. He watches you, half wary, half hopeful. This close you can see how the edges of his lips are slightly chewed, how close his shave is, the sheen of sweat along his neck. He must have ran to get back here so quickly. Your heart thumps weakly against your ribs.
“I never thought I’d ever come face to face with the person who granted my wish,” you say, watching his jaw tighten in anticipation of vitriol. 
“When I saw you on TV, and you asked me what my one desire was, I had…so many things come to mind. To be prettier, thinner, beautiful.” You can tell he wants to say something but you barrel on before you lose your nerve. “But I’m not a complete idiot, I’ve seen a few movies about wishes. I know those things can blow up in your face, and I don’t think I could take being hurt about how I looked by some magic rock.” 
Max’s hand cups your elbow, thumb rubbing a soothing path.
“So I closed my eyes and I wished exactly this: I want one more day with my best friend at the time in her life when she was happiest.” The next breath you take in shakes. “She died seven years ago. Breast cancer. I miss her every day, and I just wanted one more with her. And I got my wish. And it was the best fucking day. The world outside might have been a mess, but we watched our favorite movies, snuck out to the spots we loved before she got sick, ate our favorite foods and talked all night. And I know it was real because she handed me my own ass and made me come to terms with some shit I did not like about myself. Only she would do that.” You fight against the tears, a sniffle coming out instead, as Max watches you with blossoming wonder. 
“And when it was done she hugged me and told me to kick ass and eat cake and break hearts and I’ve been doing my best ever since.” You let out a watery giggle, Max’s smile warming your cheeks. “I never thought I’d be able to thank the person who gave me my best day, but then, here you are, giving me something I needed again. So, wow, thank you. I…thank you.”
Max clears his throat, his own eyes glassy.
“Can I hug you?” he asks, and you push into his arms without further preamble. He holds you with deep breaths, both of your hearts cracking open and healing pressed together. The overwhelming scent of sweat and spicy deodorant and the warmth of his skin is a balm to your frazzled nerves. His cheek rests against your forehead and when you squeeze him a little tighter he returns it. 
When you part, your reddened eyes and sniffling noses make you both snort out laughs, moving to the sink to freshen up. You powder your face, surprisingly unselfconscious after all that just happened. Max straightens his tie and sweeps back his hair. It looks soft, barely styled. His shoulders seem lighter.
Both presentable, he lets you into the hallway, hazarding a peek to prevent any scandal. You walk side by side as he asks you where you’re starting work - transcription - and you ask where you’ll be able to find him - the mailroom. He waits for you to sign in with the front desk before leading you to the elevators, not so surreptitiously angling for the empty one before leading you in. He’s meant to be going down a floor, but rides with you up to the sixth.
“I’m glad you made that wish,” he says once the doors shut, the elevator whirring to life under your feet. “And that you didn’t make the other ones. You’re already beautiful.” He says the last three words quietly, like they would spook you if he said them with his whole chest. Your cheeks burn, the smile dimpling them. “And…thank you. For telling me. No one’s ever told me they’ve been happy.”
You ride in silence until just before your floor, turning to look at the man who gave you so much. He’s watching you like a miracle, like he wants to wrap you in his arms again, like he wants to say something very stupid to a person he barely knows. He swallows it instead, but you can’t help yourself. You lift up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, and savor the way he leans into it.
“My hero,” you whisper, stepping out to let the doors close between you.
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Your lips, and your words, linger on him for days. Your impressions lingers on his heart for longer. After a week he tries to forget, to push you to the background in a futile attempt at self-preservation. You don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you. Fate smashed you together but you should part just as quickly, save you both the heartache. He’s still a complicated man, and you deserve better than that.
It works until he gets a piece of mail for you, two weeks later, and possessed by some boldness he’s forgotten he has, he plasters a sticky note on it.
“I hope your first week has been better than your first day.”
He wants to write so much more, but knowing anyone could see it stops his hand. 
He doesn’t expect a response, at least not right away. You might still be embarrassed. So when he’s closing up at the end of the day and you come up beside him, the shock on his face breaks you into laughter. 
“My week has been nowhere near as good as my first day,” you finally say. “But I did find a good place to eat a few blocks away. Great dinner options.” Max’s heart pulls between stopping and beating uncontrollably in his chest until he finally says, “We better check it out then.”
The laughter is just as easy as the first day, the conversation even better. He refuses to let you leave without trying the milkshakes, and beams when he watches something heavy fall off your shoulders as you look at him. 
You tell him more about your life, your friend that brought you both together more than she’d ever imagined. He tells you about the life he lives now, of Alistair and how proud he is of him. Questions and anecdotes and words both loud and soft wrap around you in the wooden booth. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt like Maxwell Lorenzano.
When he walks you to your subway stop Max’s hand falls to your lower back and remains. The soft way you look at him makes him think that maybe all his heroics have finally gotten him somewhere after all.
And next time he finds himself in a bathroom with you, it’s very much on purpose.
END
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I didn't want to spoil the turn, but yeah that's the face he gives her and it makes me emotional just looking at it.
244 notes · View notes
idolatrybarbie · 2 months
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main masterlist | pmamc masterlist
summary: For PMAMC '24. Blackjack has the best odds of winning in any casino game. All you have to do is beat the dealer. Still, the notion doesn’t comfort Maxwell Lord. He likes to be certain. He likes to win.
rating & word count: explicit - 18+ only, minors & blank blogs get blocked! | 4.9k
content tags: takes place in the 80s, fem!OC with no physical descriptions, gambling (pls don't), alcohol and references to it, descriptions of fake gore and blood, reader smokes, references to domestic violence and abuse, smut - pegging, anal fingering, come eating, praise.
tags & notes: @amanitacowboy | I had to watch several videos on how blackjack works for this. Still don't get it.
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The noise of the room bubbles up around him, the sound of slots and smell of money threatening to slosh over like a spilled drink. The colourful trill of fruit machines announcing another loser can’t penetrate Max’s focus like it was designed to. His eyes are glued to the velvet green table, watching the vested woman with a crooked smile deal out another round of cards.
Blackjack has the best odds of winning in any casino game. All you have to do is beat the dealer. Still, the notion doesn’t comfort Maxwell Lord. He likes to be certain. He likes to win.
The dealer lays out a new hand with deft fingers. A three and a queen; six and an ace; the Queen and Jack of Spades; another ace and another three. Cancel, cancel, two high cards, another cancel. He adjusts the count in his head. Minus two.
With the hand played, the woman at the end of the table with wire-framed glasses surrenders. Half of her bet returns to the pot, the other half scooped up by the dealer. The two other men at the table double down. Max bets only a few chips, swiping a hand through the front strands of his sandy brown hair.
The cards sit at minus two against the players, in favour of the dealer. As she doles out a new crop of cards, he keeps counting. A five; a ten; the Queen of Clubs; a four. The round ends at minus three.
He’s keeping track, visualizing the numbers bright and shiny at the forefront of his mind. Max counts the hits and stands as the new deck is laid out, the running count increasing to twelve over the next couple games. He bets five hundred dollars in the next game, immediately receiving an ace and the King of Spades. At this three-to-two table, he’s just won 750 dollars.
The dealer is asking if he wants to continue playing, carrying his winnings over into the next round. Max’s focus has left the table and the small mountain of chips he can call his own. His eyes are drawn to the stage at the back of the long casino hall, smoke polluting the air around the draped black curtains before they pull away.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a proud voice booms over the sound system. “Please put your hands together for…the amazing Killian Loftus!”
A platform parts within the floor of the stage, a man slowly rising from beneath on a silver plate of metal. He sports a finely pressed suit, the tails swaying as he walks a few steps away from his spot, accepting the applause he’s given. As he’s smiling at the crowd gathered near the stage, a woman struts across the shiny floor to stand next to him.
Her tights are sheer black, covering the smooth landscape of her legs and thighs up to her crotch. From there, they disappear under a silky black bunny suit that cuts high at her hips, a fanciful bow tie collar around her neck. In place of rabbit ears sits a small top hat. She waves at the audience, waggling each finger. As this woman scans over the sectioned sea of people, Maxwell swears they make eye contact from across the room.
The dealer at the blackjack table asks him if he’d like to rejoin once more. He glances back only for a moment, shaking his head with a brisk no in her direction. Max haphazardly shuffles his chips into his clear plastic rack, making sure to count every one. When he’s organized himself, he leaves the cushioned leather seat at the gambling table to join the crowd close to the stage. A seat in the back suits him just fine, the parting of heads in front of him leaving a perfect view to the magician and his beautiful assistant.
The great Killian Loftus’ first bout of magic involves slight of hand tricks performed on a murky glass orb. He shuffles it in his palm as onlookers ooh and ahh. When he seemingly extracts another, smaller glass ball from the original one and regards the audience with a look of feigned surprise, Max can’t help himself as he rolls his eyes. Observing the stage, he can see that Loftus’ assistant feels a bit of the same. She sits perched on a black stool staring at her fingernails, forgotten in the act.
It’s another ten minutes of card tricks and optical illusions before Killian announces, “And now…for my greatest trick! I will make my dazzling Bunny here disappear.”
Bunny. Can’t be her real name, but Max likes the sound of it for now. He imagines, for a brief moment, gritting out that name as she bounces on his cock. The thought has him stiffening in his slacks already.
Bunny stands from her stool, walking behind the shadowy black curtain. When she reappears, she’s wheeling a long purple coffin onto the stage. On top of the box is a saw. Bunny hands it to Loftus, who holds it up for the audience to see. At first, Max can’t tell if it’s real or fake. When Killian drags his pointer finger along one of its rigid teeth, he winces, finger coming away bloody. Definitely real.
He sucks at his finger, the blood disappearing as Bunny gets into the gaudy casket. She looks at the people in the crowd once more, the stage lights highlighting a kilowatt smile. Laying back in the box, Bunny disappears as Loftus secures a sparkling lid over top of her. Max knows that by now, his assistant will have slipped through the fake bottom of the box, crouched at the bottom of the curtained cart that the coffin traveled in on.
Loftus asks, “Now, you’re in there for certain Bunny?”
The audience can only hear muffled speech from inside the box.
“How ‘bout you just knock for us, sweetheart?” the magician asks. The pure condescension in his tone makes Max’s blood boil in the slightest. Even if it’s an act, where does a guy like that get off on acting so…lordly.
It’s not his job to save her, Max knows this. He is simply here to watch. And watch he does.
A knock is heard from inside the box, confirming to the audience that Bunny is still with us. That’s when Killian takes the saw, setting it right in the middle of the coffin. He begins to cut into the wood, sweat beading at his retreating hairline between the exertion and the stage lights.
“Folks, you are about to watch me tear this sweet girl apart,” he says. Max doesn’t miss the innuendo, huffing under his breath. “And then! I will put her right back together.”
The saw moves further and further through the coffin, eventually reaching whereabouts Bunny’s body would lay. As Loftus continues to saw, a tearing sound accompanies the grating noise of splitting wood. Killian’s brow pinches in confusion, his hand slowing but not stopping. As he cuts deeper, red liquid trickles down the front side of the cedar box. That trickle grows to a stream, crimson pouring from the coffin as the rip of something softer grows louder.
Members of the crowd begin to stand, cries and shouts for Loftus to stop erupting from their seats.
“If you’ll all just give me a moment here…” he says with a grunt. Finally, he cuts through the last inch of the coffin. When he lays the saw down on the floor of the stage, it smeared in what can only be blood. It slides out of the box easily, pooling by the magician’s spiffy dress shoes. “Everyone calm down,” Killian says. “There’s nothing to worry about. See?”
As he asks the question, he pulls apart the two halves of the coffin. Inside, what looks to be the corpse of Bunny has been split into two parts. Her guts are spilled between the two halves like webbing, slopping onto the floor as Killian Loftus pulls her large intestine taut. A woman in the crowd screams, the rest of them tittering nervously. A man in the front row hurls onto the wine-stained carpet. Max’s own stomach roils at the sight. He covers his mouth and looks away.
That’s when he spots her. The assistant—Bunny, or whatever her real name is. Distinctly not sawed in half, waltzing away in her towering heels; she slips between poker tables, dodging players left and right. Wherever she’s going, she is in a hurry. Max can’t help himself, standing to follow. He gets one last look at the stage. Two security guards have a hold on each of Loftus’ arms, holding him still as a third whips out metal cuffs from his utility belt. For all they know, he’s just committed live murder.
The air outside the casino is cool against Maxwell’s skin. He catches his breath, taking in lungfuls at a time as he glances around the sidewalk bathed in neon lights. The hustle and bustle of foot traffic nudges him back closer to the doors, chips still safe against his ribs. The smell of tobacco invades his nose. Max looks to his left, and there she is. Still in her bunny suit, the mysterious woman pulls a cigarette from her lips to look at him. She flashes him her smile again, blindingly beautiful.
“Out here by yourself, handsome?” she asks, taking another drag.
“I was looking for you,” Max admits.
“Weren’t too amused by my little stunt, huh?”
“I thought it was brilliant.”
“Brilliant?” the woman asks, eyebrows raising with the word. She seems to take a moment to mull that over—mull him over, before she says, “Well thanks.”
“Of course,” Max returns.
Then she says, “You know, you’re pretty brilliant yourself. I saw you at the blackjack table.”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” he smiles.
“Your lips twitch every time the there’s a cancel. A draw,” the magician’s assistant says. “It’s your tell.”
Maxwell didn’t think he had one. He’s surprised it’s taken this long for anyone to notice. If she has, that means she’s been watching him a lot longer than their shared look at the start of the show.
“And what’s yours?” he asks, taking a bold step closer. By now, the cigarette has burned down to the filter. Bunny lets it fall to the cement, crushing it under the toe box of her heel.
“What if I said I don’t have one?” she asks, voice low and sultry. She smells like cigarettes and spearmint.
“Everyone has a tell,” Maxwell says.
Her lips are so close to his now. He can see the microscopic specks of glitter in her gloss as she speaks, barely a whisper.
“I guess you’ll just have to find mine.”
Right when Max moves in for a kiss, she pulls away.
“But first,” Bunny says. “I need a favour.”
“Anything,” he says instantly. A dog on a leash.
She pulls a scrap of paper from her bra, taking a hold of Max’s hand and folding it into his palm. He relishes in its warmth, cock stirring once again as he thinks about what this paper has touched. He wants to hold her, caress every part of her beautiful body.
“You need to get into this room. It’s reserved for Loftus. Under the bed, there’s a briefcase. Bring it to me.”
“Where can I find you?” he asks.
She simply says, “You’ll find me, baby.”
The magician’s assistant walks away with a sway in her hips. Max is mesmerized by her ass in that outfit, watching ‘til she disappears around the corner. He almost goes after her, stopping himself. He schools his desperation into determination. Retrieve a briefcase? Max can surely manage that. He looks at the address scribbled down on the paper. Just south of here, a little ways up Las Vegas Boulevard.
First, he returns to the casino to cash out his chips. 750 dollars richer, he exits the building once again to join the people on the street. Walking down the long strip, he keeps an eye out for the place he’s looking for. The hotels and casinos tower over him and everyone else, overwhelming in their grand stature. Lights of all colours bathe different sections of his vision; everything highlighted, all of it begging for his attention and the opening of his wallet.
Max reaches the address on the piece of paper, staring up at the MGM Grand. Across the street from replica Lady Liberty, this has to be the largest building in mass size that he’s ever seen. The glass structure seems to glow, alternating black and wizard green stripes lining its entirety. He doesn’t take too long to gawk, ducking his head and moving toward the entrance. 
Through the abstract front doors, marble flooring slides beneath his feet. The lobby is dotted with hundreds of pot lights. In the middle of everything is a branded flower garden. From this distance, Max can’t tell if the plants are real or fake. All he can focus on is the life-sized golden lion statue sitting among them on a pedestal. A spotlight filters down on the creature from the divoted, sparkling ceiling.
It is purely overwhelming. All of it makes his eyes hurt. Maxwell simultaneously wants it all, and wishes everything would disappear.
The slip of paper has details for the penthouse on the thirtieth floor. Maxwell beelines for the elevator, getting on alone. The doors creep closed in front of him as he scans over the buttons panel. Twenty-nine glowing circles wait for him. Number thirty has a hole next to it, the light behind it dead. Running a thumb over it, he can tell that it’s fit for a key. The elevator doesn’t move, the doors opening again moments later. Max walks back into the lobby, eyes darting around as he forms a plan.
He’s a smart man. Quick-thinking; had to be growing up, having only mere moments to make decisions before his father burst into one of his unpredictable rages. His heart would pound, lungs floating without air in his chest as he got to work with his rational brain. The part of him that pointed out the best hiding spots under the bed or in his mom’s closet, or when was a good time to ditch the house for a few hours entirely.
That same part of his mind starts working again now, taking in his surroundings instead of fighting them, positing the best solution. Max takes a deep breath, reorganizing himself. He can do this. He starts walking to the lobby desk, leaning into a bit of Mick Jagger swagger. When he reaches the counter, he spreads his hands over the edge of it, the ring on his finger catching the light.
“Sweetheart,” Max begins, imitating Killian Loftus’ grating persona. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my key.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Can I have your name and room number?” the woman behind the desk asks. Her hair is tightly crimped, blonde ends singed with heat damage. Max gives her a smirk, informing her of the booking under Loftus’ name for the uppermost suite.
“Alright sir,” she says, looking through pages in a guest book. “I’ll just need to see some identification and we will be right on our way.”
Shit. These goddamn hotels are moving towards hokey technology, getting rid of guestbooks and good old metal keys. Maxwell weathered the thin skin of his lip, pivoting his strategy. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he pulled out a few bills from his gambling winnings.
“How much to overlook that little requirement?” Max asks.
“Four hundred dollars,” the woman says immediately.
Max blinks at her, turning away for only a moment. All of this for one woman? One woman whom he barely knows, who’s really promised him nothing. But her beautiful face, that tantalizing smile… Fuck.
He turns back to the hotel attendant, skimming through the crisp cotton bills with his thumb to count out four hundred dollars. Max hands it to her over the counter. She discreetly tucks it into the breast pocket of her blazer, padded shoulders straightening up with pride. The attendant then hands Max a key, the metal ring dangling off her finger. He takes it from her, walking away as he unruffles his feathers.
Max returns to the elevator. The doors are about to close when a pale hand jams itself between them. They slip open again, a blonde couple glommed onto each other at the mouth joining him. Maxwell moves over in the compartment, giving them as much space as possible. The ride up feels impossibly long, the sounds of their lips pressing together making it entirely agonizing. They finally get off at the twenty-fifth floor, tumbling down the left side of the hallway to their room.
When he puts the key into the hole next to the thirtieth floor, the button lights up for him. Max presses it, loosening his tie a little as he ascends to the penthouse. The doors open with a slight ding! Setting foot into the luxury suite, he takes his time to look around. The latest and greatest model appliances deck out the kitchenette, the couch as plush as chinchilla fur. He takes his shoes and socks off, digging his toes into the soft shag carpet. Max could get used to this.
He remembers what he truly came here for like a jolt of electricity, scrambling to slide his Farragamo loafers back on, socks in hand. The briefcase. Right. Under the bed, she’d said.
Max quits milling about, looking for the bedroom among so many parlors and rooms. He finally finds it at the very back of the penthouse. He only has a moment to graze a palm over the fine linen sheets before he drops to his knees. Underneath the bed frame lies exactly what he’s looking for: the aforementioned briefcase.
Sliding it out from under the bed, Max stays kneeling on the carpet as he stares at it. He could open it, take a peek inside. Just to look, he tells himself. Anything could be in there. Money, diamonds, jewels…the thought gets him hard again. So does the promise of seeing her. He could give in to greed…or give in to her.
Really, it’s an easy choice to make.
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You wait for the mystery man alone at the casino’s bar. If he has any sense, he’ll find you here. Or, you figure, he could take off with the briefcase. He’s probably opened it by now, already seen its tempting contents. You’d say that you are pissed, but you can’t really blame him.
