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“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” Steve gapes at Max, his brain momentarily short-circuiting. Maybe he’d smoked something stronger than regular weed because, “There’s no way you just asked that!”
It’s late Friday night, maybe already Saturday. A party—someone’s cousin’s friend’s bash—that was in full swing only two hours ago, is slowly dying out now. Steve—bordering 20 and graduated over a year ago—really shouldn’t still be spending his free nights hanging around high schoolers. Of course, Robin is the exception, but she’s out of town for the weekend, and Steve’s got nothing better to do. Not to mention that, besides her, Steve’s other friendships are far worse. It’s an alright place to be, not his first choice, but he’ll take a lame party over a DnD session any day.
So here he is, enjoying a shitty, warm beer, being cornered by Max Mayfield, who he hasn’t seen in weeks and never really talked to one-on-one.
Then, just like it’s no big deal, she drops a bomb: “I broke up with Lucas, like, ages ago. So, if you’re interested, I’m all free.”
Steve blinks, unsure whether he’s hallucinating or too hammered. Somehow Max’s not even done. No, she follows it up with a level of casualness that rattles him further: “Do you want a blowie, maybe?”
Yes, I fucking want one, Steve thinks, but that’s insane, right? Utter madness. But, then again, it’s been so long since he’s gotten any kind of action besides his hands.
All of a sudden, Max’s black, low cut, strapless top feels far too tight, and Steve can’t help but notice it. Another thing that catches his attention is that she’s wearing heels and, for some reason, he’s always had a thing for short girls in them. Not that hers are that high, but paired with the extra small skirt, they’re enough to make her pale, beautiful legs even more striking.
It’s distracting. Steve’s never seen her wear anything but ‘boyish’, baggy clothes, and now that the subject of fucking has come up, he can’t stop thinking about her tits. He knows he’s not being subtle, but in his defense, her outfit does emphasize her curves. Still, he feels shitty for it. After all, he’s the supposed adult here, or whatever, right? Max is probably more mature than him and, alright, Steve can recognize that’s the kind of thought only a pervert would have, but it doesn’t make it any less true.
“Don’t hurt yourself, Steve. I can practically see you drooling,” Max says, rolling her eyes at Steve’s scoff of denial. “But, hey, if you’re too much of a saint, I’ll just find someone else who’s willing. I sure as hell don’t care who it might be,” she pauses, chewing on her cherry-gloss-stained lips, clearly searching for a way to provoke such a reaction that will result in Steve agreeing. Max’s gaze flickers mischievously before she finishes, “Maybe that Tommy guy is still around.”
And if that doesn’t hit right in the nerve, nothing will. It’s common knowledge amongst his inner circle that Steve can’t stand that little bitch, and he’d rather take care of Max himself than let her slip into that little weasel’s hand.
Max, with her voice louder than it needs to be, firmly asks him, “So, do you wanna fuck me or not?”
The music is still playing, but the chattering has almost completely died down by now. It makes Steve glance around the room in a frantic search for anyone who might overhear their incriminating conversation. His eyes dart nervously from one figure to the next, his discomfort palpable. He breathes a sigh of relief when all he sees are a few drunken souls on the brink of passing out, or too distracted by the urge to puke.
“Will you stop it? You’re freaking me out, man,” Steve’s voice cracks with a mix of exasperation and unease.
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his hand instinctively tightening around the beer can, but he can’t seem to shake the anxiety crawling up his spine. Maybe he’s being dramatic. Steve tries to play it cool, but the bizarre nature of their conversation is starting to get to him.
Max’s grin only makes it worse, a delinquent gleam in her eyes as she watches him squirm. She repeats, “Do you want to fuck me?”
Like, Jesus, she didn’t even attempt to half-ass a conversation before asking for it. Max’s behavior tonight is nothing like her usual self. She still hangs out with her old friends as far as Steve’s concerned, but it seems that she also enjoys to blow out some steam by getting drunk and fucked by older guys. It’s been hard on her since the 4th of July, she won’t talk to them about it. Everyone has their way of coping with grief, Steve guesses this is her’s. He doesn’t want anything to do with it, unless he’s of help.
It leads Steve to enter an argument within his own mind. Max’s undeniably too young for him. She’s Billy’s little sister and, though the dude annoyed the fuck out of Steve for a while there, you gotta respect the dead. She’s now Lucas’ ex-girlfriend and Steve’s supposed to be looking out for those kids! So, maybe, that’s precisely why he should say yes? How else would Steve keep Max from falling into the wrong person’s hand? On the plus side, she’s very much into him, and probably is one of those girls who wouldn't dare tell anyone about her sketchy hook-ups. (Undoubtedly, Max would angrily tell a cop, “I’m not a snitch.”)
