Sweaters & Cigarettes (5 page)

He adds that last part with narrowed eyes,
which gives it some kind of joking sarcasm, but there’s some seriousness
underneath, and Theo tenses up. The prospect of Max pinning him down and
ripping his clothes off is simultaneously terrifying and extremely arousing,
and for a moment, he just sits there, unsure how to react. It doesn’t help that
they’re sitting on a bed, on
Max's
bed, and Theo swallows hard. Max
sighs.

“See,” he says. “Now I’ve freaked you out
again.”

Theo shakes his head jerkily.

“No,” he says, sounding so much less
composed than a moment ago. “No, I just…”

He looks down, and exhales.

“Okay, maybe a little bit, yeah.”

Max sighs again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and this time, it almost
sounds like he means it. “I’m just not used to…”

He seems to hesitate, deliberating, and
Theo looks up at him again.

“I’m not used to showing restraint,” Max
says, with an expression that says he’s fully aware of how stupid that sounds.
“But you’ve asked me to, so I will.”

His eyes scan Theo’s face, gaze wandering
down along his mouth and his throat, down over his body.

“Even though looking at you does things to
me.”

He murmurs the words, his voice low, and
Theo shivers slightly at its gravelly tone. Seriously, how can Max talk like
this? It makes Theo feel so immensely uncomfortable and turned-on, all at the
same time.

And on some level, he appreciates Max
trying, when he really doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to show restraint; he
could just pick someone else, instead of Theo, and skip that part altogether.

“Well, if it helps,” Theo hears himself
say, and Max looks up at him. “It’s mutual.”

He swallows hard, can’t believe the words
coming out of his mouth.

“Looking at you does things to me, too.”

The words hang in the air. Theo has never
talked like this before, has never said anything like that to another person,
in his life. It’s just so straight-forward, and inappropriate on so many
levels.

Max doesn’t seem to think so, though. Or
maybe he does, and that’s why hearing it from Theo’s mouth makes him tense up a
bit, blue eyes suddenly completely fixed on Theo’s green ones. He looks at him
like he wants to eat him alive, and suddenly, Theo feels like that’s what he
wants, more than anything in the world. But he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he wonders what, exactly, his own
expression looks like, since it makes Max react this way.

He wonders what it is that makes Max
suddenly lean forward and kiss him, any thought of restraint seemingly gone
from his mind.

It doesn’t start off slow, or soft. It
doesn’t escalate, transforming from a relatively innocent kiss into something
more heated. No, instead, Max's mouth rams into Theo’s, pushing them both back
down onto the bed, Theo’s hands gripping onto Max's shirt, as Max's fingers dig
into his hair. His other hand is against Theo’s shoulder, firmly pressing him
down into the sheets. Theo groans in surprise, but closes his eyes and grabs a
fistful of black, thin fabric in one hand, the other trailing up underneath
Max's shirt, touching his skin. He feels Max tense up above him.

There’s no restraint, whatsoever.

Theo isn’t used to this, though. He’s not
used to someone just
attacking
him like this, body pressing down against
his, grinding against him. But even though it’s unfamiliar and just a little
bit scary, feeling Max's weight on top of him, black hair brushing against his
forehead as Max leans into him, it’s thrilling. He likes this. He likes the way
Max groans against his mouth, as Theo moves both his hands up underneath his
long-sleeved t-shirt, feeling his skin.

Max moves a bit then, getting up on his
knees. He grabs the back of his shirt, blue eyes on Theo, and pulls it over his
head, messing up his hair in the process. Just the sight of it makes Theo tense
up in the best way, but as Max throws the shirt aside, he feels his eyes widen.
He lets his gaze wander across Max's naked torso, momentarily mesmerized.

Tattoos.
Tattoos.

Of course Max has tattoos
, Theo think to himself.
‘Cause it’s
not like he’s hot enough, as it is.