It’s been almost an hour; a lot longer than you’d expect for a simple smash and grab. There wasn’t even the instruction to smash. No need for breaking added to this entering. No, the beautiful card counter with the light brown hair is long gone. Go figure.
“Bartender,” you signal him over, two fingers in the air. When the man shuffles to you with a towel over his shoulder, you say, “I’ll take another martini. Extra dirty this time.”
“You know, they say that dogs look like their owners,” you hear someone speak behind you. Turning slightly, you see the man from earlier—with the luscious locks and fleeting eyes, this time carrying a briefcase. The briefcase. He’s come back to you after all.
“So?” you ask. “Are you calling me a dog?”
“No, no, no,” he rushes out, immediately sitting down beside you. You like that. He’s quick to worry, easy to rile up. He seems to want you happy; to keep you pleased. “I was going to ask if the lady is like her drink.” He waits until the bartender sets the skinny glass in front of you. “Extra dirty.”
“Well, you’ve brought me what I asked for,” you say. “So that all depends on what you want…” You’re only now realizing that you don’t know this man’s name.
“Maxwell,” he offers you a hand. “Maxwell Lord.” You shake it carefully. His palms are a little sweaty. He sets the briefcase down on the bar with his other hand, eyes never leaving you.
“That’s a nice name. Maxwell Lord,” you say, testing it out on your tongue. He smiles as you say it.
“I assume your true name isn’t Bunny,” he says.
“You’ll be lucky enough to find out.” You take a sip of your drink, watching him watch you. “Y’know, I thought that you would stiff me.”
“You? Never,” Maxwell says. “I know it would haunt me for all of my days.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re too beautiful.”
That’s it. You need to see this man naked as soon as possible.
“You’re sweet,” you coo. Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you plop a few bills down on the sticky bar to cover your tab. Taking the briefcase by the handle, you offer him your other hand. “Shall we?”
“Absolutely, yes,” Maxwell nods.
You drag him through the casino, this time to a separate lobby attaching two buildings. Of course there’s a casino, bar, and hotel. One stop shopping for the tax break-wealthy drunkard with too much cash to blow. “Trickle down” your ass.
Your room on the fifth floor isn’t nearly as fancy as Killian’s at the Grand, but it’s cozy with a nice bed. That’s all the two of you need. Max doesn’t even try to take control—another thing you like. He’s a puppet and you’ve gathered his strings, pushing him back so he falls to the springy mattress.
“Okay, honey,” you say, kicking your heels off. You climb into his lap on the bed, settling over a distinct bulge in his pants. “You’re going to tell me what you want. I’ll make sure you feel real good. Okay?”
“Mhm,” Max nods. Your lips slide along his neck, leaving lipstick marks in your wake. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers.
You pause, drawing yourself back to look in his eyes. He’s dead serious, face lax as he gazes upon you like you’re holding up the world. “You want me to fuck you?” you repeat.
“Please.” The word comes out all breathy, almost a whine drawn from Maxwell’s throat. How can you refuse him?
“Alright, baby.”
You pinch his cheek teasingly, getting off of him in search of your luggage. In the meantime, you tell him to strip. Behind you, Max starts to unbutton his shirt, discarding his baby blue suit jacket. You listen to him get undressed as you pull your suitcase up from underneath the hotel bed.
Unzipping the bag, you dig past your satiny outfits to the hidden compartment beneath your underwear. Finding what you need, you place the toy, harness, and small bottle of lubricant on the bed’s comforter. You can hear Maxwell pause as he shimmies out of his pants. When you see him again, his eyes are transfixed on the spread you have laid out.
“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask.
He returns to shedding his pants, then his calf-high cotton socks.
When he says, “Nothing. Nothing at all,” you cock your head, blinking at him.
“You can tell me,” you say, getting closer. Your hands brush over his bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin.
“Looks like a lot,” he says, eyeing the toy again.
“You can take it,” you say. “Everything is going to be just fine.”
He’s right; it is a lot. Eight solid inches of bendy silicone, all for him. You direct him onto the bed again, laying with his spine against the mattress. Max watches as you attach the thick toy to the leather harness with a metal O-ring. Then, you slip it on like a pair of panties, adjusting the buckles at your sides. Once you settle over him, you take his cock in your hand. Slow beginning strokes have Maxwell sighing against you as you kiss him.
“You were so good, Maxwell. Did a great  job,” you say, sitting up.
“Y-you think so?” he asks, voice uneven.
“I know so.”
Spit runs past your lips down to where you hold him. It slides over the swollen tip of his length, down between the skin of your fingers. You ease him into slightly faster strokes, watching the way his eyes flutter with every movement. You wish you’d packed a camera for this outing to capture it permanently.
When you pull your hand away, Maxwell groans. Laid flat on the bed, you get a hold on one of his thighs, lifting it to his chest.
“Hand me that bottle, baby.”
Fumbling with the linens for a moment, Max gets a grip on the lube and hands it to you. The cap opens easily, a quick snap that brings Maxwell’s focus to your still-wet hand. He watches as a dollop of the clear gel falls to the middle of your palm. You fold your hand, spreading lubricant across the pads of your middle and pointer fingers.
You lean down towards him, tongue flat as you lick across his lips. Max moves his arms around you, hugging your body close to capture you in a sweet kiss. Tongue moving against yours, you guide your hand to his bottom half.
“You ready, honey?” you ask him.
He nods, kissing you again. You meet his tight rim with light touches, feeling Maxwell contract at the contact. As you ease a finger in slowly, he breaks away from your lips. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, he practically purrs against your skin. Pushing deeper, his breath catches.
“That’s it, Maxwell. Feels good, doesn’t it?” you ask.
“Yes, it’s—oh god.”
“My clever boy… So good at doing what I tell you to, huh?”
“I want you to be—be happy. Content. So beautiful, I can’t…” Max rambles on.
You shush him gently, stroking the side of his face with your free hand. “Don’t worry honey. I know.”
Adding a second finger earns you a deep moan from the man beneath you. He’s being pulled in all directions, pleasure tearing him apart. His broad shoulders relax further into the bed, golden skin glowing with natural light. He is a truly alluring man. That’s why he caught your eye in the first place: someone so radiant amid the dim atmosphere of a Vegas casino. 
Killian was a terrible business partner, cutting you only thirty percent of the money from any given con job you worked together. He was another seedy character in a town chock full of them. Eyeing Maxwell at that blackjack table, you saw an opportunity for something new. Someone new. Spiffy and sparkling, your very own Ken doll fresh from the packaging.
“You think you’re ready, gorgeous?” you ask, tone sweet as sugar.
“Always ready,” Maxwell answers.
His chest heaves with each pull of air into his lungs, anticipation keeping you both on edge. He watches you slather the dildo in a thick coating of lube, sliding it against Max’s balls. Then you notch the toy at the crux of his ass, head pressed against his hole. Inching slowly forward, you can’t choose between focusing on his pretty face or his ass swallowing the length of you.
“How does that feel?”
“Fantastic,” Maxwell sighs.
He takes half at first, speared open on the dildo as he measures his breathing. Max is flushed from his forehead to his cock, perspiration littering his body as precum drips from his swollen tip. You take him in hand again, stroking at soft skin in tandem with your thrusts. Small, stuttering gasps and groans fill the air as Maxwell holds you close, feeling almost every inch.
“You like my cock, honey?” you ask. “You’re so special. So, so special. A sweet boy that that takes my cock all nice…takes what I give him.”
You slow your movements to more languid pulses, barely leaving him as you rock forward.
“Fuck,” Max moans. “Please.”
“Oh, he likes that, huh?” You watch as Max’s hole swallows the rest of your lubed cock easily, hips flush with the backs of his thighs. “Greedy little boy. All eager to get fucked by me. I think you’d do anything for it.”
“Anything,” he agrees.
“Maybe next time, I’ll get you to beg.” Max moans again, holding your hips to press you deeper. “You want to kneel for me, honey? Get down on your knees all pretty for me?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Maxwell whispers in a chant.
“Think my pretty boy could get off just like that? On his knees, rubbing against the edge of my heel?”
“Please,” he begs you.
Your lips quirk into a smile as you watch him writhe beneath you. One word turns to a string of pleading, though you aren’t quite sure that Maxwell knows what he’s asking for. You speed up your thrusts and your hand. His eyes slip closed as he focuses on every sensation you’re giving him, hedging closer to that high just out of reach.
Leaning down over him, you catch him in a messy kiss. “Come on, baby. You can do it. Come for me.”
Maxwell heeds your words, tensing before his whole body relaxes at once. He paints the insides of his thighs and your belly with a groan, twitching with each aftershock. Dragging a finger through the mess on your skin, you collect some of his spend and push it past his lips, feeding it to him. Max suckles at your finger, tasting himself. He smiles when you take your hand back, dragging at his bottom lip.
You pull out of him slowly, discarding the harness and strap to lay down with him. Maxwell turns to face you, nose pressed to your collarbone. Idly petting his hair has him kissing your skin. Basking in the moment, you let something like bliss wash over you.
“So what do you say?” you ask eventually. “Partners?”
“Partners,” Maxwell agrees.
And that’s that.
51 notes · View notes
pascalsbby · 10 months
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WARNINGS: MDNI (18+), SMUT: fem! unless stated or requested otherwise. Writing about it does not imply endorsement.
Notes: please feel free to send me requests <3
@sscorpiiio is my non-writing blog!
MASTER LISTS - Series
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*CARNAL : dark!stalker!dbf! joel
*The Devil & His Brother : joel x tommy x
*Hot Single Dad of The Neighborhood : joel
ONE-SHOTS, misc.
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little bunny : javier
people talk : dbf! joel
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“Truth is, he’d been waiting for your mouth to form his name all day. He knew you’d be here, always were on the fourth regardless of what boy you were running around with or what was happening in college. This time you were here for good. Or for a while, until your daddy caught on to your problem.”
come on in, sweetheart : joel
Joel was never patient when it came to pulling you through his front door- now especially, considering he’s already made a mess in his jeans because of you.
You find yourself bent over Whiskey’s knee after a night out with friends. Yes, he was a gentleman… but he expected you to be a good girl, too.
XTRAS
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pink banner by @mewryn
315 notes · View notes
absurdthirst · 2 years
Text
The Election {Max Lord x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 10k
Warnings: People being assholes, comments about physical appearance, politicians, public sex, protected sex, public scandal
Comments: Meeting Senator Max Lord in the diner where you work one night leads to a very unusual arrangement. Sex behind the building. Changing both of your lives in a very real way. 
A/N: Thot based off this filthy gif but is no way representative of the reader. 
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers​
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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You sigh, wiping down the table after the teenagers had effectively thrown every single fry on the floor and squirted ketchup all over the table. You had told them to stop but they just laughed at you before they left. They didn’t leave a tip. You toss the dirty rag into the bowl in the kitchen, leaning against the counter just beside the window that looks out into the diner. “You’ll never guess who just sat down in your section.” Sally says, appearing through the swinging door, and you frown, turning your head to look into your section. 
“Who’s that?” You frown. 
“Senator Maxwell Lord. He’s running for re-election.” Sally declares and you scoff, adjusting your apron. 
“I don’t follow politics.” 
Sally sighs, “you should. He really is dreamy. Single dad too. It’s hot. A powerful man.” 
You snort, “sounds like you should go serve him.” 
Sally shakes her head, “no. Hopefully he tips well. You need it more than me. Go.” She orders and you push on the door to make your way over to your section, approaching the Senator sitting at the table.
Max sighs and looks down at the menu, the selection here a lot better than the greasy spoons he has been visiting while he’s been on the campaign trail. Bypassing the burgers because he didn’t want to have anyone, mainly the man sitting opposite him, commenting about the cholesterol or how unhealthy he was eating. The California grilled chicken sandwich looks good but he damn sure is going to get the fries. “Now we have a campaign stop tomorrow morning and we need to make sure that you make an appearance at the children’s hospital. Kiss a few sick kids, make a donation that is in full view of the cameras.” 
Max rolls his eyes at his campaign manager, shaking his head at how callous he sounds, visiting sick kids for political visibility. “No.” He tells him. “I will donate privately and you can photograph me going into the hospital but if the parents don’t want their kids photos taken, that’s it.” He warns the overeager man. “No persuading them. Those kids are sick and shouldn’t be exploited for votes.” 
You walk over, brushing down your apron, and you pull your notepad out, grabbing the pen from behind your ear. “Good afternoon.” You tell the two men your name before asking what they want to drink. “Diet Coke.” Both men say and you nod, “no problem. I’ll be right back with those and then I’ll take your order.” The dark eyes of the senator focus on you and you find it a little hard to breathe with how handsome he is. Clearly well groomed with his expensive suit and watch that costs more than your car to appear in charge and ready to lead. A true politician.
Watching you walk away, Max ignores the assessing hum of the other man as he admires the curve of your ass. It’s been a long time since he’s really noticed a woman. First he was going through his divorce and then it was lack of availability. Anyone around him was off limits, he wasn’t going to be that kind of politician. No matter what, he didn’t want a sex scandal undermining the kind of change he was trying to bring about.
You bring the drinks back, setting them down and ignoring the appraising look from the man in the blue suit. The kind brown eyes are deceptive considering his career in politics. “What can I get you to eat?” You ask. 
“Are you on the menu?” The blue suit man winks and you offer him a tight smile. 
“No. I am not. Only food available in a diner. I can tell you the specials though.”
He’s already decided what he wants but he smiles at you, the charming one that he uses on the campaign trail set aside for one that is grateful and almost hesitant. “Please.” He just wants to hear you talk, enjoying the way your voice sounds. “Your specials. What you would eat here.”
You are a little taken back, “oh, okay. Um, the specials are a double cheeseburger with bacon and a fried egg served with fries. We also have a meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a red wine jus. I could go with the burger.” You tell the senator with a wink.
He gives you a slow smile, enjoying the butterflies that erupt in his stomach at your playful wink. “Then I’ll have the burger, no mayo please.” He asks, “but I wouldn’t mind extra ketchup.” He winks back at you just as playfully. 
You offer him a soft smile, sensing how charismatic he is, and you write down his order just as his companion says, “I’ll have the grilled chicken salad. Maxwell. You shouldn’t have the burger. You need to watch your weight. Maybe the waitress should too.” His blue eyes look at you, and your jaw drops. 
“Excuse me?” You balk. 
“Just sayin’ you might want to cut out the burgers and maybe get a boob job. Might get you out of this shithole diner.” He shrugs. 
You scoff, “I’ll put your order in and maybe I can find the number of a dick extension doctor. You seem like you need one.” You snort, spinning on your heel to head into the kitchen, absolutely fuming at the audacity of the man.
“Jackson.” Max shakes his head at his campaign manager and frowns. “What the hell are you doing?” He huffs. “That was completely uncalled for, you- you know what?” He leans back and stares at the man. “Go back to the bus and make sure my speech is ready for tomorrow. I’ll get your food to go and bring it back to you.” Jackson huffs and argues with him for a few minutes but Max is adamant and the other man shuffles out of the restaurant. 
You come back with the plates, still annoyed at the prick in the suit. “Where’s your friend? In the bathroom looking at himself in the mirror?” You ask, setting the senator’s burger down in front of him before you slam the chicken salad down on the table.
“He’s - he’s not my friend.” Max shuffles slightly and bites his lip. “I want to apologize for him, he’s my campaign manager and was completely out of line.” He apologizes. “What he said was wrong, you don’t need to lose weight, or a boob job.” He flushes when he realizes what he said and flusters. “I- I mean…You are perfect - perfectly fine just the way you are.” 
You fluster at his words, his dark eyes are kind and you know you’re going to look him up when your shift ends. “Uh, thank you. Ketchup is over there.” You point at the bottle, “and I can pack up the salad for your…campaign manager. I just - I hope you don’t have the same morals as him. Especially if you’re gonna be representing this state.” You tilt your head.
“Well, I’ve already been representing the state, but I hope to continue to do so.” He admits. “But no, I don’t have the same morals as he does. I want to be honest and transparent with what I can do for my constituents and what I hope to accomplish for our state.”
You bite your lip, “I- I don’t really follow politics. I didn’t - I didn’t know who you were until my coworker told me.” Your confession has you glancing around the diner. “I’m just saying you might want a new campaign manager. One who isn’t an asshole.”
Max chuckles and leans back in the booth, throwing his arm along the back as he appraises you, enjoying how you speak your mind. “You know any good ones?” He asks, actually delighted you didn’t know who he was or have ten thousand questions that he needed to carefully answer so he wasn’t misquoted. “I wish we could just skip all the b.s. and just run off our principles.” 
You chuckle, “unfortunately my Rolodex of campaign managers is empty. Surely the world would be a better place if politicians just told the truth? Although I doubt the population wants to hear it. I just don’t get involved in politics, I have too much of my own b.s going on to care.” You tell him honestly, “I’ll let you eat your meal.” You realize he hasn’t touched his burger.
“Again, I’m sorry he was an ass.” He tells you as he reaches for the bottle of ketchup. “The burger looks delicious and I’m sure you are busy enough without taking up more of your time.” He knows you have other tables, he actually enjoys that he isn’t special. Right now he is just a patron eating a burger. 
You nod, walking away from him and you can feel his eyes on you. “Sooo how is the senator? Think he’s gonna leave a big tip?” Sally asks, and you chuckle. 
“No. I- he’s…sweet. Not what I expected. His campaign manager is a dick but he’s nice. He seems like he actually wants to do some good.” You say as you lean against the counter and Sally raises her eyebrows. 
“A politician who seems nice? Alert the media.” She jokes.
It’s rare that he isn’t wolfing down his food or having a working dinner. So it’s honestly a treat to be able to take his time and eat. He can’t help but watch you though. His eyes find you around the diner as he watches you go about your tasks, refilling drinks and serving customers. You are graceful and quite frankly beautiful. It’s been a long time since he’s met a woman so pretty and he’s honestly finding it hard to look away from you. 
You eventually come back around to grab Max’s plate, taking it before you look down at him. “Looks like you enjoyed it.” You tease, glancing at the empty plate. He blushes a little and you think it’s cute. He’s cute. Sally said his wife had divorced him, too focused on her own career to go on the road with him.
“I did.” He nods and looks around. “I will have to bring Alistair here. My son.” He clarifies with a small smile as he thinks about the boy. “He loves a good cheeseburger and I spotted milkshakes on the menu.” He chuckles. “He would want a double chocolate.” 
You smile, “you’ll have to bring him by. Cheeseburger and chocolate shake.” You tap your head, “I’ll try and remember in case you come back. Here’s your check.” You tell him, setting it down. “There’s no rush. Your…campaign managers salad has been wrapped up. I’ll give it to you when you leave.”
The bill is reasonable, and he wants to make sure that he leaves a good tip, especially because you had to deal with Jackson’s bullshit. Max digs out his wallet and slides the bills under the check and stands. Catching your attention with a smile. “I’ll take that box for him, even if he deserves to starve.” He jokes and gives you a tiny wink.
You nod, grabbing the takeout box with the salad from the counter. “Hope he doesn’t choke on the lettuce.” You snort flippantly. 
Max offers you a wry smile, “knowing him he won’t eat it and will have a cigarette instead.” 
You roll your eyes, “of course. Well…good luck Senator Lord.” You offer him a smile and he nods, “thank you.” You watch him leave, biting your lip as you realize how broad he is, and you wonder if he will be back. Shaking your head, you make your way over to the table, grabbing the check and when you cash it out, your eyes widen when you see the fifty dollar tip. “Holy shit.” You curse, eying the money before you put it in your apron, torn on whether to accept it or not. You know he’s gone so you won’t be able to return it. Maybe you can donate it. You need the money but this is a lot. Deciding to figure it out later, you get back to work.
Max thinks about that burger all day, deciding that he’s going to order them back to the diner from yesterday, he walks over to the driver. “I want to go back to the restaurant from last night.” He tells him. “Just me and one of the security guards.”
You look up as the bell rings above the door, your eyes widening slightly when you see Senator Lord walk in with a buff looking man wearing a suit - his security you’re assuming. “Hey. Table for two?” You ask, grabbing a couple of menus.
