Loving Sam Lynch - 7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

~*~
Max ended up spending the remainder of the night sleeping on Sam’s couch. Sam had protested and told him to take the bed but he’d refused. After all, they weren’t little kids anymore.

Truth be told, the thought of laying in Sam’s bed where he’d be able to smell Sam on the sheets would drive away any thoughts of sleep.

The morning came too soon. Max could never sleep in; he was always awake at the same time every morning. It didn’t matter if he went to bed at three in the morning or seven in the evening.

That particular morning he was extremely groggy. Immediately after standing up he felt an odd case of vertigo hit him. Grabbing the wall for support, he it pass before opening his eyes. Then he shook his head to clear it before walking lazily to the bathroom to take a shower.

When he was finished he didn’t linger. Refreshed, now awake, and semi-coherent, he changed out of the sweats Sam had lent him and slipped back into his own clothes. He lingered for a bit, viewing the apartment with a distant expression. Every time he made the effort of really looking at it, he was reminded so much of Sam. It was his place after all.

The curtains were pulled back from the wide window looking down onto the quiet parking lot below. And the faint morning sunlight hit him soothingly in the face. Max sighed one last time before he pulled on his jacket and left.

He was lost in thoughts of himself as he drove to the nearest grocery store to pick up some bread. His mind was set. ‘Yes,’ he told himself, ‘I know what I’m going to do.’

Absently, he squinted ahead as he got out of the car and slammed the door behind himself, pocketing his keys.

Inside, he didn’t loiter by any displays. He was perfectly aware of how the entire store was designed so as to entice him to buy things he didn’t really need, and therefore sought the bread immediately and paid for it.

While exiting, he heard his name being called. Having half a mind to ignore it and continue on, he walked faster, but now the voice was repeating his name.

“Max, Max!”

Max turned on one heel just as he was approaching the car.

“Hey,” Jim breathed, coming to a stop in front of Max.

“Er, hi…”

“How’ve you been, buddy?” Jim asked. “I haven’t seen you in some time now.”

“Yeah I’ve been busy.”

Jim nodded, still smiling. Max felt distinctly uncomfortable with the way Jim’s shiny blue eyes were regarding him. “Well, you want to go grab some coffee? I’m not busy and I know your semester just finished.”

“Uh, yeah…I don’t think I want to, but thanks anyway,” Max replied, fingering his keys restlessly.

Jim’s face didn’t fall. “That’s cool. So, you happy school’s over?”

“Elated,” Max said blandly. “I’ll be happy doing nothing till spring.”

Jim chuckled. “Awesome. Well…if you’re sure you don’t want to--.”

“—I, uh…yeah, I have to get home.” Max waved in the general direction of his car.

“Alright, well, I’ll call you up sometime. We can do all that kinky stuff you’re into.”

Max shook his head. “Nah, but thanks for the offer, Jim.”

“Dang you’re such an ice-box outta bed. Well, feel free to call me up if you’re…bored anytime.” Jim winked.

Max turned. “Bye, Jim,” He said, rolling his eyes.

On the drive home, Max forgot about his run-in with Jim and promptly considered his options for the next few months. Of course, he could stay in town till the next semester, or he could go back home and relax till school started. After all, he wanted to get a place of his own off-campus by spring and he might as well start moving out now. The thought of taking up Sam’s continuous offer to live with him flashed briefly in his head before he distracted himself.

He grabbed the bag containing the bread and headed into the apartment building quietly. The long hall was quiet and utterly deserted save two giggling girls leaning against the far wall. When he approached his door, he tried to open it with his key. After fumbling for a few seconds he realized the door wasn’t actually locked. He slid it wide open and stepped into the apartment.

“Hello?”

His bedroom door opened. Xander walked out, red hair mussed up and eyes lazily half open. “Max, you’re back.”

Max gaped. “Uh, yeah. You stayed?”

