☆ lia's birthday calendar
day 7: tired x max (mv33)
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☆ warnings: soft dom!max x needy!reader, unprotected p in v, lazy sex, riding, praise, size kink undertones, hints of age gap? ⋆ inspo: (x) (x) (x)
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the apartment feels warm.
dim lights, the faint smell of a candle that you lit, and max moving around in the kitchen making you some tea.
he looks somehow older. in the way he always does at the end of a season. still strong, but carrying the weight of a man who has lived a life at full speed for too long.
he sets a warm mug of tea in your hands, his thumb then brushing your cheek with that easy familiarity of someone who just wants to take care of you. he kisses your forehead. it's slow and warm, how he usually gets when no one else is watching.
“first few days off,” he murmurs all rough and low, like his voice is exhausted too. "feels unreal.”
you grin. “means you’re stuck with me.”
he lets out a tired laugh. it's fond and it hits straight into your chest.
“could be worse, schat.”
you take your place under his arm on the couch.
it's your spot, where he always tucks you in and holds you close. his body is heavy and warm against yours, the kind of weight that tells you just how tired he really is. his hand rests on your thigh, thumb tracing slow absent minded circles. the kind of touch that shows his intimate habits and soft intention.
you ramble on about presents and travel, nothing special in particular. he listens and nods like he always does. just quietly and attentively, like he’s soaking you in. you shift just a little and your thigh brushes his.
his grip strengthens on your thigh. you look up at him, lashes low.
"maxie.”
he freezes. his fingers pause and his eyes lift. his whole expression shifts in a subtle, controlled way. it's not much, but just enough for you to feel it.
he knows. his fingers curl a little firmer around your thigh again.
you never call him maxie that unless you’re needy. unless you want him in that specific way, the way where he's taking care of you completely.
“hm?” his tone dropping low. "you only call me that when you’re after something, schat. is that how you’re asking tonight?”
you blink shyly at him and he smirks. that slow, knowing smirk.
you swing a leg over him and he exhales. you crawl into his lap and he lets you, hands coming to your hips automatically. his thumbs are pressing into the soft parts of your hips like he’s holding you gently in place. he leans back into the sofa, letting you settle on him. your weight settles on him, and his breath catches a little. it's deep and low, the sound a man makes when he's tired but still so fucking affected by you.
“maxie…” you whisper again, lips brushing his jaw.
he lets his head fall back further against the sofa, eyes closed like he’s gathering any energy has left.
"schat, i’m too tired for this.”
you frown softly and start to pull away but his hands tighten on you. not rough, just firm with that quiet authority.
“...but I want you,” he adds, opening his eyes. they’re heavy, and just so gone for you. “i always want you.”
you kiss him slow, showing your neediness, and he lets you take what you want. he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding up your back in a steady, possessive stroke. you grind down on his hardening bulge and he groans. it's low and broken, max is too tired to mask anything.
“tired, maxie?” you tease.
his fingers dig into your hips just enough to still you, his dominance showing through like a warning.
“careful,” he says softly. “i might not have the energy to fuck sense into you, but i’m still not letting you run your little mouth.”
the tone makes your spine tingle and your core fucking wet.
he shifts lower on the sofa and pulls you higher on his strong thighs. he's positioning you on him like it’s instinct, like he could do it half asleep. truthfully, he can. he's used to guiding you and taking care of you.
“come here, let me feel my girl properly.”
you lift just enough for him to push your underwear aside. his touch is clumsy from fatigue but deliberate, the confidence of a man who knows your body almost better than you do. he feels how wet you are, and his cock fucking twitches underneath you.
“you’re fucking kidding me. you got this wet already? fuck, schat.”
“maxieee, stop teasing.” you whine faintly.
a rough chuckle leaves him his mouth, amused and turned on.
he takes out his cock and lines it up to your wet slit. you sink down over him slowly and carefully, like you don't want to push him too much. his head drops to your chest, and a deep groan rumbles through him. the sound he makes is just deep and wrecked, exhausted pleasure escaping his throat.
“god, just stay there a second,” he mutters. “you feel so fucking good.”
his hands stay at your waist. he's not forcing, he's just holding you exactly where he wants you. he's guiding you in soft circles that make your breath hitch and his cockhead hit the right fucking places so well.
“ride me,” he murmurs, voice rough. “slow. i’ll guide you.”
you start moving and rolling your hips carefully. he exhales a breath against your skin, you listen so well.
“that’s it, so good. slow, yeah?” he murmurs, voice thick with tiredness. "let me feel you. fuck, let me relax like this.’”
the praise hits harder because it’s tired, quiet and just so real.
“missed this. missed you getting all soft and wet for me. missed how you get when you need me.”
you tug onto his hair gently and he groans, his hips lifting once. it's a low, natural thrust that proves just how badly he wants you.
“fuck, maxie-”
his grip tightens, guiding your rhythm. he's pushing your hips back and forth, guiding you throughout.
“yeah, take what you need.”
you ride him harder, chasing that edge as he holds you steady. max is whispering some tired dutch curses that you don't really understand. his breath is warm on your throat.
“just like that. i’ve got you, schat. i got you.”
you're shaking against him and he bites back a groan. his arms wrapping around you like he wants to be even closer to you, as if his cock isn't already inside your warm fucking cunt right now.
“don’t stop.” he instructs so quietly. “fuck, just a little more-”
you keep riding his cock until he breaks. he's cumming with a low, shaky sound against your neck. he's clutching you tight like he’s been needing this for weeks. his forehead is pressed into your neck, his whole body tightening and then relaxing. like he finally let go of his fatigue.
he keeps you in his lap, his big hands warm and heavy on your back. he wants you there, he wants you on him just a little longer. max moves his hands slowly and strokes the back of your head.
"knew you were up to no good the second you called me maxie, you little menace."
“and you still let me climb on you.”
he snorts softly. “i’m tired, schat. not fucking dead.”
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