#monster!max

All things considered, this has the potential to be a bad choice.

Alternatively, this could be the best choice you’ve ever made and result in hot office sex. Possibly with the addition of horns if Max is feeling extra risky. Only time will tell. You’re definitely hoping for the latter.

The elevator finally stops moving, a happy ding! announcing your arrival on Max’s floor. Stepping out you find yourself… disappointed. With Max’s eclectic but beautifully designed apartment, you expected something similar with his offices. In your mind it had been immaculately decorated, large, open floor plan, like something ripped from the set of a trashy unrealistic show off The CW. This is anything but. In fact, it’s even worse than your own offices. At least you have enough natural sunlight for a plant at your desk.

The walls are a dingy gray, the carpet looking like it hasn’t been replaced since the nineties. Cubicles more depressing than your own can be seen through the door of the small lobby, which has a strange smell you hope to never discover the origin of. There’s a shockingly bright piece of corporate art across from the receptionist’s desk, which you feel might have been placed there in a terrible attempt to make the place seem cheery. It only serves to set your teeth on edge. You’re half convinced this isn’t Max’s office at all.

“Hi, can I help you?” The receptionist calls over to you. She must have noticed your confused expression at walking into an office straight out of a trashy horror flick.

“Um, yeah, I’m here to see Max Phillips?” If your hands weren’t full you would have crossed your fingers, praying that she says Max is another floor up or something.

Your dreams are immediately crushed. She perks right up at his name. “Oh! Do you want me to call him up here for you?” Her hand is poised over the phone, waiting for your answer.

“No, no, that’s okay. I was actually hoping to surprise him, if you could just point me in the direction of his office?” You’re really hoping there isn’t some protocol that requires him to come up here. It will still be a surprise but then you wouldn’t get to see that cute little look on his face when he realizes you’ve done something nice for him.

The receptionist points at the door leading further into the offices. “Go through there, turn right, and his office will be at the very end of the hall. You can’t miss it.”

You really wish she would blink. With her plastered-on smile, chipper attitude, and perfectly lacquered nails it feels like you’re talking with a robot rather than a person. Her hand finally drops when you take a hesitant step towards the door. “Thank you,” you uncertainly offer.

“No problem!”

Stepping into the office space is no better. You make a note in the back of your mind to message Sami and let him know how much worse things could be than your few inches too small cubes. The mysterious smell from the lobby thankfully dissipates, only to be replaced by the high pitched hum of fluorescent lighting. With every passing moment you understand why Max prefers working from home rather than in this little hellhole. Maybe you can convince him to come home with you at the end of this visit.

You only make it halfway down the hallway before someone feels compelled to stop you. And touch your shoulder. Gross.

“Excuse me? Can I help you?”

Turning around you come face to face with someone you never expected to see again. Evan Sanders. The last time you saw him you were both pimple faced middle schoolers but there’s no mistaking him. He hasn’t changed all that much really, losing the aforementioned pimples as well as his braces but for some mystifying reason keeping the same hairstyle. You suppose it works for a business setting, but between that and his ill-fitted suit he could do better.

He seems to recognize you as well, squinting slightly before saying your name with a bit of disbelief. You don’t really want to talk to him, but you figure for the sake of social niceties you should. Max probably wouldn’t but then again he’s a vampire and people call him an asshole so that’s probably not the right course of action here. Lame.

“Hi Evan. Long time no see,” you greet.

“Yeah no kidding, how are you? What are you up to these days?”

“Not much, just trying to get by.” It would probably be polite to ask that question in return, but the answer is kind of obvious. He works here in this weird, dark dungeon of an office space.

This is already tiring. You didn’t come here to reconnect with a middle school acquaintance. You came here to be a good girlfriend and potentially live out a little fantasy of yours. No shame in that. Max certainly doesn’t have any when he asks you to dress up in ridiculous slutty little outfits – not that you’re complaining about that either. You’re still waiting for him to pull out the Megara costume. You know he has it and he’s talked about how much he likes her attitude too much recently for it not to make an appearance sometime soon. You wonder if he’ll go for a Hercules or Hades look to match it.

Evan is saying something and you know you should be listening but you’re already so bored. If you remember right the last time you saw him you kicked him in the shins. The specific reason why escapes you now, but you’re starting to remember. This is just so weird. You haven’t seen each other since you were thirteen and now he’s going to pretend like the two of you had been good friends? You just want to deliver Max his “coffee” and kisses, not be involved in whatever this is.

Evan assumes that stance men do when they’re getting ready to settle into a long conversation – legs slightly spread, arms folded casually over his chest. Maybe he’ll mindlessly follow if you continue to take slow steps down the hallway.

You finally tune back into what he’s saying. “So what are you doing here? I wasn’t aware we had any open positions.”

He’s eyeing you carefully now, as though he’s trying to catch you in some sort of a lie. You want to laugh. If you had come here for an interview you would have peeked out the elevator and taken the long trip back down to the lobby. After seeing if they would validate your parking – the prices they charge are practically theft.

“I’m not here to interview, just here to give my boyfriend a surprise visit.” Evan does not get the hint that you’d like to get on with that surprise. You wish you could kick him like you did in middle school again.

“That’s nice of you. Who’s your boyfriend?”

Maybe Evan’s job here is office inquisitor. It feels like it with the game of twenty questions you’ve suddenly embarked on with him. Who even holds a conversation like this? Clearly when one person is barely reciprocating it’s time to end it and move on with your days.

“Max Phillips.”

You can’t say you anticipated the way that answer would twist Evan’s face up. He looks like he just put three warheads in his mouth on a dare only to feel his cheek skin immediately peeling away. That endeavor wasn’t worth the five bucks you made off of it.

Evan’s hand is suddenly on your arm, tugging you to the relative not-privacy along the wall of the hallway.

“You need to break up with him.”

“Excuse me?”

Evan looks around the office, trying to see if anyone is listening in. He lowers his voice, leaning in towards you as he speaks. “He’s not- he’s not a good person.”

You roll your eyes. You know Max has a bit of a reputation but this is ridiculous. Despite his attitude with others, which is admittedly a work in progress, he’s treated you better than any other guy you’ve ever dated. He’s attentive, caring, and he sets your heart on fire with just the smallest of glances. You would have to be insane to give any of that up.

“I know Max isn’t everyone’s favorite, but that’s horrible to say,” you snap at him.

Evan casts another nervous look over his shoulder. “No, what I mean is- he’s not- he isn’t human.”

It’s impossible to hide your shock. He knows. Evan knows about Max and he’s apparently very willing to spill that secret. Thankfully he interprets your shock as you not knowing in the first place.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to know. You have to break up with him before he tries to eat you or something worse.”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not even a funny quip about how you like when he eats you or to ask one of the thousands of questions you have, as Max’s voice is suddenly filling the office air.

“Hey slugger, you finish those reports… yet?”

Max trails off once he registers that it’s you standing there with Evan and not another coworker. His eyes flash red as he takes in the scene before him and that finally triggers your own realization. Evan, this Evan, is The Evan that Max bitches about day in and day out. Whatever you just stepped in is decidedly not good.

The already long moment continues to linger and you decide to cut the tension. “Surprise!”

A smile slips onto Max's face but it's flimsy. To anyone else it might be convincing, but you know the difference between his real and fake smiles and this is the most put upon one you've ever seen. "Babe, what are you doing here?" he asks you.

"My office randomly closed for the day, so I thought I'd surprise you. I brought you some coffee."

You know Max knows it's not coffee. He can most certainly smell the AB- you squirted into the cup like you were emptying a macabre Capri-Sun. What you don't need is for Evan to know it's not coffee. Despite his apparent knowledge of Max's non-human status it seems like an unnecessary added stressor right now.

"You didn't have to do that, babe." Oh you hate this. Between the fake smile and the seeming condescension you are horribly reminded of one of your exes. It’s an incredibly unflattering comparison. The worst part is you're nearly certain this whole persona has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the long lost schoolmate currently standing between you and Max.

"So what are you two chatting about?" Max asks with a syrupy cheer, carefully eyeing you both over the rim of his cup.

"Just doing a little catching up," Evan unhelpfully explains. Of course he has to offer a terrible, ambiguous answer. It seems purposeful too, a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth while Max's nostrils flare.

You cut in before he can do more damage. "We went to middle school together. Honestly I forgot Evan existed before I saw him here," you say with a forced laugh.

Was that a bitchy thing to say? Yes, of course. Do you feel bad about it? Not in the slightest. It isn’t even a lie. Max and Evan's beef is between them, not you, and his attempt to use you against your own boyfriend warrants retaliation anyway. You know Sami will agree when you tell him about this later and that's all you need to justify it.

Despite your clear barb at Evan, Max's demeanor doesn't change. He doesn't even offer a glance in your direction as you move to stand beside him. In all your time with Max you've never felt more ignored – his hatred for the other man overshadowing everything else.

“You know Max, given your condition, I’m surprised you’re capable of having a girlfriend,” Evan says. The subtext comes across loud and clear. Another day, another time, you’d be jumping to his defense but Evan knowing still has you so off kilter that words fail you completely.

“Mine is more manageable than yours,” Max replies. “How’s the free Phallisite sample working out?”

Evan’s face turns a bright red. It’s not hard to guess what Phallisite is for and regardless of whether or not his use of it is true, the comment has gotten under his skin.

Now you remember why you kicked him – you had been making good on the promise of giving him something to cry about when he wouldn’t stop whining about how unfair the kickball teams were. Not the time to dwell on it though.

“When are you going to stop pretending, Max?”

Max gives a short little laugh, rolling his eyes. “Pretending about what?”

Honestly at this point, you’re surprised you haven’t seen heads peeking from behind the cubicles. You know you would be if there was a heated conversation like this one occurring only a few steps away from your desk. Either arguments like these are a common enough occurrence that no one is entertained by them anymore, or this office is filled with workers who are better than you.

“Pretending like you’re normal somehow. It’s pathetic and now you’re dragging other people into it to make yourself feel better?” he asks, staring pointedly at you. “Even I didn’t think you were that much of a monster.”

Max’s eyes turn a murderous red and it’s all you can do to drag him away before Evan becomes confetti on the walls. It might not be a bad attempt at lightening up the interior design though.

Especially when taking into consideration the homicidal near-miss, you are incredibly curious as to how Evan even knows. In all of Max’s time spent complaining about Evan you just assumed it was because he was annoying and a shit worker. Seeing it before you now, it’s obvious this runs deeper.

Were they friends before? Something else? Had Evan discovered Max’s secret through a series of ridiculous coincidences and scenarios only ever before experienced on a witty sitcom? You can’t really bet on which of those could be true.

You tug Max back towards the lobby, his eyes fading back into his human appearing chocolate brown. He seems to return to his senses with the distance and moves you into the lobby.