Shaking his head, Max gives you a smile. “No, Gunther doesn’t like sitting with me.” He tells you. “He’ll sit at the bar and order nothing, just to make himself seem more intimidating.” He jokes, knowing the man will at least order a coffee. But he doesn’t eat while he is out with Max so he can be alert. “I had to come back for another burger.”
You chuckle, setting one menu down before you guide Max to a booth in your section. “Diet Coke?” You ask, and he nods, smiling at you. You love how he blushes a little when you take his menu, his fingers brushing yours. “So you left me way too much money last time.” You say as you set his drink down after submitting his order to the kitchen. You take the money out of your apron and set it down on the table.
Max frowns and looks down at the money before he shakes his head and pushes it back towards you. “I know how much I left. You deserve it.” He murmurs, nodding towards it. “You were a lot more graceful than you should have been to my campaign manager and I know you work hard - like everyone in the service industry.”
Your jaw drops slightly, taken back by his genuine response. You know that most politicians would pull the same act to try and win over another voter but the gesture seems genuine. You pick up the money and tuck it into your apron, tilting your head at him. “You don’t seem like most politicians. You seem…real. Is that genuine or are you just that good an actor?” You ask, deciding to call him out on it.
Laughing at your brazen question, he shakes his head. “Not an actor.” He promises, giving a small shrug. “I grew up poor, very poor. I just know how the little people struggle while everyone else overlooks them.” He explains. “My mother cleaned houses and would cry if her clients would even leave an extra five dollars to tip her. It meant she could eat lunch that week too.”
You are taken back by his answer, figuring he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. You smile at him, “not what I expected but I’m glad to hear you are not one of those upper class assholes looking to make money while pretending to work for his constituency.” He chuckles and you smile again, “I’ll go get your burger when it’s ready.”
Max looks around then diner again, watching a family have their meal while they interact with their two kids. That’s what he wants to work for, a family. The average people who just want to live a good life and raise their kids in a safe world. His own son counted amongst them.
You come back over with his burger, grateful your shift is nearly over with how bad your feet are aching, and you set it down along with the bottle of ketchup, remembering what he said about wanting extra. You look at him for a moment before you fluster, a little lost in his dark gaze, before you walk off to get him another refill on his soda.
When you bring the soda back Max motions to the seat across from him. “Sit down?” He asks, slightly shy but wanting to have you sit with him for a bit. “The diner isn’t very busy and I’m enjoying our banter.” If you say no, he will respect that, but he hopes you don’t. 
You glance around the diner, seeing it’s quiet and your shift is nearly over, so you nod and take a seat. “So…must be lonely on your campaign bus, going from city to city.” You observe, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.
Max nods. “Living in hotels or on the bus for weeks at a time isn’t as glamorous as you would think.” He admits. “I miss the simplicity of just sleeping in the same bed every night.” He chuckles. “It actually makes me miss D.C. when we are in session.” He jokes.
You chuckle, “wow. Must be bad. Guess it’s worse when you don’t have someone traveling with you to share your bed at night.” You are a little forward but you think he’s cute and honestly? It’s been a while for you. Not since your asshole of an ex cheated on you.
“Don’t I know it.” Max groans before he stops himself. He clears his throat and blushes slightly and looks away. “I just- there aren’t a lot of opportunities to meet someone new and I refuse to be another senator to has a fucking sex scandal to take away from the real issues.” He explains, hoping you don’t mind the language that slips out.
You hum in agreement, taking note of his broad shoulders. “What if - what if you were guaranteed that no one would know?” You ask cautiously, waiting for his reaction while you lean forward, offering him a glimpse down your button down dress the owner wants you to wear.
Max’s eyes drift down to your cleavage and then back up to your face. “I’m a red blooded man.” His voice is raspy, thicker than it had been before. “I’m not opposed to sex, but I wasn’t going to take advantage of the women that work on my campaign or my staff.” He clarifies. “I meet a beautiful woman and sex happens…well, hopefully she enjoys herself.”
“And if I say that my shift ends in ten minutes which seems to be enough time for you to eat and perhaps, you could come find me outside after you’ve paid your check?” You ask casually, tilting your head at him. He’s hot, the raspy tone in his voice has your thighs pressed together, and you can’t deny the thrill of fucking him without anyone knowing except the two of you is exhilarating.
Max blows out a breath, cock twitching and he watches your eyes to make sure your offer is genuine. “I would say that I will see you outside in 9 and a half minutes.” He promises, looking down at his food with a grin. “Maybe even nine minutes.”
You grin, “see you in nine minutes Senator.” You wink and stand up, swaying your hips as you walk away from his table without looking back. The next nine minutes drags by and you watch the seconds tick down as he scoffs his burger, eagerly slapping down some cash when he pays. You giggle, walking over to him to grab the bill. “Meet me outside in the alley.” You whisper, leaning closer as you pick up the cash. “Change?” You ask breathlessly. He shakes his head, barely able to breathe, and you smirk as you carry the check over to close it out before you clock out.
Max walks over to his guard and murmurs in his ear. All of the team that surrounds him have NDAs so he doesn’t have to worry about the man talking. The worst he could say was the the senator had sex with a woman in an alley. All consensual, but in public. Still, he needs to be aware of where Max is going. He nods, telling Max that he will be in the car. Swallowing, Max exits the diner and walks around the back, already starting to harden at the mere prospect of touching you.
You shove your apron in your locker and grab your purse, shouting a goodbye to your coworkers before you make your way outside to the alley where Maxwell is waiting. It’s dark outside now, the moon in the sky and it gives an intimate atmosphere to your rendezvous despite being by the dumpsters.
Max looks up from where he was staring at the condom in his hands, watching you walk up to him. “Lucky I had one of these.” He jokes, holding it up and biting his lip as you walk closer. “Fuck, you look pretty.” He groans. “Thought so from the very beginning.”
You stride towards him, loving how sweet he is and the fact that he has a condom in his wallet is endearing. He probably had to check it wasn't expired.  You grip the back of his neck, dragging him towards you. "You're too fucking cute. Want you to fuck me, use me for your frustrations." You order before pressing your lips to his.
Max groans, quickly kissing you back and reaching up to cup the back of your neck to press into you. It’s been years since he’s had sex, as shameful as that is. His ex was the last woman he was with, concentrating on his career and Alistair when he has him. However, his body definitely remembers what to do, quickly pressing you against the wall of the diner and kissing down your throat, his hands sliding under your dress.
You gasp when he nips on the skin between your neck and your shoulder. “Fuck, Max.” You moan, snaking your hand between you to cup his hard cock through his expensive slacks. You whimper when his hands squeeze your ass, pulling you against him. “Want- want your fingers.” You confess, grinding against him.
His fingers dip under the band of your panties, practical cotton, but to him they are sexy. Parting your curls, his thick digits slide through your folds and he moans when he finds your clit and starts rubbing as he kisses down your chest and his teeth graze the top of your cleavage. “God.” He breathes out. “So fucking pretty.” 
Moaning, you grind down onto his fingers, and you unbuckle his fancy belt, flicking the button his pants before you can reach in to grip his cock. “Fuck. You’re so thick.” You moan, pulling him out of his pants. His fingers work your clit and you are breathless at how good it feels already.
Groaning at your hand on his cock, he throbs for you. “Shit.” He hisses. Quickly twisting his wrist so he can sink two fingers into your thankfully wet cunt, he licks the top of your bra, wetting the white material and your skin underneath it.
“Oh God. Max, that- that feels good. Gonna make me cum.” You whine, grinding down onto his fingers and your grip on his cock slackens. It’s been so long since you had something other than your own fingers. “Fuck. Oh shit.” You hiss, trying to keep quiet as you clamp down on his thick digits.
He smothers his own whine against your skin, keeping his fingers pumping and moving in your gasping cunt. “That’s it. That’s it.” He croons quietly. Marveling at how tight you were squeezing them and soaking them with your pleasures. Your top finally opens and he bites down on your nipple over the material of your bra and sucks harshly with a groan as he works you through it.
You squeeze his cock, ready for you and you are now ready for him. “Come on baby. Want you inside of me.” You beg, gently pushing him back before you reach into his jacket pocket for the condom. Ripping it open before you roll it down his length.
Max groans and pushes you back against the wall. He reaches down and grips your leg and lifts it up over his hip. “You want me inside you, baby?” He asks, grasping his cock and starting to guide himself towards your cunt as you move your panties to the side.
You keep your panties to the side, gasping when he pushes into you. “Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.” You hiss, tilting your head back as he fills you up, stretching your walls. “Max. Max, baby. Fuck me.” You plead, gripping his neck.
Shuddering at the feel of your nails digging into the back of his neck. Making him hiss and drag his hips back to snap them forward again, burying his cock back in your heat. “Fuck.” Growling, he leans and presses his lips to yours while starting to thrust in and out of your cunt.
You cling to him, pressed against the wall as he thrusts into you with a hiss. “So good Max. Feel so damn good. I- I want - I want more.” You murmur against his lips. Rocking up onto your tip toes so he can thrust deeper into you with a moan. “God yes. Yes. Right there.” You groan when he hits deep to find a delicious spot inside of you.
One hand holding your legs, the other braced on the wall, Max tries to keep hitting that spot with every jolt of his hips. Moaning and grunting at how you tighten around him. He’s not done anything like this in forever and it feels like fucking Heaven. “Jesus, fuck.” He pants, leaning his forehead against yours while you take his cock again and again.
You reach up to cup his cheeks, bringing his mouth back to yours as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna- Max. Maxxxx.” You squeal against his mouth, clamping down on his cock as you cum.
Max pants out your name, nearly whining it as he continues to rock into you, working you through your high. The loud sounds of your fucking practically echoes around the small area you are tucked into. “Shit.” His hips stutter and he can’t only give another four or five thrusts before he is burying himself deep and filling the condom with his seed with a moan of your name.
You caress his neck, loving the way his jaw clenches as he rocks his way through his high before he stills inside of you. "God, that was good." You sigh, kissing his nose, unable to help yourself when you've imagined it far too many times.
“Yes it was.” Max’s breathing starts to slow down as he enjoys the last moments of closeness before he carefully grips the base of the condom and pulls out of you. Putting your leg down and taking it off to tie a knot in it before throwing it in the dumpster. “Going to sleep like a baby tonight.”
You chuckle, "I bet you are. I'm happy to serve the state." You wink at him and reach out to pull him close one last time, pressing your lips to his. "So...uh, I guess you gotta get back?" You murmur, shifting from one foot to the other. It's a little awkward now the lust has been satiated.
Max nods, hating it, but he does have to strategize and call Alistair in the morning before school. “Do you need a ride home?” He asks, wanting to spend a few more minutes with you if he could.
You shake your head, "no. I can get the bus. I'll be fine." You tell him, picking your purse up from the floor and you turn to look at him. 
"You aren't taking the bus." He insists and you shake your head. 
"I- I don't have a car. I can't afford a car." You tell him, biting your lip.
“Then let me take you home.” Max implores. “Please.” He wants to make sure you get home safely and he knows that the public transportation can take forever to get you where you need to go. “Get you home quickly and into a bath with a glass of wine before you would normally be home.” He adds, trying to sweeten the offer.
You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you should accept the ride home and make more of this than it really is: a hook up. You smile and nod, “that sounds wonderful. Yes, I’d like a ride home.” You lean closer to kiss his cheek.
“Good.” Max smiles and puts his hand on your back as the two of you walk down the alley. If Gunther is surprised to see you with Max, he doesn’t show it. Opening the door, Max motions for you to climb into the back seat of the SUV before he climbs in beside you. “I’m glad you let us take you home, it’s getting late.”
You glance out the window before you look back at Maxwell. “I’m used to taking the bus. I- my car broke down and I couldn’t afford to fix it so I had to change to taking the bus. If I end up doing a night shift, I usually just walk home because the bus isn’t running.” You confess, knowing it’s not safe but you don’t have any other options. You tell the driver where to go.
“Jesus.” Max shakes his head, knowing that if he hadn’t insisted on taking you home that you would be walking home. “I- my schedule is tight but I can send the man who works on my cars over to look at it?” He offers, wanting to help however he could. “Otherwise, I would look at it myself.” You give him a startled look and he chuckles. “I worked my way through college working in a mechanics shop.”
You tilt your head, “you did? Wow. You are way more than you appear, Maxwell Lord.” You reach over to take his hand in yours. “Thank you. I- I would really appreciate you doing that. I- I need my car back. Pepper spray only goes so far.” You chuckle awkwardly and squeeze his hand.
Max squeezes your hand back, proud of being able to help you. It’s a good feeling almost as good as the first time he had signed a bill that became law. “We’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about that from now on.” He promises. “He’s a miracle worker with cars.”
You kiss the back of his hand after lifting it to your mouth. “You’re a good man. You’ve got my vote.” You joke, offering him a wink before you give the driver another direction to turn onto your street. Thankfully you didn’t live too far away from the diner.
Max honestly wishes you lived farther away so he could spend more time with you. Instead he feels the car pull to a stop, turning to see the older apartment building. He could tell that it wasn’t newer but hopefully the owners kept up with maintenance. “Well, I take it you are home. I hope you have a good night.” He offers softly.
“You too. I’ll see you around Senator Lord.” You offer him one last wink before his driver opens the door to let you out and you make your way into your builder. 
Gunther meets Max’s eyes in the rear view mirror after the car is rolling down the street. “You know Jackson is gonna kill you for this.” Gunther warns his boss.
Max gives a small shrug, a smile playing on his lips. “Let him try.” He murmurs. “She is exactly what I needed tonight and Jackson needs to remember he works for me, not the other way around.” He looks back towards your building behind him and huffs. “Might be my new favorite place to eat.”
“The diner or the lady?” Gunter jokes, making Max blush and look out the window. He knows he will be back, it’s just a question of when. 
****
It’s been three weeks since you saw Max and you can’t help but think he got what he wanted and now he’s never coming back. You ignore the questions from your coworkers, all of them guessing he kissed you, none of them daring to assume he fucked you in the alleyway.
You don’t divulge the dirty details, wanting to keep your secret romp with Max just that to preserve his integrity and yours. However, with each day that passes, you can’t help but want to talk to someone about it to get some advice. You don’t have the man’s phone number and even if you did, he’s on the road so much you’d probably go straight to the answer machine.
Max sighs, tired after three weeks on the road. He has been to several diners that reminded him of yours, but his spirits lift when he sees the sign for the little greasy spoon he has come to dream about. More specifically the alleyway behind it and the sexy yet sweet waitress. 
Smiling when the bell rings out when he opens the door, the woman closest to him turns to greet him. “Can I sit in her section?” He asks, nodding to where you are bringing out plates to a table of what looked like truckers. “Please.”
You turn your head to see Max walking towards you and you can't stop the silly smile that appears on your face. You might've been scouring the tv guide and local news for any interviews with him and you had thought about him every time your hand was between your thighs. "Here you go fellas." You tell the truckers, setting their meals down before you walk over to the table Max sat down at. "Hey stranger." You smile, "Diet Coke and a burger?" You guess.
Max’s grin is answering your own, but there is a devilish twinkle in his eyes. He nods, leaning in. “It will have to do for now, since what I want isn’t exactly on the menu.” He murmurs where no one else can hear him. He has been thinking about you probably every day, definitely every time he had his hand wrapped around his cock. “So I guess I will have to stick with the food.” He winks at you playfully. “How have you been?”
Your stomach twists in anticipation about what he really wants and you bite your lip. "Not too bad. Busy with work as always. Been thinking about this senator...he does this amazing thing with his hips." You whisper with a smirk, writing down his order. "I'll be right back with your soda." You wink, walking away and swaying your hips until you feel his gaze burning into you.
Gunther is at the bar again, sitting there as Max admires your figure. He had immediately told the guard that he wanted to come to the diner over the objections of his campaign manager, but he had just ignored that. He was free from any meet and greets, town hall meetings or campaign trail stops for the next week and he had wanted to see you before he did anything else. Hoping that you weren’t too upset that he hasn’t been in. He had forgotten to give you a number to reach him at. When you bring the Diet Coke back he notices that you don’t seem as tired. “So I heard that my guy was able to get your car back on the road for you.”
You hover near his table, nodding and offering him a smile. "Yes. Yes. He was great. It's so nice to have my car back. I wanted to reach out to you to thank you but I didn't have a number for you." You confess, shifting from one foot to the other and you look into those dark eyes that have haunted you. "Thank you. Really, you - you have no idea how much easier my life is now I don't have to take the bus or walk."
“I should have given you my number.” He’s happy you don’t have to worry about getting home from work now. He had not been thrilled about you walking home alone at night, and it was something he had told his guy when he sent him over there. Get your car on the road no matter what it costs. You didn’t have to worry about the bill, he would have paid it, but luckily it was just a spark plug. Although he had gone through the car to check more than that and did a tune up on it for you. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a card. “Personal number’s on the back.”
You carefully take the card from him, admiring the gold, and you bite your lip. “I’ve never had the personal number of a senator before.” You tease, tucking the card into your apron. The truckers call you over, asking for more coffee, and you glance back at Max before you go to grab the pot. After satisfying the truckers, you grab Max’s burger and set it down in front of him. “How’s your son?” You ask, wanting to extend your time together.
He grins, thinking about his son. Despite the divorce and his ambitions, he wanted to be a good father to Alistair. He chuckles. “I’m going to go pick him up tonight. Have him spend the night and take him to school tomorrow.” The campaign trail was hard because he spent a lot of time away from him, not wanting to drag him away from his routine, despite what Jackson wanted. His son wasn’t going to be a pawn to get votes. “Pizza and the newest movie he wants to watch is on the menu.”
You grin, “membership card to Blockbuster, huh?” You snort, imagining Max in his pristine suit picking out a movie with his son. “I like that you put your son first. Not many fathers would do what you do and still try to be present for their child. I, uh, I like you. A lot.” You confess, biting your lip as you look towards the table of truckers who are leaving after paying their checks.
“I like you too.” Max answers easily. “A lot.” He sees the money on the table and jerks his chin over to it. “Go pocket your tip.” He urges you. “I’ll be here when you get done. Until you have a break even.” He tells you, voice slipping a bit lower and rougher. He wanted to see you mostly, but now that he’s seen you, he wants to touch you again. 
You shiver at the roughness in his tone, nodding before you make your way over to the now empty table, pocketing your tip before you clean up the plates. Once you’ve finished wiping down the table it’s time for your break and you see Max has finished eating. “Come on baby. Meet me in the alleyway.” You whisper as you walk past, waiting for him to follow you.
Max gets up, making like he is going to go down the hallway and use the bathroom. Gunther sees him of course, smirking to himself and the senator as he walks by. But Max doesn’t pay him any attention, eager to meet you in the alleyway despite it being broad daylight.
You giggle when Max slams the door open and grabs you, pressing you up against the wall, his lips immediately finding yours. You moan into his mouth, gripping the lapels of his expensive jacket, his tongue sliding into your mouth when you gasp. The door to the alleyway swings open and you push Max away when his security guard appears. Maxwell turns his head to look as Gunther lights a cigarette. “Just want to make sure no one watches. Carry on. I am gonna have a smoke.” He says, turning his back.
He waits for you to protest, to tell you that there is no way that you can have sex with him while his security is here. When he doesn’t hear a sound of protest, Max chuckles and leans in to kiss you again. “Thought about you for three weeks.” He groans, biting down your throat again. He has a condom in his pocket again and he presses his hard cock against your hip. “Tell me I can fuck you? Tell me that you’ve been thinking about it.” He begs quietly.
You whine, “yes. Yes, please. You’re all I’ve thought about. I’m wet just thinking about how you felt inside of me.” You confess, reaching down to grab his hand. You slide it under your dress to your panties, showing him how wet you already are.
Max groans, pushing the fabric aside so he can slide his fingers through your slick folds. “Fuck.” He pushes a finger inside you. “You want me to fuck you right here again?” He asks. “Make sure you come back to work feeling good from cumming?”