Xander grunted and slumped onto a chair. “Yeah.” He rubbed his eye with a hand and yawned.

“Oh…” Max didn’t know what else to say.

Xander snorted. “Yeah, you probably wanted me to leave, huh?”

“Um, no. Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Xander, though seemingly sleepy, looked up instantly with those flashing green eyes.

“I just thought you might. You were upset.” Max shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Xander eased up a bit. “Yeah, I was. I am.”

“But you stayed.”

“I stayed,” Xander said solemnly.

“Why?”

Xander shrugged. “I was tired as hell and even though you decided to ditch me for Sam, I was freaking going to get my rest still.”

Max grinned. He couldn’t help himself. “You should go take a shower.”

“I am going to take a shower, and then I’m going to walk out of here and never talk to you again, Maxwell Newman,” Xander said forbiddingly.

“Right. Well get up and get to it then,” Max advised, nodding seriously.

Xander scowled. “Want me out of here so bad?”

Max sighed. “Of course not, Xander.”

“Too bad, I want to get out of here instantly.”

“Listen, I know you’re upset…” Max began tentatively. “But don’t you realize you’re taking it too far? This just proves that you don’t mean what you say to me.”

“Yes, I’m upset. You left me here last night!”

“Sam needed me, Xander.” Max stared at the ceiling patiently.

“I love you, Max,” Xander said softly.

Max’s eyes flicked back to Xander’s face. “I know you think you do. I know you say you do. I also know that you say you can accept that I’ll never stop loving Sam but then you hate when I’m with him. You couldn’t even stand that I left to help him last night.”

“You need me.” Xander nodded to himself approvingly.

“You’re avoiding the issue,” Max said, glaring at Xander.

“No I’m not. Of course I’m going to be a little jealous, Max. That doesn’t mean I’m unreasonable.”

Max considered this, yet his hesitation and guilt over what had happened with Xander wasn’t going away. He felt as if he was cheating him, giving him far less than what he deserved

If this was love—the way he wanted Xander to be happy; the way he felt at ease in Xander’s presence no matter how bad things were; the way he so badly wanted to affect Xander in a positive way instead of the negative poison he liked to dish out—then he loved Xander! It was perhaps not an irrevocable love, nothing so pain-filled, pain-causing, and filled with ambiguousness like his love for Sam. Yet perhaps in its sense of innocent transiency it was equally as biting…though the poison from the bite seemed to take eons to act.

Yet he didn’t want to keep Xander for his very own. Unlike his feelings for Sam, which were possessive at times. Rather, in Xander’s presence he let himself indulge in the fantasy of being kept by someone else for their very own.

“Max?”

“You should go take that shower.” Max stared stonily ahead.

How difficult it was to fight the feelings of overwhelming selfishness and to consider releasing Xander! like one released a captured bird that had not yet become bound by the rules of captivity and could still withstand the outside world of competition and survival.

Xander cussed under his breath. “Don’t just dismiss me that easily.”

“I’m not dismissing you. I’m saying you should go cool off, take some time to think, and you might as well do it in the shower.”

‘That way, I can think too,’ Max thought.

‘You are such a freaking bother, sometimes, Max.” Xander huffed off and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Max changed his clothes while Xander was in the shower. By the time he had finished settling in, Xander still hadn’t emerged. He waited silently, thinking of what he might say to Xander to discourage him. Not to mention he was convincing himself that was the best course of action yet again. He didn’t like how he couldn’t stick to one particular point of view lately and his indecision was testament to this lack of clarity.

Xander came out wrapped only in a towel, which hung gregariously around his hips. His pale chest dusted lightly with auburn hair had drops of water still sluicing down its length and his recently dried hair looked softer to the touch than normal.

“Talk.” Xander crossed his arms but did not sit.

Max rolled his eyes. “What are you, the mafia?”

Xander’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve been over this before.” Indeed they had. “Stop answering my questions with further questions, okay?

