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He rubbed his thumb harder against that piece in his fist, his other hand scrubbing his forehead. The last time he’d seen Sean, when Sean had stopped by without warning? God, that night had ended in disaster. His stomach shifted restlessly. It still alarmed him, even now, how close he’d come to flipping out. How hard the shit had hit the fan, how fast the past came charging back. It’d taken all he had to keep that whirling cyclone at bay. All his focus. All his strength. Every battlement surrounding his sanity. All because he’d let himself get brain-drunk complacent, enough that he’d actually drummed up chroí. In regards to Sean. Jesus. He needed to punt that word pronto, wipe it from his Irish bank completely.
Closing his eyes, he breathed a curse. To an outsider, his behavior must seem ludicrous. If someone made him happy why fucking fight it? But it wasn’t that easy for him. Was never that black and white. Ever since the world as he’d always known it ended, it was as if every cell of his being became allergic. Allergic to love, the romantic sort. To the point that just the thought of it made him ill. As if the compulsion to steer clear had been ingrained in his DNA. The beginning of the shift triggered the night of Kevin’s death, but then set in stone that morning at his grave. When something overtook Max in order to keep him going. A force that’d been sustaining him ever since. Meaning, he couldn’t just say, “I think I’ll give it another go.” Something inside him, instilled deep in his soul, just wouldn’t let him, its strength transcending from the emotional to the physical. Looked like that pact with the devil was still binding. And would be for the rest of his life.
Not that that was a bad thing in the end. That pact would keep his ass out of trouble. Keep him safe from future heartbreak. Keep all potential threats at bay. Because that pact had stripped him of his ability to trust, too. And replaced it with the drive to stay isolated. Separated. A position he needed to re-establish immediately. As in tonight, when Sean came for his appointment.
* * * * *
“Sean. Good to see you,” Max muttered. “Come on in.”
Sean peered at him from the stoop, his deep blue eyes tentative.
Max wobbled on the precipice of falling into them.
Don’t smile. Don’t do it. Don’t you dare fucking smile.
Sean smiled.
Goddamn it.
“Hey, Max. How’ve you been?”
Shitty, actually. “Great.”
Max gestured Sean in, noting his wrist cuffs already in place. Guess he liked wearing them. Max liked him wearing them, too. For a whole fucking plethora of reasons. Max’s chest and stomach constricted in perfect unison. He wasn’t looking forward to setting the tone for tonight’s appointment. Probably because it was all fucking wrong. Didn’t fit them even remotely. Their vibe pulsed with energy, thrived on pure chemistry. Tonight’s, though, would feel unnaturally suppressed. But it was the way Max had to keep things until he figured out what to do. How to fix this shit and set things back to right. Until then, he’d be going with what presently felt most logical; the three D’s—duck, dodge, and deter. Seeing as he was the one in charge, that shouldn’t prove too terribly difficult.
Max knocked on wood, just in case, as he tersely led the way down the hall.
“There a reason you just rapped on that chair rail molding?” Sean’s voice sounded mildly amused.
“Yup.” Max stopped at the basement door and turned to Sean. “Head down and wait for me. Gonna go get changed.”
Sean glanced into the stairwell, then looked back at Max. Max scowled. Why wasn’t he going? Sean fidgeted.
Max stared at him. “What.”
Sean pocketed his hands and shrugged. “Was just kind of hoping I could talk to you first. Outside of the basement’s parameters.”
Max’s heart rate kicked up a notch. “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”
Sean frowned. “Not even for a minute? I just need to know what hap—”
“No,” Max cut him off. “Not even for a minute. I’m not in the mood, Sean. Not tonight.”
“Then when?”
“I dunno.”
Sean pursed his lips. “You told me we’re supposed to communicate.”
“About things pertaining specifically to our scenes.”
Sean’s eyes flashed with ire. “I was worried about you.”
“You shouldn’t’ve been.”
“I can see that. A simple text, though, would’ve been nice.”
Fuck... Max dragged a hand down his face. “What part of ‘I don’t wanna talk about shit’ do you not understand?”
Sean’s anger visibly dwindled. Now he looked hurt.
Shit. Shit fuck. Goddamn it. Max scowled again. Where was Sean’s smile when he actually needed it? A sharp surge of guilt squeezed his chest.
He exhaled heavily, then reached for Sean’s jaw, cupping one side with his hand. “Caitín,” he murmured. “Don’t worry. Relax. Your Dom’s gonna take care of you. Just like always.”
