Chapter Text
« Rahhh! » Charles's cry of despair echoed through the local offices. People in the room turned their heads around several times while casting questioning glances. But it also earned him a sigh from Pierre.
He raised his head, ready to ask what was going on, but Charles beat him to it, answering with a tone full of anger and frustration.
« I hate him! Can you believe that just as I was about to finish my article, he asked me to start over? Who does that?! »
Pierre replied with a monotonous voice. « Apparently, Max.» This response earned him a dark look from Charles.
Max had been part of the local group for four years already. He climbed the ranks until he became a floor supervisor, and much to Charles's dismay, he had to work on his own floor. Pierre, on the other hand, arrived two years ago and Charles barely a year ago, officially. They quickly became friends and supported each other through crises of this kind.
To make matters worse, their supervisor must have Charles in her sights in addition to being a tyrant towards him.
When Charles was having arrived as an intern, while Max was not yet a supervisor but just an employee, he took a clever... pleasure keeping Charles running around in all directions. And it didn't stop when he got his promotion. On the contrary, it got worse.
At each presentation of articles, they are validated by a superior - the closest one - and every time Charles had it checked, he always lingered on tiny details of absolutely nothing while other presentations much worse than his were validated in the blink of an eye.
Deep down, Charles knew why he acted that way towards him. Max only acted that way with him.
« I spent so much time on this presentation ! I pulled all-nighters, missed breakfasts, I even missed Top Chef one night to work on it intensively ! » complained Charles, in a whiny voice.
« What a tragedy, » Pierre replied in a tone that mixture of fatigue and exasperation.
« Anyway, I don’t really care about his opinion, I mean, have you seen his style of dress? Always the same white shirt with the same black tie and the same pants: black and skinny no less, I mean, it’s the worst possible combination for pants. »
So focused on his tirade, he hadn't noticed Pierre's eyes that indicated clearly to shut up and before he could continue, a throat clearing was heard.
« Glad to see you're paying a lot of attention to my trousers. » His voice was hoarse but also cheerful.
At that moment, Charles had known two things. First, he knew that Max had a mocking smile that was twisting his lips and second, he was surely going to get fired.
He did not turn around immediately; he let time pass before finally facing his superior.
The first thing he thought was confirmed; the face of that bastard was adorned with that mocking smile that characterized him so well.
Max wasted no time in speaking. « You'll come to my office at the end of your day. » Charles swallowed hard. The second thing he'd thought would be confirmed by the end of his day: he'd be fired.
When his phone vibrated, Pierre's message appeared : good luck!
Night had already fallen, the full moon had risen, and Pierre had left the premises hours ago, like most of the other employees. He was now alone on that floor.
Charles spent the rest of the afternoon lamenting and sighing deeply that he shouldn't have opened his mouth. In response, Pierre simply glanced at his friend's plight with a hint of irritation at his overreaction.
The Frenchman had explained to him that it wasn't going to be so bad and that he was probably exaggerating, but Pierre wasn't in his element. He didn't know everything Max had put him through during his internship.
Finally, Charles took a deep breath, turned off his computer, and mustered all his courage to walk to Max's office door. For a split second, Charles thought he should just turn around, leave the building, and never set foot in it again, but that idea quickly vanished when he thought about his salary and how difficult it would be to find another job for the next day.
He knocked, waited, and heard that voice calling him in. Charles grabbed the handle, opened the door, and stepped into the office.
The room was dimly lit, with only the moonlight illuminating it through the building's bay windows. It contained two sofas, one facing the other, with a coffee table in the middle. The arrangement was effective in creating a comfortable and welcoming atmosphere. Further on stood the owner's desk and chair, and just behind them were cabinets that undoubtedly held papers and files.
Max was at his desk, on his computer, paying him absolutely no attention. The blue light emitted by his computer reflected off his face, giving him a complexion as cold as ice, like the irises of his eyes, and surely like the composition of his heart.
Charles was in the center of the room, facing the desk, waiting to be spoken to. Behind him were the sofas; thinking about them, he just wanted to grab a cushion and suffocate himself with it. He chuckled at his thought and eventually caught Max's attention.
« What’s so funny? » Max asked, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, Charles stiffened and did anything to avoid his gaze. The seated man rose from his chair and walked around the desk before slumping back down and crossing his arms while scrutinizing Charles with his eyes.
The muscles in his arms were tense beneath his sleeves. « You're suddenly quiet; you were talking a lot more just a moment ago, » he mocked. Charles said nothing because he knew it was true.
