#I’m a sl*t for this fic and Beth’s writing

[castleamc]

BETH YOU-YOU-YOUUUUUU!!!!

If it weren’t obvious from the look on his face, he’s even letting his wings droop

You DIDNT. NOT THE SAD WINGS HOLY FUCK I NEED TO SEE THIS AS A DRAWING BECAUSE I CAN SEE IT SO CLEARY IN MY HEAD (girl if i could draw i would do this for you in a heart beat bby). For real though please keep going with this series. I am begging you, I’m on my brittle knees pls. (If you want to of course i would never pressure my girl, but i hope you do man). Just everything about this is so pure and sexy, like the way you’ve described to us how Max feels when he lets go of his true form. And how sad he was to think that she left him just like that. All that shattered my heart in the best way!! 💜

You peek up from your desk just in time to see her place a hand on Max’s bicep and squeeze.

Now this is some shit i would do, i fucking laughed so hard please I’m ajnaka she was giving Ewan at the Emmy’s

I want to keep talking about this because i really love this fic so MUCH, i applaud your beautiful brain beloved. I really do. My favorite is the intimate moments with his horns, the fact that they’re so sensitive to her touch. I’m spiraling thinking how long it’s been for him to feel that much genuine love.

I need 3-5 business days to recover, I’m putting in my PTO. Thanks for that 😩😩

The Monster You Know

Pairing: Monster!Max Phillips x F!Reader

Word Count/Rating: 6.3k / EXPLICIT (18+ only, bye minors)

Warnings: Monsterfucking, some angst, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), cockwarming, some body worship, size kink and lil bit of praise kink

Summary: There's a surprise visit at your office. It doesn't go how you might think.

A/N: I said take monsterfucking and make it soft and emotional. Unbeta'd. Additional notes at the end. Again if you're tagged and this isn't your thing, no hard feelings in the slightest.

You’ve been ignoring the messages on your inter-office chat all morning. There was a kind fifteen minute reprieve before the first one chimed. You'd barely figured out just how deep of a hole you'd need to dig yourself out of with work.

Sami: The prodigal daughter has returned!!

Linsey: With details?

Curtis: 👀👀👀

They’ve been at it since then, a variety of messages and gifs all designed to poke and prod you into spilling info beyond the “I’m alive” text you sent to your group chat the past two mornings as you called out sick from work. As though you would type out the filthy details of your past 48 hours on a work computer. Did they not take the same sexual harassment course as you?

Beyond not wanting to get flagged by HR, you’re also left puzzling another very important question. It hadn’t come up between rounds of getting your back blown out (seriously, there’s a slight twinge in your lower back now) and you’re left wondering if telling other people that Max is literally a monster is something you’re even allowed to do.

Max doesn’t seem to have too many qualms, considering you’re a nearly random woman he revealed that fact to, but since the existence of honest-to-god monsters isn’t the headline of every major news source maybe it is a secret for you to keep. Either way, you’re not entirely sure how to discuss the life-altering sex you’ve been having without bringing it up. The horns and wings, and not to mention his tongue, were half of the fun.

You want to text Max and ask, but it seems like a strange thing to message out of the blue rather than having a one-on-one chat about it. Plus, if the government is tapped into your phone, it might be best to not discuss those details where someone could easily read it. No need to have Max getting kidnapped and tested on weighing heavy on your conscience.

When lunch finally rolls around they’re practically ravenous. Curtis hardly waits for the elevator to close before he asks, “So is he packing? He has to be packing, right?”

There’s a beat of silence before you all erupt into laughter. You pat Curtis on the arm and tell him, “Yeah, man. He’s big.”

“Maax,” you playfully whine. “You have to let me go.”

He has you caged in next to the doorway – his wings creating a little bubble for you both to stand in. It had been a struggle to make it this far. Max has tried every dirty tactic and now he’s busy assaulting the spot he already knows you like on your neck. Perceptive bastard.

He barely raises his lips off of you to reply. “I don’t think I have to do anything, lamb.”

You try to ignore the way he’s shifting his thigh into position between your legs. “Well if you don’t want me to be fired and then homeless, you do. Don’t you have a job you should be at too?”

You hope that turning the tables on him will help. Maybe the reminder of some of his own responsibility will be enough for him to let you go. It fails spectacularly.