“Yes. Yes. Want- want you to fuck me. You- you felt so good last time.” You pant, pushing his hand out of your panties so you can push them down, turning around after pulling your dress up. You look over your shoulder at him, “please Max. Fuck me.”
“Fuck.” Max hisses and pulls the condom out of his pocket to put between his teeth, tearing at his belt. His cock is already aching to be buried inside you. A quick glance at Gunther’s back ensures the man is watching for the two of you as he rips open the foil wrapper and quickly rolls the rubber down his length.
You gasp when the head of his cock nudges your clit before he notches the head at your entrance, pushing into you in one thrust. “Fuck. Oh fuck Max. Feels so good. Already. Feels so fucking good.” You moan, trying to grind back onto him as your forearms are scratched by the brick wall.
Gripping your hip, Max moans his agreement. “Fuck.” He hisses, pulling back to surge into you again. “Jerked off thinking about this, about you.” He confesses, grinding deep and loving the way that you clench around him. Your panting moans make him want to cum right now but he wants to make sure you cum before he does.
“Never felt like this before. Always - always faked it but with you - it’s real. You make me feel so good. Fuck my pussy so good.” You lean forward to rest your forehead against the cool brick, spreading your legs a little wider so he can fuck into you. “Yes baby. Yes. Harder. Need more.” You beg and reach back to grip onto his hand on your hip.
Pride rises in his chest, making him give you his cock exactly how you want it. Hard and deep thrusts into your cunt, pushing you into the wall make him start panting. “Y-you feel f-fucking incredible.” He gasps out. “So so tight, h-hot.”
Your cheek scratches against the brick but you don’t care, too obsessed with the way he is grinding into you, fucking you into next week. The sound of his hips hitting your ass echoes in the alleyway but Gunther just continues smoking his cigarette as he keeps watch.
“Fuck.” He hisses, one hand sliding under the bunched up fabric of your dress to reach around you to start rubbing your clit. The audaciousness of it, a senator fucking his waitress in broad daylight in an alley, but he fucking loves it. Loves the way that you are so eager for it, the way that you want him. “Cum for me.” He groans into your ear, nibbling on the shell.
You let out a strangled groan when his fingers rub your clit, making you cry out in pleasure when you clamp down on his cock. He actually makes you cum - something your other lovers couldn’t claim. “Yes yes yes. Max. Oh shit!” You shriek, legs shaking as you soak him.
He pants raggedly in your ear, the hold your body has on him makes his teeth grit. Moaning with you as he rocks into you. Now that he has made you cum, he can cum himself. “Good.” He rasps out. “S-so fucking good.”
When he cums, he bites down on your neck and you love it. Reaching behind you to tangle your fingers in his styled hair, messing it up delights you. "Cum for me Max. Cum." You plead, squeezing his cock.
Max whimpers, letting go of the thin control he has and with one more thrust he bites down on your neck, aware that your co-workers might see the imprint of his teeth and not caring. Grunting and grinding into you as he pushes his release into the condom until he finally stops moving and kisses the spot on your neck while he tries to catch his breath.
You sag against the wall, closing your eyes as the pleasure continues to wash over you. “So damn good. Every time.” You sigh, shifting so his cock slides out of you and you turn to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his.  “How about a milkshake to go?” You ask, “for Alistair?”
“That would be perfect.” Max kisses you again. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, smiling at you before he starts to tuck himself away.
You dispose of the condom and adjust your dress, stepping away from him before you turn towards the back door of the diner. Gunther is still standing with his back to you until Max tells him to turn around. You head back inside, unaware of his teeth marks in your neck until your coworker mentions it. “Just making out with the Senator.” You joke, working on making Alistair’s chocolate milkshake.
Max walks over to pick up the bill and walks over to hand you some money when you turn back and have the milkshake ready. He’s paying you far more than necessary but he wants you to make sure you have a good day today. “Thank you.”
You offer him a wink and a smile, “you’re welcome Senator Lord.” You take the money, eyes widening slightly at how much extra cash he’s given you. Sally eyes the money, glancing between you and Max before he nods and walks out with the milkshake. “Seems like you have an admirer.” Sally comments and you shrug, “he’s just being nice.”
****
It’s  been nearly two weeks, and Max is practically obsessed with seeing you. He has been to see you every day you work and the two of you always end up behind the diner, wrapped up in each other. The only time he hasn’t had sex with you was the night that he brought Alistair for dinner, promising the boy he would take him to where he got the delicious milkshake from. He had loved how you had interacted with him; making him even more sure that you were someone he wanted in his life. Walking through the door, he nods to the other waitress and moves over to your section to sit down. 
Sally calls out your name, “Senator Lord is here.” She tells you and you can’t help but look in the mirror in the hallway, checking your hair and you stride into the diner, smiling when you see Max sitting in his section. “Hey stranger.” You coo, sliding in to sit opposite him. “Burger?” You ask and he nods. “How’s Alistair?” You inquire, scribbling down his order.
“He’s good. He aced his math test.” Max crows, a proud papa of his son. “My son is bright, already learned the next section of the class, the teacher thinks he needs to be put in an advanced class.” He looks you over with a soft smile, imagining you helping him with homework. “How are you? Anything new going on with your neighbor?”
You shake your head, “no. No. He’s still got the television blaring at all hours of the day despite me telling him to turn it the fuck down. I’m sick of hearing the buzzing noise when the channel goes off air.” You roll your eyes as you reach out to brush your leg against his. “I, uh, I applied to go back to school. Finish up my classes…finally.” You fluster, biting your lip. You’ve saved the money Max gave you, deciding to put it towards something that will get you out of the diner.
“That’s great!” Max grins, proud of you for deciding to do something for you. From the time he has spent with you, learning about you, he’s come to find that it’s rare for you to do something that benefits just you. “Let me know if I can help in any way, you let me know.” He offers, meaning every word of it.
You want to reach for his hand but you can’t. You’ve never really discussed what you are or what it is that you’re doing. All you know is he comes to have a burger and then he fucks you. Probably an amazing deal for most men. You can’t help but want more. A proper date to dress up and eat with him instead of rushing off to get another person’s meal. “Thank you.” You tell him, meaning every word. It’s unusual for you to ever have support like this…not since your mom died. “So…I’ll go put your order in.” You tell him, not noticing the giggles coming from the women on the next table over from Max, the morning newspaper on the table.
Max frowns when the giggling and whispering continues, but he doesn’t pay much attention. Too busy watching you as you check on your customers. You are so sweet and kind to people, even when they are rude. He plans to try to come up with the nerve to ask you out. It’s laughable, he’s able to fuck you, but he can’t ask you out.
You grab the sodas for the table of women after putting in Max’s order, and that’s when you see it. A photo of you and Max in the alleyway. Clearly having sex, your mouth open as he pressed you against the wall with Gunter standing in the background. You squeak, grabbing the paper, and the women look up at you. “Who knew we had the Senator’s whore serving us?” One of them says and you stare at the photos.
Max hears the comment, immediately jumping out of his booth to confront them. He doesn’t understand why they would say that but he quickly understands when he sees the paper in your hands. Striding over to see the picture that has you frozen in horror, he closes his eyes and hisses a curse. “Shit.” He opens his eyes and glares at the women. “Calling a woman a whore isn’t very feminist of you.” He scolds, gently taking your shoulder. “Come on, we need to talk.”
You nod, heart pounding in your chest, and you are worried about what he is going to say, wondering if he is going to  blame you or throw you under the bus. "Max. I-" You choke when you are in the alleyway once more. The paper seems to be burning in your hands from where you still hold it. "I'm - I'm so sorry."
Max shakes his head, hating how mortified you seem. “I am sorry.” He murmurs, taking the paper from you and sighing as he cups your cheek. “This is my fault. I should have known this could happen.” He’s ashamed of how he had never even gotten a hotel room for the two of you or taken you out to dinner. “I’ll protect you from the media as best I can.” He promises.
You shake your head, "no Max. You can't. It will destroy your career. You need to blame this on me. Tell the media I offered myself up. Tell them I - I came onto you and you, being a man, couldn't resist. You'll be the hero. I- I will be branded a slut but they will forget about me. I'll be forgotten after the next scandal comes out. You need to win this re-election for you and for Alistair. Blame it on me." You plead, cupping his cheeks.
“No.” Max is adamant about that. There is no way that he is going to blame this on you. “I should have-“ he breaks off and shakes his head. “I should have done things right. Taken you out on a date or at least gotten a fucking hotel for this.” He gives you a sorrowful work. “I didn’t even have sex with you in bed.”
You chuckle, shaking your head, “no. No. It was - fuck. It was perfect. It was clumsy and messy and just - it was us. No expectations or drama. I liked it. I loved it because…fuck Max. I - I think I’m in love with you.” You finish with a whisper, stomach twisting with nerves.
Max stares at you for a moment, amazed that you aren’t screaming at him for getting splashed across the front page of the paper. Instead you are confessing your feelings for him. “I had planned to ask you out today.” He confesses. “Want to take you out. Have someone wait on you for a change. Would you still want to maybe do that with me?”
You bite your lip, “do you want - you want to be seen with me after that?” You ask, gesturing to the newspaper. “It’s not gonna be easy Max. Are you sure you don’t want to just…blame it on me and say it’s all me? It would be a hell of a lot easier for you.” You sigh, crossing your arms.
Max shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that. I- Jackson might be pissed but I’m just going to admit that I should not have been in a public setting, but that it was an intimate interlude with the woman I love.” He tells you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.
You inhale sharply at his confession, a silly smile on your lips as you look at him. “Then let’s go to dinner.” You surge forward to press your lips to his, hearing the photographers approaching when they are shouting your way and suddenly you’re engulfed by cameras. “Max?” You choke, clinging to him.
“Shit.” Max wraps his arm around you and curls you towards him, holding up his hand towards the throng of reporters. 
“Senator Lord! You’ve been adamant that you run a clean house, what do you have to say about this scandal? Sex in public.” 
Max shakes his head. “No comment.” More questions are hurled towards the two of you as he shuffles the two of you towards Gunther, who is pushing his way through the cameras and bodies. “No comment at this time.”
You press yourself against Max as Gunther guides you to Max's car through the throng of vultures and you exhale shakily when you are inside the back of his town car. "I- shit." You choke, trying to ignore the way they are banging on the windows as the driver pulls away. "Shit. My purse is in my locker. I haven't finished my shift." You tell Max despite your hands shaking.
“I think your boss will understand.” Max murmurs, hugging you to him and rubbing your arms to calm you down. You are trembling and he hates it. “We will go back to my house. I’m sure Jackson is there, ready to berate me, but I don’t care.” He promises. “I’ll call your boss when we get there, make sure they understand.”
You nod, leaning into him to breathe in his expensive cologne. You close your eyes until you are arriving at Maxwell's house. Somewhere you have never been before. It's big and fancy - not that you expected anything less- and it's overwhelming when you walk inside to see the marble floors and gilded gold. It's a far cry from your shabby little apartment. "Your home is beautiful." You whisper, lost in the extravagant decor.
“Thank you.” Max keeps you close, his hold on you tightening slightly. This wasn’t the way he wanted to bring you over, but there was no changing what happened now. 
“Max!” He frowns and turns his head towards the study door where Jackson is rushing out, his campaign manager obviously aware of what the papers posted by the look on his face.
Jackson looks at you and you prepare for the onslaught of thinly veiled insults. "You - you are fucking fantastic." He tells you, "you are - our poll numbers are through the roof. You wouldn't believe - they love that Max is with a working class woman. They love that he seems...normal. You are a fucking saving grace." Jackson says, holding his hands up towards you.
Max huffs, completely thrown off by this. He had been expecting Jackson to hit the roof, not look at you like the golden goose. “Right.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes and leaning into you. “Of course you are happy with polling numbers.” He clears his throat. “I want the paper to issue an apology for publishing her name though.” He tells Jackson. “They were wrong to do that.”
“I agree, but there’s no such thing as bad news Maxwell. It’s fucking - we will ask for an apology but then you gotta take her out on a proper date, show them you can be a gentleman and it will be a proper Cinderella story. We will make sure that she is all dolled up - designer of course - to show the public she’s more than a quick fuck. She is more than a quick fuck, right?” Jackson asks Max.
He purses his lips, not liking the term ‘Cinderella story’ because he never viewed you like that. “Yes, she’s more than a quick fuck.” He assures his manager. “But I don’t want to doll her up in designer anything unless she wants it.” He turns to you to explain. “I don’t want you to think you aren’t good enough exactly as you are.”
You shake your head, “no. I, uh, I don’t want to be seen as a gold digger. I’ve never asked Max for any money. I’ve always worked hard for what I have and that’s not going to change. I want to go back to school. Get my degree and be on my own two feet.”
Jackson groans with pleasure and shakes his head. “I told you- I told you she was perfect when we met her!” He crows over your answer and completely ignores the fact that he has said quite the opposite. “Just make sure you say it just like that when you sit down with the reporter we are going to get to do a story on you and Max.” He grins. “This is going to be good!” His eyes widened in happiness. “I need to start making calls! Max is going to get re-elected thanks to you!”
****
“Please welcome Senator Lord and his beautiful new wife.” You squeeze Max’s hand, unable to believe you are at his election party. You had gotten married just before the election, unable to wait since you were impatient to be his wife. You’ve gone back to school, working on finishing your degree and you are an excellent stepmother to Alistair, growing close to him after you and his father were official. 
You have been the talk of the election cycle, giving interviews and photoshoots with Max. It’s been exhausting but after leaving the diner, you are able to focus on what works best for you and Max. You enter the room, loving the cheers of his supporters, and he guides you to the dance floor. 
“Can I have this dance?” He asks softly. 
“Always.” You answer, letting him pull you close. 
“Max. I have something to tell you.” You murmur after he sways you to the music. 
“What hermosa?” He asks. 
“I’m pregnant.” You whisper, a smile on your face.
Max gulps, his face breaking out in a wide smile and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours, much to the delight of his followers and the people who had worked tirelessly to get him elected. 
“I love you.” He promises against your lips. “I love you so much, Mrs. Lord.” 
He can’t help but be absolutely amazed. Stopping in a diner for dinner one night has led to this moment. He’s remarried to a woman that loves him and adores his son. He’s been re-elected to serve his constituents and try to make the world a better place for everyone, including the new baby you are going to gift him with. Life couldn’t be better.
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iamasaddie · 2 months
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DEAR FIC WRITERS (and readers)
Please, this is important!
I have a severe Max Lord brainrot today and if you have (or if you know of) a fic where Max is either Dom or just on a dominant side PLEASE rec them to me or tag me in them 🙏🏻
begging on my knees kissing both your cheeks
love,
aly
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coastielaceispunk · 2 years
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Shutterbug Insert: A Romantic Scene
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Happy Birthday to my love @lowlights!!! Laura, you inspire me always, please have this loving Maxie insert, for a story of yours that I adore, as a small gift to celebrate you today. 
Thank you for allowing me to write more of them so long ago, here it finally is <3
Maxwell Lorenzano x F!photographer (no descriptions)
Word Count: 835
Warnings: Established relationship, fluffy as all hell, desperate kisses
A/N: This is forever one of my favorite HCs!! Post-movie Max AU where he is the model for these Cartier ad photos. We talk of it often…it is fact. I mean c'mon look at him! He's gorgeous! Thank you @tuskens-mando for the beta. Please go read SHUTTERBUG for the full story to enjoy this lil fluffy insert even more.    
MASTERLIST
+++++
He fell in love with the photographer. It should sound and feel cliché, but that is the farthest from the truth. It has been extraordinary.
The first time Max requested you by name to shoot his campaign, his team questioned the choice. He assured them you’d be the best for the style they had been promised. Max admired your work and knew you were a rising star. Truthfully, he saw your passion and wanted to give you the chance to shine. Of course, you exceeded everyone’s expectations and was signed on permanently. He felt so much pride and he didn’t even know you yet. That first shoot though he knew, he wanted to be yours. 
Your seriousness with your work and your sunny disposition made him want to come to set. You were an artist and he loved to be your subject. You saw right through him. You saw all of him. With every session you willed away all his life worries with your kindness. Max was always hard on himself, reluctant to receive this second chance at a fulfilling life, but you never paid any mind to his past, only his now and future. By the third shoot he wondered – would you want to be his?
You did. And now you are, to his daily delight. The photographer also fell in love with the model. 
Months away now from his role swap surprise and your first kiss, you find yourselves still inseparable. Today is a day off together spending time at a new gallery. Max stays close to you always as you admire the photographs covering the calming walls and rooms. He listens to your sighs and thoughts whispered into the serene environment, but always keeps his eyes on you. You are always the most beautiful picture to him in any gallery or museum. 
Max wishes he could capture your beauty at times like this but he doesn’t have your talent. So says all his half blurry photos around your home. 
“It’s beyond unfair to this world,” he whispers aloud unknowingly, staring at your profile.
“What is my love?”
“Hm? What,” Max shakes himself free of his thoughts as you turn towards him.
“What is so unfair? You have something against this photo in particular?” 
Your coy smile says you are toying with him, you caught him. Max squeezes your hand where your fingers are interlocked and smiles back.
“What is unfair, shutterbug,” he pulls you closer to him with a hand around your waist, “is nothing in this gallery compares to you,” Max leans down to kiss you softly, “I just wish I had the skills to share your beauty with the world.”
You blush a fiery red at his compliment because he knows how much you prefer to stay behind the lens. Max moves one hand to rest on your cheek, his thumb attempting to softly brush away your adorable flush. You flutter your eyelashes up at him and he nearly buckles.
“So beautiful.”
You lean up to capture his lips again in a chaste kiss. Such a romantic scene, a couple in love kissing in front of a black and white photograph of a field of roses. 
After the gallery, and an early dinner at a lovely restaurant, you both walk with arms around each other as the sun is setting. The sky is swatches of oranges and purples and reds. It dawns on Max.
“This is my chance!” He pulls away from you suddenly and fumbles to find his phone, patting all pockets twice. You giggle knowing it's in your purse because he always leaves it behind. You pull it out and he happily gasps.
“Ok shutterbug,” Max places your back to a brick wall covered in beautiful vines, “find your light.” He pulls up his phone’s camera and goes about finding his best lens angle. 
You stand in slight surprise at his determination to try this again but with a camera that will do all the hard work for him. You smile past the phone at the serious look he's giving it. Guess you can give him what he wants. He's just about got it so you turn your face towards the watercolor sky, dip your chin and closest shoulder, hands resting on your thighs, and elongate your neck.  
“Pretty girl…” Max whispers in awe as you finally let go a little and snaps the picture once, not even looking at the phone. 
“How did it come out…” Max is on you in an instant and cuts you off, hands pulling you against him by your lower back and the back of your neck, his lips on yours, his tongue licking your bottom lip for access which you grant to taste more of him. A desperate kiss that has you throwing your arms around his shoulders for support because you might sink. 
Another romantic scene, two souls in love intertwining and sharing breath as the sun sets on a beautifully captured day. 
+++++
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daddy-dins-girl · 4 months
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Kindred - Series Masterlist
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Summary: You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to.
One night you decide to help Mr. Lord with a little stress relief, neither of you anticipating the feelings you'd discover for each other along the way.
Fandom: Wonder Woman 1984 Pairing: Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (Nanny) Status: Ongoing/WIP
Shoutout to @janaispunk for creating this gorgeous moodboard for me :)
Warnings: 🔞 18+MDNI. Explicit rating throughout. Light Dom/Sub elements (Sub!Maxwell obvi!). Specific warnings are labeled in each chapter.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
A03 link
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mandoalorian · 11 months
Note
Maxwell revealing his childhood to trauma to reader for the first time? I just...I just want Maxwell to feel safe and loved (preferably by me) 😭💖
mastermind
Max Lord x Reader
a/n: based on the taylor swift song; “no one wanted to play with me as a little kid, so i’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since, to make them love me and make it seem effortless… this is the first time i’ve felt the need to confess”.
word count: 2,5k
warnings: descriptions of poverty, abuse, violence, angst
masterlist
[please reblog if you enjoy!]