« Have you lost your tongue? » No answer; the heavy silence stretched on. « Or maybe you're still mad at me about the article. »
And that's it. That's what rekindled the flame of his anger. This anger that had suddenly switched off hours earlier after having been priced caught red-handed, in the middle of a fashion critique.
« Yes, I think it’s unfair! I had finished everything, and then you came along, took a look, and asked me to start all over again. Do you know how much time I’ve spent on it? » the employee asked furiously.
Max stared at him for a long time, still with that mischievous glint in his eyes. « From what I've heard, you must have missed Top Chef, right? »
Damn, he'd even heard that. His cheeks began to burn with shame, his stomach knotted. He wished he were anywhere in the world but in this office.
« I...» Charles began, stammering. Max cut him off instantly, brushing aside his attempt with a wave of his hand.
« In fact, he marked a break. I understand why you're frustrated about missing your show; after all, you're a terrible cook. » It sounded harsh, but it was entirely true. Once, he'd been asked to make a sandwich for the evening meeting and he'd completely messed it up by confusing mayonnaise and mustard.
Faced with the silence, Max continued proudly. « And besides, your presentation would have been better if you'd paid a lot less attention to my clothes. » His voice was mocking; he was clearly amused by the situation.
His barbs got to Charles more than he cared to admit. He'd expected honesty. After all, Max had always been very cached. This earned him several reprimands from his superiors, but it must be admitted that, despite his lack of tact, he was one of the best in the department.
« I just think it’s unfair, » Charles finally managed to say, his tongue loosened. Max hummed softly, as if he were enjoying his complaining. Hearing that little hum, his rage crystallized. This man had some nerves. He had nerves and he was full of arrogance.
« Stop complaining and accept it. » The corners of his lips gradually eroded Charles's composure. He had tried, oh how he had tried, to remain a semblance of calm to explain himself; after all, the ball wasn’t in his court, but Max had a knack for stirring up the worst feelings in him.
Charles was about to retort sharply, but Max spoke first.
« Well, that's what I should be saying as your supervisor. » Max loosened his tie and ran a hand through his ash-blond hair. He straightened up and moved away from the desk to be closer to Charles. « But I want to tell you, go ahead and keep looking at me; after all, that's what you've always done. »
« What?! » Charles demanded, offended and indignant at the remark. It was as if he’d just been dumped with a bucket of water, and Charles shivered as if he’d been soaked. It was true that he often observed Max, but for purely professional purposes. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
« You’ve always looked at me, but in a very particular way. Your gaze is different from others. They all look at me as if they want to be me, but you, you look at me as if you want to belong to me. »
That sentence stopped him in his tracks. He might have been looking at him a little longer than necessary, but firstly, he didn't suspect he'd been caught, and secondly, his gaze didn't signify anything about what Max had just said.
Before he could even reply, he felt fingers on his waist whichs’encraient as if they had always belonged there. The proximity allowed Charles to smell Max's cologne, which made him donnadizziness for a fraction of a second.
« And that's been the case since your internship. » He did not back away. In fact, he was frozen. All his muscles tensed like a thread about to break.
« What's wrong with you, has all your arrogance vanished? » Charles won't let that destabilize him. Maybe it's true but he won't admit it easily.
Several seconds passed. He finally raised his head, fixed his gaze on his supervisor, and regained his voice. « I've always looked at you with hatred, » the dark-haired man said, stammering slightly.
Charles expected Max's face to crumble at this sharp reply, but instead, his smile spread across his face, clearly highlighting his amusement. His expression spoke volumes without saying a word. He felt as if Max could read him like an open book.
« At the beginning, yes, there was hatred, he leaned a little closer to him and whispered close to his ear, but then there was something else. » Max didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to; they both knew what he was talking about.
When his supervisor stood up to his full height, the tension was electric, and a heavy silence reigned. Charles felt like everything was about to explode at any moment.
They stared at each other. Charles made the mistake of looking down at Max's lips. Max noticed—of course he noticed—and moistened his upper lip, licking at the same time that mole that had been bothering the brunet for months.
The barrier finally gave way to this gesture. The smaller boy lunged at the blond's lips. He slid his hand behind the supervisor's neck and intertwined his fingers with short strands of hair. He felt Max's rough hand on his cheek, a constant presence and a lingering warmth. It was like fireworks; sensations, sounds, and a racing heartbeat.
When they finally walked away, one kept his eyes closed for a few moments while the other had his irises swallowed by his pupils.