“Was that a question?” Xander defiantly raised his chin.

“I don’t know, was it?” Max rebutted.

“If you said it, aren’t you supposed to know whether it’s a question or not?”

Max hesitated for a fraction of a second. “No.”

“Ha! That wasn’t a question!” Xander exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. “You fail.”

Max rolled his eyes again. “How is it that you manage to function on a daily basis? You have the worst mood swings of anyone I know. Mind you, I don’t have any friends who are girls but I’m sure you have PMS.”

“I do not!” Xander exclaimed, indignant.

Max raised an eyebrow. “You were exultant only moments earlier and now you’re outraged.”

“Exultant…outraged…” Xander mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Xander said reluctantly. “Who talks like that anyway?”

“Apparently I do.”

“Only when you’re trying to be a condescending little bitch,” Xander mumbled, plopping down. His face was cast into a downright frown and his brows were furrowed.

Max gaped. “A…condescending little bitch?”

Xander snorted. “Why’re you surprised? Has your only friend Sam not admitted that to you before?” He said Sam as if it was something nasty.

“Sam has never called me a condescending little anything!”

“Pussy…” Xander mumbled, and then said more loudly, “Someone should have by now. Has no one ever tried to be real with you?”

Max frowned. “Sam is real with me.”

Xander shook his head. “You are not real with Sam so even if he is with you, which I highly doubt, your relationship is just based on hopeful dreams and is frankly a bit of a farce.”

A farce? Hopeful dreams? “Our friendship has never been a farce despite the problems we have. And what hopeful dreams are you going on about anyway?”

Xander said slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“Um…”

“You know you seem like a very down-to-earth, real-with-yourself sort of person. You don’t seem to have delusions about anything and yet you’re convincing yourself that your friendship is going to last at this rate and that you don’t actually hope for anything more from Sam.”

“I don’t,” Max insisted, “hope for anything.”

Xander just shook his head, a little disappointed in Max. “Alright. Let’s drop it. Oh well, I’ll be a real friend to you. And more if you’ll let me.”

“I have a real friend--.”

“—No you don’t. Real friends let you hurt yourself but help you get back up again. They tell you things even when they know it’ll hurt you. From what I’ve seen, Sam coddles you. Doesn’t let you get hurt ever and doesn’t do anything that he thinks will hurt you, even if it is good for you in the long run.”

“How do you know this?” Max gaped.

“I’m not a complete shit-head. I’ll admit I’m halfway there, but there is something besides crap in my head.”

Max had to grin. “I’m surprised. Thanks for informing me.”

“And I have PMS?” Xander questioned. “Anyway, I think I’m the best person for you.”

“So you say…and think.”

“Jeez, Max. You’re such a horrible person. I feel like I’m putting myself up for adoption and no one freaking wants me or something.” Xander pouted.

Max could not help but find Xander entirely too endearing for his own good. He was never good at affection though, or emotion of any kind. Though he wanted to do something. Kiss him, maybe? Just lean over and press a gentle kiss to Xander’s lips. He could feel his face flushing.

“What?” Xander asked, peering at him curiously. “Why’re you blushing?”

“No reason…”

“Oh my god, you’re totally thinking something dirty about me. Is it the adoption thing?” Xander lowered his voice. “I’m game, baby.”

“Shut the hell up, Xander. Is that all you think about?”

“God, it makes me horny when you talk to me like that,” Xander sighed, flashing a lascivious grin.

Max didn’t know how, but Xander had managed to make him throw away his troubles yet again in the span of minutes only. What were his protestations? He couldn’t seem to remember. Why did he need any? He needed this, needed Xander. How had he gone so long without him? How could he go on without him?

Sam. One name. A single name.

Yet it was all that he needed to think to make him question his line of thought. Though for the first time, Max asked himself something. When had Sam become the person who held him back? When had he ceased to live except in Sam’s shadow? It seemed that lately he had—until now—no desire save the one to inflict Sam’s presence on his severely bruised soul.

