Chapter Text
It's been hours. Max’s camera has already had to be unplugged and recharged twice and his frustration has only seemed to increase with every rerun. Resident Evil 7 is a fantastic, perfectly scary horror game. He could barely believe that this game came out almost 10 years ago and the graphics are amazing but fuck, it was difficult. The amount of gore wasn't the worst he's seen, that Still Wakes The Deep game and some others could probably fill that place, but the bugs, ugh the bugs. So gross.
It's like he could feel those mutated, zombie infected flies coming outside the screen and crawling all over him, uncontrollably shrieking and shivering while instantly burning them all with the flamethrower, finishing them off with a shotgun to really solidify his hate. Killing them didn't make his frustration any less. If anything, it only made him more irritated from how if he wasn't dying or taking unnecessary damage from them, he was accidentally using heals when unneeded or dying to the same member of the family over and over again.
Not a lot of games are able to truly piss him off. Mildly annoyed and just having to go non-verbal and focus a bit more until he's fine? Sure.
But it really takes a lot for someone who feeds off the difficulty of a game to motivate him to continue playing, to start slamming his fist onto his desk softly with every death or momentarily rest his head into his hands with a fed up groan. His half-broken, duct-taped headphones sliding down his head, pushing his hair into his face really adding the ten-thousandth cherry on top.
He almost has to remind himself that this is totally optional, being this upset, he could easily take a break, eat a well deserved meal or something. Hell, he basically forgot that Jacob was in the spare room next to him having to listen to all his complaining and yelling doing who knows and he could be hanging out with him. But Max, being the internet famous ragebait driven creator he is, needed to finish just this last part, then last just this last fight, then dammit, it's three hours later.
He dies again, not even an eventful death at that, just a swarm of bugs biting him while he was already low and out of possibly every bit of ammo he needed. Perfect. He stares at the death screen for a good moment, angry to the point of silence, leaning back into his chair as he pressed his fingers into his dry, tired eyes. He's not satisfied enough to call it there and do his whole outro, so he just turns off his PC, looking into the camera for a second before shutting it off.
He doesn't even know how much of that is entertaining enough footage to be included in the video but he couldn't care less, his mindless spacing out getting interrupted by a vibration along his desk. He assumes it’s from his phone, throwing it into his hand before sliding deeper into his chair, slightly swiveling it side to side as he checks the multiple messages he accidentally left unread from Jacob.
jakoub 6:38 : Yo you ok???
Max curls his lips together, a slight wash of guilt cooling his frustration.
jakoub 7:54 : Im gon order some food if you want, u want water or smth
jakoub 8:36 : dude i can hear you no way ur still on the same game u lowk suck
jakoub 8:37 : jk..
jakoub 8:52 : Id go into ur room but you seem really locked in and pissed so ill just be here
Best friend award 2026 goes to 3fs, everybody.
Max is stupidly almost about to call him right then and there and profusely apologize before realizing he can stop being lazy, stand up, and walk 10 feet to the room next to him. He hesitates, he's left his friend probably bored out of his mind doomscrolling and eating his food all alone while he's been worried about some dumb youtube video. He finally sits up for the first time in a while, stretching the soreness out of his body while heavily walking over first to the bathroom, rolling up his sleeves to splash some cold water on his face. He sighs as he looks up at the mirror, wet, sweaty strands of hair curling around and over his forehead as his eyes look slightly sunken and red, his face still flushed from yelling.
He shakes his hands off and rolls his sleeves back down which have still somehow gotten wet. Perfect. He turns out of the bathroom, walking over to Jacob's door and putting his hand up to knock on it softly, trying to make himself sound small and apologetic before Jacob could have the sight of him.
At first he doesn't hear anything, either Jacob already fell asleep which is rare or he's ignoring him and that thought circles Max's brain a lot longer than he wants it to. The guilt feels like a slap now, hitting him then lingering over his skin. He's about to call Jacob out by name until he hears muffled movement, almost like the sound of bedding. “Yeah?”
Max cracks the door open, letting a line of light into the dim room and directly onto the man sitting on the right side of the bed, leaned up against a collection of pillows, looking up from a phone curled in between one of his hands with a questioning gaze. Max freezes stiff, unable to read Jacob’s expression as he debates on how to word his apology, opening and closing his mouth. “Can I come in?”