Charles didn't want to open his eyes; he was too afraid to face what he had just done. His cheeks were still burning, but not for the same reason. He lowered his head, trying to hide his shame and his desire.
Max's little laugh echoed in the office; it wasn't his usual laugh, no, this one was different...more pleasant to the ear.
With his hand, he gently lifted Charles's head and kissed him again. His kiss was different from Charles's; it was almost wild. The smaller boy's hands were gripping Max's shirt tightly, crumpling it like a handkerchief in winter.
The supervisor led his employee to the sofa, tearing off his shirt as he did so. Buttons flew across the room, but Charles paid no attention. He felt a breeze on his abdomen but also felt that his shirt was still on his shoulders.
Then, Max unbuttoned his trousers because, like his shirt, he hadn't taken them off yet.
Max's knees hit the sofa and he sat up, breaking the kiss, then pulled Charles towards him. The brunet's knees encircled the blond's thighs. For a few seconds, they looked at each other, but Charles could feel Max's arousal against his thigh. He was fighting back the moan that threatened to escape, biting his lip.
Max seemed to notice but said nothing. Instead, he tucked a strand of hair behind Charles's ear. The gesture was made with such care that it unnerved the brunet completely and let out a broken sound.
To him, Max was someone who knew nothing of gentleness and care. He had proven it for weeks and months, but that hand, so large and rough, treated him like a treasure. He felt cherished for the first time in a long time.
Charles, with a trembling hand, removed his supervisor's tie. The silk slipped between his index finger and thumb, falling onto one of the cushions to the side. His gaze lingered on the tie. Why, of all the people on Earth, did it have to be his supervisor who gave him butterflies?
Unlike Max, Charles took his time to unbutton the tallest man's white shirt, trying his best to control his restless body. Little by little, pale, smooth skin appeared. His eyes widened at the sight of such soft skin. He caressed it with his fingertips, completely mesmerized. His uncles encountered nothing in their path; the area was free and clear.
His fingers were tracing invisible lines on his chest, slowly rising to the blond man's broad shoulders. His gaze followed his own fingers tracing Max's body as the latter watched him with an amused and patient expression. His movements stopped when he noticed the blond man's sly smile.
« What? » His voice came out like a rusty chain with a higher note, like an instrument that hadn’t been played in a long time. Max's eyes narrowed. « Nothing. » Charles frowned; how he hated him when he put on that smug look.
Charles thrust his hips forward, undulating against Max's stomach, their erections meeting in each other's paths. Max let out a low moan, and the dark-haired man's grin spread across his lips. It vanished almost instantly when the taller man pinned him against the sofa, now dominating him like a king.
His breath caught in his throat as his back hit the cushions. His hair floated and scattered above his misty eyes. A vengeful smile now hung on the blond man's face. But it tightened as Charles began to squirm beneath him.
« What is it? » Charles stopped moving at the sound of the voice. It betrayed a concern that was perhaps genuine; Charles couldn't say for sure.
« Nothing…» Max scrutinized him the way he did when he was looking at his article that he’d called “boring.” « It’s just that the missionary position is classic…» he admitted, seeing the intensity of the gaze. The words hung in the air as soon as he uttered them. And then, Max's laughter pierced the air.
« Sir has his requirements, but don't worry, it's just so I can get you ready. » He didn't respond to the barb because his brain remained stuck on the last part of the sentence. He didn't have time to ask what he meant by that because Max effortlessly removed his denim.
He threw the trousers behind him, no longer giving them any importance, before opening the drawer of the coffee table and taking out a bottle of lubricant and a condom.
« Damn, why do you have that here?! » He was surprised but also delighted that Max had all that on hand. After all, it would come in handy. The blond hadn't even replied; he'd just given a smile that one might have thought was innocent.
Instead of explaining the whys and wherefores, he threw the bottle at him. Charles caught it just in time and...looked incredulously.
« You just have to start, » he said, beginning to pull off his famous skinny jeans himself. Charles had criticized them, but at the same time, the fabric clung so obscenely to his thighs that it was all he could see. Of course, he would never admit it.
The bottle was cold under her fingers, and so was its contents.must also being so, a beautiful contrast with the warmth in his boxer shorts.
He finally opened the bottle, but his eyes kept drifting to the man sitting in front of him. The blond man was tearing open the condom wrapper, but he must have felt his gaze on him because he turned in his direction. « What? Can't you get ready by yourself? »
Charles wanted to feign offense, but he had a better idea, one he was certain would sway Max. « I have my standards. » And that response seemed to please the taller man. After all, he liked being challenged from time to time. Especially when it was him.