“Are you okay?” you ask. His human visage is firmly in place again, but you can still see the anger thrumming under the surface.

Max ignores you completely. He walks over to the front desk, grabs a slip and scribbles something on it before pressing it and the coffee cup full of blood you handed him previously into your hands, and pushing you into the now open elevator.

“Max, what the hell? You can’t just ignore this and push me out of here,” you whisper furiously at him, not wanting the receptionist to overhear.

He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and steps backwards into the lobby. “Sorry, lamb. Talk later.”

The doors close, the corporate music fires back up, and you’re left with a coffee, not-coffee, and parking validation ticket in hand wondering what the fuck just happened.

You’re pacing in the living room, waiting for Max to get home from work. He’s at the office even later than normal and you swear if he’s staying there just to avoid this conversation with you, you’ll ring his immortal neck. This is not something that will get swept under the rug. This will be talked about, at length, until you are satisfied with its conclusion.

Your resolve doesn’t mean you’re looking forward to the conversation. In fact, every cell in your body is screaming to let it go. Max could come home, you could pretend there’s no issue to be dealt with, and do your best to move on. You know where that leads though – the same place it has before.

Mounting irritation. Repressed anger. Distrust. Animosity. The next problem will come along and continue to pile until you’re a year into a relationship with a person that you can hardly stand to be around. Arguments will escalate and suddenly you’re breaking up over an empty Pringles can that’s emblematic of a thousand other larger issues. The Pringles can is simply the easy one to blame it all on in the end.

This entire situation is scaring the shit out of you, but you refuse to let that happen with Max.

You finally hear the click of the door opening a few minutes after 7. Sounds of Max toeing off his shoes, hanging up his coat, and setting down his bag drift out from the hallway, freezing you in place. There’s only so much power stances and motivational pep talks can do to help you now.

Max walks into view after what feels like an eternity, his horns and wings already out on display, He’s left in his slacks and tank top undershirt, dress shirt already removed to avoid being shredded by his transformation. You don’t miss the way his wings look like they’re slung lower than usual.

He stops short, clearly not expecting you to be standing in the middle of his living room and quietly staring at him. Doing his best to recover from the awkward moment, he flashes you one of his big businessman smiles. You’ve seen it work on a variety of people, but you’re incredibly annoyed that he would attempt it on you. Just who does he think you are? Who he is? You aren’t going to fall for cheap Max is uncomfortable tricks.

“Are we going to talk about it?” you ask. You cringe a little internally. That already came off more aggressive than you wanted it to.

“Talk about what?” Max asks, making his way into the kitchen. You trail after him, stopping at the entrance and leaning against the breakfast bar. His back is turned to you, rooting around in the fridge and his wings rustle uncomfortably, a clear and obvious sign that he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

You aren’t going to have this conversation with him turned around. “Max, please look at me,” you try to say gently.

He huffs, face still buried in the fridge. “Look lamb, could we not? This merger at work is putting me under a lot of pressure and I don’t want to talk about this on top of it.”

"No."

Max's spine straightens at your answer, slowly turning to face you. "What?"

You're not sure you've ever denied Max anything, not that he's ever denied you anything either. So far your relationship has been a series of understandings and trade-offs, always making things even between the two of you. A hard no hasn’t been in either of your vocabularies up until now.

He’s pinning you in place with his eyes, the slow moving gold swirl of them becoming firm and solid. You refuse to back down. “You heard me. I said no. We’re talking about this, Max.”

This is already not the direction you’d hoped this conversation would go. Emotions were going to run high no matter what, but you imagined that the two of you could be mature about this. The discussion didn’t have to become an angry one. Then again, you didn’t expect Max to try and avoid it entirely.

“Fine then. Let’s talk,” Max says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You move back into the living room, hoping that the more comfortable setting might put you both at ease. Max follows and sinks into the single armchair. Okay, this will be a distanced conversation then. You sit at the edge of the couch, as close to him as you can get without plopping down on the floor.

You both wait for the other to speak first.

“Well?” Max prompts, an irritated look on his face. He isn’t even looking at you – pointlessly picking at the velveteen fabric on the arm of the chair.

He’s clearly not going to offer any information unless you ask directly. Summoning the courage you’ve been trying to collect since leaving Max’s office this afternoon you blurt out the question that’s been weighing heaviest on your mind. "Why didn't you tell me Evan knows?"

"Because you didn't need to know," Max replies coolly. This bullshit attitude paired with his shitty half answer is really starting to piss you off.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What it sounds like. You didn't need to know so I didn't tell you."

"Felt like I needed to know when he blindsided me today,” you spit back at him.

He finally looks you in the eye again. “Look lamb, there are a handful of people who know outside of you. I’m sorry if you thought you were super extra special or something, but I did have a life before you entered it.”

That comment digs in deep. He knew it would. While The Great Rebecca Debacle had taught you Max doesn’t go around revealing himself to people willy-nilly, you assumed there would be some others outside of yourself who knew. Past lovers, possible friends, family if he has any remaining. You don’t know for certain because Max never talks about it, but you assume they exist. It doesn’t make his comment sting any less.

“How would I know?” you find yourself saying. “You hardly ever talk about your past, only little hints here or there. For fucks sake, I don’t even know how old you are, Max. How am I supposed to handle randomly finding out someone else knows? Someone you seemingly hate.”

“I don’t know, but it seemed to me like you agreed with my dear buddy Evan today so why don’t you just do us both the favor and tell me what you really think. Then you can stop pretending.”

In a flash, the argument twists in a way you never saw coming. Where the hell did that come from? Throwing Evan’s words at you rather than finding some of his own. Another cheap shot.

“Pretending?” you say with utter disdain, jumping up from the couch. “Tell me at what point I have ever pretended with you. I told you what I thought of you the very first night we were together and that has never changed. If you really think I agree with Evan then you need a bigger reality check than I thought.”

“Reality check?” Max roars, joining you on his feet. “If anyone needs a reality check it’s you, little lamb.” He says your nickname like it’s a threat, twisting the relatively innocent joke into a harsh reminder. It makes your stomach twist, but even with tensions running high you still don’t believe he would ever hurt you.

“Is that so?” you challenge. You know what you entered into with him. Things like squirting blood into a cup make the situation hard to ignore even if you wanted to. If this wasn’t something you wanted, you would have backed out long ago.

“Fine,” Max says, and starts stripping off the clothes he’s still wearing. To say you have no idea what’s happening is an understatement.

“Max? What are you-?”

He cuts you off. “Showing you the reality of your situation.”

He’s left in his boxers, allowing himself to transform completely, only he doesn’t stop where he normally would. He continues to grow, his body filling out beyond his typically broad but athletic build. He gains more than his usual few inches, now pushing upwards of 6’6 as his body adds mass from seemingly out of nowhere. He softens in places, the new physique matching that of a powerlifter. He towers over you in size and mass, and the transformation hasn’t even ended.

A pink tint begins to glow across his skin, which you first mistake for embarrassment until you realize it isn’t stopping either. It darkens, reddening across his entire body, wings included. The tips of them blacken, mimicking the way the colors fade up from the base of his horns.

You notice that those have grown as well. They extend from the position you’ve seen previously, growing backwards towards his pointed ears before twisting forwards again, reminding you of a smaller ram’s horns. The color gradient continues beyond the previous red they’ve ended at, orange and yellow now finishing off the smooth, colorful progression.

Freckles rise to the surface, dotting his skin with darker pigmentation. They dust the back of his hands, the tops of his shoulders, and run down the center of his torso – dipping below the straining waistband of his boxers. You want to reach out, connect the speckles with the tip of your finger, but something stops you. Two somethings actually.

The first is that Max has begun to glow. Everywhere the freckles are on his body, the red tone of his skin fades, blooming into a warm yellow as incandescent light begins to emanate from within. The tips of his horns shine as well, casting a perverse halo of sorts around Max's head.

The second realization comes as a result of the first. There is something else glowing as well, something which you have never seen before. A tail. An honest-to-god tail.

The very end of it is glowing, the shape at the end of it looking like a sickle or a waxing crescent moon. The glow blends back down into red, which turns black once again towards the base of his tail. The length of it has ridges that run along the circumference, reminiscent of the ridges along Max's horns.

It's a lot to take in. Your stunned silence triggers something in Max as well, a dawning realization falling across his face. You're fairly certain he never intended on revealing himself to you like this.

There's a fainter glow along his cheek bones, the gold of his eyes seeming brighter than before. You're nearly certain that is embarrassment making itself known.

You approach him more hesitantly than you ever have before. It's not from a place of fear, but rather concern, worried that if you approach him too quickly he might panic and run or even transform back. Reaching out, you take one of his hands in yours, noting that his fingers glow too.

As though you haven’t been given enough to process, Max's hand is not cold as you've come to expect. He's warm. You have no idea if it's a result of the light radiating from his skin or some other reason, but you bask in it, relishing in the heat.

"Can I-" you hesitate, free hand poised over his chest and looking up to meet his eyes. You can see the apprehension swirling in them. "Can I touch?" you ask.

Words fail Max. It’s almost funny to see. He’s usually so full of quips and smartass comments you expected to hear something along the lines of you already are. His mouth opens and closes almost comically, fangs poking out from behind his lips. He nods his head instead.

You let your fingers glide across his skin. It feels the same as it did before, the only major difference being the temperature. The glow does seem to have some effect, hotter where the yellow is brighter and colder where the red takes back over.

You gently press your fingers into the new plushness of his body. It’s a feeling you already know you won’t tire of. His muscles haven’t gone anywhere, just underneath the additional heft, and you can’t help but imagine the way it will feel to dig your fingers into his chest while you ride him or the added weight you’ll feel as he’s on top of you.

“You’re even prettier than I thought,” you tell him, looking up to catch a storm of emotions passing over his face. You wish you could know what’s happening in his head.

He sinks back into the armchair, barely fitting in it now, and pushes a hand into his hair. “Why don’t you get it?” he asks, sounding defeated.

“Get what?” you ask in return.

He’s hunched over, elbows resting on his knees. There’s genuine anguish on his face now, a pain you’ve never seen before. “I’m a monster.”

You immediately move to comfort him. “Oh, Max-”

“No,” he growls, cutting you off. “Evan was right. I’ve been pretending. I spent months lying to you about how I really look all in an attempt to seem slightly more normal. I let you believe a lie just to feel better about myself.”

Fear grips you, a worry that somehow this has all been some great ruse by Max. Some sort of attempt at a self-confidence boost that’s crashing down around him and now you.

“That wasn’t all this was, right?” You’re afraid to hear the answer. By the way Max is acting, there's really no guessing where this conversation is going.

Max’s eyes widen, pulling you into his lap. His large arms circle around you and hold you firmly in place. “No. No lamb,” he reassures. “I changed the way I looked, but my feelings for you have always been real."