Jacob shrugs, he's not that upset to be honest but he enjoys being petty. “Depends…”
What.
Max side eyes a wall as he furrows his brows momentarily, completely opening the bedroom door to lean his shoulder on the door frame. This is his house, talking about some ‘Depends’. “…On?”
“You beat the game?” Jacob hums, looking back down at his phone.
Max could almost feel the same frustration flow through his nerves again, the anger crawling along his skin as if it was the same stupid bugs that killed and scared him over and over. He looked towards the ground, sniffling an imaginary itch up his nose as his face twitched. “Well… no, not yet.”
Jacob scoffed, sarcastic and knowing. Any of Max’s guilt and building apology dissolved right with that.
He bit the side of his cheek, his arms unconsciously crossing together as he clenched at the sides of his hoodie, his tongue moving along the side of his mouth and bottom of his teeth as he glared at the unassuming man. The pent up energy desperately trying to exit him in any form, bouncing into every corner of his body.
He couldn't blame Jacob. He’d be upset too if he was invited over just to have to sit with himself alone while listening to someone freak out for multiple hours. Though, a small pit in the back of his mind, injured with a bruised ego, still half expected any form of sympathy, especially his supposed day one out of anybody. Maybe a ‘Damn man…It's ok everyone still loves you and your videos and you don't suck!!’ or a pitiful pat on the back, he didn't care, anything else than the mocking smirk plastered on his face.
Jacob really did know him well. Besides knowing all the good things a best friend should know, he would also know every little thing that digs under Max’s skin, unable to be pulled out.
Sure, any of the pettiness he's getting very well deserved, but he spent all those hours of trying and getting his ass handed to him over and over by decade old game mechanics just to get a laugh in his face. He couldn't even argue, Jacob was fully in the right, waiting patiently and checking in on him almost every hour without once reciprocating it. Karma is a bitch and its name is Jacob.
“How many times did you die?”
Max almost threw his hands up in defeat, he knew Jacob didn't care at all how many times he died or not, he just wanted Max to remember every single one.
Jacob readjusted on the bed, putting his phone down to fully direct his attention to the man in his doorway, putting an elbow onto one of the pillows to prop his head onto. “Come onn..”
“Jacob.”
“Doesn’t have to be exact, unless you remember."
“You suck.”
Jacob sarcastically dropped his jaw, jokingly gasping. “Whatt??? 800 times??” He said that obnoxiously loud, looking around the room almost as if searching for another person's reaction. “Max did you know that's the most times EVER that someone has died in the Resident Evil 7.”
A smile finally cracked onto Max’s face, maybe from how angry he was that his body was resorting to the domestic expression, pushing himself off of the door frame and practically jumping onto the bed, rough housing the man under him until he had both of his arms pinned to the side of his own body as he cried out multiple ‘Okay! okay!’s.
“You don't even play the freaking game, Jacob.”
He shrugged from under him, as much as he could anyway. “Don’t need to.”
“You don't..know how hard this chapter is,” Jacob struggled from under Max’s grip, expecting him to give it up but feeling him immediately pull him back down. “You wouldn't even get half as far as I did.”
He cocked an eyebrow, his mouth curling into a downward, questioning grin as he stared into his face. “…Far?”
He doesn't realize how firm the grip on the lower end of his forearms are until Max’s hands tighten again, hovering slightly lower above his face as his knees move up to the side of his outer thighs, pushing Jacob's body deeper into the mattress under him. Jacob's eyes momentarily widened with an expression of…fear? Excitement? Satisfaction? He didn't know, but it was something, something finally paying attention to him.
Both of their throats run dry, finally realizing the suggestiveness of themselves as Jacob silently studies the stern expression written all over Max's face, jaw tight and clenched as he looks at him with heavy breaths heaving out of his nose. He doesn't think he's ever seen him this upset, well, upset at him anyway. He's seen Max angry multiple times, Hell, he was listening to it for hours, but this was the first time a load of that anger had been directed to something else other than at some game, a character, a stupid puzzle.
At him.
Jacob doesn't realize he's staring, assuming his gaze is invisible as it drops from the others' slightly sweaty, flushed face and down his neck, memorizing the beauty marks that prick his skin as his Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow. He doesn't know what to feel, if he was smart he would rip out of his grip and name him an idiot and call it at that but it was almost like he wanted to savor the feeling, permanently burn Max's weight holding him down by the arms, breathing heavy as his body hovered above him into his mind.