He practically snatched the bottle from his hands as if he'd stolen his snack. Max hastily pulled off his boxer shorts and was now applying the lotion to his fingers.
The brunet gasped as his erection pressed against his lower abdomen. Damn, this was becoming unbearable. He didn't care at all about being in this position; he was just looking for some friction to relieve himself.
Max wore a mischievous look that didn't bode well. « You look like you need some help. » His tone was so playful it made him want to roll his eyes and give himself a headache. But right now, Charles really needed to take action, so he said nothing and continued to squirm.
His skin rubbed against the cotton of the sofa and the fibers of the cushions. His gaze avoided Max's, and he felt two large hands pinning him to the sofa. The fingers were as cold as his eyes.
« Stop fidgeting. » His voice was becoming again the same voice he used when someone disagreed with him, dark and grave like an engraving. That same voice that terrified even the oldest and most confident. Charles remembered the tone Max had used against an employee, someone who had gotten a little too comfortable with him.
The brunet stopped moving, his gaze finally meeting the blond's eyes. He drowned in it or rather, he was being sucked into two black holes. The room was frozen and the grimace that Max displayed, the liquefied entirely, was certainly better than his closed face, but the chills remained disturbing and persistent.
Max gently placed his hand on the inside of Charles's thigh. He softly caressed his skin before slowly bending the smaller boy's leg until it reached his chest. He was completely exposed, able to feel the cool air brush against his anus.
Until a finger slipped inside, eliciting a sigh of satisfaction from Charles. The cold was instantly replaced by the warmth of the intrusion. At the sound it produced, Charles clenched his teeth and closed his eyes.
The blond man began to move his fingertip, and clenching his teeth was no longer enough. Charles felt his muscles contracted around his index finger. Above him, Max was swearing and cursing in two different languages. Damn, he loved that accent !
The movement stopped gently, like when you soften the outlines of a drawing to finalize it. « Do you like my accent? » He suddenly opened his eyes, his cheeks burning even more as Max stared at him intently and with genuine curiosity. Charles groaned at this sudden interest; why did it matter so much to him?
But the damage was done; Max began talking incessantly just to provoke him. He exaggerated his pronunciation, revealing more of his origins. It was only when his penis twitched that the man on top stopped talking. Neither of them spoke, only pre-ejaculate escaped from its extremity.
« Damn, that really turns you on! » Charles groaned and impaled himself on the fingertip that had remained inert until now. If Max couldn't do it, he'd do it himself. But the more he tried to masturbate, the further Max pulled his finger back.
Charles let out a cry of frustration, raised his head, and glared at the taller man. Except that the latter, without warning,pushed in a second finger. The flashes in his eyes turned into mist as he groaned with contentment, despite his surprise.
Its walls closed automatically around these presences. Max spread his fingers in a scissor-like motion, the burning but necessary stretch keeping him in a state of ecstasy. Charles's mouth silently opened, saliva trickling discreetly from the corner of his lips.
He was so dizzy that he didn't even notice what he had retrieved in his fist.
Max ran his thumb across his chin, wiping away or spreading the drool. « You look like you're enjoying yourself, » he said, stroking his cheek. « Putain, tu ne peux pas la fermer ! » Max's hand froze over his face. « Charles, I don't understand French. »
Ah yes, that's right. All the better, he could use it later—or now. A devilish smile formed inwardly. « Ah~ Max, je veux que tu me pénètres. » His voice sounded off, but the language barrier helped considerably. He stretched out one arm, trying to grasp any patch, however small, of pale skin.
Charles frantically waved his arm as if in a hurry. The blond man, however, remained motionless, scrutinizing him with eyes as wide as ostrich eggs. His incomprehension greatly pleased the brunet, who continued his charade.
Max curled his fingers and the smaller boy's voice came out higher than before. His mask hadn't just cracked; it had fallen off as quickly as he had put it on. « Repeat everything you just said. »
Tears welled in his eyes; he parted his mouth, ready to speak, but his fingers plunged back into his orifice, reaching that sensitive spot once more. Charles stammered out his previous sentences, in an incoherent jumble of words straight from the Land of Enlightenment.
« In English. » Charles pleaded with his eyes, but Max took it as a challenge. « I have requirements too. » He knew this game would backfire. God, he was screwed. A surge of shame mingled with something else in his chest. He knew exactly what it was, and it thrilled him dangerously.