“Yes,” Max replies, his large hand sliding under your shirt. “I’ve been working while you sleep.”

He doesn’t sleep. Or at least not much. You had guessed at that with Max being awake every time you reopened your eyes, but you hadn’t actually asked. There wasn’t much of a chance to discuss it anyway between the numerous sexual acts you’d taken part in, as well as the necessities of sleeping and eating. Thinking got a lot harder while your stomach growled during your fifth orgasm of the day.

“Do you work remote?” you ask. Your breath hitches when Max presses his firm thigh just a little harder into you, but you try to act otherwise unaffected. It’s a ridiculous game to be playing with him, but you need to make it out the door. Getting fired or even reprimanded by your boss is not on your preferred agenda for the day.

Max, to his credit, goes right along with your game. Of course he has the fun part while you’re forced to try and act like this isn’t exactly what you want. Not fair in the slightest. You’re already plotting ways to get him back for this. “Not all the time. Doesn’t matter when you’re the boss.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that. “Right, well. Not all of us are bosses and mine isn’t going to believe I’m still sick without going to a doctor. So unless you’re also one of those, you need to let me go.”

Max’s hand that had been slowly inching under your waistband stops. You wish that he could keep going, that you could spend another day wrapped in his big arms and wings, but it’s just not realistic. You’ve already pushed it and you really would like to keep your job. It’s not the greatest, but you have friends who work there and it pays well enough. Even grade A monster dick isn’t worth losing that. Barely.

He’s pouting when he pulls away from you. If it weren’t obvious from the look on his face, he’s even letting his wings droop, like a dog lowering its tail between its legs. One final ploy to get you to stay that very nearly works. If only you didn’t need money to live. Fucking capitalism.

“Sorry, Max. I have to go.”

You move towards the door, watching as Max transforms back into his human appearance. It’s jarring, only having seen glimpses of it over the past few days. You reach out, carding your fingers through his hair where his horns normally cover.

You open the door and leave with a wink. “Bye, handsome.”

You don’t tell them about him being a monster. Not explicitly anyway. When you first sat down at your favorite lunch place you’d had more than half a mind to, but you just couldn’t when it came down to it. Not before talking with Max. It didn’t feel right to divulge his secret, no matter how much you trusted the three people sitting with you.

You find workarounds, little hints to his true nature but nothing overtly saying, yes, he turned into a big monster man and then he fucked me silly for two days straight. The looks on their faces might have been worth that though. Oh well, you can still surprise them with that later.

“No way is that guy stronger than me,” Curtis challenges. You’d just finished telling them how long Max had held you up against the wall for and he’d called bullshit. Said there was no possible way a man could hold any woman up for that long, much less with his dick buried in her. Okay, he’d been less crass about it, but that was the gist.

You shrug. It’s not like you can say it is possible because Max isn’t just a man. “I don’t know what to tell you man, there is a reason I called out for two days,” you answer around a bite of your sandwich. That reason is currently classified, but the wall-fuck certainly factored in.

Linsey pats Curtis’ arm and you feel significantly better about the hit to your friend’s ego. If you know anything about Linsey, she’ll have him feeling like a big, tough man again in no time. Really, Curtis should be thanking you for the no-doubt wonderful evening you’ve just bestowed upon him.

You’re actively avoiding Sami’s narrowed eyes. You know he can tell there’s something more going on, but you’ve already decided against telling them just yet, and if he asks the right question you know you’ll spill.

Maybe Sami is a supernatural creature too with the way he seems to read your mind. The thought pops into your head and you just as soon dismiss it. It’s ridiculous. Just because you met one bona-fide vampire doesn’t mean everyone else around you is some sort of creature too. That’s just absurd.

“Are you going to see him again?” Linsey asks.

“God, I fucking hope so.”

God, it seems, has a funny sense of humor. You’ve spent the last hour and a half since lunch debating on whether or not you should text Max and see if he’s available this weekend when you hear his voice echoing through the office.

At first you think you’re going insane. That somehow your pussy has taken over full operation of your brain and is now making you hallucinate at work. You’re not sure if that’s something that can actually happen, but at this point you’re not willing to rule much of anything out.

You know you’re not going insane when his voice becomes louder, paired with the telling click of your boss’s stilettos and her shrill pitch.