Steve answers by holding Max’s delicate wrist, and starts walking towards the front door, planning on dragging her out to his car. If anyone were to see them leaving together, they would hopefully assume that Steve was doing a nice gesture and making sure to get this sweet girl safely home.
“Hold on, bathroom first,” Max mutters, pulling at his arm.
Steve freezes, immediately letting go of her. “Okay, no problem.”
Max glances at him with a raised brow. “What are you doing?”
Steve shrugs, and dumbly says, “Waiting for you to use the bathroom?” as if Max is an idiot.
Max rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Come with me.”
“Ah.”
It’s a short walk to the downstairs half-bath. Steve does a quick sweep around the room to make sure no one is watching them and turns the knob. It’s a little cramped for two people to fit, Steve finds, but it will do.
Before he can react, Max has him against the door as soon as it’s locked. For someone so small and young, Max sure has a way of taking charge. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as she steps in close.
Daring, she asks, “Aren’t you gonna kiss me?”
A request he can’t resist for long. Steve’s heart races as he looks into Max’s eyes, desire shining back at him.
Without any more hesitation, Steve holds her face and closes the gap between them, lips brushing against hers in a feather-light touch. Max’s breath hitches at the contact. It seems that her heels are high enough that it’s not that uncomfortable to stretch out her arms to wrap them around his neck as she deepens the kiss. God, she’s so soft. Steve’s senses are overwhelmed by the flavor of her cherry lip gloss, so sugary and intoxicating.
Curious hands roam over Max’s body, tracing the curves and contours that had haunted his thoughts these past minutes—it feels more like hours. Max moves her fingers to tangle them in his hair and pulls him impossibly close, their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and eagerness.
In that moment, nothing else exists but the two of them, lost in the heat and passion of their connection. Steve can’t believe he nearly turned her down. Now, he feels as if he could drown in her. The taste of her on his lips, the feel of her skin against his. Everything about Max is dangerous and it threatens to consume him whole. None of the previous concerns matter anymore.
Their kisses grow deeper and more urgent, a storm of ache brewing inside Steve. He needs more, and so does Max by the way her hands are now roaming over his shoulders and down his chest. Steve takes the opportunity to slide his hands down her back, hauling her by her plump ass, urging the girl to wrap her legs around him. She grabs at him and goes easily. Steve flips them around, holding her against the wood.
They finally pull apart, because they still need to breathe. Steve looks into Max’s eyes and sees the reflection of his own crave staring back at him. The taste of her lip gloss lingers on his lips, a sweet reminder of the fire that Max Mayfield is. He needs to taste her somewhere else, soon.
Steve’s got a chubby by now and knows that Max can feel it just under her ass. Max is palming him through his jeans before he realizes what’s happening.
He moans. “You seriously want to do it here?” He’s not opposed to fucking in other people’s bathroom, has done it plenty of times when he was desperate enough, but it’s less than ideal and Steve will try to avoid it if possible.
“I can’t wait, I want it so bad, Steve. Touch me?” Max sighs, tightening her thighs on his sides, grinding against his stomach.
God, seeing those big eyes of hers, Steve can’t deny her any second more. He leans in close and locks their lips together once more. It’s a lazy, sloppy mess of lips and tongues sliding together and Steve’s not sure he’s enjoyed a kiss as much in his life. It’s hard to pull away, Max’s grabbing a delicious pull at the back of his head, but he has other plans. Steve detaches himself from her, gently places her back on the floor and drops to his knees, the cool tile chilling.
“You know, I actually wore this outfit hoping to see you tonight,” Max breathlessly says when Steve’s pushing her skirt up.
“Jesus, you’re impossible,” Steve replies, can’t care about anything right now, especially when he realizes she’s completely bare. “Fuck, are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“No panties, huh?”
Max laughs. “I took them off right before walking up to you. They’re in my purse, shit, I have no idea where I left it.”
Something about the way she sounds has Steve worried. He needs to make some things clear.
“Hold on, how much did you drink?” Is the first. Steve’s eyes narrow, scanning her face for any sign of deception.
Max leans back against the door, and smirks, her eyes glinting. “Not at all,” she says, then winks, as if daring him to doubt her.