His face showed a flash of disgust, not for the man above him, but for his own thoughts that involuntarily invaded his mind. He's just getting pinned down by his friend because he was teasing him, nothing about that should invite anything into his head and god forbid Max found him starting to get hard, squirming under him. Nightmare.
He tries wiggling from his grasps again but it's almost like Max’s grip is turning almost aggressive, beside himself, the movements above Jacob feeling as if coming from a stranger. He whispers a strained ‘the fuck?’ as Max repositions his arms, pinning both of his wrists barely above his head to free a hand, earning a very wide eyed, shocked man from under him.
“Max— what?”
”Apologize.”
Jacob scoffs again, but it comes out weaker than he pictured, more scared and shocked over mockingly. “The fuck? Max I was only joking, dude—“
He's cut off from another firm push from the body above, inching closer to his face. He can feel his hands growing cold from the lack of circulation. “Jacob, you're not slick. Like…at all.”
”I have no…no idea what you're on about,” He sputters, his gaze drifting away from Max’s dim gaze as an embarrassed chuckle circles his voice. He couldn't sound any less convincing.
For fuck’s sake what the hell is wrong with him getting turned on like this?
Jacob’s been good, maybe besides in this moment where he was turning his feeling of neglect and disposal into pettiness to spit into his already pissed off friend, but besides that he's a good guy, man, person, there's no reason why the universe should be punishing him by infecting his mind. It's not even something conventional, maybe the world would understand if Max was doing something nice for him that he would feel this way, a warm pit in his stomach that swirls with every touch of the other man's hands, but right now he's looking at Jacob with almost hatred, annoyed he never thought was possible, and that's what's getting to him.
How stupid.
Maybe he liked feeling that way. Maybe it was the weight over him, shielding his body from the light coming from the open bedroom door, maybe it was the warm, heavy breathing over skin, or the fact that someone usually so tolerable, so patient, had finally reached a breaking point and was taking it all out on him. He wasn't in the right mind to organize that information and discover himself, especially now that he was feeling a slow hand rubbing over his clothed stomach.
“Jacob…”
”Ye—yeah?”
”Tell me now if you want me to stop.”
It was never about the game, he didn't actually think Max sucked at playing at all. If anything, Max was totally right, he would be better at getting farther than him, he would have more patience, be more driven, he was everything Jacob had denied. But it's not like he wanted to disagree for the love of the game; it's that something inside him just wanted to see just how pent up he could really get the man above him.
In all honesty, there was a more selfish reason for why he hadn't gone into Max's room while he was recording and resorting to just messaging him around every hour. It wasn't to prevent accidentally interrupting his footage or distracting him, he liked hearing him frustrated, irritated, hearing those rare ‘fuck’s and a faint hit on his desk that he knew he’d just edit out. Hearing unfiltered anger that wasn't just played up for the camera lit something in him that he thought never existed until he had it on through unfiltered display for a couple hours.
Jacob just stared at him, his eyes hazed over as he cautiously shook his head slowly from left to right, not able to gather the words ‘Yes, Max, please yes.’
He let him manhandle him, pulling Jacob’s shirt over his head after removing his hand from both of his swollen wrists, pulling his own hoodie over his head as his shirt rides up with it momentarily, flinging onto the bedroom floor, his hair splaying over his forehead in damp, messy strands. They both take a moment to breathe in the thick, warm air, clarifying silently with each other before Max leans back down to connect his lips with the shuddering man, hand gently moving to the side of his jaw as they try finding a reasonable pace between each other's lips, fading in between hungry and experimental.
It's new, sure, but Jacob has fantasized about this enough to try and remember all the things he's wondered about trying like bringing up both hands to thread into the sweat and water damp hair of the other man, slightly digging his blunt nails into his scalp as Max let out a sighing groan between their lips. Bingo.
Max disconnects their mouths to hurriedly pull his own shirt over his head by the collar, curling it into a ball and throwing it mindlessly around to the same place as both Jacob’s shirt and his hoodie, the room beginning to reek of two colognes and musk, weaving in between each other's air.
Jacob lets out a guttural, cutoff ‘fuck’ as Max reconnect their lips, messy and uncoordinated, his hands trailing down to fumble blindly with the loose hem and button of Jacob’s jeans. His own hand moves up to cup the jaw and neck of the man above him, feeling every swallow, heave, and warmth of his skin as he savours the tingling of the teasing grazing of Max’s fingertips on the lower of his abdomen.