There are several inked images along the
skin of his upper arms, some of them still incomplete, by the looks of it. Theo
is too distracted to pay attention to what they depict, exactly, but he can’t
help but stare at them, as his eyes trail over Max's bare chest, to his other
arm, taking it all in.

Theo finds himself moving his hands up to
touch the inked skin on those arms, and Max lets him, at least for a moment.
Then he swoops back down and claims Theo’s mouth, and Theo closes his eyes
again, pulling him closer.

Hands are everywhere, that pierced tongue
sliding along Theo’s bottom lip, before pushing into his mouth, Max's skin
smooth underneath Theo's hands, blood rushing downward, that sudden hardness
straining against the fabric of his jeans. Theo’s shirt comes off, expertly
discarded by Max's eager hands, and Theo is vaguely aware of it landing
somewhere on the floor. He’s breathing heavily now, wrapped up in a hot,
intoxicated haze, and he can feel his heart pounding frantically.

Max moves to grab Theo’s hands in his own,
pressing them down against the mattress, on either side of Theo’s head, before
wrapping his fingers around his wrists. It sends a surge of excited fear
through Theo’s body, and he lets out a breathless moan as Max moves his mouth
down along his throat and his collarbone, kissing his chest. The kisses are
slow and hungry, and Theo closes his eyes, overwhelmed, as the sensation builds
and makes him squirm. He’s close. He can feel it.

And that’s when he opens his eyes,
suddenly panicked.

“Wait,” he manages to get out, desperate
for Max to stop what he’s doing right now, because he simply can’t take it,
embarrassing and ridiculous, as that is.

Max's reaction surprises him, though. The sound
that comes out of his mouth is one of almost whiny impatience, almost as though
he’s in pain, and Theo freezes and just stays completely still, as Max stops
kissing him and instead rests his forehead against Theo’s bare chest.

“Um,” Theo says hesitantly after a second,
not moving, and Max groans loudly against his skin.

“I swear, you’ll be the death of me,” he
murmurs, and Theo swallows hard.

“Sorry,” he says, in lack of anything
else, but Max looks up then and meets his gaze. His blue eyes are shining,
practically glowing with impatient arousal. Just the sight of it makes Theo’s
entire body tense up.

“No,” Max says. “No, I’m just…
overreacting.”

He sighs heavily. Theo doesn’t need to
tell him more explicitly that he wants them to stop, he gets it. Although, Theo
isn’t quite sure
why
he wants it to stop; it’s not like he’s not
enjoying it.

“It’s fine.” Max closes his eyes for a
moment, as though trying to calm down. “You might actually be killing me,
though.”

He says it lightly, and Theo relaxes a
bit, but he still feels a bit self-conscious at Max's words. Not to mention
that reaction.

Max lets out another sigh and opens his
eyes. They’re calmer now, not as intense, but it’s still painfully obvious that
he’s holding back. He leans in slightly, scans Theo’s face with those eyes,
before planting a soft kiss on his mouth. It’s soft, but it’s also hungry, and
he pulls away after only a second.

“Alright,” he says, moving his mouth
lightly down along Theo’s throat, until he reaches his collarbone, where he presses
his lips against the bare skin. It’s enough to make Theo shiver, and Max moves
his hands away from Theo’s wrists, slowly, as though he really doesn’t want to.

“Put your shirt back on,” Max says,
getting up, so that he’s sitting on top of Theo, rather than almost lying down
against him. “My self-discipline can only amount to so much.”

Theo just looks at him, and Max quirks an
eyebrow, before taking in the sight of Theo, spread out underneath him, and
lets out a sad sigh. Then he gets off of him and swings his legs over the bed’s
edge, reaching for his black shirt that landed on the floor earlier. And Theo
glances over at him, only to almost start in surprise.

“Holy crap,” he murmurs involuntarily, and
Max glances over his shoulder at him.

“What?” he says, but Theo doesn’t answer
him. Instead, he just reaches out and touches Max's back, mesmerized.