But no, now there is Xander.

Xander, unaware of Max’s thoughts, smiled at him. Lips parted to reveal clean white teeth. Skin stretched across tight cheekbones, transforming a face into serenity. On Xander, it was odd enough to make Max blink.

Max hated himself then more than he had ever hated himself in all of his years on the planet Earth.

Self-recrimination did not seem to be holding him back, so used to indulging himself he’d become. “Xander…” He began.

“Oh fuck. You’re going to come out and tell me to leave aren’t you?”

“No,” Max said. “I’m not.”

“Really?--Really!” Xander’s face lit up like a child once more.

Max was a little distracted by Xander’s bare skin, but forced his gaze up to his face again. “Xander,” He tried once more. He wanted to say so much.

“Kiss me,” He said instead.

Xander blinked. “You want me to--.”

“Kiss me,” Max repeated, interrupting.

Xander didn’t move. He gaped.

Max waited patiently, though his heart was pounding, his cheeks warm, his eye-lids wanted to shut.

He grinned and fidgeted with the fabric of his pants. “I’ve never asked anyone to kiss me before.”

“Y-you haven’t?” Xander gulped, eyes wide.

“Why are you scared all of a sudden? What happened to Macho Xander?”

“H-he was frightened to hell when someone he knows isn’t good with emotions or admitting personal things, not to mention the fact that said person was probably going to kick him out…asked for a kiss.”

“I didn’t say I wanted just one,” Max replied. Tilting his head playfully, he crooked a finger.

“Pinch me someone…”

“Must I come over there?”

Xander stood—his towel dropped—and walked over, unaware of anything but Max sitting across from him. He walked the few steps between them with a sudden expression of ferocity that belied the situation by far.

Max felt his neck snap up when Xander stood before him in such magnificence. He did not limit his eyes to the face of Xander, which by itself was a beautifully imperfect part of the person, and let his eyes run slowly along the long sinewy length of Xander. Tall, lean, with a flat stomach and no bulging muscles, Xander was a sight to behold. The rest of him was equally impressive, equally pleasing.

How had he missed this beauty? Why hadn’t he let himself take it all in?

Hands settled on his shoulders. His head snapped up. Xander was pulling him up, pulling him closer to the heat of his body. It radiated off of him.

Max, in his sinister cold, felt like he would burn if he was held against him for too long.

Lips against his. The kiss came so quick he barely had time to think. But it was a sweet kiss. There was no urgency, no giant cataclysmic moment that built up to this point and caused them both to strive for what was to come ahead. Instead there was enjoyment of the moment. The now. The meeting of lips, of hands gently seeking skin. Pleasure came just from touching, for the sake of touching, of simply being able to do so.

Max’s hands already found skin. It was everywhere.

Xander sought it relentlessly. His fingers rubbed along Max’s arm while his other hand gently held Max’s chin. Such warmth filled them, spreading along the points of connectedness.

Like a feather caressing him, Xander teased the skin of his jaw. “Are you happy?”

Max shook his head, eyes wide now.

“No?” Xander murmured, hand rubbing along the inside of Max’s narrow wrist. “Why not?”

Max smiled slowly. “If I told you I was hard as hell,” he said, “And that I want you to…yes, that,” Max added breathlessly, arching into Xander’s fisted hand which was suddenly wrapped around the length of his erection.

“You were saying?” Xander asked, smiling smugly.

“Um…oh, yeah. Would I kill the mood?”

“Never,” Xander murmured, lowering him to the ground gently.

Max’s head fell back onto the soft plush carpet as Xander disrobed him entirely. He wanted to look up and watch Xander’s every movement, but could not for the fear of losing himself at the sight.

How good this felt! To think of nothing else but physical sensation, of touch and emotion entwined to the point where it was hard to discern either by itself.