“Oh Max, we are just so thrilled to have you here. I hope you like what you see," Rebecca chirps. You peek up from your desk just in time to see her place a hand on Max’s bicep and squeeze. To think you’d been ready to shame yourself for interpreting her turn of phrase incorrectly when it had very obviously been the way she meant it.

You’re not stupid. You don’t know what you and Max are and a couple days worth of sex does not a relationship make, but your blood boils watching his hand fall over hers, his eyes raking up her body before replying, “So far I’ve loved every inch. I can’t wait to see more, sugar.”

It’s appalling. In more ways than one. You’re not even sure which you’d like to address first – the clear lack of professional behavior, the gross smiles painted on both of their faces, or the fact that he’d been buried in you within the past twelve hours – but all of them have you seeing red.

You can feel Sami’s eyes on you. He’s already figured out what’s going on and is watching to see if his intervention will become required. You’re honestly not sure at this point.

Rebecca’s high pitched giggle is what sets you off. It’s grating to hear and if Max can honestly stand to listen to it that’s his prerogative, but that doesn’t mean the rest of you should be subjected to it. Sami stands up with you, clearly under the impression you’re about to do something stupid. It’s a fair assumption. You’ve been known to do a decent amount of dumb shit.

The moment you clear the cubicle wall, no longer just peeking over top of it, Max’s eyes find yours. He stops in his tracks and you imagine you must look akin to a raging bull – only you’re not the one with the horns in this scenario.

He looks completely human. Of course he does, he’s in a widely public setting, but for a moment you can see him like you did this morning. Shirtless, that teasing strip of hair leading from his belly button to carelessly thrown on pajama pants, his hair ruffled. A few stray longer pieces gently falling over his horns that you couldn’t help but reach out and reposition. He kept his wings out, letting one gently wrap around you, cradling your body closer to his. His eyes glimmered with the ever-shifting flecks of gold, like a star shower that was happening only in his irises. It was the moment you felt like it could be something more than a days long hook-up.

It takes your boss saying your name to make you snap out of the trance you’re in. “Do you know each other?” Rebecca asks. There’s a look on her face that’s more panicked than you’ve ever seen her. At least you know to keep your anger directed at one person and not the pair. You even feel a little bad now that she’s caught in this situation.

“I guess not,” you answer, walking past her and straight for the bathroom. You’re not sure what you’re going to do in there – you went to the bathroom just twelve minutes ago – but it seems better than remaining at your desk.

Your boss and Max continue their tour, considerably less touchy than before. When they head into her office, Curtis pops over the cubicle wall to look for you. He finds Sami and Linsey staring at him instead.

“Uh, wasn’t that-?”

Sami cuts him off. “Yep.”

Your friends are the best. That could be the alcohol talking, but you’re almost certain it’s true when you’re sober too. The role of designated driver is on a weekly rotation and it should be your turn but after the surprise office visit on Thursday, Linsey offered to take it instead. Since she’s a total angel, she didn’t even make you swap with her, just said she’d double up. You very nearly cried. You might now.

“I mean, does he have no sense of decency? He probably didn’t even wash his sheets before moving to his next conquest, it’s disgusting.” You’ve been at this for a while. It’s another credit to your friends that they have the patience to put up with you, but they get it. Your hurt feelings are well within your right.

“Don’t worry about him anymore,” Sami says. “At least you got some good sex out of him and found out he was a piece of shit early on.”

Sami has a point. Both yours and his last relationships had ended with your boyfriends revealing that they were huge tools. Yours after you discovered his texts to his buddies degrading you and being pissed about the amount of hours you were working when you were financially supporting him, and Sami when he gave his boyfriend a surprise visit only to find him balls deep in another guy. To find out early on could be a blessing. It still hurts though.

It’s nearing the end of the night, most of the Friday crowd already having called it quits. Linsey and Curtis are making doe-eyes at each other that’s making your stomach twist and you know it’s probably nearing time for you to call it too. At least they can have a nice night together. You really hope they spill the beans on their relationship soon – pretending to not know is starting to take years off your life.

Linsey and Curtis leave first. You and Sami assure them both that you’ll grab cabs or ubers and let them leave without commenting on the way Curtis’ hand dips into Linsey’s back pocket.

“Do they think we’re that dumb?” Sami asks you, watching the bar door close.

You snort over what remains of your beer. “I really don’t know, man. I’m happy for them though. Curtis has been into her since she started.”