You press your forehead against his, wrapping your arm around to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. It's silent for a long moment, Max warring with his own thoughts and you trying to sort out your own.

You could be mad at him. He's right that he has been lying to you for months now and yet looking at him now you can't find it in you. You've never seen him like this. It's as though every ounce of confidence has oozed out from him and despite his hulking size he's never appeared smaller.

The anger you'd felt at being cast aside and literally pushed out from the office dissipates. The pieces click together, explaining the behavior without Max ever saying a word. It still isn't really excusable, but that can be a conversation for another time. Right now you need to discuss something far more important.

You speak softly, looking him directly in the eye. From this distance you have to focus on one or else go cross eyed and you're not sure what you have to say will have the same impact if you do that. "Max, you know I want you right?"

"Yeah lamb, I know," he says dismissively.

You pull back, holding his face in both your hands, and forcing him to look at you. He needs to hear this.

"Max. I want you and everything that comes with that. If I wanted someone else then I'd be with them. I don't care if tomorrow I wake up and you're purple."

That seems to break through, the tiniest smile playing at the corners of Max's lips. "Some days I look a little more orange than red."

"You're not a monster, Max. Well, I mean, you are, but you know what I mean."

Max gives a tiny snort at that.

"I don't give a shit what Evan Sanders has to say. He was the kid who reminded teachers about homework assignments. You think I'm going to listen to that guy? He doesn't know anything about our relationship. He didn't even think I knew. I do though and I wouldn't want you any other way. I love you, Max."

You didn't expect to say those last words. They slipped out without a second thought, shocking you almost as much as they seem to shock him. He's searching your face, looking for something. Whatever it is, you don’t think he finds it. A smile finally breaks out across Max's face, his fangs further emphasizing the curl of his lips.

"You really mean that, don't you?" Max asks.

Your answer is automatic. "I do."

Max pulls you into him, his lips slotting over yours. He’s mindful of his fangs, careful not to poke you with one. You wouldn’t really care if he did.

He’s still grinning when he pulls back from the kiss, the gold of his irises shimmering like those water bottles full of glitter that kids make. “Good. I love you too.”

Your heart leaps at his confession. There hadn’t been enough time between your own and the kiss that followed to worry about him not repeating it back to you, and you’re glad he’s already rectified it. You’re sure you would have driven yourself crazy if left to wonder.

You shift your position, coming as close as you can to straddling him in the chair. The size he’s grown to forces you to shove your thighs around his waist rather than bracket his legs. It’s hardly something to complain about though, pressing your body closer to his and making it easier to grind against him. You can feel Max hardening underneath you – christ, is he bigger there too?

Max’s tongue presses into your mouth, distracting you from further thoughts about the other possible changes to his physique. His hands are everywhere – sliding under your shirt, squeezing at your thighs and waist, encouraging the roll of your hips. You tug at his hair and just like that Max is carrying you in his arms bridal style, marching straight over to the bedroom. You giggle and busy yourself with biting and sucking at his neck, in part to see what color he might bruise. You’re guessing a deep red to match his many freckles.

In a move that reminds you of your first night together, when Max had tried to keep even his wings a secret, he tosses you down onto the large mattress. He covers you with his broad, thick frame, his wings creating a little bubble around the two of you. You love when he does this. It lights up your brain in a way even you have a hard time understanding, everything in your line of vision becoming Max and nothing else.

Your hands find his shoulders and you can’t resist giving them a squeeze as he recaptures your lips. Soft golden yellow spills between your fingers. The newfound softness of his body is intoxicating, making you want to grope and explore every inch of him. You’re glad he already stripped down as much as he did, not wanting the barrier of clothes between you.

Max must feel similarly. He’s grabbing at both your shirt and pants, trying to get both off at the same time and failing spectacularly at both. His urgency makes you laugh, taking over the task of your shirt for him. Your bra comes off along with it and Max eagerly takes a nipple into his mouth. You moan at the feeling, still adjusting to heat coming off of him instead of the usual chill. It feels heavenly, but it’s not enough.

“Max, please.”

You push your hips up, desperate for any kind of friction. It’s completely useless. Max’s large frame keeps you pinned in place underneath him. He releases your nipple with a pop, lust coloring his features. No matter the form he’s in, that’s a look you can recognize. His cheeks glow slightly brighter than before.

“Say it again.”

You shift your hips again, pushing up against the softness of his stomach. “I love you.”

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.” Max lifts himself up, pulling your panties off as he slowly kisses his way down your body. You have no idea why he even left the panties on when he took off your pants. As though he didn't know this was exactly where things were heading.

He lightly bites at your skin, never breaking it, making your skin erupt with goosebumps. You haven’t actually brought up that particular want with him yet and you’ve previously gotten away with blaming it on the chill of his body, but there’s no denying it now. It’s arousal, cut and dry. Well not dry, but the reason for your reaction is obvious. Despite not saying anything, the curve of his mouth against you tells you he noticed too.

He gives the same attention to your inner thighs. There are sure to be marks left behind for you to appreciate tomorrow. Max’s hand comes up to cup your pussy and you shamelessly grind against him. There’s hardly any relief though because the moment you do, Max gives your pussy a small slap.

“Don’t worry little lamb,” Max says as you cry out. “I’m going to take care of you.”

His mouth stays attached to your thigh while one thick finger slips up the seam of your pussy. He gathers the slick at your entrance and drags it up to your clit, making you whine at the stimulation. It takes all of your will to keep yourself still as he slowly circles it, occasionally moving back down to your entrance, but never quite pushing his fingers all the way in.

After what feels like forever, Max finally moves away from your thighs. “You’re doing so well,” he compliments. He spreads you open with his fingers, staring at you before lowering his head. “Need you all nice and ready for me.”

He only offers kitten licks at first, making you mewl with frustration. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Max isn’t usually one to tease. He doesn’t like making you wait for pleasure – all too happy to see how quickly and many times he can make you come. You’re about to ask him what he’s waiting for when his tongue plunges into you.

No matter how many times he does this, you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it. The length of his tongue reaches in deep, teasing you and hitting nerve endings you didn’t even know existed.

Glancing down you find Max's eyes are closed in pleasure, looking as though there is no where he would rather be than buried between your legs. His nose bumps against your clit, causing a fresh wave of arousal to wet his chin. He groans and pulls you down further onto his mouth. There’s another jolt of pleasure as you realize his tail is flicking behind him happily too.

You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, squeezing your own eyes shut as he continues. Reaching down blindly, you fist one hand into his hair, while the other traces the curve of his horn. His newer, larger horns are something you can definitely get used to.

One of Max’s hands moves upward to grab at your breast and the added stimulation finally triggers your orgasm. Your legs shake with the force of it, shuddering as his tongue slips out of you. He continues to work you through it, his finger tracing a small amount of pressure over your clit.

“M-Max, come here, please,” you gasp. He listens, crawling up the bed to lay out beside you. You immediately grab onto him, throwing a leg over his hip and messily kissing him. You can taste the tang of yourself on his lips and groan into the kiss. “Need you, handsome,” you pant into his mouth, toeing at his underwear to get the point across.

Max captures your wrists, easily twisting your bodies on the bed and pinning you in place. You’re convinced he’s going to start teasing you again. There’s no way you can take any more of that, needing to feel him now and not in ten minutes when he decides you’re ready.

Max speaks before you can voice your complaints. “There’s something I need to tell you first, lamb.”

That sobers you up some. Max sounds nervous to share whatever is on his mind. You nod, letting him know that you’re ready to listen to him and not in some far off haze of arousal. He releases your arms and drags a hand over his face.

“I’ve never um- well it’s a bit hard to explain so I guess I’ll just-” he cuts himself off and tips your head up to look at him. It isn’t difficult to guess what he’s nervous about. The glow along his torso is brighter than before, your eyes following it down the soft slope of his stomach, and through the stretched out black fabric of his boxer briefs you can see that the glow does not suddenly cut off at his hips.

After staring for probably a few seconds too long, you look up to see his cheeks blazing yellow. He’s embarrassed alright.

“You- you glow? There?” It’s about as delicate as you can be given the situation.

“Yes,” he admits. “I can- I can change back if you’d prefer. I’d understand.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you threaten. Did he not listen to you at all earlier? You want him. Glowing penis and all apparently.

“Lay down,” you tell him. Max looks surprised but doesn’t question you. He knows that tone in your voice. It’s your shut the fuck up and listen to me voice, that’s reserved for situations like this one where Max (or others) has said one dumb thing too many.

You don’t go right for it. He needs to be comfortable and relaxed before you tear his boxer briefs off from him. You’re still aching to feel him pressed inside you, but that can wait for the moment. Instead, you rip a page directly out of Max’s book.

You straddle his waist, leaning down to press kisses against every available inch of him. Given how large his transformation has made him, there's a lot of real estate to be had. Sticking true to your own proclivities, you’re unable to resist Max’s horns. They’re simply too tempting in their new form and you plant a hand beside Max’s head on the mattress, giving you the support needed to touch and kiss down the length of them.

The way Max is moaning and squirming beneath you emboldens you to try something you’ve thought plenty about but have yet to dare try. You flatten your tongue along his horn, following the curve as far as you can. Max shudders underneath you. “F-f-fuck.”

You smile and whisper in his ear. “You like that, pretty boy?”

You don’t wait for his answer, repeating the action on the other one. What you assume was going to be his answer distorts into a groan and spurs you onward. You alternate between kisses and licks and when you’re satisfied with how worked up he’s gotten you stop. His hands tighten on your thighs, clearly not pleased with your choice. You echo his words from earlier back at him. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.”

You slide down his body, noting the way his glow has only brightened. A feeling of pride settles into your chest, knowing that you’ve caused him to feel that way. You randomly mouth along his torso, placing a long line along his waistband before slipping your fingers underneath.

Continuing to tease him crosses your mind, but given his nerves you figure it’s better to rip the band-aid off, so to speak. You look up at Max and he nods, letting you know he’s okay with continuing.

Freed of the confines of the tight boxer briefs, his cock bobs proudly up towards his belly. You had been correct earlier in thinking that he was bigger, and the glow of his body does now include his cock, but the most exciting change is one you didn't expect. He's ribbed – resembling the ridges around his tail. You can't believe he'd been nervous about this. The glowing aspect was certainly unique, but they literally make condoms and toys to mimic what he naturally has. So dramatic, you think to yourself.

If Max needed to breathe, you imagine he would be holding his breath. You don’t need to look up to know he’s waiting for your reaction and filled with apprehension. It’s ridiculous to think that this, after everything, would chase you off.

Rather than offer him compliments or try to assuage his fears, you do the one thing that you know will clear any doubts about his glowing, ribbed cock. You get comfortable and then without any preamble, sink your mouth down around him.