Cool hands against the warm skin of his stomach stroked down. Lower, and lower until they reached the pinnacle of his desire. He arched against Xander once more, demanding nothing by spoken language. What he demanded came only from the very recesses of his being, from the core of who he was and what his instinctual impulses were to pleasure beyond measure.

Xander lovingly administered to him. His touch was untainted by anything but sweetness—if sweetness could taint such a moment.

Max was cared for with firm hands and gentle carreses, bringing him up that point which he so longed for, and then brought back from it…only to take him back again.

It was then Max demanded more. Finally, with words, he broke the spell. “Damn it, Xander. You’re killing me here.”

Xander peered up through his eye-lashes at Max, tongue about to lap at Max’s now painful looking erection. He grinned a playful smile. “I’m loving you. Be patient,” he advised, and continued his prior engagement.

Max groaned. If he’d really wanted to put an end to it, he could have tried to out power Xander. But there was so much enjoyment in this playful dance that he could not bring himself to do so. He’d never experienced anything like it. It was such singular focus on his body, though it seemed Xander was enjoying pleasing him as much as Max was enjoying it himself.’’

Admittedly, Max was in agony, but what an agony it was!

When Xander finally took him back to the edge again, Max was half-hysterical, thinking Xander would move away, would slow his pace, would do anything but let him fall over the edge. It made him come all the harder when Xander did not retreat like he thought.

They both breathed heavily.

Xander slid along Max’s body and captured his mouth. This kiss was not gentle, it was full of pent-up passion. And Languorous though Max felt, such was the need for Xander that he latched on and let him know how much more he wanted.

“The bedroom,” Xander gasped, pulling away for air.

“Right,” Max nodded, trying to get up but realizing he felt like silly-putty.

Xander chuckled and helped him up, and then he romantically pushed Max to the bedroom. They didn’t bother closing the door.

The bed was unmade, ruffled and looked ready to fall into. So they did. For long moments, they lay on their sides and kissed deep open-mouthed kisses. Hands still sought, still stroked, forever building up to that one step before the summit.

It was a long, arduous loving. Eventually they got so lost in it that the sounds of flesh against flesh and low moaning were the only things that filled the room and their minds. And then the tempo changed because they were so close. Xander drove into him in a wild untamed way that had Max gripping the bed-sheets and closing his eyes tight. The only sounds he made were those of someone thoroughly enjoying being loved.

When he came, he was followed merely beats after by Xander, who released deeply into him. Their lips met and amorously shared the aftermath of passion.

Xander fell asleep.

Max lay beside him for long moments, unthinking. He stared at the play of light on Xander’s face and was surprised to see it was bright daylight outside, that’s how much he’d lost track of the time.

He noticed the door was open and frowned. They hadn’t left it that wide open…

Suddenly he felt a little prickle of apprehension but he didn’t know why.. He got up, wiped himself clean, and threw on his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned. When he got as far as the edge of the door he felt like his heart would stop.

There, seated on an armchair was Sam, his fingers rubbing his temples and his eyes closed tight.

He closed the bedroom door. Sam heard it but didn’t look up.

His mind was blank. All he could feel was disgust at himself. He felt dirty, unclean. It was because he knew Sam had seen them together. He shouldn’t, he knew that, because there was nothing dirty about making love that way. But he did because he didn’t want his Sam to see him like that.

Such was the effect Sam on him that the beauty of the loving he’d experienced seemed trivial, seemed half of what it had only moments ago.

“Sam,” He said quietly, still standing behind the couch and looking over at his friend with concern. “Are you alright?”

“I will be,” Sam said. His voice was rough. He still didn’t look up.

Max was at a loss for words so he just stood there for what felt like hours. Finally, Sam opened his eyes and looked stormily at him. There wasn’t disgust, there was no expression, none at all and Max didn’t know what to make of that because he’d never in his entire life seen Sam so stony.

