Title: Will You Be My Mistake?
Pairing: Tony/Maxxie
Rating: MA
Summary: In which Michelle should've stood up to Tony and Tony should stop practicing infidelity … Maybe. In which Tony really has gone mad. Around 1x07
Disclaimer: Skins ain't mine. But my best friend who doesn't watch it thinks Maxxie is my MySpace boyfriend.
A/N: It sucks to be sick in bed. But that's what laptops were made for.
--
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.
--
He grabs the back of the strap to his messenger bag, pulls him closer, lays both hands on his arms. His face brushes the other's, and a swipe and drag from his cigarette. He's still holding him. Close.
Get up, Michelle! For Christ's sake, do something!
Michelle clutches her own arms, shaking slightly. But the others didn't think anything of it. Everyone messes with Maxxie. He's the group cuddle bear. Cute, gay, adorable, blond, and cute. It was normal, so . . . why should she be mad?
Because you didn't see them cuddling! You saw them snogging each other's faces off and Tony sucking his dick!
Right . . . So she should stalk over to him, strike him across the face, knock out some teeth, get a crotch shot, call him a wanker, and restore her dignity . . . But then where would that leave her? Single, publically humiliated, single, crying, still pretty decomposed of her dignity, and boyfriendlessly alone.
So what should she do?
Go on being the only one he runs back to after all the one-night stands she knows he has, or call it quits and see how much he really loves her? See if he loves her enough to stop fucking around? . . . Does he?
You won't know if you don't make a move now.
And she watches him to continue to flirt. Watches him remove the cigarette from his mouth and blow smoke into the shorter one's inviting, open lips. She shook violently. She would do something. She had to. She deserved so much better than this . . . No one deserved this. Tony Stonem was a monster and she'd finally be the one to put him in his place.
. . . But then, just like that, as if none of the tormenting things that just went down right before her eyes never happened, he calls her by that funny, cruel nickname across the field. "'Ay, Nips!" He waves to her wildly, then stuffs his hands into his pockets and advances towards her, this huge, happy grin on his face. The gang follows behind him, goofing around while they make their way over. He just smiles at her.
Fucking shit. How could anyone decide to break up with that? She loves his smile. It's gorgeous. Just plain gorgeous.
He meets her at the bench she's sitting on, still a little shaky. Nonetheless, she smiles up at him. He kisses her quickly on the lips and sits down beside her. He turns his smile to the group still playing around just in front of the two of them. He laughs at something they do. His laugh is gorgeous too . . .
Would you show some backbone?
She had no backbone. Her love for whatever she thought he might be someday removed her backbone. They were just one-night stands. She would always be the one he goes back to. He would grow tired of his infidelity one day, and she would still be his girlfriend. Something none of those 'quick fucks' could replace. She was his girlfriend and she was special.
She stares motionlessly as he laughs at Maxxie tripping over his own foot and falling. She stares wordlessly as he gets up and tackles Maxxie. She watches shakily as they roll around in the dry grass, their friends laughing, as if they didn't know that this was obvious flirting, right in her face.
She was special, right? Yes, she was special.
. . . So why did she feel as if she was making a giant mistake?
--
Tony leans against the locker, arms crossed over his chest, his face relaxed.
He wasn't blind. He saw Michelle sitting there across the green looking like she would crack any minute. Crack his head open at any minute. So maybe he was pushing it groping at Maxxie right in her face. It wasn't his fault if Maxxie had a good smoke he could take a drag from or tripped and provided an opportune moment to grab as much of his body as he could. Maxxie just always looks like he's asking to be openly groped.
It wasn't that he didn't love Michelle. Sure he did. Plenty. But just thinking about the possibilities of exploring something else . . . Something so different and exciting and new. Something he could grow to be the best at. A new way to be wanted. More to be wanted by . . . It was thrilling. It was like an aphrodisiac for him. To have even more power. Because he was Tony Stonem and he could have whatever and whoever the fuck he wanted.
"Augh! Fuck, Anwar! . . . You shitty little arse, get back here!"
Tony looked over to the source of the noise and knitted his eyebrows together. And then there was Maxxie.
You couldn't even begin to imagine how frustrating it was. How frustrating that blond was. He thinks he doesn't know; doesn't see him at parties. All the men he picks up and dances with, then shamelessly drags into bedrooms, not to be seen until the next morning when they routinely depart together as a group.
