Warnings: Anxiety, Mild Smut
I stay tucked into Max's side as we walk home. He holds my hand so that he can see the ring he gave me, putting his other arm firmly around my waist. I can feel him vibrating with energy, and I feel like I must be glowing, but we both manage to keep ourselves in check until we reach his building.
Once we're inside, I open my mouth to speak, but Max turns and presses my back against the door, leaning down to kiss me excitedly. I gasp against his mouth, reaching up and tangling my hands in his hair, moaning when his palms find my thighs and push my skirt up. "Max, we're in the lobby," I remind him. In response, he lifts me roughly; I yelp as he moves to the elevator and pushes the button. I try to speak again, but he won't let our mouths part. Our tongues tangle together and my legs twine around his waist, and suddenly I'm very glad that no one else lives here.
As he carries me to my apartment, I finally manage to say, "I dreamed about this, you know. You asking me to marry you. I thought of a million ways that it could happen, how I would act, what I would say."
Max leans me against the wall so he can unlock my door. He brushes his nose against mine and shyly asks, "Did I live up to your expectations?"
"Oh, Max," I reply, running a hand over his beard and swiping my thumb across his lower lip. "It was better than anything I imagined." He beams at me, carrying me into the apartment and backing up against the door to shut it. He reaches behind him briefly to lock it and carries me to the bed.
He throws me down on top of the covers and yanks down the front of my dress, popping my bra open to expose my breasts. He kicks off his shoes before he gets on top of me, and then everything goes hazy.
Max has never been this uninhibited before; he's always been eager, but now he's rough and primal too, as if he's trying to prove to the universe that I'm his. I encourage him as he sucks and kisses bruises into my neck and pinches my nipples wantonly.
I lose track of how long we make love. When I finally fall asleep in his arms, I'm exhausted, but I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.
The next morning, I wake late. Before I can get up, Max appears with breakfast. "Good morning," he greets me bashfully, getting into bed with the tray. I rub the back of his neck soothingly, noticing that he seems distressed.
"What's wrong, Max?" He blushes, fiddling with a forkful of eggs. "You can tell me," I assure him, lifting my head so I can kiss his cheek. "I love you, Max." I take his hand in mine and he lifts it to his mouth, kissing the spot just under my engagement ring.
"I love you, Robin," he responds easily, then pauses. Finally, he whispers, "I didn't hurt you last night, did I?" He sets his fork down and gently runs his fingers over my neck. I know there must be marks there.
"No, Max, I don't hurt," I answer honestly. "In fact, I've never felt better." I lean my head against his shoulder and gaze up into his warm, dark eyes. "You make me very happy, Max." I reach up and touch his cheek.
He grins at me and I can't help grinning back; he's an amazingly beautiful man, and he's even more beautiful when he's pleased. I kiss his dimples and he squirms just a little before putting his hands on my shoulders and pressing his mouth against mine.
"Eat your breakfast," he breathes. "I hope I'm about to make you happier."
An hour later, Max is holding my hand and excitedly pulling me down the street. "Max, where are we going?" I question again. He won't tell me anything, so I have no idea what's happening.
"You'll see," he teases, hugging me to him and kissing my forehead. "We're almost there. Close your eyes."
"Close my eyes?" I inquire skeptically. I trust him, of course, but he hasn't been this secretive with me since we confessed that we loved each other.
"I'll keep you safe," he promises, his eyes sparkling. I bite my lip and shake my head at him.
"I know you will, Max. I'm just curious." I put my arms around his neck and lean up to give him a soft kiss. He takes a shaky breath and hums deep in his throat, sliding his fingers into my hair and holding me close.
When our mouths finally part, he smirks. "I'm not telling you anything," he reveals, kissing me again.
"Oh, that's mean," I murmur against his lips; he smiles.
"Close your eyes," he requests again. This time, I oblige. He moves behind me, propelling me forward gently. I step carefully; when we stop, Max curls his arm around my shoulders and presses his lips to my ear. "Open them," he instructs nervously. I can feel him trembling, so I reach up and squeeze his hand as I obey.
We're standing in front of Fran's store. It's closed because it's Sunday, and I'm momentarily confused. "Max? What's going on?" I wonder. Clearly there's something here that I'm not getting.