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.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
It was no secret that both you and Maxwell hated these kinds of dinners. But they were practically essential when it came to Maxwell’s profession; a way of schmoozing and winning over potential investors. With the oil market at an all time low, this was important now more than ever.
On tonight’s menu: grilled steak and garlic potatoes, with a sloppy side of the unpalatable CEO in the business— Simon Stagg.
He thought himself to be better than everyone else in the industry, and he had a level of arrogance that seemed to shock you every single time you had the displeasure of meeting him.
But at least the food that you were cooking smelled great, and when you felt Maxwell wrap his arms around your waist, you practically melted into the familiar warmth. Your boyfriend pressed a soft kiss into the nape of your neck and swayed his hips against yours, as if to initiate a slow dance. There was no music, but it was a habit that you and Maxwell often enjoyed.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said softly, and the smell of his rich, honeyed cologne was enough to make your knees weak. “I’m confident I can get the investment tonight, but you don’t need to have any part in this ‘dinner’ if you don’t want to.”
You knew your boyfriend was just trying to protect you from Stagg’s rude nature, yet you couldn’t help but scoff and turn around, letting yourself fall into his comforting embrace. “I won’t let you do this alone,” you promised. “We do this together.”
You could feel Maxwell’s lips curl into a smile at your sentiment, as his face lingered in your hair for an extended period of time. He pressed another kiss atop your head before finally pulling away and offering you a smile. His brown eyes were glazed as he looked you up and down.
“You look breath-taking.”
His compliments never got old, and you let out a small giggle before twirling around in your glittering gold dress.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You laughed cheekily, straightening his tie. “I called Raquel she told me Alistair is down for the night.”
“That’s good.” Maxwell hummed. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. You groaned and closed your eyes, knowing it would be your esteemed guest of the evening.
“He’s early,” you muttered. “Can we tell him to leave and come back later?”
Maxwell chuckled and playfully pinched your cheek. “I’ll go invite him in, you pour out the wine. I anticipate it’ll be a long night.”
‘A long night’ was a complete understatement. Stagg stayed over for hours, devouring the three course meal and even dipping into Maxwell’s whiskey, but not before making a comment about how ‘cheap’ it was.
It was exhausting, having to spend time with the CEO of Stagg Industries. You could practically feel the dark circles imbed under your eyes, but as always, your husband had things under control. Maxwell treated every insult with poise and he maintained his integrity for the entire evening. You didn’t know how he had the mental strength and capacity for it all, but none-the-less, you admired him greatly for it.
“Now, Maxwell, before I give you the investment, I do have one last question.” Simon smirked, adjusting himself in his chair.
“Hit me.” Maxwell replied, ready for just about anything Simon was going to throw at him.
Only, he certainly wasn’t ready for this.
“I always thought it was odd how you just… came out of nowhere,” Simon said pointedly, taking a swing of whiskey. He gulped it down with a grunt and ran his fingers through his coiffed white hair. “You just appeared on the radar, which is unusual in this industry. You didn’t hail from fortune, and Black Gold isn’t a family business… it’s always intrigued me. I’ve always wondered, where does Max Lord come from?”
Maxwell swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. It was like he could feel time moving. “What exactly are you getting at?”
“I went to city hall,” Stagg said, stiff and expressionless. His voice was monotone and indistinguishable.Those five words initiated a wave of anxiety in Maxwell, who’s grip tightened around his wine glass so hard, his knuckles turned white. “There’s no ‘Max Lord’ on record. He doesn’t exist.”
Maxwell stayed silent, his gaze flicking down to the table. The silence was deadly. You nudged your boyfriend, offering him a confused glance.
“What’s he talking about Max?” you quietly quizzed your boyfriend. “Why aren’t you… why are there no records…?” you tried to piece together whatever implication Simon was getting at but you just couldn’t figure it out.
“Oh, you she doesn’t know?” Simon questioned, holding back a laugh. Maxwell looked at him almost pleadingly. He said a silent prayer to whatever God may be out there. If Simon knew the truth, he wouldn’t expose it right now at the dinner table, in front of you.
“I don’t know what?” you asked again in a panicked rush.
“I was going to tell you,” Maxwell said in a hushed tone, his brown eyes wide and apologetic. But Simon only laughed harder. “Please don’t be mad.”
“Max I just don’t understand what he’s talking about, I—“ you felt your cheeks grow hot and Maxwell took your hands, squeezing them with assurity.
“I love you so much,” Maxwell promised, his dark eyes not leaving you once. “But I’m not who you think I am.”
“Max…” you trailed off.
Realising that it was now or never, Maxwell knew he had to explain everything to you. He had to confront his truth; the same truth he’d pushed away to the back of his mind for the last two decades. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he valued you and your relationship more than anything else in the world.
Maxwell stood up and pointed towards the door. “Mr. Stagg, I’d like you to leave.”
Simon blinked, bewildered. “Huh?”
“I’d like you to leave now,” Maxwell repeated steadily, trying to not let his anger get the better of him. “You come to my home; you’re rude to me and my partner, and you even admit to visiting city hall with the intention to invade my privacy for your own nefarious means. Fuck your investment and get out of my house.”
Simon’s gaze flicked between you and Maxwell. “You’re throwing a way a deal you’ll never get back.” The white haired man warned.
“Out.” Maxwell spat.
Simon stood up with a screech of his chair against the marble floor and his piercing blue eyes flicked between yourself and Maxwell.
“I’ll be telling the committee about this.” He warned. “The FTC too… have them launch an investigation.”
Maxwell chuckled, his brown eyes now black as he grabbed Simon by the tie and pushed him into the wall.
“Eugh!” The old man groaned and you called Max’s name after never seeing this side of him before.
“You say one more word about this and I’ll make the rest of your life a misery, I promise you that.” Maxwell hissed. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”
A flustered Stagg nodded his head quickly and rolled out from under Max’s broad posture before bolting to the front door. Simon had already disappeared half way down the porch by the time Max had followed him out. Cheeks still burning red with anger, Maxwell shut the front door and forced a sigh of relief, and for a split second he forgot you were standing there, behind him, anxiously awaiting answers.
“Max…” you trailed off. Your boyfriend turned around, his dark eyes round and hurt. “Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
Maxwell swallowed nervously and sat you down on the soft white sofa. He didn’t know how you’d react to this. He’d kept this a secret from the whole world because society wasn’t exactly accepting towards people like him. He’d spent years assessing equations and creating strategies, creating a story and a new life and a new him. If he wanted to be in with a chance of being even just slightly successful, he had to change. He knew that from being so young, and it wasn’t until he was seventeen did he actually take the steps to do it. Plans and plots and cryptic, clockwork like schemes had led him to you… led him to build Black Gold Cooperative into everything he’d ever dreamt it could be.
“My parents aren’t dead,” Max’s revelation began with a bang, his voice barely above a whisper. You recalled back to your first date with Max when he explained to you that his parents had died in a planned, catastrophic car chase. You’d already heard about it though, from the media. You had no reason not to believe him. “They live in Mexico. Well my mom does, at least, in a small town called Todos Santos. That’s where I’m from. She never moved. And I don’t speak to my dad. They divorced about ten years ago.”
Maxwell stretched out his arms and placed them on his knees. He couldn’t bear to look at you, and instead, he remained as still as ever, staring at all the luxuries in front of him that he could’ve never afforded without leaving his old life behind. You, on the other hand, stared at your boyfriend long and hard, your heart beating against your chest, so hard you worried about it bursting out.
You swallowed. “What— I don’t—“ you shook your head, tears of fury filling your eyes as you tried to understand why he’d lied to you after all these years. Why he’d lied to the world.
“My dad was abusive. He’d hit me, but he’d hit my mom more. We had no money. Mom couldn’t work and dad was an alcoholic so… we couldn’t afford food or new clothes. We had nothing.”
Maxwell laughed weakly as he remembered, but the laughter was filled with traces of dismay and hurt. The memories came back in flashes and echoes and Max’s tummy twisted into knots as he thought about his past. He’d repressed it for so long. There had been no need to revisit it… until now.
“School wasn’t easy,” Max shook his head as he recalled the countless incidents of tormenting and bullying. That was putting it lightly. “And I definitely couldn’t afford college. And my grades weren’t good either, with my circumstances and all… I found it very hard to focus on my studies.”
Max shook his head, pausing to collect his thoughts. Push them away. Push away the bad memories.
“I worked in a garage for three years and saved enough pennies to fly out to D.C., obviously I hid the money from my father. I just… left one day without a word. I didn’t even tell my mom. For a month I lived in a motel off Highway 66, and then I was able to get another part time job and I managed to save for community college. I took an interest in business and entrepreneurship and I decided I’d give it a go. I founded Black Gold when I was eighteen… and, no one was interested,” Max continued, his voice melodious with fond at the memory. “I had discovered the perfect business opportunity amidst the Cold War but no one was interested in investing and I just didn’t get it. But then I looked around and I realised nobody looked like me… nobody had a name like me…”
“A name?”
“I was born Maxwell Lorenzano,” This time, Maxwell shifted and made eye contact with you. You noted his glazed eyes and soft expression. “All the big names in business, people like Henry Ford and Ray Kroc and Michael Milken. They had strong white names. People saw their names and were able to put faith in them and that’s exactly what I needed. So I changed my name and my hair and I bought nicer clothes and as soon as I made those changes people suddenly became interested in me. It was crazy. It happened so fast. My business venture suddenly seemed trustworthy.”
“That’s… I had no idea…”
“I left my life behind. Black Gold grew and grew. I started getting invited to events and galas and then I made it to Forbes Top 100. Everything was moving so quickly. I still send my momma pay-checks and make sure I take good care of her. I see her every Summer but usually just tell my team I’m away on business. She’s proud of me. I wish she could meet you…”
“She can,” you said quickly, placing a hand on Max’s thigh and leaning into him. “Max… I’m so sorry about all of this…”
“I should never have lied to you.” Max shook his head.
“No, you should’ve. And you did. You did the right thing. You lied to me because you were scared and I get it. You’ve had to sacrifice your whole life. You are so… brave.”
“I don’t feel it.” Max admitted sheepishly. He often made a habit of being too hard on himself.
On instinct, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
“Look at the empire you have created… look at this life that you’ve made all by yourself. Every odd was against you and you tried and tried and never gave up… I’m speechless.” you shook your head in disbelief and blinked away the tears from your eyes. “All of this is because of you. This home, the nice clothes that we get to wear and the food in the refrigerator and… all of Alistair’s toys and games. You gave us all of this.”
“I guess I never looked at it that way before.”
You wrapped your arms around Maxwell and scooted atop his lap. “I’d say I forgive you but really, there’s nothing to forgive. You don’t have to be sorry for leaving your past behind and doing this on your own. Thank you for trusting me with your secret.”
“Should I be worried about Stagg?”
“Fuck him,” you spat. “Baby, no matter what happens, we’ll get through this together. Not that you need me of course, look how far you’ve come on your own.”
“I need you more than you could ever know,” Maxwell murmured into your lips, pressing the curve of his nose against yours. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Maxie,” you replied before kissing him softly. “No matter who you are and what your story is, I will always love you.”
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boliv-jenta · 8 months
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Sex worker!Max Lord x f!reader
WC:1.9k
Warnings: A little angst. Idiots in something that comes before love. Allusions to smutty times.
Summary: Hot on the heels of his first proposal Max hits you with another.
Series Masterlist
The Proposals
The yellow piece of paper that Max wrote on was unceremoniously stuffed into your purse as you headed to the office. The underground car park was a wash with flashes of red and blue. There was a queue of four or five cars waiting to get in. None of them moved an inch. Huffing you abandoned your car completely, your heels clicked purposefully on the ground as you strode towards the source of the lights. Three black SUVs sectioned off the elevator. Men in FBI windbreakers milled around talking on radios.
Something too garbled for you to hear got their attention. "We're on the move." One guy calls. They scattered, getting into two of the cars until only one guy was left by the third. He opened the back door before climbing into the driver's seat. The elevator pinged and the doors opened, revealing two board men escorting a third. The third you realised was your very red faced boss. He rants indignantly as they walk him to the SUV to load him in.
By now some of your other co-workers have arrived.
"Do you think they'll shut us down?" A voice asks over your left shoulder you open your mouth to speak but get cut off by a voice from the right. "Hardly, it's just a little embezzlement."
It was not in fact 'just a little embezzlement." After the company shut down. A long list of charges came to light. By some miracle you'd made it out with a very substantial severance pay check thanks to your excellent skills in negotiating a contract. It would give you some breathing room. Quite a lot in fact but this was still a major setback in your career. Things with Max were put on pause while you sorted through your options. It wasn't until a week later that you saw that Max had sent back your last payment. Max didn't have a cell phone so you had to leave a message at his apartment. When he didn't return in after a couple of days you got worried.
The florists wasn't hard to find. During one of your dinners, Max had spoken about how grateful he was for your help in getting it. He told you about his job, the area he worked and how the lovely old lady would cook for him. A warm smile was on his plump lips. 
Standing at his door you second guess yourself. Your hand hovering over his buzzer until a woman pops her head out of the store. "So you're Max's secret lady!" Her English was heavily accented, Eastern European maybe? Wherever she was from she uses her language to hush the man inside the shop that had clearly had made a disapproving comments.
"Come, come." She waved you in. "Don't mind Viktor. He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body."
"I'm Zofia." She held out her hand. Shaking it, you give her your name. "The last few weeks Max has spoken about you every day. About how pretty and lovely you are. He thinks I haven't noticed. He still calls you a 'work friend'. You work at the bar that Max works at." If it was a question she doesn't wait for an answer. Her hands moved as fast as her mouth as she gathers a bunch of flowers and wraps them. "It's not good for him. Those unsociable hours. Sometimes I get up in the night and he's rolling home at 2am looking exhausted. At least he always has a smile on his face! Here!" She hands you the bouquet she had made. It was simple and elegant. Wildflowers and baby's breath in a hessian cloth. "I've told Max to take you these many times. A declaration of affection doesn't have to be fancy. Just good and honest. Right, Viktor?" Viktor seemed to be used to not being able to  answer as he just nods his head before she continued. "Well off you go. He's been off work all week. He'll be pleased to see you." You barely get a thank you out for the flowers before she ushers you out of the door and presses Max's buzzer. 
"Coming." You hear Max's voice before his footsteps descending the stairs. The door swings open to reveal him there. He looks different. Good. But different. His hair is wavy. There is no suit or shirt. He wears jeans and a sweatshirt. It takes you a moment to process it all. 
"Hi." He looks happy to see you but the moment is fleeting as a voice calls from inside. "Dad?!" 
The word hangs in the air before he turns to answer "Just one minute. There's someone at the door."
How did you not know he was a father? Was there just the one kid up there or more? "I..erm. I called you but didn't return it. I thought I'd check on you. You're fine so…" Every part of your body was screaming to leave.
"Yeah. I'm sorry. I was busy. It's my first visitation weekend in…too long."
"That's why you needed the money."
"Yeah." He shifts uncomfortably. "I see you met Zofia." He gestures to the flowers. 
"Yeah. Lovely woman. Very chatty."
The lines around his eyes deepen as he laughs. "She is. Alistair, my son. Is here until Sunday night. I could come over then? Give you time to read my proposal?"
"That would be good. Enjoy your time with your son." Your feet move of their own accord as you exchange goodbyes. Getting into your car you feel yourself physically deflate. That was a lot. All you wanted to know was that he was okay. Now you know he talks about you enough to need a cover story. And that he has a kid. It's all a bit much as you drive home and bury yourself in looking for ways to save your career. 
Sunday nights rolls around. Your mom and dad chat on different phone in the house. You filled them in on the situation with work. Assuring them that you are fine the whole time. Confirming to your mom several times that you are not going to jail. After your dad finishes telling you how his boat is coming along and hangs up, your mom stays on the line. "Are you sure you're okay, Sweetpea?"
No, I want to give up this stupid idea I had that I could run my own company and come home with my tail between my legs. I want to crawl into bed in my childhood room, just regress and live a simple life. Maybe with a sweet, brown eyed man.
"I'm fine, Mom. I'm upset, obviously, but I'll survive. I love you."
"I love you, too." You could hear the smile in her voice.
Max arrives about half an hour after you said goodbye to your mom. It was odd for him to be late.
"Sorry, I'm late. My car broke down on the way home from dropping Alastair off."
"You should have called. You didn't need to come over after that stress."
"What better way to relieve some stress than to see you?" You can't help but smile. 
All week, every free second you had you thought about how you would have loved to be in his arms. Not jostling for power or control. Just being with each other. Caring for each other. It had been so long since you had that. A man in your life that wasn't seen as competition or the enemy. 
"Sorry, I didn't get to read your proposal. I've been snowed under with work stuff."
"That's okay. I may have rambled a little. I can write you a shorter version. It all boils down to one sentence." Max snaps up a pen and post it note from your paper stewn table and scribbles something. "Here."
The note he handed you was simple.
I want to remove rule number two.
"Max…" All the words stuck in your throat. "I can't…"
"Can't remove it from the contract? Fine, I quit." His hands thread with yours to pull you in.
Slowly, you allow him to move you closer. "Max, you need this job. You have a son."
"I couldn't have gotten a home without your money but I can manage now. I can't take your money for something I'd willingly give you for free anymore. I shouldn't have taken it for this long."
"You'd be given up on the money for what? Me? I'm not sure I can give you a relationship. I have to focus on finding a new job…"
"About that I have a business idea…."
The small motel looks like any other from the outside. Maybe a little bit nicer than some you would pass on the highway. It's set back from the world hidden in the woods. It's advertised as a hidden hideaway for lovers but if anyone calls the number on the sign it's always fully booked. Each room has the softest cotton sheets, some have mirrored ceilings, others have restraints built into the wall, some have poles to dance around. One room, an old windowless supply room, has a full rack that people can be tied to, right behind the sex swing.
The advertising is half right. Except it's more like a hotel for people looking for lovers. There is a special number connected as well as the commercial one. A number that only a few knew by word of mouth but it soon spread. You call the number to leave your details. A contact number and what fantasy you want to live. 
You want a handsome cowboy to flirty his way into your heart and between your legs? He's stabled in room twelve. 
You need a daring pilot to take you higher? Room five. 
A little romance, TLC and gentle hands? You're in luck. Rooms eight, ten and fourteen are happy to help. 
Fourteen also provides a rougher hand. The duality of him is as much a mystery as his face that he covers with a simple black mask. 
Seven comes with additional warnings. Even with those, the women who stumble out of there are never really ready for him. There's just something about him that makes them feral. 
Six is the same. The theory is that it's his ability to be so dark and brooding but hold so much gentleness in those big brown, soulful eyes. It's simply magnetic.
When they both have company you worry for the wall separating them as the beds slam into it. 
Two was given a fitting room number as he is more than happy to take two at a time or more. He still manages to satisfy everyone. And still go looking for more company in the night. Speaking of…
Twenty five had to be given a room at the other end of the motel as people in nearby rooms were getting high off of his supply. Six makes sure that a little weed is the only drug that he has. 
Nine mans the phone line. His way with words eased the jitters of anyone calling up. He occasionally indulges those who ask for him specially. His voice entices them. The loss of his arm is still so recent that he's having trouble adjusting to being physically intimate without it, yet not one complaint has been made about his performance.
Room one is saved for the boss. He doesn't work as much as the others. He's far too busy with his family. Any requests for him have to be negotiated with his fiancé, she knows exactly what he is worth.
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wardenparker · 8 months
Text
In the Heights, part 2
Maxwell Lord x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10.1k   Warnings: Domestic fantasies/fluff, friends to lovers, Alistair being adorable, food/alcohol mentions, cursing. Fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, praise/worship. Summary: Your relationship with Max grows quickly after that fateful night. Notes: Part 2 of 2! Max deserves nice things, too, and I will not apologize for that 💖 Again, apologies for any missed typos or the like. I'm still on a buttload of cold medicine. Thanks for reading!
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Max’s heart is in his throat as he takes your hand to lead you to his bedroom. The last woman he had kissed had been Barbra, and it hadn’t been under the most honest of circumstances. The last woman he had slept with? Well, he didn’t want to admit to that.
