“I don’t know if it’s you or the fact that I haven’t eaten since breakfast, but I’m getting lightheaded.” They continued to kiss, then Max broke for air. He wanted this - he always wanted this - and the best part was Max seemed to always want this too. Swift opened to that delicate probing touch, and Max’s hot slick tongue slipped inside. But here was Max with his big, hard hands digging into Swift’s ass as he pulled him closer still, and Max’s tongue licking at Swift’s lips. It probably had to do with the poetry book he’d been reading before Max showed up he’d definitely been in the mood and getting ready to deal with it himself. He kissed him more deeply, melting inside as Max responded hungrily. He tasted like too many cups of coffee, but Swift didn’t mind. Max pulled him closer, and as Swift’s mouth found his, he muttered, “But it’ll wait.” Swift wrapped his arms around Max’s neck. He looked a lot like Tom Selleck except for the devilish white scar through his left eyebrow courtesy of a coked up would-be carjacker who had tried to carve Max’s eye out.
His wavy hair was brown with reddish glints, his eyes were hazel. “Starving.” Max appeared in the doorway and Swift rose to meet him. “Something smells good,” Max said from the entryway. Except, as Max occasionally pointed out, he wasn’t trying to catch anything. And whatever Swift had once been, he was entirely respectable now.
For Max it probably was mostly about the fact that they were two openly gay guys in a small town. Yeah, he had it bad.Īt one time he’d tried to convince himself that his feelings for Max were more about being one of the only two openly gay guys in a small town, but in the last year or so he’d come to accept that he cared for Max. His heart sped up as it always did, and he spared himself a wry smile. Swift was reading Passionate Hearts: The Poetry of Sexual Love when he heard Max’s key in the front door just after nine that evening.
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