He rests his cheek against mine and takes a deep breath before he answers. "I bought it for you," he divulges quietly. "For us. Fran doesn't have anyone to leave it to, and no one wanted to buy it, even though it's successful for its size. But you loved it so much, and I thought… I thought it was something we could do together. You can run the store, and I can keep the property in shape. I know how to restore furniture too. It's close to our building, and there are a lot of street markets nearby where we could shop for new items." He's starting to ramble; he's nervous. Finally, he sputters, "I should have asked first. I shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry, I…"
I turn, putting my fingers on his lips. "Max, why are you apologizing?" I feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. He's perfectly anticipated what I want before I even knew I wanted it. "I love it, Max. It's perfect. And I love you. So much." I stand on my tiptoes so I can kiss him, and he kisses me back passionately, desperately. "Forever, Max," I pledge. "I love you forever. We're going to be together forever. Do you understand?"
Max smiles down at me, lifting my body against his. "I like the sound of that," he agrees. Before I can say more, he's kissing me again. I hold onto him tightly.
My feet aren't touching the ground, so it feels like I'm floating. I'm deliriously happy, and I never want to come back down.
On the walk back, we pass by the farmer's market and Max can't resist the strawberries, which are plump and brilliantly red. At home, we sit at the kitchen table and feed each other. Max is deliberately messy, and strawberry juice gets all over my fingers.
He decides to clean them off with his tongue.
He slowly licks my pinky before sucking the digit into his mouth up to the first knuckle. His breathing gets heavy as he sucks it in further, and I bite my lip and squirm; I love the sounds he makes when he breathes like that.
"They're clean now, Max," I observe breathlessly, trembling.
He lets my finger slip from his mouth and smiles shyly at me. "I know. Now I'm just tasting your skin." I gasp as he quickly stands and scoops me up into his arms, kissing me fiercely as he carries me to the bed.
"And now I'm going to taste the rest."
When I wake up on Monday, Max is making breakfast. I walk into the kitchen and slip my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his bare back and rubbing my hands over his taut stomach. "You like making breakfast," I murmur; he chuckles.
"I like taking care of you," he responds, turning to kiss me before we sit down to eat.
He walks me to Fran's store; she's going to start showing me around and telling me how she's been running things. Max twines our fingers together and I lean against him, enjoying the breeze coming off the water and the sunshine on my skin.
When we arrive at our destination, Max is reluctant to leave. Ever since I moved in, we've hardly been apart. He gives me a long, lingering goodbye kiss, like he's afraid that I'll forget him when he leaves and he's trying to make sure I remember him.
"I'm not going anywhere," I promise. "I'm yours. I love you, Max."
His answering smile is bashful and hopeful. "I'm yours forever. I love you, Robin."
At noon, Max wanders over with lunch for all three of us. He's been working, so he's a bit messy, but I sit in his arms anyway. He protests at first, but then he can't help snuggling. Before he leaves, he kisses my cheek sweetly. "I'll come pick you up when you're done," he says. "Wait for me."
I grab his shirt and pull him back for a real kiss, which he gladly gives me. "Don't be late," I admonish him teasingly. He kisses my mouth one more time.
"Never." I stand at the door and watch him walk away; he waves before he turns the corner and I wave back.
Fran comes up behind me. "Oh, honey," she sighs, resting her arm on my shoulder. "If I were younger, you'd have to watch it, because I'd try and steal that man right out from under you."
I laugh heartily before we go back to work.
Max is waiting to walk with me when I'm finished. When we get home, we make dinner together and start to research care facilities in the area for August. I can tell that Max is still nervous about the idea, so I set my computer aside and crawl into his lap, looking up into his eyes and stroking his hair soothingly.
"Max, are you sure?" I ask. "This is a big decision, and I don't want you to rush it. You need to be okay with everything, and if you need more time, that's all right."
Max smiles at me and gives me a soft kiss. "I am sure. I'm… apprehensive, but sure. He needs someone who knows how to properly deal with his condition. He needs friends his own age. And his attitude, Robin… I can't have that around you. I want you to be happy, and I want to be happy, and we can't be happy if he's here. So let's find a place. A good one. A nice one. As soon as we can. I want to start living our life, Robin."
"We're living it right now, Max." My fingers graze his cheek. "And I think we're doing a pretty good job so far."
He replies with a kiss.
This pattern repeats every day. It's new, but it feels normal. On Thursday, as we walk, Max is quieter than usual. I squeeze his hand. "How did your visit go?" I venture. I'd volunteered to go with him when he visited the home he wants to put August in today, but he said he had to do it by himself; he still wants to keep me as far from August as possible because of everything that's happened. When he doesn't answer, I keep talking. "I just worry, Max. I want to help you. You can count on me, okay?" He nods, still quiet.