He unconsciously bucks into the air, chasing any friction, earning a hand pushing his stomach back into the bed as Max lifts off him, clicking his tongue. “Ah-ah, no.”
Jacob chases his lips for a second before dropping his head back down into the pillows, an irritated groan vibrating from his mouth. He knows he deserves this for being such a dick, but man, is it frustrating. “Asshole.”
Max pauses all movements, his hands frozen over Jacob’s semi as he looks up at him from his tilted down head, evilly grinning while reading a very regretful face. “Wanna say that again?”
There's a joke, a man with a bruised ego and a man with an ego already the size of Texas walk into a bar. Who gets served first? Luckily, they could both figure out the punchline to that one, all while being their own audience.
Jacob hesitates, debating on whether to put all his pleasure on keeping up his attitude or to shut up and have his world record pride all come crashing down, summiting under the hands he's spent so long trying to keep agitated. Unfortunately, his dick is too hard to make good decision-making, letting out a low grumble as he sits back into the pillows, shutting up.
“Good boy,” Max grins, half serious, half joking with the man under him as Jacob fought back every remark he could have made right there. He really is the asshole he says he is.
Max's hand resumed movement over Jacob's abdomen. Dipping his thumbs teasingly under the hem of the denim, over the boxer fabric wrapped low on Jacob’s hips as he dragged over sweaty skin, curling his fingers to apply testing pressure with his nails. Jacob doesn't want to show an ounce of satisfaction, his pride on the line, but then Max slowly drags, leaving faint pink lines as a memory of his fingers along his pale sensitive skin. His hands instinctively move to grip at the pillow under his propped-up elbows, a horribly silenced whine mumbling from his lips.
Jacob keeps his eyes glued to the fingers along the lower of him, touching everywhere but where it counts, trying to avoid the eyes he can feel glaring right into his face. He's so uncomfortable, finding so many new things about himself with the last person he ever expected to be doing it with. He's so repulsed, so hypnotized, so intrigued. He wants to yell at Max to get off him, slap his already bruised ego just to see him falter and walk out of the room with his own head high on his shoulders. But, unfortunately, Max had just started to unbutton his jeans and his hands looked way too pretty with the warm, orange glow making just the right amount of him visible. ”How good are y’gonna be for me?”
”Oh, fuck off—“
”Jacob, I will stop,” Jacob’s eyes moved up at the sternness of the tone, big, glossy, browns looking right back into his.
It really is the most unfair battle he's ever fought in his life. Tell him to stop, he loses every chance he will possibly ever get in the future for a moment like this again, beg him to keep going, Max gets the exact satisfaction he wants. Maybe not because he wants to hear it for his own sake, but because of how much it hurts the other man to say it.
Jacob’s breath hitches as he hears a quick zip, the pressure along his dick finally subsiding as hands curl under the tough fabric, lifting his hips up expecting a pull but getting the result of a pause. “You never answered me.”
Jacob’s head hurt from how hard he was knitting his eyebrows together to keep his frustrated expression. “Ughh, Max…please.”
”Mmhm..that’s not that clear av’ an answer,” Both of their body temperatures were so warm, washes of cold flashed through them just for an overwhelming heat to return. “I asked how good you're gonna be.”
As much as Jacob genuinely thought he was gonna die, half nude embarrassingly with a hard-on, he was right where he prayed to be, right where he fantasized every time he heard Max a little more mad than usual. “Shit Max please…I’ll..mfhm, I’ll be good just take my damn pants off already.”
“You curse a lot,” Max mumbled after a satisfied grin flashed across his face, pulling Jacob’s jeans down his thighs as he lifted his hips, pulling it the rest of the way down and off his legs.
”Maybe I'd talk a lot nicer if you weren't taking your sweet time. Again,” Jacob’s body felt as if he was rejecting his own words, not wanting to ruin the moment he's already had to sacrifice so much for.
“You seem to be pretty satisfied with what my sweet time got you.” With that smart remark, he pressed a firm palm over the thin fabric of Jacob’s boxers, earning a choked groan that's been hiding in his throat, aching to be let out.