Steve gasps, his hands gripping her thigh as if to steady himself. “Max! I’m serious. I’m already risking so much and–”
Max rolls her eyes, exhaling loudly. “Ugh, you’re no fun,” she teases. She crosses her arms over her chest, her lips curling into a playful but exaggerated pout. “I honestly didn’t drink more than two stale-ass beers.” She shrugs nonchalantly, clearly unconcerned.
“Have you done this before?” Is the second. “I don’t want your first time to be in here.” Max doesn’t behave like a virgin, but he doesn’t want to assume. Steve’s gaze flickers nervously around the small room, his fingers tapping uneasily against the edge of the sink.
“Steve, shut up, you don’t wanna hear about me and Lucas going at it.”
“Well…” Steve’s words trail off as the image of it forms in his mind. He looks away, clearly unsettled, but he can’t deny the intrigue. He shakes his head, trying to banish the thought, and rubs the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping. “No, you're right. But, good to know.”
“Right,” she smirks, raising an eyebrow. "As if you’ve never deflowered an innocent girl before."
Instantly, his mind snaps to Nancy. The weight of the memory hits him, his stomach flipping with discomfort. He grimaces. So much history there. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Not in what’s-her-face’s bathroom!” he says with a short laugh and gestures vaguely around them, eyes wide. “It’s no place for a first time.”
She leans back against the doorframe, arms still crossed, the same teasing smile tugging at her lips. “So thoughtful. Aren’t you a sweetheart?”
“Well, yeah.” Steve likes to think of himself as a good person. He acted like an asshole for much of his life, but he’s come a long way since then, and doesn’t treat anyone like dirt—unless they truly deserve it. Now, he’s about to fuck a fourteen old, but he’s not that much older, right? Maybe it’s not as bad. His parents dated when his mom was sixteen and his dad was twenty-eight, that’s messed up.
“Sure, can we get on with it? You’re killing my boner here.”
Steve wants to argue that she very clearly doesn’t have a boner, but decides to simply get a move on. Glancing up at Max once more, Steve’s intense gaze rakes over her body, taking in every curve and dip. His perfect teeth shine in as he parts his lips, cool breath ghosting over her heated flesh.
Steve blinks rapidly, momentarily disoriented as Max grips his hair forcibly, wanting him to get his tongue in her as soon as possible. He shakes his head, trying to clear the lingering haze of lust.
Slowly, purposely, Steve leans in, dragging the flat of his tongue along Max’s slit in a long, slow lick. He moans at the taste of her arousal, a low and approving rumble in his chest. His hands come up to grip her thighs, thumbs rubbing slowly, teasing circles into the sensitive skin.
He focuses his attention on her clit, sucking the sensitive nub between his lips. Tongue swirls around the hardened bud, flicking and teasing, coaxing more of her essence to the surface. He laps at Max greedily, drinking down every drop of her sweet nectar.
Fingers delve between her folds and inside of her, stroking and curling to hit that special spot deep inside. He works Max skillfully, determined to bring her to the peak of ecstasy.
There’s nothing quite as good as the first taste of a new girl on his tongue. Glancing up at her through hooded eyes, Steve’s voice is a seductive murmur against Max’s heated flesh, “You taste so good.”
Steve’s eyes flash with a wicked, triumphant light at Max’s desperate, wanton plea. A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest as he pulls away from her abruptly, leaving Max aching. Before she can protest, Steve gets up, looming over her with a hungry gaze.
“No,” Max whines. “Why’d you stop?”
“I’m just getting started,” Steve practically purrs. He trails a finger down her heaving chest, pulling her top down and exposing her small breasts. He wastes no time circling a nipple before pinching lightly the sensitive nub.
Steve’s head dips down, dull teeth and soft lips and tongue lavishing Max’s breasts with attention. He leaves at the marks on her throat, licking the sweat from her skin before sucking hard, leaving a vivid, throbbing bruise. His tongue swirls around a nipple before drawing it into his hot mouth, sending jolts of electricity straight to Max’s core.
Steve’s hand delves between Max’s thighs, grazing her sensitive folds, teasing her swelling clit. Two long fingers enter knuckle-deep inside her dripping cunt, pumping in and out unceremoniously, curling to stroke that secret spot that makes her back arch off the door.
Fingers grab Max’s ass as his other hand works inside her merciful; lips and teeth marking every inch of her skin he can reach. Steve’s determined to drive Max to the brink of madness with pleasure. Her body writhes against him, hips bucking wildly.
“That’s it, fall apart for me,” Steve gasps against her skin, his fingers never ceasing their delicious rhythm.