Sami clasps a dramatic hand over his heart. “Our sweet little himbo, all grown up.”

A momentary silence stretches between the two of you. This is not the first time you’ve both ended up here, some of the last people remaining in the bar. The beauty of having a friend with the same shit luck in relationships and a matching coping mechanism.

“I am sorry. You seemed really excited about him at lunch yesterday,” Sami says.

Ah. So you’ve hit that point in the night. The emotional one instead of the bitch about your problems in the hopes they go away one.

“I was,” you admit. It sucks to say out loud but it’s true. To make it even worse, the whole kink fulfillment wasn’t even the reason why. You liked Max. He made terrible lewd jokes, had a far too cocky attitude for how soft he was, and had actually laughed at you when you requested an ice pack for your poor overworked vagina, but you liked him.

Of course he had to be an asshole.

"If it makes you feel any better, you did manage to make Rebecca look like she was going to shit herself," Sami offers.

You can't help but smile. The look on your typically unshakable boss's face had been a treat. "Who knew that even she respects girl code."

Sami, ever the saint, covers your bar tab. He tells you he expects the same the next time he has boy troubles and you hope for both your wallet and your friend's happiness that day never comes.

You're still fairly tipsy when you climb into your uber, waving bye to Sami as he continues to wait for his. Alone with your thoughts, you're helpless as they drift to Max.

You feel like an idiot for thinking there was something more between you. It was obvious now that Max had used you for his own pleasure and when you decided you actually needed to return to your own life, you became unimportant in his. Probably just another notch in a bedpost that's likely been whittled to a toothpick.

Your driver is unfortunately chatty. Some young college kid doing this job to try and make ends meet and doesn't know when to keep quiet. He probably still has the romantic idea in his head that he might be some soothsayer for a downtrodden rider. Somehow he doesn't know that role is only for old men with grizzled beards or weird hippie women.

"What has you so down?" The kid asks.

You want to roll your eyes, potentially tell him to fuck off. Emotions and alcohol get the best of you.

"Found out a guy I slept with didn't feel the same way," you answer.

"How do you know?"

You expected sympathy, not a question like that. It's a little intrusive, but you like his gumption. "He came into my office and was all over my boss."

"Yikes, dude! That blows." Yeah, certainly not a secret paragon of worldwise advice.

You huff. "Tell me about it."

"Man, if I were you I'd be over there chewing him out. Blowing you off is one thing but to go for your boss? Low blow," he says, making a shockingly slow right turn.

"To be fair he didn't know it was my boss," you pause. "That might be worse."

He lets out a low whistle. "Like I said, I'd be tearing that guy a new one."

You consider it for a moment. Realistically, you and Max owe each other nothing. You had a few days of mind-blowing sex with no set plans to see each other again and that was it. He could move on whenever and however he saw fit. Something still burns in your gut though. An anger you know you’ll carry unless you get some answers. Fuck it.

“Could you actually take me to this address?” you ask, holding out your phone for the kid to read.

“Oh hell yeah, lady! Let’s get you some justice!”

On the list of intelligent decisions you’ve made in your life, listening to a college aged uber driver is not high. It is certainly higher than the time you decided to eat an entire funnel cake and then ride the Twister (you were 22 at the time) and higher than the time you tried to work a twelve hour shift on two hours of sleep while sick and hopped up on flu medicine (look, 22 wasn’t a good age for you) – but still, on your list of smart choices, this is not going to be in the top ten any time soon.

You give your driver a 5-star rating and a high five when you get out of the car before marching up to the apartment building’s door. There’s an immediate roadblock. The buzzer.

You blame adrenaline and the remaining effects of booze for you failing to remember this key hurdle. It’s not like you could just buzz Max to let you up. He probably wouldn’t and it would completely ruin your surprise attack.

“Fuck,” you mutter, weighing your options. Your uber has already taken off and you’ve come this far. You need to see it through.

You press one of his neighbor’s buttons. They don’t respond. You try another. Again no reply. Third times the charm? Nope. You try the first one again. Nothing.

You take a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself before you lose it entirely. This always works in movies, why isn’t this working? You try the first one a third time.

This time, a very annoyed voice comes through the speaker. There is a god! “What do you want?”

“Um hi, yeah I need someone to buzz me in.”

“Why?”