Watery, salty lines now ran down his cheeks, leaving traces of moisture behind them. « I want...you to penetrate me...» he articulated, clenching his fist tighter.
Max exuded a deceptive innocence. « So, you like my clothes after all. » He followed the direction of his gaze and finally noticed the tie his fingers were gripping like an anchor. His fingers dug into the silk as Max's sank deep into him.
He withdrew and thrust his fingers in and out again until Charles's body became a mass of limp limbs. Once all his muscles were relaxed and he was moaning without restraint, Max withdrew his fingers and wiped them against the brunet's thigh.
Charles stared silently at him as he tried to catch his breath. He was still holding the tie, with a lifeless hand.
Max stood up, and Charles smiled at the bulge he saw. It was a silly grin; he felt so proud to be the cause of it. This man wasn't as heartless as people thought, he knew. After all, Charles had already overheard him secretly bragging about his cats in such a childish way.
The blond man finally pulled down his boxers, put on the condom, and coated his penis with lubricant. Charles swallowed hard; even Max's fingers couldn't compete with the size of his cock.
With a beatific smile, Max returned between Charles's legs. He placed one leg on his shoulder while the other naturally moved to his hip. He advanced very slowly, pressing his erection against Charles's anus.
He understood perfectly well what he was doing. His voice, when it came out, was low, almost inaudible. « Max... je t’assure que si tu continues…je t’étripe...» The man above till in an instant. « In het engels, schatje. »
Charles looked at him curiously. « What did you just say? » And Max penetrated him right at the end of his question, hitting his G-spot hard. « Can you speak English again? » Charles groaned like he had hours ago at his supervisor's behavior. But hey, at least he finally had Max inside him.
He felt as if he were split in two; the feeling of fullness that washed over him filled him, and his smile confirmed it. Charles rarely smiled like that; his dimples, now clearly visible, hollowed his cheeks like a model's.
Max began to withdraw and reinsert himself, the lubricant making the back-and-forth movements very smooth. It was so clear that Max wasted no more time and increased his pace.
Charles tightened the tie as much as he could against the blows. His raised leg fell to the side, and like its twin, it wrapped around the blond man's waist. Their bodies fit together in harmony, their noises were unworthy of Beethoven's symphony and their pleasures clashed at every moment.
Max's skin was so pale it turned into a pomegranate red, Charles's had long been glowing and trembling, resignedly waiting for pleasure to hit him like a bucket of water.
The taller man pushed his way through until their faces were together. There was only a thin ring in their eyes. Max gazed at every inch of Charles's face with devotion, and then he leaned closer.
How annoying it is to drag out the pleasure! Charles raising the tie was tucked behind Max's neck before he finally pulled the silk with both hands, sealing their fate. During this French ritual, Charles could feel Max's smile against his lips.
He himself was smiling, but that expression broke when Max sank down again, undulating his hips vehemently transformed into a chorus of drunken moans. He was intoxicated by the turn of events.
So drunk that he sat up and scoreboard Max was leaning against the back of the sofa like Luther with his theses. Charles was moaning without any restraint anymore; luckily they were alone on that floor.
Max chuckled to himself. « You're getting your confidence back. » Charles rolled his eyes but kissed him again. The blond's fingers lingered on his hips, hot and firm on his skin. Rooted it to him with barely concealed possessiveness.
He leaned on Max's shoulders, lifting himself up slowly and gently. Max watched him, such as one venerates a god; the stars in his orbits sparkled, his touch remained soft and light as a feather, and the shivers that ran through his flesh were a reaction earthquake.
Charles finally collapsed, his full weight on the penis, with a long gasp. His breath settled on the blond man's lips. This intimacy, so fragile though it was, was precious; deep down, he knew it. And Max must have felt it too.
It wasn't as if he could make out black eyes desire of the greatest. His own pupils couldn't have been in any better condition. Just as dark and greedy as a starving dreamer, he began to ride him again.
The sound of their skin echoed in the office, perhaps even throughout the entire floor. Accompanied by a profusion of moans and excessive grunts, the building lived to the vibrations of their voices.
Max lifted his hips, plunging deep into the younger man's opening. The angle being ten times better, Charles was practically in seventh heaven. His penis rubbed against the blond's abs in such a subtle way. He accelerated his thrusts, now only a hair's breadth from reaching climax, but...
« Charlie…slows down…! »
The nickname surprised Charles, and Max in profit immediately. He gripped his hips, holding him firmly against him. His arms link his back in such a tough way that Charles knew it was pointless to struggle.