Your identical apartments make it easy to navigate in the darkness of night, as Max flips off each switch as you follow the hall to the master bedroom. “It’s okay.” You murmur quietly, convinced that this time you did see his hand shake as he shut off the light. “I’m nervous, too.”
“It– it has been a long time for me.” He admits quietly, trying not to let himself feel guilty for not being a more accomplished lover.
“For me, too.” The last light is the one in his bedroom and that one is flipped on instead of off, letting him see you smile softly. “We don’t have to do anything tonight if it’s too much. We can just lay in bed and talk and maybe have a kiss goodnight, if that’s what you want.”
“I think we would both be disappointed.” Max squeezes your hand and shakes his head. “I think we have waited long enough, no?” If you changed your mind, he would respect that, but he wants to touch you.
“Oh, definitely.” Your fingers lace through his and your smile turns beaming. “I was just trying to be considerate.”
Instead of saying something, Max steps closer to you and leans in, dropping his lips onto yours. Starting another kiss that makes his toes curl and his cock twitch.Wiping hesitation from your mind, your back bends to accommodate the kiss, welcoming him closer and bringing him tight against you with one arm. The other hand grasps blindly for his door knob to give you both privacy. When the door clicks shut, he pushes you against it. Pressing against you while he gropes for the lock. His other hand on the back of your neck as his tongue slides into your mouth.
The whimper it earns him is deep, coming up from somewhere in the vicinity of your toes and rolling along your spine until your whole body is on fire with wanting. Sliding your tongue along his is like a long-awaited homecoming and you swallow each other’s moans eagerly. Maybe it’s been a while for both of you, but that possibly only makes you all the more enthusiastic.
It feels amazing, holding you close and feeling like he isn’t going to be pushed away and rebuked. Or feel like he hadn’t measured up.
Your fingers are faster than your mind, finding the buttons on his shirt before you can even have the conscious thought of wanting him naked. The fact that that is even a possibility makes you feel like you're about to burst – and makes your hands work even faster.
Max cannot even fathom the luck he must have for this to be possible. His hands ghost up and down your sides before he starts to unbutton your own blouse. “Hermosa.”
Fumbling fingers seem not to care all that much for focus – knowing their task but going about it clumsily as the taste of his lips and the glide of his tongue prove more intoxicating than any drink you could possibly have had at the bar. When the last button on Max’s shirt is finally open you groan in frustration to find another layer underneath – the man wearing a proper undershirt even in the summer heat - and you nudge him back from the door to the bed. “It’s coming off,” you insist, pushing the short-sleeved button up off his shoulders. “Every stitch of it.”
He hums, slightly shuddering when he feels your fingers on his bare shoulder. He should be self conscious, wondering if he is too soft, too hard, too tan for you, but none of those concerns seem to materialize. Not when you look at him like he is a god. Your bra is pretty, practical and when he sees the white lace, it thrills him and his hands come up to cup the weight, feeling it in his hands with a loud groan. "You too, I want– I want to see all of you." He admits breathlessly. "Touch all of you."
"You can." All of you. To hear him shake with the words like they're some kind of gift is so gratifying, and you reach back to undo your bra and cast it aside as easily as breathing. If he wants all of you? He can have every inch. A part of you truly always has been his anyway.
Max has always liked breasts, the sight and feel of them wonderful in his hands or when he noticed a woman’s cleavage. He wasn’t a cad, he didn’t leer, but he is close to leering now. Hands hovering over your skin now that it is bare and feeling the heat radiating off your skin. “Beautiful.” He praises softly. “Perfection.”
Your laugh is so soft that he almost misses it, but the smile on your lips is unmistakable when you step forward to press your breasts into his open, tentative hands. "They're better if you actually touch them."
Max groans and shakes his head, only slightly embarrassed by his near frozen reaction to your bare breasts. “You are teasing me, but I do not mind.” He declares, squeezing them gently before brushing his palms over your nipples.
The truth is that you wouldn't tease him if you didn't find it so endearing, but the explanation is wiped from your mind the second he brushes the hard peaks of your nipples, making you moan. He can explore all he likes - take all night finding out what each of your favorite places to be touched is - but he's damn well going to be naked doing it and your own hands reach for his belt again eagerly.
It had been a long time since someone touched him so eagerly. Genji was as inexperienced as he was, and after a while, her eagerness waned when he proved his attention was elsewhere. Chasing the unattainable.
His legs hit the bed frame first, backs of his knees buckling when he nearly topples over, but his belt hits the floor well before that can happen. That sound - metal clicking on metal and leather thudding on the rug - seems to release all inhibitions. The slow and methodical undressing is instantly over, and you lean forward to claim his lips in a frantic renewed kiss as clothing flies in every direction.
The slacks you are wearing confuse him for a moment, making him growl into your mouth. Why are they zippered on the side of your waist? The kisses don’t break as he fumbles and finally gets the damn things undone without just ripping the pants, although the worst thing would have been if he had tried and failed to rip your clothes off of you. Pushing them down desperately before nearly crying out in pleasure when your hand wraps around his cock.
Your own groan is lower than his, feeling the heft and thickness of him in your hand and luxuriating in the fact that you're actually here with him. "Can't wake Alistair," you remind him between shallow breaths, the sound catching in your throat when you feel his fingers tentatively catch at the dripping entrance of your pussy. "Fuck Max."
“Say that again.” He begs, turning you both so that you roll over onto your back and he is hovering over you. His eyes burn with need as his fingers begin a slow, measured tour around your entrance and up through your folds. Wanting to learn what makes you say his name just like that, so he can do it every time he touches you.
"Fucking hell." He's slowed his pace again, watching every minute expression on your face, and you have to wonder if this is some kind of study he's made of you on other things or if he just desperately wants to hear his name from your lips again. Either way, it slips from you as easily as breathing when two of his fingers slide into your entrance. Your eyes widen and your fingernails dig into his shoulder but "Max!" is clear and desperate as you writhe beneath him.
It’s been so long since Max has held this kind of control. Over himself, over someone else, and he loves it. The groan from the hot clutch of your pussy rubbles out of his throat, several octaves deeper than normal and he curls his fingers up as he pushes them deep. Eager to see how you enjoy the thickness of his digits.
"Fuck–fuck." You might have been the one that reminded him to be quiet but that doesn't mean you aren't going to let him know exactly what he does to you. You spread your legs wider instinctively. He may only have two fingers inside you but it feels like more from how thick they are. All of him is thick, cock included, but you lost your grip on him when he rolled you over and now you're swimming in pleasure. "More," you beg brokenly, hips moving like they have a mind of their own.
He nods even though your eyes are closed. Leaning in and kissing along your shoulder and neck as he slowly starts to push his fingers in and out of your tight cunt. “Te amo, mi amor.” He hasn’t tried to use his native tongue in so long, it feels rusty, foreign in his mouth, although those words seem to come straight from his battered heart.
"Te amo." As easy and honest as the words are, they fill you up and wash over you with a warmth that you can't possibly describe. The crashing of that emotion over your heart is as earnest as the roll of your hips against his hand, and the fingers of one hand come up to thread through his hair and encourage his mouth to explore your body. "Siempre, mi amor." Always.
His kisses scatter over your skin, although he feels the slight pressure of your hand. He lets you guide him, finger still pumping into you easily as he opens you up more, pressing deeper every time your hips roll down. Kissing across your breast, he moans as he takes your nipple into his mouth.
The chain reaction through your body is almost immediate - back arching off the bed, toes curling, and mouth opening to let out the deepest and most indulgent moan that reverberates through the room. The pace of his fingers is perfect, the wet heat of his mouth on your chest making you feel like you might short circuit before he's even inside you. "Just like that," you sigh out, hips rolling down to meet his hand on every stroke. "Oh fuck–fuck– 'm so close baby."
He groans around the stiff peak of your nipple and grazes it with his teeth. Enjoying the way your pussy clenches down around him wildly now. “Cum for me, amor.” He rasps out, sucking on your tit again after managing those words and watching your face intently.
To hear those words from him is something of a miracle, and one that you don't think you will stop being grateful for no matter how many times you hear it. There is no reason to hold back, no propriety you have to obey, only pleasure. Only his voice begging you to flood his hand with liquid heat and bring you that much closer together. It's an incredible thing, to find yourself chasing your peak on his fingers, and your hips take on an erratic speed as you do just that. Uneven breaths become a shuddering gasp in mere minutes and your entire body seems to seize as it bares down on him, that gorgeous tingling in your spine and belly bursting as when you moan his name just the moment before you start to cum.
Besides the moment he held Alistair, this has to be the most beautiful moment of Max’s life. Throbbing against your hip, he swears he could cum himself as he feels your pleasure fill his hand and coat his fingers in a liquid rush of heat. Making him moan your name as your hips jerk in pleasure.
"Max." His name comes in pants as you float back to earth, but your whines are from blissed out pleasure and not a single damn thing else. "Do you—" Thoughts and movements aren't quite lining up, as you point to the bedside table but duck your head to steal a kiss. "Condoms?”
Thanking God that you had thought about that, for Max surely hadn’t, he presses kiss after kiss to your lips and he reluctantly pulls his fingers free from your warmth so he can fumble with the drawer. He had bought some long ago, but it wasn’t like he was using them. Hopefully they were still in date.
You would have sprinted back across the hall to get some from your own room if you had to, but luckily Max comes away from the drawer with a foil packet in his hand. “Perfect,” you hum, still catching your breath as you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock one more time.
“Shit.” Max hisses, his entire body shuddering from the touch and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “I don’t– I don’t know how much I will please you.” He confesses quietly. “It has been a long time since I’ve been with someone.”
“Amor…” your free hand cups his cheek, thumb gently running along his jawline to coax him open for a sweet kiss. “I am not suggesting we train for Olympic medals in stamina tonight. I just… I only want to feel you.”
He is comforted by that, hating when he feels inferior as he so often does. “I want to make sure that you enjoy yourself.” He bites his lip and leans in to kiss you again.
If you could, you would promise him you aren’t worried about that. At all. But you’re too busy moaning into his kiss for any words to be coherent. Instead you hitch your leg up on his hip, encouraging him to fill that so e between you — and inside you.
He has to break the kiss, needing to open the packet and roll the protection down his length so that he can finally make love to you. He’s already sweating when he hovers over you on his knees, looking down at you spread out in invitation and he groans softly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” You have for so many years that it feels like taking a deep breath to finally say so. It feels like bursting, and you don’t mind admitting it in the least.
He moves slowly, savoring the moment as he presses close and starts to break you open on his cock. Rocking forward as he tries to keep his weight off you and kiss you gently.
It’s a big feeling for such a gentle movement. As a grown man, every part of Max is thick. It’s a departure from the lanky, rail thin boy he once was, and this version of him surrounds and fills you in a way you hadn’t expected. He blocks the whole world out – and becomes your whole world. Although you have to admit, as your mouth falls open on a drawn on, bliss filled moan, a part of him always has been.
He’s overwhelmed and groaning with you. It’s the closest to heaven that he’s ever been. His eyes flutter as he continues to stretch you out until he is full seated and panting.
“Need you to move, baby.” As good as he feels fully seated inside you, you have no doubt that it will feel twice as amazing with the friction building in your cunt.
“Okay.” He grunts out, nodding quickly and his hand curls into a fist as he pulls his hips back. Hating pulling out of you, as you are so tight and hot.
“Oh fuck—” As soon as he draws back the wave of pleasure rippling through your body gets stronger, and you whine on the next thrust forward. Your body is aching with wanting him, no part of you more desperate than your grasping pussy.
He rolls his hips forward with slow, determined purpose. His fist is curled still, teeth clenched together as he tries to hold himself back. Wanting to last in this perfect moment for as long as he can. “B–beauti–ful.” He groans.
Wandering hands map his body, committing the peaks and valleys of him to memory. Taking all of him in as you set a slow but steady pace together that promises to be the first of many nights like this. There is no questioning that fact, and you commit yourself to deep kisses and the feeling of home in being in his bed. There is not a moment of this night that isn’t perfect in all its imperfect glory.
Soft grunts and groans accompany every thrust. Barely keeping it together and pushing for more, Max feels like this is probably the pinnacle of his life. Nothing could get better than this. You love him, you want him, your body soft and pliant under his tells him that. Every wordless praise being moaned into his ear makes him stronger.
Giving yourself over to the moment means losing track of everything else. All that matters is the feeling of Max above you - bending your knees back, angling your hips just so, mouthing at your breasts and neck and jaw in alternation with drowning kisses. He surrounds you fully, building you up toward another undeniable peak.
“Please.” His groan is almost a prayer, chanted into your skin as he works you both towards that goal. Hoping he is dragging you along as he tries to touch and feel every part of you. His fingers find your clit as he pushes a hand between you to fumble inelegantly for a moment before he finds the right spot.
"Max–fuck–" Your hips buck when his fingers skate over your clit, legs shaking at the intensity and sensitivity in that nub as you sprint closer to a second orgasm. "So good, baby, you fuck me so good and I'm so close."
He moans, eyes closed as he absorbs the praise, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts to give you that extra sensation. “Wanna feel you amor.” He rasps out next to your ear. “Cum for me.”
For your entire adult life (plus a few years) you would have given anything to hear his voice dip and purr like that. You’ve imagined it so many times that it almost feels surreal. But hearing it for real - close to your ear and punctuated with labored pants and groans all his own - the effect is almost instant. Your body shakes apart at the seams, washing your mind away on a sea of pleasure and letting a torrent of praises loose with his name. If you could fuse the two of you together body and soul, this would be the moment it happened, but as it is you’ll just have to settle for giving him those last pieces of your heart and trusting him to keep them safe.
Choking out an inhuman sound, Max tries to keep from cumming. It’s like trying to hold back an avalanche with a snowboard. Jerking to a stop halfway through a thrust, he slams his hips forward and buries himself in the spasming confines of your body and whimpers your name as his world comes apart at the seams.
His bedroom had been so full of sound only seconds ago, but it quiets to heavy breathing and a few shaky moans after he collapses on top of you, sticky seed collected harmlessly in the condom for tonight. Sometime later you’ll address the keen burst of wishing he had painted your womb with it instead. That is a thought for another day. For now you dust his face and shoulders in kisses and hold him close, cradling his bulk on top of you like a precious treasure.
“Fuck.” Max pants, unable to move off of you even if he knows he is heavy. “That- please tell me you enjoyed it.” He begs, wanting to know that he didn’t disappoint you.
“Baby.” You giggle, unable to keep even false admonishment in your tone. “You’re amazing.”
He sighs in relief, the weight off his mind and he groans as he shifts off of you, hating that he has to pull out. He could sleep inside you. “Good. That is good.”
The two of you roll to your sides, letting go of each other only long enough for him to toss the tied-off condom in the bin by the bed before he turns back to you. “Is it…okay if I stay the night?” At the moment you’re not quite sure you could manage to walk back across the hall, but if he doesn’t want Alistair to ask questions or have any hint of things you’ll respect that fully.
“You want to- of course.” He nods, grinning eagerly as he strides back over and then stops quickly. “Let me get you water.” He decides. “You need it. And some aspirin. I’ll be right back.”
“You need it, too,” you remind him. He was right there beside you at the bar tonight, after all.
He doesn’t put on his underwear because he knows Alistair won’t wake up. He is a very deep sleeper when he finally drifts off.
Max reemerges a few minutes later with a bottle of aspirin and two glasses of water and you grin at him from your place in his bed. “So…” you giggle again quietly. “This happened…”
“This happened.” He can’t help but grin again, glancing down at his flaccid cock and soft belly. “No regrets?”
“Never,” you promise him.
He smiles, slightly self conscious and slips into the bed beside you. “Do you mind if I set an alarm?” He asks, hoping he doesn’t offend you. “I want to be up before Alistair is.” He explains.
“Of course.” The last thing he wants is to surprise his little boy with something so huge and you completely understand that. “I can…go back across the hall? If you want? It's up to you how much he knows or how soon.”
“No.” He is frowning and shaking his head as he slides his arm around you to pull you close. “I don’t want that. I just want to make sure that we tell him, not him discovering us together.”
“You want to tell him right away?” The only other man you had ever dated with a child had insisted on waiting more than six months to tell his little girl, and while you had understood it had made you feel a little bit like a dirty secret. “I—I mean, if that’s what you want, I’m all for it. I just didn’t expect it.”
“I don’t mind telling Alistair.” He frowns slightly. “I think we should. I just want to make sure he understands that dating someone and being in a relationship with them includes respect.”
“Then we’ll tell him tomorrow.” You snuggle into his side, grinning like a maniac. “He’ll probably be thrilled to spend more time with the cat.”
Max snorts and tugs you slightly closer, enjoying the weight and warmth of you on him. “Probably ask you to move in with the cat.”
“One day.” The thought makes you hum happily as he pulls you in. “Maybe not right away.”
“Make sure you actually want to put up with me before that.” He cautions. “Things have changed since we were children.”
“Who knows?” He’s right, but you know in your heart that nothing has changed so much that you don’t still love him. The man who made those mistakes is not the man he truly is. “I might have things about me that you don’t want to put up with.”
"I don't care if you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle or if you snore." Max huffs, rolling his eyes. "You have always been someone I have loved and admired."
“I might snore,” you admit, tucking into his side a little deeper and grinning. “It’s been a long time since anyone was in a position to tell me.”
He hums, and curls himself around you a little tighter. "I'll tell you." He promises with a small laugh.
“Max?” With the light out and him curled around you, the urge to sleep is coming on strong.
"What is it, amor?" He keeps his voice soft, rubbing your back gently.
The honorific makes you smile, lips upturned against his chest. “I’m glad you came out with us tonight.”
"Me too." He can only be grateful that he came out, smiling as he holds you in his arms. "Me too."
******
Without the alarm you definitely would have overslept, too comfortable in each other’s arms to want to move anywhere too fast. But because it was set, you're up and making pancakes when Alistair wakes up, happily sipping a cup of coffee with the radio playing quietly in the other room while Max makes bacon beside you.
"Do you like your bacon crispy?" He asks, grateful that you reminded him to put a shirt on when the grease pops and he jumps back. "Or on the limp side?"
“Crispy, please.” Until Alistair wakes up, you’re going to enjoy kissing him and cuddling him, even at the stove.
There is a sense of rightness to cooking with you, a homeyness that he can't replicate no matter how involved he tries to be or how many new cook books he checks out of the library. You just make things better. "Crispy it is." He winks at you and lifts a shoulder. "Maybe a little black if. you distract me with more kisses."
“Oops.” You feign innocence despite not feeling guilty in the least and flip the three pancakes in your pan. “We wouldn’t want that.”
"No, we wouldn't." He drops a kiss on your temple and turns back to his own pan. "Alistair loves pancakes, you are going to win him over first thing."
“Why do you think I suggested it?” It’s just a tease, and a quick batting of your eyelashes, but when you hear little feet hit the floor at the end of the hall you can’t help but smile. “I think he’s finally up.”
"He slept in late." Max checks the clock on the wall next to the phone and then at the doorway where Alistair comes stumbling in, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "Hey buddy." He greets his son happily. "Did we bother you?"
“Noooo.” Voice still full of sleep, the little boy stretches in his Star Wars pajamas and looks up at you both. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Pancakes and bacon.” Max answers with a smile at his sleepy son. “Do you want some scrambled eggs too?”
“Yes p’ease.” He nods and rubs his eyes but never takes his eyes off his father. It’s abundantly obvious to anyone who sees them together, how much Alistair loves his dad. “Can I play with Dantes today?”
“I don’t see a problem with that.” Max looks over at you and then moves the pan off the stove to walk over to the boy. “Can I ask you something?” He asks, crouching down and reaching for his son.
“Are you okay, daddy?” Alistair asks, little eyebrows raising in immediate concern.
“Oh yeah.” Max assures him with a serious look. “I’m really good.” He rubs Alistair’s stomach gently and looks back at you. “I wanted to know if you would be alright with me asking your friend on a date.” He poses seriously. “Since I know how much you like her, it’s only fair I ask.”