Okay, time to think of a good lie. Something to get you inside. “I need to yell at one of your neighbors.”

No! Stupid! Why would you say that? Now they’ll never let you in!

“4C?” the voice from the speaker asks. It takes you aback and you double check Max's address on your phone. 4C.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Go ahead, dude’s a dick. If you kill him though please don’t tell the cops I let you in.”

“You got it.” You don't even remember what apartment button you pressed anyway.

The door lock unlatches, allowing you entry. The stairs look daunting in your current state and you slip off your heels, risking the dirty floors to a rolled ankle.

When you get to his door, you have the thought to message someone where you're at. He didn't kill you last time, but you never know. Things could change.

You send a message to Sami.

You: At Max's. If I don't message by morning assume I'm dead.

It's a little dramatic, sure, but the point comes across when Sami replies almost instantly.

Love of my life😻: What do you mean, at Max's

You: I mean I'm outside his apartment door rn and I'm gonna yell at him

Love of my life😻: If you die I'm telling everyone at your funeral about how you thought a blow job literally meant blowing air on a dick until you were seventeen

You: Fine

It's a risk you're willing to take. If Sami tells everyone that he'll have to include how the guy actually came from that too. It was the best part of the whole story.

You shove your phone back into your purse, taking a moment to collect yourself before pounding on the door. There's a muffled yell from the other side and the telltale sound of approaching footsteps. No turning back now.

The door swings open to reveal Max in a look you can only call Friday night in chic. He's wearing what looks to be silk pants and a large fluffy robe that you had eyed but left alone during your extended stay. You're guessing from the large strip of his chest you can spot that he's shirtless, probably to allow his wings to unfurl. His eyes are wide at your sudden appearance.

"I- you- lamb?"

You push past him, storming into the apartment. The ambiance of the room does not match your energy. It's lit in the soft yellow glow of incandescent bulbs and calming piano music you aren't refined enough to identify lilts through the air. There’s the soft scent of lavender in the air and if it weren't for the book and wine glass filled with what can only be blood, you would think he has company over. Is he wining and dining himself?

The peaceful atmosphere of the apartment throws you a bit, but you refuse to let it distract you from why you came here in the first place. You spin on your heel, turning to face Max. He still seems to be processing your presence and before he can get a word out you yell the question that’s been rattling around in your head since Thursday afternoon.

“What the fuck was that?”

The apparent randomness of your question is enough to jar him. “What was what?”

“Don’t pretend. You were all over her. Sugar? Is that your thing, do you come up with a little nickname for each new partner to make them feel special? That’s sick, you know.”

You hate the look on Max’s face. It’s one of surprise but also intrigue. As though he just had a eureka moment that he’s now going to use against you. His eyes flash gold. “Are you jealous?” he asks.

You scoff. “Jealous? You think I am jealous?”

Unbelievable. Truly. More so than his horns and wings, this turn of events is simply unbelievable. You came here to yell at him for his disgusting and perverse display in a place of business and he tries to turn it around on you.

You watch as some of Max’s features become more monstrous. His eyes shift color, ears becoming pointed once again, and those stupid, ridiculous horns make themselves known. The effect they have on you is infuriating. You’re rooted to the spot, staring at him with open disbelief, waiting for him to say something more.

Max walks towards you, and you can see his body grow larger with each step. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder why he doesn’t just keep his size at all times. He would certainly be marked as a large man, but nothing too out of the ordinary. As soon as you begin to ponder over it, you admonish yourself. You didn’t come here to wonder about his human disguise. You came here to yell and you aren’t done yet.

“You really have some nerve, you know that? And to think I had just told my friends about you too,” you shout.

Max’s smile only widens, his arm wrapping around your waist while his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. Your jaw is tiny in his palm, easily cradling it entirely while his thumb gently passes over your lips, effectively silencing you.

Your pulse is racing. You want to push him off, tell him that he can go fuck himself in a fit of righteous glory, and strut back out into the night. Instead your breath shudders, letting Max take his time looking at you before he speaks again.

“It’s okay to be jealous, little lamb. Did you think I would show her all of this?” he asks.

You know your eyes give you away. He managed to hit the nail on the head, a truth that you barely allowed yourself to fully process or consider. Max moving on so quickly had only been part of the pain.