His hips jerk at the contact, chasing the wet heat of your mouth. You press against his hip, a slight warning that you’re the one in control right now and end up enjoying the extra softness you find there. You wrap your other hand around the base of his cock and slowly begin to pump what doesn’t fit in your mouth.

It feels different with the added ridges, but it's not enough to throw you off your game. You give them additional attention, noticing the noises Max makes when you do, and other than that it's like any other blowjob you've given.

In your peripheral vision, you can see Max digging his fingers into the sheets – the light emanating from them emphasizing the force of his grip. You love getting this reaction out of him and with his new features, it's only been made better.

The salt tang of his precum coats your tongue as you swirl it around the tip. Moaning, you continue to bob your head, squeezing at Max's stomach. You can feel his abs jumping with pleasure underneath the layer of fat.

Eventually your jaw begins to ache, unused to his increased size. Max groans when you pull off of him. "Lamb, please."

You place a small kiss at the tip of his cock, giggling. Max looks debauched. The freckles littering his body stand out in stark relief, backlit by his internal glow. You’ll have to ask about that later. You have so many questions, like why he’s been consistently getting brighter, but now isn’t exactly the time.

Before he can complain again, you climb onto his lap and line him up with your entrance. With his newfound size it’s going to be more of a stretch than normal, but you’re certain he’ll fit. You’re too turned on for him to not.

Max sits up, using his wings to help prop himself up, and places his hands on your hips. He holds you carefully as you sink down on him, letting you take your time. You can feel every ridge drag against your walls, increasing your pleasure.

“You look so pretty like this lamb. I love watching you take me,” he whispers to you, along with a thousand other filthy things that only half penetrate your mind.

He feels good. The pain of him stretching you open only lasts for a moment, giving way to immense pleasure. You’ve gotten used to his usual lack of warmth, adjusting to the ways you both have found to help heat him up a bit some days, but this is a thousand times better than warming lube could ever be. You pause once he’s finally buried to the hilt, catching your breath before you attempt to ride him.

Max is kissing all across your face, his arms wrapping around you. “Look at you, you’re perfect. I love you.”

You press your forehead against his chest, slightly grinding your hips and getting used to the way he feels. He’s pressed deep inside you, the feeling of him ending somewhere in your gut. Looking down, you can see light spilling between your bodies, now bright enough to put spots in your vision. You slide your arms around Max’s neck and pick up the pace.

Max completely envelopes all your senses. Every place that Max is touching you feels like your nerves are cranked to eleven, singing with absolute pleasure. His hair feels like the silk of the bedsheets between your fingers, his skin smells like the sweet spice of his cologne. He’s all you can see when you open your eyes. The breadth of his wings, the brick red skin lit by his ethereal glow.

You can’t believe Evan threw around Max being a monster like it was a bad thing. Who would ever want normal when you can have all this?

Max drags his fangs along your neck, making you shudder as goosebumps ripple across your skin again. “I knew you weren’t just cold those other times.”

“I- I didn’t want to freak you out,” you tell him honestly. You had no idea how he would react to that particular want, always being so careful to not hurt you.

Max groans, thrusting up into you. “Freak me out? Lamb, I have to hold myself back from biting into you every second you’re at my side. You smell so sweet.”

It’s not hard to say your next words. “You can do it. I want you to.”

Max pulls back, cradling your face and looking directly into your eyes. “You mean that?”

“I trust you. I love you.” You smile, sure that it looks punch drunk and strung out. It doesn’t mean you mean those words any less.

“I love you too.”

Max returns to your neck, his hands moving to your hips to help control your movements. This is already a messy business, having you bouncing on his lap wouldn’t help the situation. From this position, Max’s stomach rubs against your clit, replacing the pleasure that the decreased movement took.

He kisses and sucks at your neck first, careful not to bruise. He doesn’t want your blood spilling from your veins underneath your skin. His fangs press against your neck, skimming up and down until you’re begging him to stop teasing.

You can feel your arousal pooling heavily, dripping onto Max’s lap. You’re keyed up, ready for that final push that will overwhelm you entirely. There’s a prick at your neck, a momentary pain before you feel a rush of pleasure and you let go of any remaining resolve.

You can feel yourself shaking in Max’s arms, clenching down hard as he sucks and moans into your neck. If there’s any pain, you’re well beyond feeling it. Max fucks you through your orgasm, a satisfying lightheadedness slightly fogging your mind. You’re not really sure how long Max drinks for, the wet feeling of his tongue dragging over your neck signaling his end. You knew he would stop when he should.

It feels like you’re trying to think through a cloud. Every thought is thick and sticks before another one comes to push that one out. You pull yourself in tight to Max, randomly running your hands anywhere you can touch and mindlessly mouthing at his neck. “Cum for me baby, please,” you ask him. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Max moves you underneath him on the bed, pushing himself deeper into you. Despite the urgency in the roll of his hips, he’s still careful with you. He’s pressing compliments into you at the same time as himself, watching you come undone for him a third time. You look beautiful beneath him, coming for him, and Max lets himself go alongside you. It’s a good thing your eyes are already closed, the flash of brightness Max’s body creates enough to temporarily blind.

Groggily, you reach up and touch Max’s face. “I love you, Max.”

He kisses your palm and repeats the words back to you.

You wake up in Max’s arms. It’s still dark out so you know you weren’t asleep for too long. Max notices the moment you stir, probably picking up on the difference in your heart rate. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he grins at you.

You rub your eyes and blink at him. So it wasn’t a dream then. Max is still laid out beside you, in his full large, red, and glowing monstrous beauty. You’re so fucking relieved.

You throw yourself across Max’s body, nestling your face into his chest. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamed it.”

Max laughs. “Do you wish you had?”

He’s covering, but you can hear the authenticity wrapped in his question. You reach out, running a gentle finger along his horn. “Are you kidding me? I have a glow in the dark boyfriend who is ribbed for my pleasure. Why on earth would I want anyone else?”

Max’s cheeks glow bright as he smiles. Seeing him so happy makes your heart leap. It’s no wonder he hasn’t believed you all these months about how beautiful you find him. You haven’t even been seeing his true self and he’s never been more beautiful than he is at this moment.

You settle into his side, wrapped in one of his wings and mindlessly letting your fingertips dance across his skin. There are many questions you still have, but for now you’re content to lay here and enjoy being snuggled up with the monster you love.

You’re nodding off again when Max speaks. "I'm 136. 137 in three months."

That wakes you right back up. “You’re what?”

Monster!Max by @mjpens !!!! Thank you so so much for this BEAUTIFUL GIFT Maia! Having the visual reference helped me endlessly while writing this and I am very, very much in love with him 💕 The world now knows of Max and his beautiful beacon penis :)

A/N: As always, this fic is a relaxed fit so I'll be writing for it based on asks/when I'm feeling inspired. I'll be honest here and say that my attention is probably about to shift back towards my series fics, BUT please still send in asks if you have questions/thoughts to share! I might need a break from my series intermittently, or you might just get me extra inspired ;)

Everything taglist: @radiowallet @sergeantbannerbarnes @pilothusband @max--phillips @starlightmornings @moonlight-prose @practicalghost @sharkbait77 @honestly-shite @shadesofnerdlygrace @salome-c @artsymaddie @niki-xie @doin-stuff @magikfanatic @astoryisaloveaffair @tintinn16 @mswarriorbabe80 @phandoz @amneris21 @tenderwhat @asta-lily @chaoticgeminate @snarwor

Beyond not wanting to get flagged by HR, you’re also left puzzling another very important question. It hadn’t come up between rounds of getting your back blown out (seriously, there’s a slight twinge in your lower back now) and you’re left wondering if telling other people that Max is literally a monster is something you’re even allowed to do.

Max doesn’t seem to have too many qualms, considering you’re a nearly random woman he revealed that fact to, but since the existence of honest-to-god monsters isn’t the headline of every major news source maybe it is a secret for you to keep. Either way, you’re not entirely sure how to discuss the life-altering sex you’ve been having without bringing it up. The horns and wings, and not to mention his tongue, were half of the fun.

You want to text Max and ask, but it seems like a strange thing to message out of the blue rather than having a one-on-one chat about it. Plus, if the government is tapped into your phone, it might be best to not discuss those details where someone could easily read it. No need to have Max getting kidnapped and tested on weighing heavy on your conscience.

When lunch finally rolls around they’re practically ravenous. Curtis hardly waits for the elevator to close before he asks, “So is he packing? He has to be packing, right?”

There’s a beat of silence before you all erupt into laughter. You pat Curtis on the arm and tell him, “Yeah, man. He’s big.”

“Maax,” you playfully whine. “You have to let me go.”

He has you caged in next to the doorway – his wings creating a little bubble for you both to stand in. It had been a struggle to make it this far. Max has tried every dirty tactic and now he’s busy assaulting the spot he already knows you like on your neck. Perceptive bastard.

He barely raises his lips off of you to reply. “I don’t think I have to do anything, lamb.”

You try to ignore the way he’s shifting his thigh into position between your legs. “Well if you don’t want me to be fired and then homeless, you do. Don’t you have a job you should be at too?”

You hope that turning the tables on him will help. Maybe the reminder of some of his own responsibility will be enough for him to let you go. It fails spectacularly.

“Yes,” Max replies, his large hand sliding under your shirt. “I’ve been working while you sleep.”

He doesn’t sleep. Or at least not much. You had guessed at that with Max being awake every time you reopened your eyes, but you hadn’t actually asked. There wasn’t much of a chance to discuss it anyway between the numerous sexual acts you’d taken part in, as well as the necessities of sleeping and eating. Thinking got a lot harder while your stomach growled during your fifth orgasm of the day.

“Do you work remote?” you ask. Your breath hitches when Max presses his firm thigh just a little harder into you, but you try to act otherwise unaffected. It’s a ridiculous game to be playing with him, but you need to make it out the door. Getting fired or even reprimanded by your boss is not on your preferred agenda for the day.

Max, to his credit, goes right along with your game. Of course he has the fun part while you’re forced to try and act like this isn’t exactly what you want. Not fair in the slightest. You’re already plotting ways to get him back for this. “Not all the time. Doesn’t matter when you’re the boss.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that. “Right, well. Not all of us are bosses and mine isn’t going to believe I’m still sick without going to a doctor. So unless you’re also one of those, you need to let me go.”

Max’s hand that had been slowly inching under your waistband stops. You wish that he could keep going, that you could spend another day wrapped in his big arms and wings, but it’s just not realistic. You’ve already pushed it and you really would like to keep your job. It’s not the greatest, but you have friends who work there and it pays well enough. Even grade A monster dick isn’t worth losing that. Barely.