“I was going to leave…in a minute. I had to sit down,” Sam said.

“Oh.” Max was frozen. “You should have,” He said honestly. It would have saved them this confrontation, this embarrassing situation. He saw a flash of pain sliver across Sam’s face.

“How long…?” Sam asked.

“Yesterday.” Max replied immediately.

Sam nodded, staring off somewhere behind him now. “I’ve never…”

“I know.” Somehow Max forced a smile. “It had to happen sometime though. Hopefully you won’t be so disgusted you’ll stop cooking for me.” He said it lightly, but he gauged Sam’s expression.

Sam paled. “I wouldn’t…Max, you’re my best friend.” He held out his hands.

Max nodded. “I know. People are like that though. And we were never the type of friends who experimented as kids or really talked about sex. You did that with other people and I did it in my head. So yeah…people are like that.”

“Well not this person,” Sam insisted.

“How long were you--.”

“--I got here ten minutes or so ago,” Sam admitted ruefully.

“Oh.” Max wondered what he’d seen and then thought better of it. “We’re cool?”

Sam smiled but Max knew it was forced. “Of course, Max. There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you.”

“I believe you,” Max said, because he knew it was entirely true. “Listen, I know you don’t like Xander, but he’s really a great guy and he…he cares about me.”

Sam looked away. “Yeah, uh,” he swallowed. “I see. Do you love him?”

Max released a stiff laugh. “I asked you something similar a while ago.”

Sam smiled too. “We all know how that turned out. So…do you?”

“Uh, no…” Max said it softly. Liar, his mind taunted him. You love him. Good god, he was a dreadful person.

Now Sam smiled and came over to him, casting a quick look at his chest before he swallowed and engulfed Max in a hug. “I’m happy for you, Max. You seem…happy.”

Max breathed Sam’s scent in deeply and let himself be held, feeling like it was the best place he’d ever been, a place he didn’t want to leave. “Does that mean you won’t hit him?” He joked.

Sam didn’t make any move to pull away. He didn’t laugh either. “I won’t promise that.”

Max frowned. “Why not?” He tried to pull away but found he couldn’t.

“I don’t like the guy.”

Max rolled his eyes. “You do realize that you’ve never, ever liked anyone I’ve been out with?”

“That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not and you know it, Sam. You hate them all. They’re all lacking in some way. You don’t like their clothes, don’t like the way they look at me...yada yada.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t know why.”

Max grinned. “I do.”It was because none of them were him, Sam. Though he said,“It’s because you’d love to be my Mother so you try very hard to fill that role.”

Sam harrumphed and finally released him, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground. “I’ll, uh, leave now,” He said, not meeting Max’s eyes.

“You don’t have to,” Max insisted. He wanted Sam to stay, to never leave. As usual.

“I do.” Sam said.

When he was gone, Max sat at the chair and thought: ‘Some things never, ever change.’

~*~
After Max closed the door behind him, Sam rushed to get out of there, his heart pounding fast. He could hardly bear to look at Max right now. Images kept flashing in his head that he wanted out.

Max lying back on the bed, head thrown back…Xander…Xander…

It had come as a shock.

Max had been—had been making low noises in his throat. He’d stood frozen for minute, eyes wide, watching. Then disgust had grown in his stomach because of what was happening. He’d averted his eyes and turned around.

The anger came slowly, burning bit by bit. The thought of someone doing that to his Max wasn’t pleasant. He’d never thought of Max with anyone before but now he frowned, his head on his steering wheel. All of those guys, they’d done that with him? Touched him like that?

He’d always assumed Max was the aggressor, that Max would lead the dominant role, but Xander had been the one…he’d been the one inside of his Max.

He’d always been relieved when Max had grown tired with them one by one but now he didn’t want Max to see anyone ever again. Xander didn’t deserve him. And God help him, Sam felt like he was going mad because he wanted to be the one doing that Max…and yet the very idea was displeasing at the same time.