What hurt even more was that you had thought yourself special, that for whatever reason, he had revealed himself to you and no one else, only for that idea to come crashing down in seconds. It was stupid and more than a little selfish, but it was true. To think there was even the smallest chance that he would easily reveal himself to Rebecca as he had to you was unbearable.

Max offers you a small pout. You want to bite his stupidly plush lower lip. "My sweet little lamb."

You don't want to give in. You want to hold your ground, yell a bit more, maybe even throw something and yet, you can't help but relax into his touch. His body pressing against yours still feels better than anyone else's ever has and you can feel your resolve slipping.

Max leans down and just before he kisses you he whispers, "There's only you."

You let your purse fall to the floor. Max's lips slot over yours like they're meant to be there, slow and careful. Your anger melts beneath him.

Max's tongue slips between your lips and the kiss grows more heated. Your hands fumble, finding the tie around his robe and pushing it from his shoulders. Once it falls Max picks you up, walking you to his bedroom while trailing gentle bites and kisses down your neck. The bruises he left earlier this week have begun to heal and he seems intent on refreshing them, leaving you marked as his.

He sets you down gently on the bedroom carpet, guiding your lips back to his. His hands slide over your body, pulling at your clothes as though he wants to take them off. For some unknown reason he’s stopping himself and you move back from the kiss. “You can take them off,” you tell him.

“Are you sure, lamb?” Max is looking deeply into your eyes, as though he’s searching for a different answer than the one you just gave.

“Yes.”

He takes his time – peppering kisses between each layer you have on. When you’re left in just your bra and panties, he lays you back against the bed, worshipping every exposed inch. He mumbles gentle words into your skin, ones that you barely catch until he’s lavishing attention along your collarbones.

“So perfect, too good for me, thought I lost you…” The last one makes you pause.

You wind your fingers into his hair, careful to avoid his horns, and gentle tug until you’re able to bring his face back up to yours. “What do you mean, thought you lost me?” you ask. You're gentle about it, trying not to seem judgemental or break the nearly reverent atmosphere.

Max looks embarrassed, like he got caught spilling a secret he didn’t mean to share. He can’t hold your eye when he answers. “I thought you were done with me. That after you left Thursday morning I’d never see you again.”

Your heart breaks a little at his tone, but even more so you’re confused. “Why would you think that?”

You sit up on the bed, cradling Max’s face in your hands. You give him time to answer, slowly tracing a finger over his defined facial features. There’s a knit in his brow, as though he’s trying to puzzle things out for himself.

“You didn’t stay and I never got to ask to see you again. You said bye.”

You’re still not sure you’re understanding. “I had to go to work, Max. You had my number, you could have called or texted.”

Max huffs, sitting up with you. The memory foam dips with his larger weight, tilting your body into his. “Most- most people don’t stick around after. I figured you’d had your fill and wanted to be done with me.”

You can see the hurt on his face. There’s no way for you to know how many people have rejected, rebuffed, or used Max over the years. Hell, you don’t even know how long Max has been alive for, but you don’t need numbers to understand pain. To know what it is to not be appreciated or even somewhat cherished.

You climb into Max’s lap, wrapping your arms around him as far as they will go and bury your head into his chest. The chill of his skin doesn’t bother you, even as his arms fall around your shoulders and wrap you in a frosty hug.

“I’m so sorry, Max.” You know your apology won’t suddenly make things right for him, but you hope that it can at least start to make it better. “I didn’t want to leave. I was already debating if it was weird to text and ask you out for tonight,” you tell him. The honesty feels strange but good, the need to build a wall between yourself and your feelings towards him gone.

You begin to press chaste kisses into his chest and push against him until he falls back against the mattress, your body draped across him. “Max, can I show you just how much I wanted to stay?”

Max nods, shifting his hips to help you as you slide his pants and boxers off. He’s only half-hard and you’re already wondering how you’re going to take him. In your days spent with him, oral was something he never pushed. You had asked at one point, wanting to reciprocate, and he’d redirected by fingering you instead. Well, we’ll figure it out as we go.

You lick a broad stripe up your palm, taking him in hand and start to slowly pump, feeling him harden under your steady ministrations. You keep your eyes on his face, watching as his head tips back into the pillows. He’s still holding onto parts of his human visage and you can’t help but wonder why. If it’s more comfortable that way, like not lying on his wings you understand, but holding the rest of it in can’t be truly relaxing.