Jacob doesn't know how he does it, how he can be such an idiot on video, yelling and screaming, and then talk so smoothly without a care in the world, know exactly where to put his fingers, tease just enough to the point that he hates him but not enough to get sick of it and ask him to stop. The addict and the addiction.
Max can see Jacob a lot more clearly than Jacob can see him, the light from the door shining on all the places that aren't blocked by Max's body over him, illuminating just the right amount of emotion in his face. Max almost pities the poor man, whose eyes are slightly filled with frustration in the form of tears which make his already round, pitless eyes even more desperate and pathetic looking.
Max places a tender hand under Jacob's chin, thumb and finger holding his head in place as he leans back down to connect their lips, soft and loving rather than hungry. Almost to remind him that while his frustration was real, the punishing tone and aggressive guiding were only for Jacob's sake, to satisfy his own craving.
Max palms him once again, earning a more desperate, pained whimper and a squirm from under his hand, finally reducing him to the state he's pushing him to as Jacob breaks the messy kiss to collapse under his own weight against the pillows, his body overwhelmingly weak as gasps escape from his mouth in long pants. “Max, please…just—“
”Alright, I know…you're good,” Max whispers tenderly into his ear, trailing his lips down the side of throat to plant warm, open mouthed kisses and soft bites along his salt flavored skin, his hands trailing back to hook under the band of his boxers to shift them off his hips.
Jacob has never heard himself so desperate, so pitiful, he doesn't think Max has either. It only makes him want to slap himself even more, though he doubts even a solid hit could bring him back to earth at this point, already so high off mere touches and kisses that he's fully naked in his friend's guestroom bed.
Max plants one last soft kiss to the middle of his collarbone, pulling back up to assess the man in front of him, bare legs sprawled out to the sides of his still clothed ones as lidded eyes mindlessly stared into his, shaky breaths falling from both of each other's mouths.
He moves a slow hand up Jacob’s thigh, gaining an uncomfortable shift from under his fingers as he guides them to wrap around him, one of Jacob's hands shakily moving from cushions to join his fingers. He doesn't want to stop him, God no, but he wants to guide him, show him how and just where to touch him, feeling over his long, pretty fingers if only just for a moment. Max almost forgets how frustrated he was from the sight, a groany sigh falling from his mouth as he moved his hand, up slowly, then down with a twist of a wrist. It's deliberate, made to break the man under him even more, made to crush his already faltering ego by forcing him to beg for more.
He continues coating him in his own slick, the sound of soft, wet clicks sounding from his length. He's never seen Jacob so flushed, so warm, so wanting. He wants to keep him here forever, locked in the same state of needy bliss under him, but he could never bring himself to ever be that cruel. He pulls his hand off of him, earning an almost cry like whine, a held breath breaking from Jacob’s mouth as he finally allowed himself to breathe.
A confused gaze washes over his face, his brows furrowing as he studies Max’s movements, moving his precum wet hand to cup right in front his abdomen and spitting in it, right over Jacob.
Maybe if he was pathetic enough, he'd cum just at the sight.
He coats it over his pointer and middle finger, letting it drag down without dripping, moving them between the other man's legs while looking into his face, waiting for approval. Jacob sputters, weighing his options, he's never been so sure yet so scared yet if you were to ask, he wouldn't be able to name what exactly he was afraid of. There's no one else he thinks he trusts more with his life than the man hovering right over him, inching his fingers over his hole, yet he still feels like he's going to die from hypothetical shame.
“Jacob, we don't have to at all, y’kno-“
”Please.” His response is fast, so thoughtless, it almost makes Max laugh. It's so not Jacob with all the begging and objectiveness of it all. He wonders if the same man making fun of him minutes ago had accidentally left the room, missing it in the dim lighting. But then, however, he pushes the first knuckle in and the man under him whines his name, toasty light catching along sweaty brown curls. Definitely Jacob.
Max’s fingers are so slender but fuck are they long, a humming, sharp pain slowly building with every slow, prepping press. He can't tell if he's done this before, either of them, some moves screaming inexperienced while others yell whore, but now was not the time to be quizzing each other's past relationships or sexuality. Not that the answer would matter anyway.
“Where’s all that ego, big guy?” Max’s voice cuts through the warm, humid air, threading right through Jacob’s ears as he struggles at adjusting to the one finger pressed into him.
