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Max flinched when he heard the sound of Zac’s belt coming undone. Zac laughed coldly and grabbed Max by the hair, tangling his fingers in it and shoving Max’s face against the surface of the table. Max moaned softly, and Zac ground his face into the wood to make him cry a little more.

“Please,” Max said, feeling Zac’s bulge against his thigh.

“Shut up.”

Max closed his eyes and took a long, ragged breath. 

“Be fucking patient,” Zac hissed, and shoved two fingers into Max’s mouth, shutting him up. He sucked like a fucking slut; he even moaned around Zac’s fingers.

When Zac withdrew his hand, Max propped himself up with excitement at the idea of being fucked, resting his elbows on the table.

Max moaned again, louder, as Zac slowly pushed one finger inside of him. Max rocked his hips against the table and whined, pressing back into Zac. Zac slapped Max’s raw, bruised skin with his free hand.

“Stop,” he said. Max obeyed, staying as still as possible as Zac pushed in a second finger and began to slowly work Max open, deliberately hitting Max’s prostate each time.

Max gasped and moaned softly, tensing up as he stopped himself from rutting against the table again. Zac pressed his forearm against Max’s shoulders, pressing down. Max bit his lip and sighed and Zac leaned heavily on him, never stopping the movement of his fingers, until Max’s arms were forced to give out and he flattened across the table again. Zac placed a palm on the small of Max’s back, keeping him there, as he continued to finger Max open.

Max squirmed and began to grow impatient. “Please,” he said. “Please, please, please, I need it, please, just fuck me, please—“

“Shut up,” Zac said, pulling his fingers out and stroking his cock until it was fully hard.

Max obeyed but let out a long, high-pitched whine. Zac rolled his eyes; Max was so fucking needy. Zac lined up with Max’s entrance and thrust in. He hadn’t even hit Max’s prostate and Max moaned loudly. Max loved feeling that fucking burn, loved pain, and would probably have cried if Zac tried to use a third finger, he loved that burn so much.

An addict, Zac thought, smirking. Just like me.


Zac slowly began to thrust into him, gradually building up speed, before he finally got into a rhythm, Max rocking hips in perfect sync. 

He had beaten Max once, once, and it had led to this. He beat Max more after that, anyway, he beat all of them more, because he needed to; but then Max started begging for it.

Not literally, of course, but he fucking begged. He constantly fucked things up on purpose, constantly got on Zac’s nerves deliberately, constantly pushing his limits and prancing across every single line Zac laid out.

He pressed Zac’s buttons until Zac snapped, that day. Bickered with Cole over every single stupid thing, distracted Joey on purpose, got in a physical fight with Seb, deliberately fucked up guitar parts over and over and over, and played carelessly with expensive fucking equipment, delaying them for hours. He did everything he knew would get on Zac’s nerves.

The final straw was a very late night when he hit a wrong note for the eighth time and Zac threw a glass across the room, where it shattered, making Cole flinch.

“Jesus, Max. What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouted into the microphone.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Max drawled, biting his lip. “I must’ve been sucking cock last night…sir.”

Zac slammed his fist against the table so hard that the surviving coffee cups rattled.

“Uh.” Cole said shakily. “Maybe we should call it a day?”

Zac clenched his hand into a fist.

“Dude, seriously. It’s past midnight,” Joey said cautiously.

“We haven’t eaten properly since this morning,” Seb reminded him.

“You’re-you’re right. Go.” Zac said, putting his face in his hands.

Max placed his hand on the door out of the booth.

“Not you.” Zac said. “The rest of you go. Max is gonna stay and fucking clean this up.”

Max grinned, satisfied. 

Seb, Cole, and Joey reluctantly filed out; Zac had gone into the booth and fucking given it to Max.

Max had always gotten hard before, but Zac had ignored it, attributing it to sudden cold air or some fluke accident. The other boys had gotten hard a couple times, too, and Zac didn’t want to get his hopes up.

But it was too obvious to ignore when Max started humping Zac’s leg, leaving precome on his jeans, moaning and whining.

And so, they had started this, whatever it was.

And they didn’t talk about it.