Charles likes to bite.
he bites his lips for a long time before he says something important. he bites his nails when he is nervous. he bites his pen when he stops writing. he bites the tip of his tongue when he laughs.
Max notices it quickly. he collects every detail and stores it in the back of his mind.
until they start to date. suddenly, Charles begins to bite Max.
the first time it happens, Max doesn't even realise it, only managing to say "What?..." before a light kiss lands on the bite. Charles laughs, Max lets it go.
the second time proves to hurt more. they are cuddling on the couch in the evening when Charles bites him sharply on his collarbone. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Max frowns, but there's no anger in his voice. Charles laughs again. Max exhales and pulls him closer.
Charles bites him when he's happy. it's always a faint gentle bite, just the very lips. sometimes Max doesn't even know which is a kiss and which is a bite. boundary is blurred. Max gets used to it.
Charles bites him when he's upset. usually it hurts a little more. it feels bittersweet. Max can feel the wetness on his neck when Charles presses the cold tip of his nose against it, covers the skin with his moist lips and bites until the spot is bloody and dark. Max doesn't resist, letting his lover leave his marks.
Charles bites him when he wants attention. usually he claws at his skin and doesn't leave until Max turns to him with eyebrows raised in question. at times like this, Max allows himself to ignore a little. he's given a chance to play, and he takes it. the important thing is not to cross the limit, or it will hurt. but Max likes it. maybe he's a bit of a masochist.
Charles bites him when he's excited. bites him when he's horny. bites him when he's delighted, when he's annoyed, when he's cheerful and when he's grieving, when he's desperate and when he’s drunk, when he's enjoying himself, when he's in love.
Charles bites and bites and bites. Max suspects there is no longer a place on his body that has never been bitten. Max start to think that at some point he adopted a third cat.
it becomes part of the their routine. a bite on the edge of his jaw before a morning kiss. a bite on his earlobe when they go to bed. a bite on his collarbone in the shower, on his neck after breakfast, on his bicep during a FIFA game, on his fingertips when he feeds him junk food, on his knee in the evening peace, on his nipple...
and then they fight.
the reason is stupid, but neither of them wants to make concessions. they don't speak for a couple of days days, still staying in the same flat. they eat at different times, lock themselves in their rooms, try not to cross paths in the corridor and take a cat each. Max sleeps on the couch, even though it's his flat.
he'll say he's just tired of spending the nights on the uncomfortable sofa in the living room, but on the third day he walks over to Charles while he's making breakfast, snuggles up against his back, interlocking his arms around his waist and rests his chin on Charles' shoulder, pressing the cheek against cheek.
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
"It was stupid."
"You're stupid."
there's no resentment in his voice, no desire to hurt. these are just words that don't carry an insult. it's more like their usual bickering. but Max will pretend to be offended. he squeezes Charles' waist a little tighter, fingertips tickling sides. Charles laughs.
and then Max bites.