He's been needing a reason to throw some attitude back into Max’s face, try to at least win some of his dignity back, but before he can chuckle and spit some smart remark he feels a harsh curl of a finger inside of him, a choked out ‘oh’ crying from his lips as he coils forward, gripping onto the sweaty skin of bare, freckle kissed shoulders.
”Fuck, Max, oh my god—“ Jacob’s curls sink against collarbone and muscle, the top of his head resting against the other as he looks in between them, staring at the hand splitting him apart.
He grins as he pulls his finger slowly out of him, other hand resting softly against the top of Jacob’s thigh as he feels him shift uneasily around him, leaving just a knuckle inside before slamming his finger back in, earning a first time moan. “…You ever..try this on yourself?”
”…What?”
”Touch yourself here…have you?” Max pulls out completely, rubbing two fingers over the soft ring of muscle.
“I mean…not usually?” Jacob’s voice is spent, soft and raspy which Max wishes he could burn into the frontal lobe of his brain and replay as much as he wanted.
“Oh, so I'm the first, right?” And with that Max slams two fingers into the man, earning a mix of a shout and groan as more slick beads at the top of his dick, overstimulated shivers causing his hands to start losing their strength.
“Ohh, holy shit—mfhmm,” Jacob loses his grip, falling back against warm pillows as his head rolls back, his whole upper body and neck on full display for the starving, evil man ruining him. He doesn't even realize his eyes are watering until he feels a warm tear roll down his cheek, which could have easily been mistaken as sweat if it wasn't for the wet sniffle he inhaled up his nose.
Slowly, the dull pain starts morphing into indescribable pleasure, subconsciously grinding on the fingers scissoring open as his own hand moves to start touching his own neglected dick before it’s swatted away. “Patience, Jacob.”
Jacob’s frustration finally boils over his forced cooperation, snapping at the man, the fear of punishment underweighing the urge to voice his neediness. ”Damnit, Max I was patient for what? 3—mhmm—hours? Throw a dog a damn bone for once—“ He's cut off as he stuffs a third, unlubed finger into him, a silent scream shaking from his mouth as his eyes squeeze shut, his back slightly rolling off the bed before completely collapsing out of exhaustion as he desperately tries to catch his breath.
Jacob couldn't recognize the man in front of him if he was paid. Sure, maybe he looked exactly like Max, same freckles, same slim, tall frame with the same mix of dark and light brown hair. But there was no way the same man who made those stupid jokes while laughing on camera could be the same man topless over him, ruining him with fingers.
“What happened to being good?,” He leaned down, pressing an open kiss below the ear of the other man as he pulled his fingers out of him. “You were doing so well.”
”Fuck—I..I know I’m sorry, please,” Maybe Jacob was just developing amnesia because he was starting to forget the sound of his own voice, none of his words sounded as if they could have come from his mouth.
Max pushed his fingers into him one last time, twisting his wrist slightly while slowly pulling out to ensure the man fully prepped before gripping onto the waistband of his sweats, eventually pulling them off. He dipped his thumbs into the dark elastic of his boxers before looking up into the man gasping in the pillows, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead as his shoulders glistened with sweat. “I lied by the way…earlier.”
Jacob’s stomach slightly dropped, an anxious feeling beginning to build through his veins. This has been the most vulnerable and exposed he's ever been, what could he possibly be admitting guilt to now at a time like this.
“About?” His voice shakes, playing it off with a cough.
“If you wanted to stop to tell me now,” It's almost as if the stranger in front of him is morphing back into Max, the once dark, hazed eyes now warm and glassy. “You can tell me to stop anytime.”
Jacob almost smiles, the nervous pit in his body dissolving with a long exhale as he nods to the man above him, eyes filled with assurance. Max reads him flawlessly, rehooking his thumbs under his boxers and pulling them off and down his thighs, flinging them to another random pile in the room. He sucks a cold huff of air through his teeth, finally giving himself some well deserved friction as he coats himself in his own wetness.
“I don't have…um—“ Max huffs, showing his first sign of uncertainty all night.
”…Condoms?” Jacob questions bluntly, cocking a brow, almost giggling immaturely at his very big age.
“No, just…I don't have lube—“
”Why do you have condoms??” He cuts him off with a realizing recoil in his face, grinning while looking him up and down, disgust written in his brows.
”What? Uhh..I don’t know…safety?” He gives him a slight huff of a laugh, reaching over to the guest bed drawer to grab one out of the strip, checking the expiration date before tearing the metallic square open with his teeth. “Jacob, I haven't been single my whole life, you know this.”