“Like a fancy date?” Alistair’s eyes light up with vague memories of when his mother would put on dresses and go out to dinner with men or the dates that he saw in movies. “A romantical one?”
“If that’s okay.” Max nods and looks back at you before staring into his son’s soft eyes.
“It has to be someplace nice.” Alistair tells his father as seriously as possible. “She’s a nice lady.”
Max chuckles, nodding quickly. “It will be very nice.” He promises. “Perhaps you could help me pick it out. If you are okay with us dating?” He feels like his son is saying yes, but he wants to be sure.
Alistair nods enthusiastically, but when he turns to you on the other side of the stove, his large eyes are even wider than usual. “Do you want to date my Daddy?” He asks, seemingly a little afraid of the question. Or maybe the answer. The fact that he checks with you – as if you hadn’t been standing here listening the whole time – is so sweet.
“I really do, honey,” you tell Alistair honestly, feeling a wide smile bloom across your face. “I like your dad a whole lot.”
“Yay! He’s a good dad!” He promises you enthusiastically. “He didn’t spend a lot of time with me before but that’s changed and he’s playing with me every night, reading with me, he’s even reading cooking books so he can make more than macaroni and cheese.”
“Oh yeah?” Of course you did know about Max’s efforts to cook better food at home more often, but there is no reason that Alistair needs to know that the baked pasta his daddy makes him now that is loaded with meat sauce and veggies, is actually your recipe. “I think he’s a really good dad and a really good friend, so that means he’ll probably be a really good boyfriend, too.”
“I don’t know.” Alistair tells you honestly, looking back at his dad. “Are you going to bring her flowers and tell her she’s pretty? You need to tell her she’s pretty.” He insists, making Max chuckle. “I will bring her flowers and I will tell her that she’s hermosa.” Alistair frowns in confusion. “It means ‘beautiful’ in Spanish, Alistair. That is the first language I spoke when I was a boy, remember?”
“Right…” He thinks for a second, searching his memory while you pull the last pancakes out of the pan. “Sí! That’s right, isn’t it Daddy?”
“Yes! Yes, that’s right.” Max beams, not ashamed of his first language and passing it down to his son. The assholes he had grown up being tormented by could not say they spoke two languages. If he was lucky enough, Alistair would know three.
“Mrs. Ramos speaks Spanish, too.” The woman who babysat him watched her ‘stories’ after he went to bed but he could always hear them.
“She does.” He nods and smiles. “My girlfriend–” he lights up when he calls you that, “–also knows Spanish. I think we will speak more at home in the future.”
The light in your eyes brightens measurably at the word, and you nod to Alistair when the last pancakes go on the platter for the table. “The first person who ever taught me Spanish was your abuela,” you tell him with a grin. “Your grandmother. She was a very nice lady.”
Max smiles sadly, wishing that Alistair could have met her, gone long before her time. Beaten down and broken by his father. “She was.”
“You said you were friends for a long time,” Alistair follows his father to the table with a stack of napkins and forks while his father carries the platter of bacon and pancakes. “But how come we never spent time with her before?”
“We had lost touch after we went away to college.” Max admits. “I was concentrating on making myself successful.”
“Now we are better than friends.” You might combust a little anytime Max calls you his girlfriend, but it’s such a good feeling. So comfortable and so right.
Alistair thinks about Max’s explanation for a moment before he nods, accepting it as the truth. “Just don’t be dumb and kiss another girl like Jimmy Smith was last week.” He huffs. “He has no girlfriends now.”
You have to smother your reaction to keep from laughing out loud, and end up giggling behind your hand while you pour orange juice for all three of you. “That is pretty dumb.” Hell, you can’t fault the kid for getting it on the nose.
“She is the only woman I want to kiss.” Max solemnly vows, his lips twitching to keep from smiling in amusement. It’s incredibly endearing how seriously he is taking this and Max pulls him closer for a hug. “So it’s cool with you? As the kids say now?”
He seems to consider it, looking between the two adults with drawn seriousness on his face before he leans over and whispers in his father’s ear. “Does that mean she’s going to be my new mom?” He asks, careful not to sound too hopeful or too curious. Sometimes when his Mom had had a new boyfriend, she would tell Alistair that the man who would be his new daddy. But it had never happened.
Alistair nods, slowly at first like he’s absorbing the idea, but he sits down at the chair after a moment and looks up at his father again with a smile. “Okay. Just as long as we don’t move far again. That was a lot of driving and boxes and stuff.”
“Understood, not too far.” Max chuckles and has to admit that this didn’t go too badly. He hugs his son and then stands up. “Let me scramble some eggs and we will have breakfast.”
You and Alistair set the table while he’s busy, and you slip back into the kitchen to grab the syrup a few minutes later with a grin on your face. “Well, I guess he’s okay with it.”
“As long as I tell you that you’re pretty.” Max reminds you, reaching over and snagging your waist to pull you close. “So I need to tell you how pretty you are this morning. Seeing you sleeping in my bed.”
“Oh yeah?” His voice dips low and makes you shiver slightly, but you bask in it. “Did you enjoy waking up next to me as much as I enjoyed waking up next to you?”
“I think that I enjoyed it more.” He teases, leaning in and kissing your lips. “Watching your sleepy eyes open and your smile made my year, amor.”
“I love you.” The words are so easy, but make your chest feel like it could burst with joy. “So much, Max.”
“I love you too.” It’s a huge thing for such simple words, but it makes him feel as if anything is possible.
“We should go back in there.” Even though you could spend all day basking in his smiles and kissing him silly, you know weekends are devoted time to be spent with his little boy. “Maybe the three of us can go out today? A museum or a walk in the park?”
“That sounds like a good day together.” He nods. “Perhaps a trip back to the library? Alistair wants to check out some more books since he’s finished the ones he has now.”
“I love a library day.” And maybe, just maybe, you might pick up your own manuscript again. There is an idea forming in the back of your mind that seems to grow every time Max smiles at you.
“Good.” He nods. “Go sit and I will bring the food out.”
“Yes, sir.” Teasing him with a very serious little mock salute, you grab the bottle of maple syrup from the fridge and steal a kiss before heading through the breakfast table.
Max brings the plates of food through once he’s done, happy to find you and Alistair giggling at the table. He’s struck again by how right all of these seems and he grins. “Who’s hungry?”
Alistair cheers and you grin, sitting back at the table with a soft, contented sigh. This feels right, and you are very happy to just let things happen as they come.
******
“Hermosa? Alistair? Are you home?” You had left early while Max had to stay late, so he is coming through the door without you. “Hello?” His excited voice carries through the apartment and he quickly shoves his keys into the bowl and kicks off his shoes.
“In the kitchen!” You call back, having taken the extra time at home with Alistair to start on making dinner. The weather is finally cool again and the little boy you love like your own has requested posole for dinner. The recipe that you had learned from his mother back in high school has become a favorite over the last few months. “Ali is building something grand with his Legos and Dantes is supervising,” you tell Max when he comes into the kitchen. “What did you have to stay late for, amor?”
“I – I did something.” He confesses, unable to stop himself from grinning as he snags a pepper and pops it into his mouth. You have practically moved into his apartment since that day. Your clothes are over in your space simply because there is nowhere to fit them here and Dantes’ toys and cat tree are in his living room, the cat himself having claimed Alistair as his sleeping partner while you are wrapped up with Max every night.
“Should I be concerned?” Given that he looks excited you’re not too suspicious, but you put the lid on the pot to let dinner cook and go over to give him a kiss.
“Unless you do not wish for this.” Max pulls a long, flat piece of plastic out of his pocket to hand to you along with several pamphlets.
“What is it?” The little packet might as well be tied up with string for how he presents it to you, but the plastic placard slides right out into your hand first. Max Lorenzano it reads in font and style identical to the nameplate on your office at work. “What’s—?” The rest of the packet is advertisements for apartments – bigger places in newer buildings or neighborhoods uptown that you know he couldn’t afford right now but had been dreaming about. “Did you—baby did you get a promotion?”
“There was a position for a Spanish language editor.” He reminds you quietly. “I didn’t tell you, but I applied for it.” He hadn’t wanted to get your hopes up, or his own if he were honest. Or if he didn’t get the job, he didn’t want you to be upset on his behalf. He was grateful the publishing house gave him the job as a janitor, so he had no wish to sour your experience. “I had my final interview tonight. That was why I had to stay.”
“You’re kidding?” You had known the position was open, and seen some people going in and out of the Editor-in-Chief’s office, but it hasn’t been something that you had brought up because you didn’t know if it would be something he was interested in. Now, though? You practically throw your arms around him in celebration. “That’s huge! That’s amazing, it’s— baby, I’m so proud of you!”
Laughing, Max lets himself fully enjoy the moment. Clinging to you as you jostle him in your own excitement. He had been working with Alistair on the boy’s Spanish and he had decided that he would go for the position with no expectations. Luckily, his dedication to the job hadn’t gone unnoticed and he had gotten the position. “You will not mind having me come in and being an editor as well, will you?”
“Mind? Honey, it’s fantastic!” Your arms around his waist squeeze tightly again as you beam at him. Max was never happy with the idea of making a career as a janitor but he liked the company and all of your coworkers, so he was working hard and taking pride in the work that he did have. This is far more than you expected, though. “You’re going to be amazing. And—” The pamphlets in your hand now make much more sense. “Is this…an invitation?”
“I– it makes no sense for us to spend so much money on two apartments.” Max tells you, biting his lip. “I was thinking we could all look for a place and pick it out together?” His brows raise in question and he looks for the world like a hopeful little boy.
“Are you asking me to officially move in with you?” Although you’ve been effectively living together for the last six months, calling this an official move would be the next large step forward in your relationship. It would also be a big bit of permanence for Alistair.
“I am.” Reaching for your hands, Max kisses the back of them, still holding his offerings. “I want to choose the house, apartment, home where we all live - together.”
“You must have some favorites already.” You hold up the pamphlets he had brought you. “Dinner is finishing. Why don’t we look and see what’s here?”
“Of course.” Max nods eagerly. “And if you don’t like any of these, we can look elsewhere. I just wanted to get started looking and these are within a healthy budget.” One thing he had learned was to live within his means and with security comes a wealth of happiness.
“Tell me what you found.” The stools at the kitchen counter are the perfect place to talk, and you sit down together eagerly. “Are they nearby? Oh…probably not all of them? Since you mentioned maybe a house?”
“There is a townhouse.” Max admits, pulling a flier from the bottom of the stack. “It needs some work, but it’s well discounted to account for that.” He lays it on the table and his eyes flash with excitement. “In Greenwich village. And it has a garden.”
“A townhouse?” One eyebrow raises in interest as he pulls out the paperwork from the real estate agent. It’s a beautiful neighborhood, one that you sometimes go to for dates and for entertainment. You’ve both mooned over the apartments and housing there plenty of times but you never thought you could afford it. “Is the work reasonable for us to do ourselves? I don’t mind doing floors and painting and all that kind of stuff.” It actually sounds kind of exciting. The idea of fully making it your home.
“There’s some things we would need to have done.” Max admits, tapping the page. “It needs some bathroom remodel, but I think that I know someone.” He grins. “Dan says he’s got a brother who’s a contractor. Will give us a discounted rate if I teach his daughter Spanish.”
“Then we should check it out.” He’s so excited that it makes the prospect automatically more attractive immediately, and you lean forward to kiss him before shuffling through the papers some more. There is a decent-sized apartment in a different part of Washington Heights, another townhouse but this time in Brooklyn, and even a cute little house in Queens. “I wouldn’t mind a commute,” you admit, looking at the picture of the little blue house with two floors and clean white window panes.
“Anywhere you want.” Max promises, loving that you are getting excited. “I just want to live with you and Alistair and Dantes.” He chuckles. “And maybe if we have room, a dog like my son wants.”
“Be careful of giving your son whatever he wants,” you chuckle knowingly. “This afternoon he told me he’s going to ask Santa for a little brother for Christmas.”
“He is?” His eyes widen and he wonders what you said to him.
“That’s what he said.” The look of almost smothered excitement on Max’s face makes you grin. “I told him that it takes a long time to make a little brother, though. So it might take Santa a little while. This Christmas might be too soon.”
“And that’s something you want? In the future?” Max confirms.
“A baby?” You almost laugh, but it would be a little mean when he’s looking at you so earnestly, so instead you reach for both of his hands to squeeze them. “I would love it, amor. But only if you want it, too.”
“Perhaps we should focus on homes with three bedrooms.” Max dreams quietly.
“Sounds like you like the idea.” You hum softly. “A cute little place with a yard for the kids to play in and maybe even a dog to keep Dante’s company.”
“I do like the idea.” He admits it easily. It’s easy to admit what he wants with you.
“I do, too.” It’s what you have always wanted with him and you feel like you live in a dream to see it coming true. “We should check out Brooklyn and Queens.”
“Okay. I will call the realtor tomorrow.” Max agrees with a grin.
“I’ll start doing some research on schools.” It won’t be too much love lost, since Alistair hasn’t made many friends at PS 117, but you want to make sure that wherever you choose will have good schools for him. And for his little sibling.
“Thank you.” He flashes you a smile and swallows. “I start the new job on Monday.”
“I’m really so proud of you, amor.” One of your hands cups his cheek and you feel like your heart could just burst from it. “You’ve been so helpful in helping with my book that I just know you’re going to be great with everyone else’s, too.”
“I don’t understand why it has taken you so long to finish it.” He huffs. “It’s remarkable. You should have been published years ago.”
“I guess I just needed the right inspiration.” You hum, pressing a kiss to each of his hands. Somehow Max has still not picked up on the fact that the love story you have been trying to write for so many years has a male lead based on him.
“Hmmm, I don’t know about that.” He shakes his head and bites his lip as he looks towards the stove. “So if I wanted to take you and Alistair out to celebrate, tomorrow would be best?”
“I think he’d be disappointed not to have posole tonight, so tomorrow sounds good.” Still, kissing him is completely irresistible. “But tomorrow we can go wherever you want to celebrate.”
“You made posole?” He lights up and leans in to kiss you again. “You are so good to me - to us.”
“Alistair’s special request and your mom’s recipe.” You beam under his praise and grin up at him. “Gotta keep my boys full and strong so they can keep making me proud.”
“I am glad that he is enjoying parts of my heritage that I tried so hard to bury.” Max admits with a slightly bashful expression. His natural accent has come back slightly, but he has trained it out of his speech that there is only a hint of it in some words. You both have started speaking Spanish at home to help Alistair improve his own command of the language.
“We are allowed to grow and change over time, amor.” Reaching to squeeze his hand, you can only offer him support with the knowledge that he has left so much of his heritage behind because of cruelty and ignorance from your classmates. “It’s good to see both of you embracing where you come from.”
“Genji said she wants to work on his command of Chinese when he is with her.” He tells you, proud of his son’s ability to learn multiple languages before any formal offering.
“That’s fantastic.” His mother has been a little more present lately, even though she still lives in DC and Max and Alistair are firmly settled in New York. He had spent Thanksgiving with her and will be in DC for the second half of his winter break. Max and Genji are making it work and you’re proud of the way he is keeping his promises and his commitments. “If he has some favorite recipes that she makes, we can add them into the rotation here, too. So he can have his Latin and his Chinese home cooking.”
“That would be good. She used to make this crispy beef that was amazing.” Max admits. “Although there is good Chinese takeout, it’s not the same.”
“Would it be okay with you if I called her for the recipe?” Max’s ex-wife has been surprisingly supportive of your relationship since she adjusted to the news that he is seeing someone. Your history together seemed to have won her over when she learned the whole story.
“That would be good. Alistair would appreciate that.” Max would too, but the idea of creating his son’s favorite meals at home would be fun.
You want to make a joke about making sure he knows you’re Step-Mom Material, but it isn’t a topic you’ve talked about with any seriousness yet. From time to time one of you will point out a favorite place in the city and remark that it would be good for a wedding - or see a commercial for a destination vacation and hun about a honeymoon. But there aren’t any plans yet and that is more than okay.
“Do you want to go look at the houses tomorrow?” He asks, excited about looking with you. It’s different, he doesn’t want big and flashy, he wants something he can take care of you and Alistair in.
“Absolutely.” He’s so excited about it that you are more than happy to agree. “Do you want to bring Al?”
“What do you think? Give him a say? Or should we narrow down the choices and then show him?” He asks you, wanting your input. You have been great with Alistair.
“It might be overwhelming for him to see every option,” you admit, knowing that there will be plenty of reasons not to choose a place that he won’t be aware of. “Let’s see if Señora Ramos is available after we make a few realtor appointments. We can take him to see our top choices?”
“That sounds like a solid plan.” Max agrees, happy with that since that is what he was thinking. He wants his son to be included, but he’s not going to know which school district is better.
“Have I mentioned how proud of you I am?” Of course you have, but you beam at him as you shift back over to the stove to give dinner a stir.
“I don’t know if it is possible without you, amor.” He admits, sliding behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips press to your neck and he sighs. “I wish I had kissed you on prom night.”
“Maybe we’d still be right here if you had.” The warmth and breadth of him against your back is comforting and you lean into it easily. “Standing in our kitchen making dinner, with Alistair playing with his pet completely oblivious to our snuggling.”
“Maybe.” It’s a sweet and heady thought. He kisses your neck softly and smiles against your skin. “And later on, I’ll make love to you.”
"That's my favorite part of the day." With Alistair asleep in the other room, with the cat lazing about doing cat things, with the day ended and nothing but each other to focus on, ending every day in his arms is wonderful.
“Mine too.” Max chuckles. “Unless you count waking up with you drooling on my chest.” He teases. You had only done it once, but he had thought your sheepish apology was cute.
That earns him an immediate pout from you, but you know he has every right to tease you about it now and then. "Your chest is my favorite pillow," you defend, batting your eyelashes at him for effect.
“I don’t mind it.” He waggles his brows playfully. “My chest is always available for you to use as your personal pillow.��
"And I always will." You promise him. There isn't any version of your future together where you want to wake up any other way.
******
“Honey?” Max opens the door to the apartment with a huge grin on his face. You had stayed home today to work on unpacking the last of the boxes and the boss had asked him to hand deliver this package to you personally. “It’s here!”
Nearly exhausted from unpacking, you're finally breaking down the last box when you hear him in the front hall. The Greenwich Village townhouse had needed a lot of work before you could move in, but now that you're here and you're unpacked it's wonderful to have it feeling like home. "I'll be right down!" You call from the top of the stairs before shoving the folded box under your arm and wiping your face on a bandana to head down from Alistair's room.
“Hey.” His eyes light up and he sets the box down in the entryway on the table that had moved from your apartment to his to the townhouse. Rushing halfway up the stairs. He takes the boxes from you and kisses you happily. “Amor.”
“What’s here, love?” You know what you hope has arrived - what he would have brought home from work for you - but you don’t want to assume.
“Your editor has sent a first print home for you to approve.” You had wanted your boss to handle the final edits of the book and Max had understood, although he was curious as to why. Eager to see your eyes light up when you hold your book, he takes your hand and drags you down the last few steps. “Your book is printed, amor. You have done it.”
This book has been a decade in the making, as you visited the story and the manuscript on and off for years. Inspiration had slipped away from you and been stubborn in coming back right up until the day Max walked back into your life. Now, when you nervously crack open the box of first edition copies of The Shadow Rose to see the glossy image of vines ensnaring a dewy purple rose, you could really almost cry. “It’s real,” you sigh in disbelief, cradling a copy in your arms like your first-born child.
Max beams proudly, watching you absorb the moment as a bystander. While he feels incredibly satisfied that you have accomplished a lifelong goal, this is your moment. Your accomplishment. “You did it. You are a published author, amor.”
“Wait one second.” You insist, pressing a kiss to his lips before disappearing with the book into your writing room - the former home office - to grab a pen. The dedication page of the book is very deliberate. “To Max: My inspiration, my support, my biggest cheerleader, and my best friend. My first love and my better half. Thank you for everything you have done, and everything you continue to do. I have a question for you.”
