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Goddammit, he thought he’d be able to do this, but now he—he groaned as he pulled his softening cock from Maxwell’s body and then stroked Maxwell’s hip as the man whimpered—he didn’t think he could.
It all meant too fucking much to him and Maxwell…Maxwell didn’t feel the same.
Garrett nuzzled Maxwell’s ear as he eased his leg from around his waist. “How do you feel, baby?”
Maxwell hummed and turned his head to nuzzle Garrett back, and when he spoke, his voice was wonderfully dazed. “Good.”
Garrett chuckled and kissed the side of his head. “That’s what I like to hear.”
And then, because his hand was already close and because some primal, primitive part of him had to feel it, he reached down between Maxwell’s legs and fingered his hole. Maxwell moaned and spread his thighs, and so Garrett explored him for a bit, feeling the way his own cum leaked out of him and the way his rim was soft and twitching. He pushed a thumb into him and stretched it so that he could feel his spend drip out of him and down his crack.
In a haze of building lust, Garrett had just decided he wanted to taste it—lick it straight from Maxwell’s limp body—when he felt Maxwell’s body start to tense again, and he knew the moment was over.
“Hold on.” Garrett pushed himself onto both hands with a groan as though he were standing back up after an explosion rather than just climbing out of bed. “Stay there. Let me get a towel.”
Maxwell had started to push himself onto his elbows too, but at Garrett’s order, he flopped back down. He waved a hand vaguely toward his lower body. “It feels like you might need more than ‘a’ towel down there.”
Garrett laughed, found a threadbare towel, and dunked it into the pail of water he kept in the corner. His shack didn’t have any plumbing. “Brace yourself. It’s cold.”
Maxwell snorted. “Nothing is cold on this planet.”
“Fine.” Garrett settled himself on the edge beside Maxwell’s legs, and Maxwell let him spread his thighs so he could swipe the towel over the mess he’d made of his hole and crack. “It’s tepid.”
Maxwell giggled, and the silly sound made the pain in Garrett’s chest feel manageable. “Tepid water. The horror.”
Garrett smiled and shook his head as he cleaned up Maxwell’s groin and legs, and then threw the towel into the basket in the corner. “Okay, you were right. I need more than one.”
“Is there always that much when you come?” Maxwell asked, and Garrett blushed at the frank question, which was ridiculous considering the things he’d just been saying to Maxwell a few minutes ago.
He shrugged as he dunked another towel in the water. “I guess?”
“So…the other day. After we…in the ship.” Maxwell raised an eyebrow, and Garrett blushed harder as he wiped down Maxwell’s chest.
“Yes. I was exactly as uncomfortable for the rest of the mission as you probably think I was.” Garrett wiped away the last of the cum on Maxwell’s stomach and then started wiping away the globs on his own torso. “It was a little bit awful.”
Maxwell snickered and finally rolled himself off the bed. He stood and started walking—on satisfyingly shaky legs—toward his on the top of the hamper.
Garrett intercepted him. “Let me get you a clean one.”
Maxwell rolled his eyes. “One of yours will be way too big.”
“Well, you’re just going to sleep in it.” Garrett knelt down beside the trunk at the foot of his bed and started digging around in it to find the softest shirt he had while pointedly not thinking about how much he was indulging himself with the cliché of wrapping his man up in his own clothes. “We’ll pick up your clothes and supplies in the morning on our way to the port.”
Maxwell didn’t argue, and Garrett handed him his favorite shirt—the one he’d had forever but had stopped wearing so much because he didn’t want to wear out the softness.
“Speaking of that last mission, I had a question.” Garrett pulled out some sleeping clothes for himself before closing the trunk and turning back to Maxwell. He saw a frisson of tension go up Maxwell’s spine, but the shirt he was pulling on covered his face, and when Maxwell spoke, his voice sounded normal.
“Alright.”
“When we were in the building and had decided to check the upper floors for survivors, I touched your shoulder, told you that I’d talk to Nerol and that we would take the nearby stairs.” Garrett pulled his underwear on but kept his gaze on Maxwell’s newly exposed face. “You looked surprised. Why?”
Maxwell grimaced and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Because I saw protectiveness and expected paternalism.”
Garrett frowned as he pulled on a shirt and hoped that Maxwell would elaborate.
“Which isn’t you at all, and I’m sorry.” Maxwell twitched a half smile at him.
Garrett shook his head, walked around to the other side of the bed, and pulled down the loose sheets. “I’m still confused. What were you expecting me to do?”