Max does it almost on command, trembling against him. The small sound she makes sends a shiver through him. Steve can’t believe he gets to have this. To think he almost skipped the party, convincing himself he was above all this.
Steve slowly withdraws his deft fingers from inside Max, bringing them to his lips to taste her sweet essence. His tongue darts out, savoring her flavor before pulling her close and claiming her mouth in another kiss. Steve’s hands roam Max’s curves, gripping her hips possessively as he deepens the kiss, his hardness pressing against her.
Breaking the kiss, he spins Max around and bends her over the marble sink. The chill of the surface against her skin makes her gasp. Steve’s hands slide up her thighs, hiking her skirt up to her waist, exposing her bare, glistening pussy.
“Shit,” Steve blurts, freezing mid-motion. “I don’t have a condom.”
He hadn’t planned for this. Lately, the idea of hooking up felt like something that happened to other people. Every time he’d tried, it ended the same: awkward smiles, polite excuses, or laughter that wasn’t nearly as kind as it pretended to be. Eventually, he just... stopped trying.
Max, though, barely reacts. She nods toward the cabinet drawers. “There’s probably one in there. Just in case.”
Steve hesitates for half a second, then sighs and pulls his hands from her, his skin missing the contact already. Be responsible, he tells himself. Don’t impregnate the fourteen-year-old.
He rummages through the drawer, half-expecting to come up empty, when his fingers brush the familiar foil packet. “Yes!” he says, way too loud.
Max’s snort answers him. He doesn’t even have to look to know she’s rolling her eyes at him.
Steve makes a quick work of freeing his throbbing dick from its confines and groans as he puts the condom on. Then, he’s grabbing Max’s hips and all of the control he barely had slips away as he positions himself behind her, the heat of his body enveloping her. His breath comes fast and hard, heart pounding with anticipation as he rubs the thick head of his cock against her slick folds, teasing her. With a slow thrust of his hips, he drives forward inside her tight, wet heat, a guttural moan escaping from both their lips at the sensation.
It’s hard to hold himself back and not sheath himself into her fully. Steve’s not one to brag about his size—alright, that’s a lie. He does brag when he gets the chance, but he understands it could be painful, especially for someone Max’s size.
She, however, doesn’t seem to care. “Are you gonna fucking move or what?”
Steve snorts. “Sorry for trying to be a gentleman.”
He’d screwed up a lot of things in his life. Was never a great student, or boyfriend, or even much of a son—not that his parents ever seemed to notice. But he knows how to treat a lady right.
Steve’s an expert on how to angle his thrusts to hit that sweet spot inside Max that makes her see stars, his dick filling and stretching her deliciously. One hand grips her hip, while the other slides around to her front, finding her clit and rubbing it in tight, circling motions. His fingers work in tandem with his thrusts, pushing her closer to another orgasm.
(The Harrington Special, Tommy called it once.)
He leans over, chest pressing against her back, hot breath tickling her ear and neck. “Max, baby, you feel so good around me.”
His hips never falter, driving into her again and again, the obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the bathroom. Max’s so responsive, she tightens around him, body tensing as her climax approaches. Steve smirks, knowing he has her right on the brink.
His body tenses as he feels his own release building, his thrusts becoming more urgent and erratic. Not yet, he thinks. With a grunt of frustration, Steve slows his movements, taking deep breaths to regain control.
Panting harshly, he grips Max’s hips tighter, pulling her back onto his cock as he grinds against her, stirring his length inside her fluttering walls. “Fuck, I’m close,” he swears under his breath.
Max’s body trembles as the intense waves of her climax crash over her. She cries out in ecstasy as she comes undone. His fingers never stop circling her clit. They draw out each aftershock until she’s left a quivering, mewling mess. Her inner walls clamp down around him like a vice, fluttering and pulsing as the orgasm consumes her.
Steve groans, the sensation of Max’s release around his sensitive flesh pushes him over the edge and he gives into the urge by burying himself deep and flooding the condom with his seed.
He barely gets the chance to savor the moment when Max laughs, a little stunned and a lot impressed. “Shit, Harrington, where have you been hiding this side of you?”
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, rolling his eyes as he eases his softening dick from inside her with a reluctant groan. He ties off the condom and tosses it into the trash.
Max props herself up on her elbows, looking over her shoulders with a sly smirk. “Fine,” she says. “Can we go to your place now? I bet your heated pool is very nice this time of night.”
“Eh, what the hell,” Steve says. “Let’s go.”
The inevitable regret and worry can be tomorrow’s problem.