Everyone would think he's this amazingly innocent, naïve child. Like he was new to the world and had no idea how to act. They were the naïve ones. Maxxie got more ass then all of them combined. Tony really wouldn't be surprised if he had fucked a heavily-wasted Chris at a random party. Then fucked every other gay and straight guy at that party. And maybe a threesome with a girl involved . . . Foursomes were possible.
But not him. Not Tony. Tony couldn't be messed with. He was taken. He was off-limits. Of course, not to the slutty girls with no brains he's shagged individually (and sometimes in twos). They thought he'd go back for more. That they'd be good enough in bed to make him want to leave his girlfriend and return for more.
But Maxxie was smarter than that. Much smarter. He knew Tony; knew what Tony was really like—really about.
He couldn't play Maxxie. And that bothered him to no end.
Having all the power he could obtain was like Tony's OCD. Maxxie was ruining everything. He knew Maxxie wanted him, or else he wouldn't have let Tony give him head that night in Russia. Maxxie sought him to some degree, and if he could just prod it—provoke it a little, he'd want him more and more, and soon, he'd have Maxxie completely. He had to level the playing field somehow. Maxxie had almost fucked more men than he had women. But at least after this he'd be able to say that he owned Maxxie's arse. And what a nice arse it was.
"Love making commotions, don't you?" Tony fit his hands into his jean pockets and stared at the seething boy before him, standing stiffly against the locker. It seemed to be Anwar's locker he was seething and being stiff in front of. Tony frowned, "Why are you at Anwar's locker? Hadn't he shunned your gayness?"
Maxxie glared at him, his mouth in a firm line. He was rubbing the left side of his head. "I had tried to talk him into getting past all this complete nonsense. He said his religion wasn't nonsense and slammed his locker into my head! I swear I'll shove that bloody Muslim up Allah's ass. Let's see how he'd like that!" (1)
Tony looked amusedly at Maxxie. He was such a kid. So playful and coarse. Tony had once realized that Maxxie, although, yes, he did not take crap from anyone, but not only that, he was easy to forgive and forget—to move on. He was such a blithe individual. But this thing with Anwar was cracking his protection from harsh reality. He was losing his best friend to the austerity of cruel humanity. It was discerning—Maxxie separating from his carefree nature. It was like Tony becoming generous and loyal and ungainly and . . . not Tony.
But he could make Maxxie forget all about Anwar's stupidity, couldn't he?
"Maxxie?" Tony smiled.
The shorter teen looked up glumly. He had ceased rubbing his head. "What?"
Tony continued to smile. "Come on," he said and grabbed the blond's elbow. He dragged him a little ways down the hall.
"Wha—Where are you—we—"
The brunette (or rather, more brunette) boy turned into the boys' bathroom, pulling Maxxie in and spinning him around. Tony was still smiling.
"Tony—"
Said sadistic teenager shoved the other roughly into a stall, closing it behind them. He latched the lock and turned to face the reddening Maxxie. Tony didn't think he was embarrassed.
Maxxie backed away a step and said angrily, "You crackhead! You think every time I get in a fight with Anwar I'm going to let you—"
"I think making out is a good way to make people forget, however limited a time it may be effective, how idiotic other people can be. Why wouldn't you want to do something that makes you feel better?" Tony rested against the stall door. He didn't want Maxxie to leave. If he left without snogging first, he'd ignore Tony for longer than Tony could imagine not snogging Maxxie. Although he'd done a fine job up until about 2 weeks ago in Russia. Fucking Russia. This was making his life complicated.
Tony smiled. He loved complicated.
Maxxie scowled up at him, "You really are a crackhead, smiling like that . . . And I wouldn't because it's wrong! You have a girlfriend, remember? Michelle? . . . Anything?" He waved his hand back and forth as if he was calling on a taxi. He narrowed his eyes defiantly. "You have to stop fucking around, Tony. Your routine is getting tiresome. Really." He stood against the front of the toilet, staring into Tony's face, unafraid.
Tony couldn't help smiling so much. Maxxie was great. He really was. The ignorance on the front; the heavy defiance; knowing more then he would let on. He was just as cunning as Tony was, honestly. He just manipulated differently. Kindly, like he was careful of how far he went, to make sure he never really hurt anyone. It was brilliant. Tony loved it. The wickedness . . . It was stimulating and sneaky and new. Tony wanted new. He wanted everything new. He wanted Maxxie.