Charles detained his whole body in that embrace; he buried his head in Max's neck, breathing irregularly, with his penis still wedged between their bellies. « I already told you not to call me that...» he muttered, his words muffled by his lover's skin.
His head jerked back in a hearty laugh, bursting out at full volume. « But it suits you so well! » His tone was so childish and plaintive that it was almost endearing.
Charles finally returned the hug, bitterly accepting his defeat. « Fine, but I forbid you to call me that in public. » Max quickly raised his head, finding his gaze. His eyes smiled and his lips lifted in genuine relief.
« I knew you liked it! » His statement was half true; let’s just say he’d learned to live with it. Max had nicknamed him that since his internship, since the USB drive incident, just to annoy him. At first, it worked; now it only gave him a feeling deep in his stomach.
The smaller man nodded, without much conviction, because for the moment he was just looking to enjoy himself. He was actually about to complain when Max penetrated him fully, with a sharp and effective thrust, hitting his swollen muscle squarely.
Charles dug his nails into the blond's shoulders, clawing at him like an animal. A silent scream escaped his lips, but Max continued, almost indifferent to the distortion of his lips.
He bounced frantically on the hard member. He thanked Max for having lubricant, even though he still didn't understand why he had it there. His prostate was now being hammered with each thrust, bringing him closer to the edge.
« Better than the missionary position, huh ? » Max asked jovially. His only response was moans. « I think I understood your answer. » Damn, he would have wanted to rip that smile off his face if he wasn't so aroused.
He persisted again and again, his pleasure affluent growing stronger and stronger within him, and his body reacted accordingly; his thighs contracted, his toes curled, his nails planted, the respiration became jerky and his eyes revolted.
When the fever rose to his face, sweat streamed down his body and his orgasm transcended him. Immaculate streams gushed forth abundantly, soiling everything in their path as his orifice tightened around the penis.
Max whistled, sucking his teeth as he tried his best to watch the debauchery he himself had caused. He didn't move for a minute, trying to recover from his own ejaculation.
For a moment, their breaths intertwined heavily, as Charles lay there, his muscles completely numb. The next moment, Max removed and Charles moaned softly. He tied the condom, stood up and threw it in the trash can at the foot of his desk.
From where he was, he could see the blond man's muscular physique; the curve of his back, his luscious buttocks, and his fleshy thighs. My god, his smile must have given him away.
« Be careful, you’ll prick your dimples smiling so hard. » A humorless laugh escaped his lips. « You love my dimples! » Max’s laugh mingled with his, before he confirmed it with a simple « Mm, I do. »
Charles watched him with satisfaction, reopened the coffee table drawer, and took out some wipes and delicately placed the towels on his torso and chest, like a massage that makes us forget everything.
To get him out a new one and the raisin this time on his face. The contact was a welcome breath of fresh air. The dampness of the towel absorbed his sweat like a sponge, and Max looked at him with a tenderness that tightened her chest.
It was melting under his so focused eyes, its little flame shone in the moonlight and its sweet smile made the office radiate, it was like ablaze.
Charles was watching him with amusement when he took a blanket out of the coffee table. « Good heavens, is this table bottomless?! » Max looked at him as if he had just insulted those cats and then timidly wrapped him in the blanket.
The brunet it's a joke comfortably in the fabric. « And why do you have all these things here? » Max scratched the back of his neck and looked down at the floor, clearly more interested in the carpet at his feet.
« I've had them since your internship. » Charles stared at him, completely dumb founded. « It's not my fault you're always around. » Had he just implied that...Oh my god...!
A blush crept up his cheeks. « Wow, I knew I was having an effect, but I didn't think it would be this bad. » Max rolled his eyes mischievously. « I was just waiting for the right moment. »
Charles chuckled at his attitude. « I see, I see...» Max snatched the blanket from him to cover himself. « Don't take that tone with me, Charlie. » And his laughter intensified at this threat as he snuggled up to the blond, humming softly.
« You seem to have forgiven me for the article. » The younger boy's eyes remained closed as he replied, « No, I'm still angry with you, and to make it completely your forgiveness, you'll have to watch Top Chef with me. »
Max kissed his cheek. « That's fine with me. Your place or mine? » Charles thought for a moment, sighing, half-dazed by the kisses. « My place. I need a new shirt. »
He nodded in the dim light. « If your shirt is too worn, I have my jacket. » Charles agreed with a sound that the sound barrier couldn't pick up.