Page 37 of Naughty November
“He can’t handle the wine coolers anymore,” I replied.
He laughed.
When I reached Max, he’d turned on his side, and he was using his towel as a pillow. He followed my movements through his pity-meexpression as I sat down and placed the plate between us. The pitcher ended up on the floorboards, and I resisted the urge to throw water on him.
“You gotta eat, buddy,” I said.
He pushed himself up on his elbow and scrubbed a hand over his face.
He was damn gorgeous. We spent a lot of time outdoors in the summer, so we hadn’t lost much of the color we got every year. It was extra visible with his trunks riding low over his hip.
“Can you take care of me like this all week?”
I chuckled. “You’re lucky we’re down here. I usually only do this for men who bend over for me.”
A bit of bullshit there. Max and I had always been good at supporting each other through colds, flus, and other shitty days.
That said, we did tend to behave a little differently down here. I didn’t know what it was, or why; we just stayed closer when we traveled. No wonder it was a favorite of mine.
Max hummed and went for a handful of grapes. “Maybe it’s worth it? What other perks are there?”
“For bending over for me?” I smirked. If he was in a joking mood, I was happy to play along. “For that, I’ll call you sweetheart, dote on you, and, of course, expect to be worshipped.”
He huffed and smiled ruefully. “You’ve never wanted to be worshipped.”
That wasn’t entirely correct. I wasn’t into the regular Dom/sub dynamics on a domestic level, and that was usually where the day-to-day worship snuck in. But it wasn’t like I’d turn Max down if he wanted to shower me with devotion.
“I’d make an exception for you.” I leaned back and got comfortable, ankles crossed, one arm folded behind my head. “I’m thinkin’ daily back rubs and blow jobs.”
He chuckled around a mouthful of food and broke off a piece of bread.
Lying here like this with him, in our own bubble where the banter of the brats in the pool couldn’t touch us, it was difficult not to picture what our lives could look like.
I’d probably move him and Alex into my house faster than they could blink.
Then I’d spend the rest of my life hearing him bitch at me if I forgot to floss.
I pinched a chunk of watermelon and threw it into my mouth.
“Do you ever wonder how Colt and Lucas did it?” he asked.
He actually went there? This was… This meant something. Colt and Lucas were friends from another community, and they were both Daddy Doms. They’d eventually found a Little to complete their dynamic, but not before spending several years as a couple. And no. I didn’t wonder.
My best course of action was to close my eyes and be as casual as I could be when I laid into him.
“Not really,” I replied. “But the difference between you and me, Max, is that you worry about how the puzzle pieces will fit.”
“And you don’t?”
I shook my head. “Most of those puzzle pieces are in your head. You build up a bunch of fears and assume life’s gonna be a maze of obstacles.” I cracked one eye open and watched him. “Colt and Lucas made it because they only saw two puzzle pieces, and they fit perfectly. The rest is secondary shit that you work out together.”
If Max and I got our shot, I’d be just like that. Besides, I knew Max’s limits. I could easily see us attending kink events together and finding a masochist to beat and have some kind of fun with. But at the end of the day, we’d go home together, and the intimacy between us was only ours. We could explore together in kink settings, just like Colt and Lucas had done, by talking a fuck-ton and testing the boundaries. People did it every day.
The only puzzle piece I was struggling with was Max Jensen. He saw things differently. He evidently needed everything figured out.
“Your turn,” I said, walking out of our bathroom. “And before you ask—yeah, I flossed.”
He grinned sleepily and returned his book to his nightstand. “Good boy.”