"Tony? Hello? Are you even listening to me? . . . Fuck, I sound like a girl." Maxxie sighed and leaned farther against the low base of the white toilet behind them. He looked back up at the gleefully grinning Tony . . . He looked quite mad, actually. "Tony? You alright?"
Tony took a slow step forward. "Maxxie . . . just let me snog you. For God's sake, so I don't go insane, let me snog you."
Maxxie's face stretched out, his eyes opening up wide. He thought he might be frozen. "T-Tony . . . Are you feeling okay today? Did—did Michelle break up with you? Did—d-did she find out—?"
Tony shook his head, his crazy look softening a bit. He admits, he did sound a little tweaked-out right there. "Nah," he smirked then, looking again at the smaller of the two, "You're just really sexy when you're angry."
Maxxie rolled his eyes, relaxing back. Tony Stonem was as whacked as Cassie. There was no doubt.
He hadn't realized how close Tony had gotten near him until he looked up from the floor into Tony's dark blue eyes. He tried to retreat, but he was backed against the toilet as far he could go . . . A toilet. Fuck, how does he get himself into these messes?
Tony extended his hand and slid it behind Maxxie's neck. He felt Maxxie shiver beneath his touch. His insides jumped. He could finally have what he'd wanted. And it was even greater to know what he wanted, wanted him also.
Maxxie was sure he could just make a quick crotch shot and ditch this whole ordeal . . . But he really couldn't deny that Tony was partially right. Snogging right now sounded very good and it definitely was the perfect way to clear his mind. Plus . . . Tony was looking really, really gorgeous . . . Despite having to be with him in a bathroom stall.
Tony finally stopped just staring down at Maxxie and went to nibble gently on his bottom lip. He took it fully into his mouth and sucked. Maxxie breathed, opening his mouth wider. Tony opened his mouth also, enveloping all of Maxxie's with his own. His other hand went to the blond's cheek, scratching at the soft skin as the kiss went deeper. Maxxie gasped out, his hands disappearing in Tony's hair.
When the kiss started to get really heated, Tony slid his hand down Maxxie's side. He made a quick grab of his ass. Maxxie swallowed into the kiss, his body shaking once. He pressed himself flush against Tony.
Tony was losing control now. He needed to do more, to go further, but he knew Maxxie wouldn't let him. It was just this now, and more next time, or nothing ever again. He grabbed both of his butt cheeks, lifting him up and against him. Maxxie's legs instinctively wrapped themselves around Tony's body. They continued to suck each other's faces off. Tony stepped on either side of the toilet and shoved Maxxie against the wall above it, his ass planted on the tank lid. Tony clawed at his back.
The tall brunette moved swiftly across Maxxie's jaw line and down his neck. Maxxie's head lifted, breathing deeply. Tony licked and bit at the pulse point.
He slid his hands beneath Maxxie's tee, one hand staying at Maxxie's bare back, the other roaming around to his tight, flat stomach. He lost his head in the next minute. Maxxie was sliding his lower body into Tony and it was slowly driving him mad. Without thought, his hand slid beneath the band of Maxxie's trousers and boxers and down to grip his immensely hard cock. Maxxie swallowed and coughed. His hand left Tony's lower back and grabbed his wrist. He tried to slow his breathing.
"Stop."
Tony sighed shakily. He was really hard. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
Maxxie got off the toilet cover, pushing Tony back along with him. They both stood there catching their breath.
". . . You said snogging. Just snogging. We can't go any further."
"Well actually we can do whatever we want. We're grown men."
Maxxie looked up at Tony once again smiling in all his sadistic evil. Maxxie smiled and laughed tiredly. He moved around Tony to the door (or half a door). "Come on, let's get to class. It's going to be suspicious enough with us arriving there together looking like we just—"
"Had a quick bout of sex in the janitor's closet?"
"Yes," Maxxie blushed.
They were in the hall now. They fixed themselves up a bit before they arrived at the psychology room.
"Maxxie, don't tell anyone about this."
"No need to," Maxxie said indifferently, tucking his shirt into his trousers, "you'll mess it all up somehow. Always wanting to push everything to its limit."
"So . . . your place tonight? 7 alright?"
"Tony!"
". . . Later then?"
"Christ."
--
(1) Sorry for that religion hit. Don't mean any offence. But I really think Maxxie does. He got slammed with a locker!
I don't even know what this is. Just some filler thing that's like a 'what if'. Whatever, it's 6 in the morning I'm finishing this and I really need sleep. Can't see straight anymore.
Leave some.
Love,
Paramour