“Max?” you say, running your free hand over his brow. “You can let go. I’ve got you.”

Max’s twitches in your hand and you watch as he appears in his full glory before you. He's breathtaking, laid out underneath you like this.

You move down his body, positioning yourself between his muscular legs. Max's eyes remain trained on you as you begin to kiss down his stomach, skipping down to his thighs. You murmur words of affection between each press of your lips.

It doesn't take long before Max is moaning beneath you, beads of precum starting to trail down his cock. When he speaks, Max's voice hits a deep pitch that travels right to your own pooling arousal. "Stop teasing me, lamb."

You move away from him, eliciting a whine that stops short when he realizes what you're doing. You take off your bra and panties, tossing them to the floor, and then swiftly turn back to Max and wrap your lips around his cock.

His hands jump to you in surprise – not forcing you further down, but instead moving your hair out of the way. You swirl your tongue around the fat head, moaning at the slightly salty taste of his precum. You're only able to take half of him before you can feel the edges of your gag reflex giving you warning.

Your hand covers what you can't otherwise fit, pumping him while bobbing your head. The noises coming from Max are sinful. He doesn't even need to breathe and yet his voice is catching, making you wonder when the last time anyone did this for him was.

You can't help yourself. Watching Max fall apart beneath you, knowing that you're the one making him feel this good is getting you worked up. You slip your hand down, gathering some of your own arousal before circling your clit.

Max's eyes widen when he realizes what you're doing and his hips buck, making you gag. You pull off to catch your breath, a line of spit still connecting your lips to his cock. When you go to wrap your lips around him again he stops you, a single finger under your chin.

"Won't be able to last, babe."

You can't help but smile at the compliment. Max's eyes are half lidded, a dopey look on his face that allows his fangs to peek through.

"Come here," he rumbles.

His hands are already inching down towards you as you climb over top of him but you bat them away. You're plenty aroused and you don't want to wait – feeling the stretch of him will be worth it.

You position him at your entrance, taking your time as you sink down onto him. You brace yourself on Max's chest, fingertips digging into his pecs. Max doesn't seem you care, his own hands firmly holding onto your waist.

Once you're finally able to take every inch you pause, taking a moment to feel him inside of you. You lean down, pressing more kisses and praise into him before starting to roll your hips.

"F-fuck, Max. You're so b-big. Handsome."

You push your hand behind Max's head, angling it so that your foreheads press together as you increase your speed. His irises are swirling, reminding you of when glitter is spun in a glass.

Max shifts slightly, somehow pushing deeper into you. You're certain you're leaving indents in his chest from how tightly your fingers flex, but Max only groans with pleasure beneath you.

"Close," you moan, your hips losing their rhythm.

Your vision flashes white, little stars appearing, your legs shaking as you clench down around Max. You can feel that he's close too, and in a haze you pull his head closer, placing soft kisses over every inch of his horns.

The combined sensations of you fluttering around his cock and lavishing attention on his horns is too much for Max to handle. He hardly warns you, not that you have the presence of mind to care, before cumming deep inside of you.

Neither one of you attempts to move. You flop your head down onto Max's chest, mindlessly stroking his bicep. Max's hand is running along your spine, making a chill run through you. He chuckles when your body twitches from it.

You look up towards him and smile. "Do you believe that I want you now?"

He kisses the top of your head. "I believe you, lamb. Give me a few minutes and I'll show you how much I want you."

There's a knock at the door. You're surprised, considering you hung up with the pizza place only 5 minutes ago, but you shrug and go to answer it anyway. You double check the knot on the robe – Max's fluffy one, now yours, before opening the door.

The knocks increase in urgency and you open the door just as the person's fist comes down again.

"Ow, shit!" you yell, holding your head where you were just inadvertently punched.

Max is next to you before you can even look up at your attacker. "Who the fuck are you?"

A familiar voice answers him. "I'm here to make sure my best friend isn't dead, asshole."

The pain is already subsiding and you look to see Sami standing in front of you, looking pissed. Right. The text you were supposed to send. Oops.

Additional note: I am blown away by the response monster Maxie got and honestly I'm having a ton of fun with him. Please feel free to send me asks and questions about him, I would love to add to this silly little series with more chapters, headcanons, whatever!! I want to answer whatever questions you've got

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