He’s pouting when he pulls away from you. If it weren’t obvious from the look on his face, he’s even letting his wings droop, like a dog lowering its tail between its legs. One final ploy to get you to stay that very nearly works. If only you didn’t need money to live. Fucking capitalism.

“Sorry, Max. I have to go.”

You move towards the door, watching as Max transforms back into his human appearance. It’s jarring, only having seen glimpses of it over the past few days. You reach out, carding your fingers through his hair where his horns normally cover.

You open the door and leave with a wink. “Bye, handsome.”

You don’t tell them about him being a monster. Not explicitly anyway. When you first sat down at your favorite lunch place you’d had more than half a mind to, but you just couldn’t when it came down to it. Not before talking with Max. It didn’t feel right to divulge his secret, no matter how much you trusted the three people sitting with you.

You find workarounds, little hints to his true nature but nothing overtly saying, yes, he turned into a big monster man and then he fucked me silly for two days straight. The looks on their faces might have been worth that though. Oh well, you can still surprise them with that later.

“No way is that guy stronger than me,” Curtis challenges. You’d just finished telling them how long Max had held you up against the wall for and he’d called bullshit. Said there was no possible way a man could hold any woman up for that long, much less with his dick buried in her. Okay, he’d been less crass about it, but that was the gist.

You shrug. It’s not like you can say it is possible because Max isn’t just a man. “I don’t know what to tell you man, there is a reason I called out for two days,” you answer around a bite of your sandwich. That reason is currently classified, but the wall-fuck certainly factored in.

Linsey pats Curtis’ arm and you feel significantly better about the hit to your friend’s ego. If you know anything about Linsey, she’ll have him feeling like a big, tough man again in no time. Really, Curtis should be thanking you for the no-doubt wonderful evening you’ve just bestowed upon him.

You’re actively avoiding Sami’s narrowed eyes. You know he can tell there’s something more going on, but you’ve already decided against telling them just yet, and if he asks the right question you know you’ll spill.

Maybe Sami is a supernatural creature too with the way he seems to read your mind. The thought pops into your head and you just as soon dismiss it. It’s ridiculous. Just because you met one bona-fide vampire doesn’t mean everyone else around you is some sort of creature too. That’s just absurd.

“Are you going to see him again?” Linsey asks.

“God, I fucking hope so.”

God, it seems, has a funny sense of humor. You’ve spent the last hour and a half since lunch debating on whether or not you should text Max and see if he’s available this weekend when you hear his voice echoing through the office.

At first you think you’re going insane. That somehow your pussy has taken over full operation of your brain and is now making you hallucinate at work. You’re not sure if that’s something that can actually happen, but at this point you’re not willing to rule much of anything out.

You know you’re not going insane when his voice becomes louder, paired with the telling click of your boss’s stilettos and her shrill pitch.

“Oh Max, we are just so thrilled to have you here. I hope you like what you see," Rebecca chirps. You peek up from your desk just in time to see her place a hand on Max’s bicep and squeeze. To think you’d been ready to shame yourself for interpreting her turn of phrase incorrectly when it had very obviously been the way she meant it.

You’re not stupid. You don’t know what you and Max are and a couple days worth of sex does not a relationship make, but your blood boils watching his hand fall over hers, his eyes raking up her body before replying, “So far I’ve loved every inch. I can’t wait to see more, sugar.”

It’s appalling. In more ways than one. You’re not even sure which you’d like to address first – the clear lack of professional behavior, the gross smiles painted on both of their faces, or the fact that he’d been buried in you within the past twelve hours – but all of them have you seeing red.

You can feel Sami’s eyes on you. He’s already figured out what’s going on and is watching to see if his intervention will become required. You’re honestly not sure at this point.

Rebecca’s high pitched giggle is what sets you off. It’s grating to hear and if Max can honestly stand to listen to it that’s his prerogative, but that doesn’t mean the rest of you should be subjected to it. Sami stands up with you, clearly under the impression you’re about to do something stupid. It’s a fair assumption. You’ve been known to do a decent amount of dumb shit.

The moment you clear the cubicle wall, no longer just peeking over top of it, Max’s eyes find yours. He stops in his tracks and you imagine you must look akin to a raging bull – only you’re not the one with the horns in this scenario.

He looks completely human. Of course he does, he’s in a widely public setting, but for a moment you can see him like you did this morning. Shirtless, that teasing strip of hair leading from his belly button to carelessly thrown on pajama pants, his hair ruffled. A few stray longer pieces gently falling over his horns that you couldn’t help but reach out and reposition. He kept his wings out, letting one gently wrap around you, cradling your body closer to his. His eyes glimmered with the ever-shifting flecks of gold, like a star shower that was happening only in his irises. It was the moment you felt like it could be something more than a days long hook-up.

It takes your boss saying your name to make you snap out of the trance you’re in. “Do you know each other?” Rebecca asks. There’s a look on her face that’s more panicked than you’ve ever seen her. At least you know to keep your anger directed at one person and not the pair. You even feel a little bad now that she’s caught in this situation.

“I guess not,” you answer, walking past her and straight for the bathroom. You’re not sure what you’re going to do in there – you went to the bathroom just twelve minutes ago – but it seems better than remaining at your desk.

Your boss and Max continue their tour, considerably less touchy than before. When they head into her office, Curtis pops over the cubicle wall to look for you. He finds Sami and Linsey staring at him instead.

“Uh, wasn’t that-?”

Sami cuts him off. “Yep.”

Your friends are the best. That could be the alcohol talking, but you’re almost certain it’s true when you’re sober too. The role of designated driver is on a weekly rotation and it should be your turn but after the surprise office visit on Thursday, Linsey offered to take it instead. Since she’s a total angel, she didn’t even make you swap with her, just said she’d double up. You very nearly cried. You might now.

“I mean, does he have no sense of decency? He probably didn’t even wash his sheets before moving to his next conquest, it’s disgusting.” You’ve been at this for a while. It’s another credit to your friends that they have the patience to put up with you, but they get it. Your hurt feelings are well within your right.

“Don’t worry about him anymore,” Sami says. “At least you got some good sex out of him and found out he was a piece of shit early on.”

Sami has a point. Both yours and his last relationships had ended with your boyfriends revealing that they were huge tools. Yours after you discovered his texts to his buddies degrading you and being pissed about the amount of hours you were working when you were financially supporting him, and Sami when he gave his boyfriend a surprise visit only to find him balls deep in another guy. To find out early on could be a blessing. It still hurts though.

It’s nearing the end of the night, most of the Friday crowd already having called it quits. Linsey and Curtis are making doe-eyes at each other that’s making your stomach twist and you know it’s probably nearing time for you to call it too. At least they can have a nice night together. You really hope they spill the beans on their relationship soon – pretending to not know is starting to take years off your life.

Linsey and Curtis leave first. You and Sami assure them both that you’ll grab cabs or ubers and let them leave without commenting on the way Curtis’ hand dips into Linsey’s back pocket.

“Do they think we’re that dumb?” Sami asks you, watching the bar door close.

You snort over what remains of your beer. “I really don’t know, man. I’m happy for them though. Curtis has been into her since she started.”

Sami clasps a dramatic hand over his heart. “Our sweet little himbo, all grown up.”

A momentary silence stretches between the two of you. This is not the first time you’ve both ended up here, some of the last people remaining in the bar. The beauty of having a friend with the same shit luck in relationships and a matching coping mechanism.

“I am sorry. You seemed really excited about him at lunch yesterday,” Sami says.

Ah. So you’ve hit that point in the night. The emotional one instead of the bitch about your problems in the hopes they go away one.

“I was,” you admit. It sucks to say out loud but it’s true. To make it even worse, the whole kink fulfillment wasn’t even the reason why. You liked Max. He made terrible lewd jokes, had a far too cocky attitude for how soft he was, and had actually laughed at you when you requested an ice pack for your poor overworked vagina, but you liked him.

Of course he had to be an asshole.

"If it makes you feel any better, you did manage to make Rebecca look like she was going to shit herself," Sami offers.

You can't help but smile. The look on your typically unshakable boss's face had been a treat. "Who knew that even she respects girl code."

Sami, ever the saint, covers your bar tab. He tells you he expects the same the next time he has boy troubles and you hope for both your wallet and your friend's happiness that day never comes.

You're still fairly tipsy when you climb into your uber, waving bye to Sami as he continues to wait for his. Alone with your thoughts, you're helpless as they drift to Max.

You feel like an idiot for thinking there was something more between you. It was obvious now that Max had used you for his own pleasure and when you decided you actually needed to return to your own life, you became unimportant in his. Probably just another notch in a bedpost that's likely been whittled to a toothpick.

Your driver is unfortunately chatty. Some young college kid doing this job to try and make ends meet and doesn't know when to keep quiet. He probably still has the romantic idea in his head that he might be some soothsayer for a downtrodden rider. Somehow he doesn't know that role is only for old men with grizzled beards or weird hippie women.

"What has you so down?" The kid asks.

You want to roll your eyes, potentially tell him to fuck off. Emotions and alcohol get the best of you.

"Found out a guy I slept with didn't feel the same way," you answer.

"How do you know?"

You expected sympathy, not a question like that. It's a little intrusive, but you like his gumption. "He came into my office and was all over my boss."

"Yikes, dude! That blows." Yeah, certainly not a secret paragon of worldwise advice.

You huff. "Tell me about it."

"Man, if I were you I'd be over there chewing him out. Blowing you off is one thing but to go for your boss? Low blow," he says, making a shockingly slow right turn.

"To be fair he didn't know it was my boss," you pause. "That might be worse."

He lets out a low whistle. "Like I said, I'd be tearing that guy a new one."

You consider it for a moment. Realistically, you and Max owe each other nothing. You had a few days of mind-blowing sex with no set plans to see each other again and that was it. He could move on whenever and however he saw fit. Something still burns in your gut though. An anger you know you’ll carry unless you get some answers. Fuck it.

“Could you actually take me to this address?” you ask, holding out your phone for the kid to read.

“Oh hell yeah, lady! Let’s get you some justice!”

On the list of intelligent decisions you’ve made in your life, listening to a college aged uber driver is not high. It is certainly higher than the time you decided to eat an entire funnel cake and then ride the Twister (you were 22 at the time) and higher than the time you tried to work a twelve hour shift on two hours of sleep while sick and hopped up on flu medicine (look, 22 wasn’t a good age for you) – but still, on your list of smart choices, this is not going to be in the top ten any time soon.

You give your driver a 5-star rating and a high five when you get out of the car before marching up to the apartment building’s door. There’s an immediate roadblock. The buzzer.

You blame adrenaline and the remaining effects of booze for you failing to remember this key hurdle. It’s not like you could just buzz Max to let you up. He probably wouldn’t and it would completely ruin your surprise attack.

“Fuck,” you mutter, weighing your options. Your uber has already taken off and you’ve come this far. You need to see it through.