“Ugh, gross,” Jacob spits. He falls back against the cushions, looking up into the ceiling then squeezing his eyes hard momentarily to block out picturing anything between his friend and his past girlfriends, blinking it all away as he leans up to the sound of a small gasp of Max slipping the tight plastic onto himself.
“Okay?” Max asks, rubbing a light hand on Jacob’s side as he inches slightly closer in between the man's legs, lining himself up.
”I’d tell you if I wasn't," he mutters, slightly bracing himself.
”Might hurt…”
Jacob scoffs, slightly rolling his eyes with a dim grin. “Don’t pat yourself on the back.”
Max appreciates the return of the attitude, giving him better reason to break the man under him all over again without the excuse of ‘just wanting to’.
“Whatever you say, big guy,” He holds his dick by the base, lining the tip of himself with Jacob’s hole and slowly pushing in, releasing his grip to hold onto the outer of his thigh. A groan escaped both of their mouths at the same time, two different tones, two different volumes.
“Fuck…oh ow, fuck,” Jacob winces as he tenses himself, his teeth gritting against each other as his hands claw at the fabric around him.
”See, I told you.” A sly grin escapes Max’s mouth as he pauses, letting him adjust before sliding himself another inch deeper, sluggishly slow.
”shu— shut up,” Jacob can see how sharply the corners of Max's mouth are curled and it's pissing him off, itching to say another bitchy remark, but the feeling of movement cuts him off from thinking of anything smart enough. Max is almost pulling him with how firm the grip on his skin is, the tip of his tongue slightly pointing against the top corner of his mouth, brows knitted in concentration as heavy exhales leave his nose.
Suddenly, Jacob snorts and Max looks back at him, a terribly fighting back grin plastered all over his face.
”What?” Max adjusts his hands so that both hands are holding onto the sides of his stomach.
“I hope you don’t make that face every time you fuck somebody,” Jacob barely has time to laugh before Max slams the rest of himself into him, bottoming out guilt free.
The noise Jacob lets out is filthy, squeezing his eyes shut and flinging his head back with it. He almost doesn't even recognize it as a noise he's made until he hears a soft ‘wow’ from atop of him, his hands moving from gripping onto the sheets to the warm flesh of the arms holding onto him.
“Yeah? Ya’ like that?” Max knows it’s corny, that's why he says it, flashing his eyebrows upwards while mockingly grinning to the man struggling under him as he pulls backwards.
”Die,” is all Jacob can mutter out before a choked, humming whine flows off his inwardly curled lips, squirming at the loss.
He goes at a pace only made for adjustment, not pleasure. Slowly, he works the man under him open as he leans down to connect his lips with the other’s red, swollen ones, one of his hands releasing from his arm to shakily cup his face. He guides Jacob’s hips back down as he pushes himself back in, savoring each pathetic whimper when he completely fills him. He isn't sure he’ll ever feel this again. Sweaty, soft curls filling his nose with the scent of shampoo and musk, the nude of his chest all in front of him flushed and sticky, the bareness of his dick exposed and leaking. He's never even noticed the amount of Jacob’s moles that trail all along his torso, finally discovering all the “new” things that have been here the whole time, covered.
It's maddening, he doesn't even realize how eagerly he's speeding up until the hand that was sweetly cupping his face is now dragging and clawing at the crook of his neck, other hand moving to claw at his back for anything to grip onto.
“just like that, pretty boy,” at first, Max doesn't know who says that until a louder groan echoes from under him that he realizes that it was his own voice, loud and proud. Well, y'know what they say, a sex-drunk man’s words are a…sober man’s thoughts or whatever the saying is.
Max slightly curls over as he speeds up, sweat accidentally dripping onto the body underneath his as heavier gasps and whines replace distinguishable words from both parties. He can feel just how scratched his back is getting from the blunt nails clawing at him as his own fingers dig harder into the soft muscle of Jacob’s sides. Hopefully not harsh enough to bruise, but man, would it look pretty.
Jacob finally has the strength to bring his head upwards to stare into the face looking down at him, his wet, teary, blown eyes meeting brown glazed ones, curls flowing into a dark, jumbled halo over his head.
Oh, how badly he wished he never fried his photogenic memory by playing video games in his room all day.
