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Sean smiled. “Busy. Good to see you, too.” He looked at Max. “Set it for three?”
“Nope.” Max sliced the chicken into chunks. “One of those is already for Scott.”
“Oh.”
Max shrugged. “We eat together every night.”
Sean nodded and resumed with his task. Math had never been his strong suit, but he knew how to fucking count. There were definitely three guys in the kitchen. Yet Max only wanted two place settings. Sean glanced at Scott. He looked equally perplexed.
Max set the two plates of food on the table, one across from the other.
“You sure?” Scott asked. “I don’t have to stay.”
Max furrowed his brows. “What? No. Jesus. Sit. I cooked this shit for you, too, dumbass.”
Scott glanced at Sean, then shrugged and sat down. “Okay,” he chuckled. “If you insist. Don’t have to twist my arm.”
Sean stood there, absolutely clueless what to do. No way was that other plate for him.
Max snagged some milk from the fridge and poured two glasses. Then his emerald eyes locked with Sean’s. “Thanks for your help.”
Sean smiled. “No problem.” Was he supposed to leave the room now? Was Max dismissing him?
Max rubbed the corners of his mouth with forefinger and thumb, as if trying to wipe away a fucking grin. Scott eyed him, lips twitching, and shook his head. Max coughed. Coughed again. Then grabbed a third chair and set the thing down next to his.
Again, his green gaze slid to Sean. “Sit, sub. Beside me. Tonight I feed you.”
Sean stilled. Whoa, what? His heart skipped a beat. He stared at Max blankly. “Sir?”
Max motioned to the seat. “Sit down,” he repeated slowly, as if suddenly Sean didn’t speak English.
Sarcastic bastard.
Sean grinned, a little irritated, but mostly relieved. Although, why it’d felt like such a big deal, he didn’t really know. But it had. No question. As if, somehow in that moment, Sean’s worth in Max’s eyes was being revealed. Which thankfully, was the total opposite of what Sean feared. That, to Max, he was just some lowly subservient not worthy to eat in his presence. But now it appeared that Max didn’t just value him, but held him in pretty high regard. Because Max didn’t just want Sean sitting by his side. He wanted to feed him. Personally. Wanted to share his meal. Provide for Sean from his very own plate.
Sean tamped down the urge to smile like an idiot.
Moving to his chair, Sean took a seat. Max sat down, too. Then glared at Scott. Sean lifted a brow and looked Scott’s way. Ah. The reason for Max’s less-than-amused look. That big snarky grin on Scott’s face.
“Shut up and eat,” Max muttered.
Scott laughed. “I didn’t say—”
“Eat.”
Shrug. “Okay.” And that’s exactly what he did, moaning a second later as he chewed.
Max reached across Sean’s lap and palmed his thigh, turning Sean to face him directly. Sean eyed him. Max’s lips curved. Then he took Sean’s legs and draped them over his knee.
Oh. Well. Okay. Strange, but what else was new.
Sean smiled at him curiously. Max smirked and stabbed some chicken. Then locked his midnight greens on Sean’s mouth.
“Open.”
Sean did. This was so fucking weird!
Max grinned and fed him the bite. “Good boy.”
Two-fold pleasure hit Sean instantly. Incredible flavor, flooding his taste buds as incredible heat flooded his chest. Never had anyone treated him so sweetly.
Max took a bite, too. Sean glanced at Scott, only to find him studying them. With one hell of a multifaceted expression on his face. Genuine intrigue. Pleasant surprise. Even a hint of… tentative hope?
Scott met his eyes, smiled, and got back to eating. Max brought another bite to Sean’s lips. And so went dinner for the next half hour, Max feeding Sean while conversing with Scott. Sean stayed pretty quiet, because the moment was still so surreal. But he’d also picked up a low-key vibe from Max. One that said he’d prefer Sean be observant as opposed to engaging in conversation. As if he subconsciously wanted Sean to figure out the significance of this otherwise ordinary event.
Which Sean had yet to do. He would keep it tucked away in his brain though for later. A piece to the puzzle that was Max.
They finished their meals as Scott finished up a story about a client he’d had earlier that day. A story so fucking funny, it’d even had Max rolling. About some big guy named Bart… with stomach issues. Issues that evidently became apparent while working out on the weight bench. According to Scott, every time Bart lifted, the act was accompanied by a sound effect.
At one point, Sean had laughed so fucking hard, he’d nearly fallen off of his chair. Fortunately, Max caught him just in time, snapping his arm securely around Sean’s waist. More fortunate still, was how that big, strong arm remained there long after it was needed. Of course, as if to keep shit balanced, Max wouldn’t meet Sean’s eyes after that. Guess he was good with one or the other, but both forms of contact was pushing it. Skating too close to some invisible line. Which again, didn’t surprise Sean. Max had that arm’s-length thing about him that was always lurking just below the surface.