You press one of his neighbor’s buttons. They don’t respond. You try another. Again no reply. Third times the charm? Nope. You try the first one again. Nothing.

You take a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself before you lose it entirely. This always works in movies, why isn’t this working? You try the first one a third time.

This time, a very annoyed voice comes through the speaker. There is a god! “What do you want?”

“Um hi, yeah I need someone to buzz me in.”

“Why?”

Okay, time to think of a good lie. Something to get you inside. “I need to yell at one of your neighbors.”

No! Stupid! Why would you say that? Now they’ll never let you in!

“4C?” the voice from the speaker asks. It takes you aback and you double check Max's address on your phone. 4C.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Go ahead, dude’s a dick. If you kill him though please don’t tell the cops I let you in.”

“You got it.” You don't even remember what apartment button you pressed anyway.

The door lock unlatches, allowing you entry. The stairs look daunting in your current state and you slip off your heels, risking the dirty floors to a rolled ankle.

When you get to his door, you have the thought to message someone where you're at. He didn't kill you last time, but you never know. Things could change.

You send a message to Sami.

You: At Max's. If I don't message by morning assume I'm dead.

It's a little dramatic, sure, but the point comes across when Sami replies almost instantly.

Love of my life😻: What do you mean, at Max's

You: I mean I'm outside his apartment door rn and I'm gonna yell at him

Love of my life😻: If you die I'm telling everyone at your funeral about how you thought a blow job literally meant blowing air on a dick until you were seventeen

You: Fine

It's a risk you're willing to take. If Sami tells everyone that he'll have to include how the guy actually came from that too. It was the best part of the whole story.

You shove your phone back into your purse, taking a moment to collect yourself before pounding on the door. There's a muffled yell from the other side and the telltale sound of approaching footsteps. No turning back now.

The door swings open to reveal Max in a look you can only call Friday night in chic. He's wearing what looks to be silk pants and a large fluffy robe that you had eyed but left alone during your extended stay. You're guessing from the large strip of his chest you can spot that he's shirtless, probably to allow his wings to unfurl. His eyes are wide at your sudden appearance.

"I- you- lamb?"

You push past him, storming into the apartment. The ambiance of the room does not match your energy. It's lit in the soft yellow glow of incandescent bulbs and calming piano music you aren't refined enough to identify lilts through the air. There’s the soft scent of lavender in the air and if it weren't for the book and wine glass filled with what can only be blood, you would think he has company over. Is he wining and dining himself?

The peaceful atmosphere of the apartment throws you a bit, but you refuse to let it distract you from why you came here in the first place. You spin on your heel, turning to face Max. He still seems to be processing your presence and before he can get a word out you yell the question that’s been rattling around in your head since Thursday afternoon.

“What the fuck was that?”

The apparent randomness of your question is enough to jar him. “What was what?”

“Don’t pretend. You were all over her. Sugar? Is that your thing, do you come up with a little nickname for each new partner to make them feel special? That’s sick, you know.”

You hate the look on Max’s face. It’s one of surprise but also intrigue. As though he just had a eureka moment that he’s now going to use against you. His eyes flash gold. “Are you jealous?” he asks.

You scoff. “Jealous? You think I am jealous?”

Unbelievable. Truly. More so than his horns and wings, this turn of events is simply unbelievable. You came here to yell at him for his disgusting and perverse display in a place of business and he tries to turn it around on you.

You watch as some of Max’s features become more monstrous. His eyes shift color, ears becoming pointed once again, and those stupid, ridiculous horns make themselves known. The effect they have on you is infuriating. You’re rooted to the spot, staring at him with open disbelief, waiting for him to say something more.

Max walks towards you, and you can see his body grow larger with each step. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder why he doesn’t just keep his size at all times. He would certainly be marked as a large man, but nothing too out of the ordinary. As soon as you begin to ponder over it, you admonish yourself. You didn’t come here to wonder about his human disguise. You came here to yell and you aren’t done yet.

“You really have some nerve, you know that? And to think I had just told my friends about you too,” you shout.

Max’s smile only widens, his arm wrapping around your waist while his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. Your jaw is tiny in his palm, easily cradling it entirely while his thumb gently passes over your lips, effectively silencing you.

Your pulse is racing. You want to push him off, tell him that he can go fuck himself in a fit of righteous glory, and strut back out into the night. Instead your breath shudders, letting Max take his time looking at you before he speaks again.

“It’s okay to be jealous, little lamb. Did you think I would show her all of this?” he asks.

You know your eyes give you away. He managed to hit the nail on the head, a truth that you barely allowed yourself to fully process or consider. Max moving on so quickly had only been part of the pain.

What hurt even more was that you had thought yourself special, that for whatever reason, he had revealed himself to you and no one else, only for that idea to come crashing down in seconds. It was stupid and more than a little selfish, but it was true. To think there was even the smallest chance that he would easily reveal himself to Rebecca as he had to you was unbearable.

Max offers you a small pout. You want to bite his stupidly plush lower lip. "My sweet little lamb."

You don't want to give in. You want to hold your ground, yell a bit more, maybe even throw something and yet, you can't help but relax into his touch. His body pressing against yours still feels better than anyone else's ever has and you can feel your resolve slipping.

Max leans down and just before he kisses you he whispers, "There's only you."

You let your purse fall to the floor. Max's lips slot over yours like they're meant to be there, slow and careful. Your anger melts beneath him.

Max's tongue slips between your lips and the kiss grows more heated. Your hands fumble, finding the tie around his robe and pushing it from his shoulders. Once it falls Max picks you up, walking you to his bedroom while trailing gentle bites and kisses down your neck. The bruises he left earlier this week have begun to heal and he seems intent on refreshing them, leaving you marked as his.

He sets you down gently on the bedroom carpet, guiding your lips back to his. His hands slide over your body, pulling at your clothes as though he wants to take them off. For some unknown reason he’s stopping himself and you move back from the kiss. “You can take them off,” you tell him.

“Are you sure, lamb?” Max is looking deeply into your eyes, as though he’s searching for a different answer than the one you just gave.

“Yes.”

He takes his time – peppering kisses between each layer you have on. When you’re left in just your bra and panties, he lays you back against the bed, worshipping every exposed inch. He mumbles gentle words into your skin, ones that you barely catch until he’s lavishing attention along your collarbones.

“So perfect, too good for me, thought I lost you…” The last one makes you pause.

You wind your fingers into his hair, careful to avoid his horns, and gentle tug until you’re able to bring his face back up to yours. “What do you mean, thought you lost me?” you ask. You're gentle about it, trying not to seem judgemental or break the nearly reverent atmosphere.

Max looks embarrassed, like he got caught spilling a secret he didn’t mean to share. He can’t hold your eye when he answers. “I thought you were done with me. That after you left Thursday morning I’d never see you again.”

Your heart breaks a little at his tone, but even more so you’re confused. “Why would you think that?”

You sit up on the bed, cradling Max’s face in your hands. You give him time to answer, slowly tracing a finger over his defined facial features. There’s a knit in his brow, as though he’s trying to puzzle things out for himself.

“You didn’t stay and I never got to ask to see you again. You said bye.”

You’re still not sure you’re understanding. “I had to go to work, Max. You had my number, you could have called or texted.”

Max huffs, sitting up with you. The memory foam dips with his larger weight, tilting your body into his. “Most- most people don’t stick around after. I figured you’d had your fill and wanted to be done with me.”

You can see the hurt on his face. There’s no way for you to know how many people have rejected, rebuffed, or used Max over the years. Hell, you don’t even know how long Max has been alive for, but you don’t need numbers to understand pain. To know what it is to not be appreciated or even somewhat cherished.

You climb into Max’s lap, wrapping your arms around him as far as they will go and bury your head into his chest. The chill of his skin doesn’t bother you, even as his arms fall around your shoulders and wrap you in a frosty hug.

“I’m so sorry, Max.” You know your apology won’t suddenly make things right for him, but you hope that it can at least start to make it better. “I didn’t want to leave. I was already debating if it was weird to text and ask you out for tonight,” you tell him. The honesty feels strange but good, the need to build a wall between yourself and your feelings towards him gone.

You begin to press chaste kisses into his chest and push against him until he falls back against the mattress, your body draped across him. “Max, can I show you just how much I wanted to stay?”

Max nods, shifting his hips to help you as you slide his pants and boxers off. He’s only half-hard and you’re already wondering how you’re going to take him. In your days spent with him, oral was something he never pushed. You had asked at one point, wanting to reciprocate, and he’d redirected by fingering you instead. Well, we’ll figure it out as we go.

You lick a broad stripe up your palm, taking him in hand and start to slowly pump, feeling him harden under your steady ministrations. You keep your eyes on his face, watching as his head tips back into the pillows. He’s still holding onto parts of his human visage and you can’t help but wonder why. If it’s more comfortable that way, like not lying on his wings you understand, but holding the rest of it in can’t be truly relaxing.

“Max?” you say, running your free hand over his brow. “You can let go. I’ve got you.”

Max’s twitches in your hand and you watch as he appears in his full glory before you. He's breathtaking, laid out underneath you like this.

You move down his body, positioning yourself between his muscular legs. Max's eyes remain trained on you as you begin to kiss down his stomach, skipping down to his thighs. You murmur words of affection between each press of your lips.

It doesn't take long before Max is moaning beneath you, beads of precum starting to trail down his cock. When he speaks, Max's voice hits a deep pitch that travels right to your own pooling arousal. "Stop teasing me, lamb."

You move away from him, eliciting a whine that stops short when he realizes what you're doing. You take off your bra and panties, tossing them to the floor, and then swiftly turn back to Max and wrap your lips around his cock.

His hands jump to you in surprise – not forcing you further down, but instead moving your hair out of the way. You swirl your tongue around the fat head, moaning at the slightly salty taste of his precum. You're only able to take half of him before you can feel the edges of your gag reflex giving you warning.

Your hand covers what you can't otherwise fit, pumping him while bobbing your head. The noises coming from Max are sinful. He doesn't even need to breathe and yet his voice is catching, making you wonder when the last time anyone did this for him was.

You can't help yourself. Watching Max fall apart beneath you, knowing that you're the one making him feel this good is getting you worked up. You slip your hand down, gathering some of your own arousal before circling your clit.

Max's eyes widen when he realizes what you're doing and his hips buck, making you gag. You pull off to catch your breath, a line of spit still connecting your lips to his cock. When you go to wrap your lips around him again he stops you, a single finger under your chin.

"Won't be able to last, babe."

You can't help but smile at the compliment. Max's eyes are half lidded, a dopey look on his face that allows his fangs to peek through.

"Come here," he rumbles.

His hands are already inching down towards you as you climb over top of him but you bat them away. You're plenty aroused and you don't want to wait – feeling the stretch of him will be worth it.