He knows Max has tattoos, now; he has seen
them, and he has felt them, even though it may take a while for him to get used
to it. But he didn’t know about
these
. He hasn’t seen the wings that
mark the skin on Max's back, sprouting from between his shoulder blades and
trailing down, all the way to the small of his back. They’re made from black
ink, not shaded, only outlines, but they’re still beautiful, and Theo just
stares at them.

Max feels his fingertips touch his skin,
and he starts, before visibly relaxing.

“Oh,” he says, absently turning his shirt
the right way, seeing as how it landed inside-out on the floor. “They’re not
done yet.”

Theo glances up at Max's profile.

“They’re beautiful,” he says, despite
himself, and he could have sworn Max froze for just a split second, just now.

“Thanks,” he says. “Just need to spend
another ten hours or so under a needle to get them filled-in, but… All in due
time.”

He pulls the shirt over his head,
obscuring the tattoos, both the wings and the ones on his arms, and Theo feels
slightly disappointed.

“How do you have so many?” he asks. Max
really does seem very young to have so many tattoos, already.

Max exhales.

“Well,” he says, “I’m eighteen. Even if my
parents weren’t okay with it, I’m technically an adult. As in, I can get as
many as I like. And I started pretty early.”

He picks up Theo’s Henley from the floor
and hands it to him.

“And as for money,” he continues, “I’ve worked
part-time since I was thirteen. And a friend of mine’s the tattoo artist, so he
gives me a discount. Although, seeing as how society doesn’t exactly approve,
and especially not in high school, I have to cover them up, most of the time.
Which sucks. Most people think the piercings are bad enough.”

Theo doesn’t answer him, slowly sitting up
and putting on his sweater.

“My parents would freak,” he says.
“They’re not exactly into that kind of thing.”

Max looks at him, from the edge of the
bed.

“It’s your body,” he says simply,
shrugging. “And you’re legal.”

He frowns then, almost suspiciously.

“I’m assuming,” he adds, and Theo looks at
him.

“I turned eighteen last month,” he
confirms, and Max nods.

“Then, there’s my point,” he says. “You’re
an adult. And it’s your body, your skin. Who the fuck cares, right?”

Theo just looks at him, wishing it were
that simple.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. And for another
few seconds, neither of them says anything.

“Fuck, I need a smoke,” Max finally
murmurs to himself, and Theo watches as he clambers over the bed and opens the
window above the bed’s headboard. Then, he simply climbs out, and Theo
realizes, after a moment of shock, that there’s a roof right outside. Max turns
around, crouching.

“You mind?” he asks Theo, gesturing to his
bedside table. Theo looks over, and sees a pack of cigarettes and a lighter,
lying there. He reaches for them and hands them to Max.

“Thanks.” He pulls away and out of sight,
and Theo hesitates for a moment, before climbing out the window, himself.

The roof lines up almost perfectly with
Max's bedroom window, and it overlooks the house’s backyard. Max is sitting
with his back against the outside wall, knees pulled up in front of him, and
Theo slowly sits down beside him, with some hesitation. He mirrors Max, who
just glances at him, before lighting a cigarette. Neither of them speaks for a
few moments, as he pulls on it, sending tendrils of smoke through the chilly
air.

It’s after a little while that Max
actually hands the cigarette to Theo, who eyes it warily. Max says nothing, not
a word of encouragement or judgment. But Theo takes the cigarette anyway, to
his own surprise, and moves it to his mouth. He’s prepared this time, and takes
a careful inhale that doesn’t go down into his lungs, before blowing the smoke
out again. Max chuckles, but in an oddly fond way.

“Look at you,” he says, taking back the
cigarette as Theo hands it to him. “I feel like I’m corrupting you.”

He takes a slow drag on the cigarette.

“What would your friends say?” he adds,
and Theo glances at him.

“What would
your
friends say?” he
retorts. “You, hanging out with me?”

Max chuckles, eyes directed straight
ahead. Theo likes him from this angle, likes watching his profile.