"It's a nice place," he finally says. "I don't think he's going to like it, exactly, but maybe he won't mind it. Eventually." He falls silent again. I can tell he doesn't want to talk, and I don't want to push him, so I tuck myself into his side and just snuggle close to him the rest of the way home.
Max goes to check on August while I'm making dinner. I start to get anxious when it takes him longer than usual. I take everything off the stove and head out into the hallway to look for him.
He's not there. The obvious place to check would be August's apartment, but I hesitate. It will upset him even if I knock on the door, and I don't want to upset him.
While I stand there thinking, I hear a rhythmic tapping sound coming from the walls near my apartment, so I push open the entrance by my door and step inside. It's dark, but I can still see Max at the end of the passage by the bathtub peephole. He's rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his legs, his head resting on his knees. I make my way carefully to him, kneeling down and touching his arms. He jumps and looks up at me in surprise. There are tear tracks on his face, and my heart clenches as I realize how distressed he is.
"Max," I whisper, my voice quivering, "what's wrong?"
He sniffles and hangs his head. "Nothing," he lies horribly. "I'm fine." I sigh, sitting next to him and pulling him down so his head is on my shoulder.
"I hope you don't think I'm going to accept that as an answer," I reply gently. "Max… let me help. Please."
He looks up and gestures vaguely to the space around us. "I always came back here to feel safe," he starts. "Lately, I hate it. It's… confusing." He cups my cheek in his big, warm hand and presses his forehead to mine. "Robin, I think… I think I need to see someone. A professional someone. I… I have a lot of problems. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I talk to a doctor, they'll tell me that I'm too messed up to fix."
"Max," I soothe him, slipping an arm around his shoulders and sinking my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. "You're not too messed up to fix. I know you have problems; so do I. But you're functioning in spite of them, and that's admirable. So much has changed for you recently. You can take some time to adjust before you make another change if you need it. I'm so proud of what you've done already, Max. You're very brave." I bite my lip as he clings to me and finally decide to continue. "Max, are you… are you sure you want to stay here? In this building? Considering everything that's happened here, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave."
"I don't want to leave." His voice is firm. "This is my livelihood. I'm good at this. I like this. And it's how I'm going to take care of you. I just… I need some good memories of these spaces, I think. I just don't know where to start."
"I do," I answer softly. Max looks at me curiously and I smile. "Max," I remind him, "this is where you told me you loved me. Right here, in these walls. It's one of my happiest memories. Our first kiss was here. I know that that's not enough to erase everything else, but I think it's a good beginning, isn't it?"
Max smiles and blushes deeply, biting his lip. "I try not to think about that moment, to be honest. I was ashamed of so much that I told you. I think about what happened… later." He rubs his cheek against mine and presses his lips lightly to my neck. "When you let me be with you like that, Robin…" he sighs. "That's when I knew it was real. You wouldn't have let me do that with you if you didn't want me."
My hand slips down to curl into his shirt as I turn my head so our mouths can meet. "I love you, Max," I tell him. "I'll always be honest with you, and I'll always support you. So tell me what I can do to help you. Tell me what I can do to make these walls a happy place for you."
Max shifts me so that I'm straddling his lap. "You've already reminded me that it's becoming one," he assures me, stroking his hands over my thighs and pushing my skirt up. I gasp as he pulls me closer, my hips involuntarily rocking forward. I press my chest against his and put my arms around his neck.
"Tell me you love me," he requests desperately, his lips against my jaw. "Tell me you're mine forever. Tell me that no one has ever made or will ever make you feel the way I make you feel. Tell me that, somehow, we're going to have a wonderfully happy life, in spite of everything. And then let me make love to you."
I blush and beam at him, running my fingers through his hair and then cupping his face in my hands. "I love you, Max. I am yours forever. No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel. No one will ever make me feel the way you make me feel. We will have a wonderfully happy life, because as long as we're together, Max, we can get through anything. I promise."
He nods, his eyes glistening with tears. "I feel the same way about you, you know."
"I know, Max." I drag my hands down his chest to his waist. "Now, Max," I purr, pushing his pants and underwear down until his cock springs free and swallowing the sound he makes as I start to stroke it, "make love to me. I want another happy memory."