You position him at your entrance, taking your time as you sink down onto him. You brace yourself on Max's chest, fingertips digging into his pecs. Max doesn't seem you care, his own hands firmly holding onto your waist.

Once you're finally able to take every inch you pause, taking a moment to feel him inside of you. You lean down, pressing more kisses and praise into him before starting to roll your hips.

"F-fuck, Max. You're so b-big. Handsome."

You push your hand behind Max's head, angling it so that your foreheads press together as you increase your speed. His irises are swirling, reminding you of when glitter is spun in a glass.

Max shifts slightly, somehow pushing deeper into you. You're certain you're leaving indents in his chest from how tightly your fingers flex, but Max only groans with pleasure beneath you.

"Close," you moan, your hips losing their rhythm.

Your vision flashes white, little stars appearing, your legs shaking as you clench down around Max. You can feel that he's close too, and in a haze you pull his head closer, placing soft kisses over every inch of his horns.

The combined sensations of you fluttering around his cock and lavishing attention on his horns is too much for Max to handle. He hardly warns you, not that you have the presence of mind to care, before cumming deep inside of you.

Neither one of you attempts to move. You flop your head down onto Max's chest, mindlessly stroking his bicep. Max's hand is running along your spine, making a chill run through you. He chuckles when your body twitches from it.

You look up towards him and smile. "Do you believe that I want you now?"

He kisses the top of your head. "I believe you, lamb. Give me a few minutes and I'll show you how much I want you."

There's a knock at the door. You're surprised, considering you hung up with the pizza place only 5 minutes ago, but you shrug and go to answer it anyway. You double check the knot on the robe – Max's fluffy one, now yours, before opening the door.

The knocks increase in urgency and you open the door just as the person's fist comes down again.

"Ow, shit!" you yell, holding your head where you were just inadvertently punched.

Max is next to you before you can even look up at your attacker. "Who the fuck are you?"

A familiar voice answers him. "I'm here to make sure my best friend isn't dead, asshole."

The pain is already subsiding and you look to see Sami standing in front of you, looking pissed. Right. The text you were supposed to send. Oops.

Additional note: I am blown away by the response monster Maxie got and honestly I'm having a ton of fun with him. Please feel free to send me asks and questions about him, I would love to add to this silly little series with more chapters, headcanons, whatever!! I want to answer whatever questions you've got

You’re willing to bet he’s not working on his latest island design tonight. Light coming from underneath the bedroom door tells you he didn’t even try to come to bed by one like he said he would. You stretch before pushing out of the covers, wrapping yourself in your robe to maintain some warmth.

Going out into the living room, you’re unsurprised by what you find. Max is sitting on the couch, hunched over his laptop as he tries to work through something on his laptop. From his muttering you’re guessing it’s not going well.

You pause at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall and taking him in. If you’re honest, he isn’t looking great. Tension is clinging to him like a second skin, his wings pulled in tight against his back. Occasionally they’ll ruffle in irritation, matching the hand he keeps pushing into his hair. Still, he manages to take your breath away. You’ll take stressed, anxious Max over any other man any day of the week.

Max groans in irritation, his hand reaching back to rub at the top of his wing. “Fucking Evan, I asked him to do one thing and he can’t even do that right,” he grumbles.

You decide now is as good a time as any to make yourself known. “I thought we agreed to never speak that name in this apartment."

“Shit lamb, what are you doing up?”

“I should be asking you the same question.” You glance at his laptop screen to make sure everything is saved before closing it. Ignoring his protests, you straddle his lap, taking his face into your hands. “You need to rest a little, baby. Even you can’t go forever.”

You can see in his face just how overworked he is. His skin is more pallid, the color of his eyes dulled to where they nearly match the shade of his human visage. Even his horns show his stress, the bright red at the ends lacking in their usual pigment. He’s working himself down to the bone.

Max tries to reach around you for his laptop. “I just need to do one more thing-”

“No.” You catch his arm with your hand. You both know he could overpower you without a second thought, but he stills at your touch. “It’ll be there for you tomorrow. It wasn’t supposed to be your responsibility anyway.”

Max sighs, dropping his head to your chest. “Fine.”

He really must be exhausted to have given up that easily. You don’t mind the easy win though, still feeling tired yourself. “Let’s go to bed,” You say, placing a kiss on the crown of his head.

Max lets you off his lap, allowing you to pull him from his place on the couch and towards the bedroom. You watch him in the ensuite from the bed, slowly rolling through the motions before coming to lay down with you. Eternal life doesn’t mean Max slacks on his beauty routine. In fact, he’s the one who found your new moisturizer that has been doing wonders even with the harsh winter air outside.

Watching him, you can’t help but notice the tightness still present in Max’s wings. Typically he’ll let them relax in moments like these, but they’re still pulled in towards his body. It’s an unwelcome sign of his stress that you long to ease.

A dim lamp lights the bedroom as Max leaves the bathroom, flopping facefirst into bed beside you. You immediately move towards him. “Max?” you ask tentatively.

“Yes, lamb?” comes his muffled response.

“Are your- Can I massage your wings?” You have no idea if that’s something he might want. He just looks so tense, his wings packed into his body, and it’s the only thing you can think of to offer him relief.

Max turns his head to face you. “You would do that?” he asks.

“Of course.” His occasional timidness still baffles you. You’ve spent countless hours with him in his natural form at this point, lavishing love and affection on him with every opportunity. None of his less human characteristics have ever caused you to shy away and yet there are moments like these where it seems to catch him by surprise. As though you’ve done something earthshaking just for considering how his extra features might affect him.

You lay back against the plush headboard, pillows adding to the level of cushion, and tilt your chin to gesture him over. Max crawls on top of you, resting his head on your stomach and letting his wings unfurl with a groan.

“Do they hurt?” you ask, gently running your fingertips over the top ridge.

“They’re a bit sore. Working at the office late means I have to keep them hidden longer. Normally it doesn’t get this bad,” Max explains.

“So they’re cramped?” Being accepting of his differences doesn’t mean you always understand them clearly right away. You want to though, not liking the idea that a misunderstanding on your end could inadvertently cause him pain down the line. Things don’t always translate one to one and getting a clearer understanding never hurts.

“Basically,” Max confirms. He props his chin above your bellybutton with a wicked smile. "I know another way to relieve cramps."

You roll your eyes at the implication. "That's not going to work."

Max frowns. "You don't know that."

"I may not have a doctorate in vampire physiology but I'm pretty sure your wings aren't connected to your dick." You press your fingers into his wings a little more firmly, cutting off any further protest from Max as he groans in relief. “Tell me if I hurt you?” you say.

“Mhmm.”

He melts into your touch. You start off slow and careful, paying close attention to the way he responds. It’s not like any other massage you’ve ever given, but the more you press and knead into him the more it makes sense. They’re like additional arms, the muscle thicker towards where they attach to his back compared to the wingtips.

You keep most of the massage focused closer to his back, even kneading into the muscles around where the wings attach. Max seems to appreciate that especially with the low, bassy noise that it pulls from him. You match every firm touch with a gentler one, letting your fingers glide over him, stimulating his nerves in a new way before pressing in again.

The red glow of the alarm clock goes ignored as you continue the slow massage. The sleep you lose tonight will be well worth it and a double shot of espresso tomorrow morning should ease any tiredness. Max remains still and while you know he isn’t sleeping, he seems to have fallen into some sort of restful stupor.

He’s more relaxed than you’ve seen him in days now. Max easily falls into workaholic patterns when something important comes up. His passion for his work is a quality you admire in him, but not when it comes at the detriment of his well being. Sometimes you worry about the burnout he would have run himself into by now if it weren’t for you forcing him to stop and take a breather every once and a while.

You can feel your movements slowing, sleep slowly creeping back in to take you over. Max notices too but doesn’t complain, basking in the attention you’re still trying to give him while half asleep. Your hands are barely moving at this point, lightly brushing the top of his wings.

Max moves, pulling your robe open before settling back down on you. Half awake as you are, it’s difficult to do more than furrow your brow and hum in slight confusion. Max kisses his way down your body, keeping his fangs firmly out of the equation. He adorns your body with his love, kissing every exposed inch of skin before sinking down further.

He’s pressing sweet kisses into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs when your cloudy mind sharpens enough to realize what he’s up to. “‘M fallin’ sleep, baby,” you mumble. It’s on the edge of coherent, Max’s remarkable hearing allowing him to actually hear more than garbled sounds.

“I know little lamb, I just want to say thank you. I’ll be nice,” he promises.

You’re just awake enough to understand his offer. If he remains true to his promise, which with the tone of his voice seems more likely than not, you can easily admit it sounds like a phenomenal way to fall asleep. “Yeah m’kay,” you agree.

Max repositions you slightly, sliding you down the bed to cradle your head in the pillows rather than the headboard. You drowsily pull your arms free of your robe, not wanting to stay wrapped up in it overnight, and he pulls it out from underneath you. Knowing that you’ll get cold with the nighttime chill of the air and his body temperature, Max positions the blanket overtop of you, settling back down between your legs. His lack of required breath comes in handy, not feeling the slightest bit suffocated by the blanket cave.

You begin to doze off again, Max’s plush lips returning to your skin. He focuses his affection around your center, along your thighs and the top of your mound before travelling downward and kissing along the seam of your cunt.

He's gentle, slowly opening you up with the tip of his tongue. One arm is slung over your waist and the weight of his relaxed wings acts as enough pressure to keep your legs from squirming.

The first kitten lick to your clit makes you jolt slightly. It only takes a second for you to relax again with Max lethargically mouthing at your pussy. You're not sure if it's more for your pleasure or his, but you'll take it either way.

The edges of sleep start to press in more, the gentle cloud of dreams mixing with the slow, constant pleasure Max is providing. He's not working you up towards anything. This isn't being done with the intention to rile you up, he simply relishes in the little twitches of near sleep and hushed moans that echo through you.

It might be 5 minutes or 15 by the time you fully nod off, you aren't sure, but you don't really care. The sleep you fall into is heavy, drifting into a state of true bliss.

You'll find a way to provide a similar luxury for Max eventually. For now, you can be happy knowing that you've at least relieved his stress and provided him with his favorite distraction for the rest of the night.

A/N: Hey everyone!! Thank you for being so lovely and patient while I took my writing hiatus. I'm so excited to start posting again 😊 If you don't know I have a new taglist which you can fill out here! Please make sure you are discoverable, otherwise I will end up removing you from the list.

Everything Taglist: @radiowallet @sergeantbannerbarnes @pilothusband @max--phillips @starlightmornings @moonlight-prose @practicalghost @mylovelycomandante @sharkbait77 @honestly-shite @shadesofnerdlygrace @salome-c @artsymaddie @paintballkid711 @niki-xie @hotchlover @doin-stuff @magikfanatic @astoryisaloveaffair @donnaa @linkpk88

The head massage is a happy compromise, a bargain that you’re still holding up despite Max giving up on pretending to pay attention a while ago. If he wants to miss your favorite actor looking hot while blowing some guy’s head off, that’s his loss.