”Max—s-shit, ple-ease,” more quiet curses fall from his mouth after that broken beg, both of his hands now moved to his back to claw and grip at, maybe for a grip of humanity if he was lucky.
“I—mmhn—I know, almost…” Max can barely even keep up with his own pace, legs shaking from adrenaline as he ruthlessly moves in and out of the noise machine below him. “Wha’da need, gorgeous?”
Jacob can hear the southernness slur into his words, and he thought him saying ‘Y’all’ every video was thick.
“I’m…please, I…“ He was nice and tentative for too long, forgetting just how fun it was just to toy with him like this.
“C’mon, say it.”
“Max, I need—” another guttural moan ripped through his throat, interrupting him.
”Need?” Max can barely keep this up, he's silently begging so hard that he can just spit it out.
”Fuck!, fuck— I’m so close, please…!”
”There ya’ go.” Max grunts, biting the bottom of his lips so hard he expects to taste metal, moving faster and deeper as he leans over the man. He moves his mouth to keep himself occupied along the side of his throat and crook of his neck to stifle his own moans. Jacob’s so loud, he can't choose between shushing him for the sake of possibly anyone who could hear them or eating up every addicting noise that falls out of Jacob's mouth, obviously choosing the latter.
Max can feel the sensitive pit burning a hole through his stomach, the building knot tying tighter and tighter as he lets more unfiltered noises fall from his lips. ”Jacob..—“
”Mhhm?”
”With me,” He pants, almost inaudible.
“Wh-what?”
”With me, please—fffuck,” that's the first time Jacob’s heard Max beg this whole time, and hell is it so, so worth it.
Max has for sure lost his mind, repeating, chanting ‘please’ almost like a prayer. Maybe not to Jacob, it's not loud enough for him to even hear a single one, but almost to himself, like he's dying and he needs a plea to keep himself alive.
He removes one of his hands from Jacob's thighs to wrap around his dick, pumping him with his thrusts as synced as he can. “C’mon..C’mon, you're right there, “ we’re right there he means to say, but he already knows that.
Then Jacob lets out the most contorted, strangled noise Max has ever heard from him, maybe ever in his life, from anybody. It's almost like a sob, pained yet so relieved and choked like it hurt to leave his lungs. He curls forward, shuddering as he cums all over Max’s stomach, hand, and his own skin as he strokes him through it, the sight in front of him wringing out his own high.
Max has never known what to imagine whenever people say they ‘see stars’ when getting up too fast or getting the wind knocked out of them. He's always thought of it as when he's looking up into a clear, night sky, connecting the glowing dots with his mind. Though, reality shocks him a bit when rainbow yet white bordered dots start rapidly flashing along his eyes, moving then disappearing wherever he looks, his head pulsing.
Wow, he's dizzy.
He pushes one last shallow thrust into the man beneath, gaining two overstimulated shivers from both of them as he pulls out, pulling the used condom off of his sensitive length with an uncomfortable grumble. He ties it before throwing it into a trashcan to the side of the bedroom door, hands planting to the sides of Jacob's body as he desperately tries to catch his breath while also making sure not to pass out over the man who probably needs a lot more care than he does.
“Wa-ow,” Max lifts his head to meet tired, lidded eyes, a contented grin softly curled onto the man under him as his chest heavily rises and falls.
Max huffs a laugh, eyes traveling around the room for a second before looking back into the face under him. “…Huh, yeah, no kiddin’.”
Max runs a tentative hand through the curls sprawled over Jacob’s head, brushing any of the messy strands stuck to the dampness along his forehead. Moving his hand near damp, clumped lashes, rubbing off an old, wet tear.
“Soo,” Jacob starts, awkwardly shrugging his shoulders and looking off to the side before returning his gaze to the man in front of him. “We gonna figure this out first or…”
Max just mindlessly runs his hand along the bareness of his shoulder, love-drunk off his fucking rocker. “Let’s not talk about what we are until we're clean and clothed, hm?”
“Sounds real good,” Jacob raises a weak thumbs up, his eyes closing as his mouth turns into a real smile.
“Love ya, bud.” He slaps a joking hand onto Jacob’s stomach as he climbs off the bed, making his way out of the room for a damp cloth and water for both of them.
Jacob hums as he feels the weight in front of him dip then bend back up as footsteps trail out of the room,
”Love you too, man.”