Underneath, in your own scrawling handwriting, five words follow with the stroke of a pen: “Amor, will you marry me?”
You had decided to ask him months ago. During the time you were painting the master bedroom. It had been like a moment from a movie when he smeared paint on your cheek and you returned the favor - and the beaming grin on his face had seemed to call to you. This man is without a doubt, the rest of your life. So now it’s time to ask.
Max tilts his head curiously when you come rushing back into the room. “Was the camera in the other room?” He asks, knowing that he wants to take a picture of you holding the book. Something he can print out and hang up in the small little nook that had been turned into a home office for the two of you. He rubs his hands together, knowing that you might cry a little as you look through the book and he wants to take you out to celebrate your success. Treat you to champagne like you deserve.
“The first copy is for you,” you tell him, vibrating nervously as you put it in his hands. “I just wanted to make sure the dedication was right before I gave it to you.”
“For me?” He frowns slightly, confused as to why you want to give him the first copy. You should want to keep it for yourself. “You shouldn’t, amor.” He still opens the book even as he tells you that so he can reach this dedication.
You’re vibrating with anxiety when he opens the cover of the book, ready to drop down on one knee the second he looks up at you from the page. The ring has been in your pocket all week, just waiting for the box of books to arrive at your door. Now that the moment is here, the signet ring with the ornate L carved into it feels even heavier with importance.
“Amor.” Max’s jaw drops and he looks up, only to follow your body as it drops down to your knee in front of him. Humbled, elated, overjoyed and even a little jealous - he had been ring shopping - he chokes out a surprised cry and the book slams shut as he drops down to his knees with you.
“I know it’s unconventional.” Of course you’re already sniffling back tears, but you pull the ring from your pocket with a beaming smile and offer it to him with such care. “But I love you so much, and I absolutely adore Alistair and I just—” your voice cracks a little and you can’t help a small laugh as the first tear breaks through. “Tú eres el amor de mi vida. Te casarías conmigo?” You’re the love of my life. Will you marry me?
“I–” Max chokes up again, near tears and he can’t even speak, nodding furiously out of fear that he would make you think that he was turning you down. “Sí.” He manages after a moment. “Siempre.”
Once he says yes, the amount of giggling, sniffling, and kissing shared between the two of you on the living room rug is endless. Not that you would ever want it to stop, but it seems like an opening of the floodgates.
“I love you. You are-“ he shakes his head and laughs. “I was trying to find out what kind of rings you liked.” He admitted. “I’ve been asking Kim.”
“She probably told you to find something big and flashy,” you huff a laugh between tears. As your closest friend, Kim has always joked that she expected the guy you ended up with to put no less than the Hope Diamond on your finger — while you would proudly sport the prize from a Cracker Jacks box as long as it came from the right man.
“She did.” Max chuckles. “Then she told me that you would actually love a sapphire or emerald engagement ring.”
“At least she told you the truth eventually.” The two of you cuddle into each other’s arms in the middle of the rug, furniture be damned. This moment is worth more than any sofa. “I don’t need a ring, amor. I only need you and Al.”
“I will proudly wear your ring, but I wish to get you one as well.” He admits. “It is not pride that makes me say that.” He assures you. “It is that I wish for you to carry a piece of my love for you as you go about your day.”
“Then I will wear whatever you choose with equal joy and love.” Nuzzling into his side, you press a kiss over his heart, then to his cheek, and then to his lips. “Alistair will be excited that I was finally able to ask.”
“He knew?” His brows shoot up and he huffs playfully. “I cannot believe he kept it from me.” He pouts, heart melting a little more from the fact that you conspired with his son.
"I had to ask him too," you grin, loving the soft expression of gratitude on Max's face. "Make sure he was okay with me loving him and his daddy forever."
“I’m sure that he has no problem with that.” He hums. “That boy adores you.”
"He had one condition." And it had been so sweet that you hadn't been able to refuse. "He wants to be your best man. He saw it in a movie and he's decided it's the most important thing for him to do for you."
“Yes.” Max lights up and nods immediately. “Absolutely. I would have nothing else than for him to be my best man. I will have to ask him formally. Get him some cufflinks.”
"We can do whatever you want." You hum softly and run your fingers over the signet sitting on his finger before looking back up at him. "All I care about is that I get to marry you."
“That is all that matters.” Max sighs happily. “You are Alistair, you’re my second chance and plan on making the most of it, amor.” He will, Max has found that there are things much more important than business success and fortune. With you and Alistair, he’s the wealthiest man on earth.
______
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free-for-all-fics · 9 months
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Pedro Pascal Character Prompts! This list includes: Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, Javi Gutierrez, Max Lord, Din Djarin, and Max Phillips. If you’re inspired by any of these, pls tag me and I’d love to read it! 💜
1. Whenever and wherever you and Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels want to have alone time, (in a hideout cabin, his office at Statesman HQ, hotel room, before/during/after a mission, whatever) he’ll put his cowboy hat on the door handle as his way of saying, “Do Not Disturb”. Eggsy, Tequila or someone else was fed up with it like, “Stop fooling around and suit up! We have a mission, there’s work to do. No more cowboy hat! Cowboy hat is coming off the door, okay!? I’m coming in so quit doing whatever you’re doing!” And took the hat off the door to try to get you and/or Whiskey to hurry up and get moving. Only to walk in on you and Whiskey in a compromising position. (You’re riding him like a horse in cowgirl or reverse cowgirl position or he has you tied to the bed with his non-electric lasso and your legs over his shoulders while eating you out. Or a mystery third option, whatever you desire.) The intruding agent is traumatized but Jack is unfazed by being walked in on. He doesn’t even pause or falter in his loving on you while he nonchalantly says,
“Oh c’mon, kid. You know what cowboy hat on the door means. Everyone knows what it means.”
2. Something cute (or sexy, up to you) where Agent Whiskey is being needy and/or flirty, and uses his non-electric lasso to rope you in by the waist and demand a kiss…or two…or ten. Maybe you try to walk away from him for one reason or other and he’s not having it. He’s caught you fair and square and isn’t letting you go until you give him lots of sugar, Sugar! 😘
3. You’re Champ’s daughter and also a Statesman agent but oh no when you and Agent Whiskey mix business with pleasure after you catch feelings for each other. Over the course of many years of going on missions together, it’s no surprise you’ve grown close. It’s sort of forbidden love because you’re the boss’s daughter, so you and Jack often have to get creative to keep your escapades secret. You’d rather Jack not get fired or killed by your father. If you both ditch your trackers and earpieces and go dark for a few minutes or an hour to have some much needed “alone time”, you can later blame it on bad reception or needing to lay low to not get detected by the enemy. But what if the way Champ discovers you and Whiskey are together is you’re at a mission briefing and you accidentally say, “Daddy, can you pass the [item]?” And both Jack and Champ reach for it at the same time. Uh oh.
4. You and Jack go to one of those country bars that have mechanical bulls for customers to ride. (Could be for a mission, to get close to a target or could just be leisure time). There’s a friendly contest happening where the person who can stay on the bull the longest gets a great prize. After a few drinks, Jack dares you to try it. To his surprise, you master riding the mechanical bull. You don’t fumble even once or ever come close to getting knocked off, no matter how fast and erratic the mechanical bull’s movements become. While watching you, Jack is fucking turned on by the way you move your hips back and forth to shift your weight and keep your center of balance. You say something like, “Riding mechanical bulls is much easier than real bulls.” Jack blinks and looks at you in disbelief, now with questions on his tongue but you just say, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Optional Bonus: Somehow he convinces you to “ride home on a real Cowboy” and spend the night with him. You've got him pinned down as you try to ride him within an inch of his life and he's just laying back with his arms behind his head and going, "That's all you got? For a girl who can expertly hold onto a bull, it looks like you're having trouble staying on." His cocky grin makes you wanna slap him but that’s when he flips you over and brings out a flogger, smacking your ass with it as he grips your hair and starts pounding into you from behind. “Don’t worry, honey. you can whip me next round if you’re good for me.”
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5. You’ve been blackmailed or threatened by Lucas to infiltrate Javi’s luxurious home in Majorca under the guise of a new assistant and get as close to him as possible, with the goal being to eventually kill him. You don’t want to, but you can’t refuse the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Spain. He’s holding too much over you. The more time you spend with Javi, you admire his spirit and ambitious nature towards film. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way nor under these dire circumstances, but you fall in love. You nearly crack under the pressure of your predicament, wanting so badly to tell Javi the truth - especially when months pass and he proposes. You’re finally ready to confess everything, even if it means forfeiting your life.
But before you can even answer his proposal, Lucas destroys your hopes and dreams of a happy future. He's kidnapped a politician’s daughter and bursts in to reveal your affiliation with him. Javi feels betrayed by your deception and doubts if anything about your relationship was real. With your dirty past exposed and your cover blown, you’re resolved to save Javi from his cruel and bloodthirsty cousin no matter the cost. Even if he never loves you again, even if you die trying to save his life, you won’t let Lucas get away with his crimes. You just hope Javi can forgive you eventually.
6. You come from a very average upbringing. Your life isn’t the most luxurious or exciting, but you’re happy enough. Very rarely do you get to travel or go on vacations, let alone internationally, but somehow fate lands you in Spain. (Maybe you’re on a business trip, rare vacation, studying abroad, etc.) While on a small ferry boat, you and the people you’re with get lost due to fog or darkness and accidentally end up off the coast near the luxurious home of Javi Gutierrez. When the boat hits obscured rocks and everyone evacuates, he and Gabriela run out to rescue you from the water, bringing you all safely back to shore. As Javi wraps a warm blanket around you, your hands brush his.
You nearly stumble and fall from how handsome he is when you see his face through the light emitted from the flashlights. He catches you, assuming you’re wobbly from the shock of the accident. He lets you lean on him and helps you walk as he guides you inside his mansion. He and Gabriela are kind enough to let you and everybody else stay as long as needed to recuperate, but Javi seems especially drawn to you and wants you to stay, even after everybody else has made plans to leave. Well, your life just got a lot more exciting, hasn’t it?
7. You’re an American studying abroad in Spain and somehow fate lands you in the arms of Javi Gutierrez. You don’t recognize him or know who he is at all, and he finds your ignorance to his identity very refreshing. It allows him to just be himself around you and not put up a facade as figurehead to a crime family. You swap phone numbers and he takes you out for lunch dates, car rides for sightseeing, etc. His home in Majorca is beautiful. You enjoy any time spent with him, even if it’s in your small apartment or rental car. He’s just as interested in you and your studies as you are with him and his passion for filmmaking. You’re both ambitious in your own unique ways, and while you come from very different social classes and wealth brackets, you develop a camaraderie.
You’re both deeply saddened when you admit you’ll have to return home eventually. Javi loves you so much that he was willing to let you live with him or pay for your living expenses so you wouldn’t have to leave, but you’d never ask that of him or accept such a generous offer. He can’t bear to be apart from you forever, so he offers a compromise: He’ll endure a long distance relationship and support you while you’re pursuing your studies and career of choice, but he’d like you to come visit him during winter and spring breaks. He’ll pay for your travel expenses. Please don’t argue with him on this. Or he’ll come to you and fly to the US if it’d make you feel better. Even a week or two of having you to himself would be enough to satiate his cravings for you and hold him over when you’re apart again. (Along with maybe the intimate photos you’ve taken for his eyes only 🤫) It’s a few years later when he flies over for your college graduation to congratulate you, a small velvet box in his suit pocket.
8. You and Javi were once a very happy couple, so in love you felt sick. You were just a plain and average American exchange student when you met him, but he became your best friend and you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. You kept your blossoming romance secret for a very long time, deeming it unsafe due to Lucas and his criminal activities. Despite your circumstances, Javi loved you so much he couldn’t bear to wait anymore and asked you to marry him. You accepted. You both understood that you’d have to have a long engagement, since you couldn’t marry until somehow you were able to get away from Lucas and his crime organization. Javi thought he was discreet enough when sneaking in and out of the mansion to see you. You thought you were thorough, making sure you left no visible trace of yourself behind when you left his place under the cover of night.
You and Javi went unsuspected for a while, but somehow Lucas connected the dots. He threatened you and/or your loved ones, and at first you tried not to let him get to you. You thought your love for Javi would be strong enough to endure this, but Lucas’ tactics of intimidation and threatening became too much for you to handle, culminating in him threatening to break Javi’s neck if you didn’t break his heart. So you broke off your engagement to Javi, giving him back the ring. This caused a huge argument in which you lied and pretended you didn’t love him anymore, even going so far as to say there was another man when he kept pushing you for an explanation. You left without telling him the truth, since Lucas made it more than clear he’d kill you if you told Javi anything. You go back home to the US and don’t see him again for a long time. But when the fiasco with Nic Cage and the CIA is finally over and Lucas is arrested, Javi wants only two things in the world: To make his movie and to find you. He’s determined to get you back and marry you now that he’s a filmmaker and can provide you with a safe and happy life.
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9. Christmas Carol Inspired: Back in college, you met Maxwell Lorenzano. He himself couldn’t afford to enroll, but he caught your eye while doing custodial work on campus. This allowed him to sort of have access to the library, but it wasn’t enough since he couldn’t take any books home and he soon wanted more. You wanted to help, so you’d check books out for him so he wouldn’t get in trouble for theft. You became friends and then sweethearts as you gave him the emotional and financial support he needed during his struggles to rise to the top. Even if it was something as simple as buying a muffin for him at the coffee shop, you’d do it. He’d tell you all about his hopes and dreams for the future, but never mention his past. You were so proud of him when he founded Black Gold Cooperative and elated when he proposed to you. The ring was just a plain band with your and his initials engraved into it. There was no gem, but it was perfect to you.
But years went by and your engagement kept stretching on and on, with no wedding date set. No matter how many times you asked him about it, he wouldn’t commit and deflected the topic. You knew he wanted more than anything to become a successful businessman, and now he’s achieved it. He’s the CEO of Black Gold Cooperative, a television personality popular with the public, has a mansion and luxurious clothes, cars, Rolexes and rings. You just never thought he’d cast you aside and neglect you. He always wants more, more, more, never satisfied with what he has. With his new name of Max Lord and rich lifestyle, you hardly recognize him anymore. He’s so busy and hardly makes time for you. It’s like he’s erased you from his life almost completely. You’ve loved him for so many years, overcame many hardships and challenges with him. But this is different. This is too much for you.
Despite how he’s changed and treated you in recent years, you still love him. You know he’s a good man underneath it all, but this is not the kind of life you signed up for when you accepted his proposal. It’s because you love him that you enter his golden office and interrupt his meeting with an investor to set your engagement ring on his desk. You’ve done all you could for him, the last kindness you can offer is to release him from the long ago promise he’d made and wish him well. You’ll always be grateful to him for loving you. You both had very little back then, but your lives were simple and full of love. You’ll treasure those memories always. Now he has everything he’s ever wanted in life, and that doesn’t include you. Maybe it did once, but not anymore.
10. (Possible sequel idea to the above prompt, but can be stand-alone): You and Max Lord were once in love, but the romance eventually fell through and you broke it off, even if you didn’t want to and it was a last resort. Max never fully got over you, no matter how many women he fooled around with while living his new, luxurious life. It all felt so hollow and meaningless now without you. No woman could ever compare to you. To everyone in the world it seems he’s a man who has everything his heart desires, but he still wants you. You're the motivation behind his search for the Dreamstone. After becoming the Dreamstone itself, Max uses his powers to trick your current partner into wishing for something so that he can take you back in exchange. What Max didn’t foresee was the effect it would have on you. You’re still yourself, but it’s like you’re under a strange love spell. You’re totally normal, but you’ve gone back to loving Max the way you did before your breakup, as if time has reversed. Nothing about you has changed.
Oh, except one teeny tiny thing: You have no memory of your other relationship with your (now former) partner. They’re a total stranger to you now. It’s as if the events surrounding yours and Max’s deteriorating relationship and breakup never happened. Max isn’t sad or guilty about this development. He justifies his actions to himself, self-assured he can make you so much happier and love you better. You loved him first, and he’ll be your one and only. He’s realized what terrible mistakes he’s made in letting you slip away from him, and he wants to make it up to you. He never blamed you for leaving, the deterioration of your relationship was solely his fault and a consequence of his own failings as a lover, but he’s changed. He’s become a better man and realized what’s most important. He wants more than anything to marry you so he can spend the rest of his life proving it to you. This is a second chance for you both.
11. You’re Max Lord’s ex-wife and mother to Alistair. You’ve had boyfriends after your divorce, but none of them really stuck. You have joint custody with your ex-husband. You and Max love your boy more than anything in the world, that’s at least one thing you can agree on. When you drop off Alistair at his dad’s workplace for his weekend, you grow concerned about Max’s disheveled appearance, especially his bloodshot eyes and bleeding ears. You urge him to see a doctor, unaware of what he’s done. Though you divorced, you can’t help it that the love you have for him still lingers. You still care, even a little bit. He brushes you off and assures you it’s nothing. When Max becomes addicted to the Dreamstone’s power and nearly causes the end of the world, it’s not just Alistair that’s running and screaming for Max to save him, you’re there too. To the very end you protect your son, even if it means shielding him with your body and getting seriously hurt by the destruction around you.
Seeing you and your boy in peril makes Max renounce his wish. He comes to save you both, but gets scared when Alistair runs out from the trees alone. Until Alistair leads him back to you, badly injured and in urgent need of medics, but alive. Your ex-husband and son stay by your side while you’re recovering in hospital, and it’s during this time that Max admits he’s never stopped loving you. He asks for a second chance to be a better husband than he was the first time. He asks if you would ever consider marrying him…Again? You tease him and say you’ll entertain the thought, but he needs to take you out on some dates first.
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12. Still just a child at 50 years old, it’s clear Grogu will outlive both you and Din by hundreds of years. Tell an angsty or bittersweet story centering around Grogu’s life, the years spent with his human mom and dad, including when he goes through the inevitable deaths of both you and Din. (Whether you outlive Din, Din outlives you, or you die together is up to you.) How would Grogu grieve and continue his life without either of you by his side? How does your son spend his days after you’re both gone? Would he keep beloved keepsakes that once belonged to you or Din to remember you both by? Would he have a sort of shrine dedicated to you both or visit your shared resting place? How does he live out the rest of his years, up until the end of his own journey and his time comes to be reunited with his parents? When he reaches old age, he knows you and Din will be happy to see him again. He wants to be held in Mama and Daddy’s arms again, even if he’s not so little anymore. And when he does finally return home, he’ll have many stories to tell.
13. Somehow Evan intentionally or inadvertently sabotaged yours and Max’s relationship so badly that his words or actions drove you to leave Max and/or drop out of college. This is why Max slept with Evan’s girlfriend, which only resulted in Evan getting him kicked out of school for cheating. When he returns from Romania as a vampire, he’s determined not only to get under Evan’s skin as much as possible by watching him squirm and question his own sanity while he turns the whole department into vampires. He also wants to find and reconcile with you so he can turn you and fuck you on Ted’s desk. You had plans to marry after finishing college, and he still wants to make you his bride - in more ways than one.
14. You’re the vampire that turns Max when he attends school in Romania. You take him under your wing not only as a fledgling, but your lover. You teach him everything there is to know about vampirism. Together, you concoct an ingenious scheme to return to the US so Max can claim the position Evan so desperately coveted, while you work as head of HR. You and Max turn everyone in Evan’s workplace into vampires while messing with him to make him question his sanity and watch him squirm in paranoia. (Maybe Amanda doesn’t exist so you go so far as to get close to Evan and act romantically interested in him.) This is so Max can land a devastating blow when he fucks you on Ted’s desk in front of him, stretching it out as he makes Evan watch before you both finally reveal you’re a vampire too and are actually the one who turned Max, not the other way around. Max loved the look on Evan’s face when he realized you’re not only in cahoots with each other, but in love. Sweet revenge for Evan getting him kicked out of school and blacklisted from most universities. Though Max admits that maybe he should be thanking Evan. In a way, it’s because of him that Max had to attend college in Romania and met you in the first place. So Evan sort of brought you two together.
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