Max’s hair is incredibly soft, the strands reminding you of flowing water with how they slip through your fingers. You’ve been trying to convince him to grow it out longer, give you something more to grip, but so far he hasn’t technically agreed to your request. Neither of you have acknowledged that he’s waiting a week or two longer between haircuts. As though you wouldn’t notice… ridiculous.

Somewhere around the climax of the movie you forget Max’s scalp entirely. Your fingers move to his horns, following the gentle curve of them to their ends, repeating the motion over and over again. You’re so engrossed in the movie that you don’t realize the way it’s making Max shudder beneath you.

The scene continues to build and despite having seen this movie many times over your anxiety increases along with it, fingers pressing just a bit harder and moving slightly faster than before. You’re only half aware of the way the slight ridges on his horns feel beneath your fingertips, the repetitive motion becoming a background sensory input.

The scene reaches its end with you mouthing the words along with the main character and Max trembling beneath you, a low guttural moan escaping him. Both of you still, Max refusing to look up at you and you looking down at him with wide eyes. He didn’t. There’s no way and yet that groan is entirely unmistakable.

“Did you just-?” you ask.

The fresh heat of embarrassment rolls off of Max in waves. An impossible dusting of pink makes itself present across his cheeks and you have your answer before he speaks. His voice is still thick with pleasure when he responds. “I um, yes?”

You’re pretty sure your brain misfires at his answer. You knew his horns were sensitive, knew that touching them could push him over the edge, but you never imagined you could bring him there by them alone.

Competing emotions of jealousy and pure arousal over his additional pleasure point war in your mind, arousal coming out the clear winner once you realize the potential this holds. If he thinks you gave them attention before, Max will now be wholly unprepared for your rapidly forming erotic plans. He's screwed.

You don’t bother to keep your excitement hidden. “Fuck, that’s hot. Do you think I can do it again?” you ask, already repositioning your fingers on his horns.

Max huffs out a laugh that sounds a lot like relief and gently reaches up to grab hold of your hands. “Let’s finish your movie first.”

Movie? There’s a movie playing? You look up to see your thirst watch still going. Right. Movie. Hot actor. Max came in his pants from you stroking his horns. Hot actor. Who gives a shit about a hot actor when Max just came in his pants from you stroking his horns.

“Do you really think I care about this movie right now?” It's streaming, it's not like you're going to miss anything by going to the bedroom now. The amount of times you’ve pulled up this movie on your phone just to skip to the good parts and turn it off again is probably more than concerning anyway.

Max tilts his head up towards you. “He hasn’t kissed her yet and that’s the whole reason you watch this trashy garbage.”

You have no idea how he knows about the kiss at the end of this movie. Okay, a lie, you do because you wouldn’t shut up about it until he agreed to watch it with you but you didn’t think he’d actually been listening at the time.

You weigh your options. On one hand, that kiss is the whole reason you turned this movie on to begin with. The chance to see it on a screen larger than one you could hold in your palm was too tempting. On the other hand, you have a very sexy monster with exciting new potential sitting between your legs.

You glance back at the screen. If you’re right – and you know you are, you have this stupid movie memorized to the minute – the kiss will happen in the next five minutes. It is a really hot kiss.

You can wait – but after...

+++

It’s not a mistake next time. Much to your chagrin Max wouldn't let you do it again immediately after your movie ended, but much to your pleasure he chose to make good on his overdue promise and eat you out instead. It’s the little things sometimes.

Two weeks go by before you get your chance. Max is lying spread eagle on the bed, his head buried in the fluffy white duvet. He looks up when you enter the room, face lighting up at your appearance in his bedroom. You haven’t seen each other in four days, work and other obligations keeping the both of you tied up and not in a sexy way.

“Lamb, you’re here,” Max smiles.

“Where else would I go?” you tease. “To that big werewolf down the hall?”

Max pouts despite knowing full well there’s no such creature on this block, much less on his floor. Such a drama queen. You jump next to him on the bed, swatting his wing out of your way. “Don’t even, you know you’re the only big bad monster I want.”

Max grabs hold of you, pulling you underneath him. He cages you in with his arms and wings, flashing his fangs at you. “Is that so?”

You’re so glad his powers don’t include reading minds. For one, you really don’t need him knowing how often you think about the large amount of money you could make selling pictures of your feet online, and for two, it means you can still surprise him.

You put on your soft voice, the one Max can’t seem to deny and never catches (or possibly cares) that you only ever use when you want something. You’re not above a little manipulation and it’s only fair given how often he uses his own monstrous wiles to get his way.

“Maxie, will you let me do something special tonight?” you ask.

His eyes sparkle with the promise of a good night ahead of him. If only he could know what you have planned.

+++

“Lamb, p-please,” Max begs, sounding well and truly strung out beneath you.

You have him tied up, or rather, chained down. Silver with copper plating along the links to keep his strength in check without actually hurting him, looped around his thick arms like the finest of jewelry. There’s enough slack to allow him to rest comfortably, but he is decidedly trapped with his arms spread apart.

“Color, baby?” you ask, pausing your slow, teasing motions. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve had him like this. It’s impressive how long he’s lasted despite his heightened sensitivity.

A deep, unrequired breath shudders through him. “G-green. Green.”

You smile, resettling yourself. You're straddling Max's chest, knees planted just below his armpits. From this position you're giving him a show, but you'd been unable to resist a little tease.

You came prepared tonight, wearing a lingerie set Max had yet to see. Sheer lace, thin enough that you might as well not be wearing anything at all, with sweet floral embellishments that provide a limited sense of modesty. It’s exactly the kind of thing to make Max go crazy for you and you only revealed it after he was chained up.

There was a moment where you thought he might actually break out of the chains. They groaned under the pressure he put on them, the links digging into his skin from how desperately he reached for you. They held strong in the end, but you almost wish they hadn’t. Watching him, strained rippling muscles, pulling the chains clean from their carefully mounted anchors, all in an effort to get to you? The mere idea was fucking Hot and immediately filed away as something to explore later.

You settle back down, rubbing the obsidian colored base of Max's horns with your thumbs. He moans at the pressure, eyes squeezing shut with pleasure. It’s a beautiful sight, making you want to seek some relief of your own, but this isn’t about you. All of this is for him.

“You look so good like this baby,” you say, running the pads of your fingers along the corrugated surface, enjoying the satisfying tingle that runs up your own appendages. “Tell me what you need.”

You can tell he’s close – it’s a little different with his physiology but the signs are still there. You can see it in his face, the way his body is tensing beneath you. If he needed to breathe, his chest would likely be heaving. You’re certain if you looked back you would see his cock throbbing, begging to be touched. Later.

“Tell me baby,” you repeat, slightly increasing the pressure you’re applying to his horns. Max pries his eyes open, the gold of his irises swirling faster than you’ve ever seen.

“More.”

Up until now you’ve remained somewhat careful, not wanting to accidentally hurt him with your touch. You’ve paid close attention to how many fingers are on him at once and how much pressure you’re applying to each. Max’s response has been driving your every move, taking in each moan and twitch of his muscles as your guide. You’ve avoided placing your whole hand on him at once, not wanting to overwhelm. It seems to be exactly what he’s asking for now.

You wrap your left hand completely around one horn while running the fingertips of your right hand back and forth over the other. It doesn’t take much. A few precise rubs, providing just a bit more added pressure than you have all night, and he tenses up beneath you, painting his stomach in his spend.

After a couple more soft strokes you let your grip slacken, sliding off of Max’s chest to release his arms from their restraints. The moment he’s freed Max pulls you into him, kissing and gently biting anywhere he can place his mouth. The bites don’t break your skin, instead causing goosebumps to erupt across your body in anticipation.

Now that Max is taken care of you can’t help but notice how wet your panties have gotten, soaked through with your arousal. And you didn’t even grind on him. Jeeze.

Max slows and rests his forehead against yours. You can feel the base of his horns against the thin skin, serving as an immediate reminder to what you just did. “You’re too good to me, little lamb,” Max says, kissing your nose.

You’re not sure what to say. Denying the claim is a possibility, but that’s something you’ve already done a thousand times over. It doesn’t seem to be sticking that as far as you’re concerned he’s only received a fraction of what he deserves. Instead you snuggle deeper into Max’s arms, content to share this moment and handle your own needs later. You don’t want to shift the focus of this from him.

The clasp on your bra comes loose and you think you know where things are headed. “You don’t have to Max, I’m okay,” you tell him.

Max’s hands move to your hips, sliding your panties down. “I know I don’t. But I want you to sit on my face and make me cum from your thighs wrapped around my horns while I taste you.”

Your eyes snap up to look at his. Jesus christ, you hadn’t even considered-

“What do you say, sweet cheeks?”

“Fuck yeah.”

She shivers slightly and Max reaches down, careful not to disturb her too much, and pulls a blanket over her lower half. He smiles as her leg wraps around his, paired with a content low hum.

He can't remember the last time he felt this comfortable around someone. The nickname he'd given her couldn't be more ironic. He thought it was funny, leading her to the proverbial slaughter after overhearing her self proclaimed kinky interests. She looked sweet and the way she had stumbled through talking with him hadn’t led Max to expect this.

The traces of her gentle touch still linger on his horns. Some of the bolder ones he’s slept with throughout the years have touched them, but not like her. She was careful, gentle, even before he warned of their sensitivity. Anticipating her reaching for them as he reached his peak hadn’t even crossed his mind. A foreign sense of warmth floods Max’s body as he reflects on it. His little lamb hadn’t shied away from him in the slightest – realizing and acting on the additional pleasure she could provide him rather than only caring for her own needs.

She makes a soft sound, wrinkling her nose slightly before pulling herself in impossibly closer. Max wonders if she’s unconsciously searching for more warmth in her sleep, her body telling her that she should be able to find more against him. For the first time in a long time, Max wishes there was still fresh blood pumping through his veins, that undeniable warmth of life to keep her comfortable as she sleeps. From the way she’s tucked herself into him though, she doesn’t really seem to mind.

There’s work waiting for Max to attend to, a pile of emails that have accrued from just a day of being out of the office. He knows he should get to them, take advantage while she’s sleeping to catch up, but he can’t bring himself to. Not yet.

Max settles further into the bed, mindful to keep his wings comfortable, and closes his eyes. He knows he won’t actually rest but the temptation is too strong. He playacts, imagining that he’s drifting off alongside her. Venturing into pleasant dreams to wake up happy and content beside a beautiful woman. He hopes his little lamb thinks something similar when she wakes.