Max had made a lot of bad choices in his life, it was a steadily growing list to be honest. Every misstep every flaw accounted for, because he encroached on his own respect for himself as well as others views of him. He wasn’t the kind of guy that made it a habit to get plastered at the local watering hole. Or to draw attention to himself.
But if there was anything, or rather anyone, that made him act out of character it was Liz Ortecho. She was in all intents and purposes his hurricane. Blowing into his life and turning everything upside down, before leaving him a wreck on the other side.
So her arrival back in Roswell made him falter, only for a second. Just a blip, one that lasted long enough for him to turn the wheel on his jeep to go to Planet 7. Because Roswell had only two bars that he could be caught dead in, and Liz had claim to the Wild Pony.
That was how he ended up drinking not one but eight shots in an hour, head buzzing as Blaire passed him his second whiskey. Because his insides were torn to shreds, literally and figuratively. His heart barely keeping it together long enough for Liz to pour salt in an already open wound.
Max laughs as he almost falls out of the bar stool he’s on, head swimming. A firm grip grabs his shoulder holding him in place.
“Hey,” a voice says in concern. “Careful.”
He turns to see a familiar pair of dark eyes, “anybody tell you-“ Max smiles goofily, “you got pretty eyes.”
“You and my mother,” Kyle quips, a smile tugging at his lips.
“And very pretty lips,” Max says inhibitions completely gone. It’s not his fault that he’s mesmerized, the man’s mouth looks perfect. Like it would be soft enough to drown Max’s sorrows in, while firm enough to hold him together.
“Dude,” Kyle chuckles, “this better not qualify for doctor patient confidentiality.”
“It won’t,” Max smirks devilishly, “if you kiss me.”
Blaire leans against the bar, eyes bouncing between them. Like this is the greatest form of entertainment the world could offer her.
“You’re drunk,” Kyle says.
“So are you,” Max raises an eyebrow. “Also…” he licks his lips, “not that drunk, more tipsy.”
Kyle’s gaze flicks to his lips, watching as his tongue slides back into his mouth. The tension between their bodies growing, just enough for Kyle to lean in an inch. Before his eyes widen like he wasn’t aware he’d closed distance.
“You aren’t thinking clearly,” Kyle tries again. Sounding like he’s trying to convince himself.
“Than let’s get you drunk,” Max grins.
It takes about an hour before Kyle is pinning him to the jeep, tongue tracing his bottom lip fingers digging into his hips. Marking him up. Laying claim to Max and pushing any thoughts about Liz further down into his heart, until he can only feel their absence.
A moan falling from his lips as Kyle slots his thigh between his legs, Max’s hips bucking forward. His body was thrumming with energy, needing to get something out. A dark energy swirling around in his chest.
Kyle’s grip tightens on Max’s hips, nails digging into his skin causing Max to whimper slightly. His body melting further into Kyle’s as he runs his hands under his shirt, fingers splaying across his back and pulling him closer.
“Fuck,” Kyle breathes hands moving towards Max’s buckle.
“Please,” Max whines. Mouth finding Kyle’s neck as he works his belt loose. A groan escaping the doctor as he starts sucking a hickey under his jaw.
Kyle’s hands are steady as he gets a hand into Max’s pants, wrapping his fingers around his cock. Teasing as he strokes him slowly, “respira miel.”
Max’s brain is too foggy to think about anything put the feel of Kyle’s hand and the flavor of him on his tongue. Alcohol singing in his veins, as his hips buck forward into Kyle’s fist. A small whimper escaping him as he gets closer to the edge.
He pulls back head banging against the back of the jeep, another whimper escaping him. As Kyle’s thumb slides across his slit, before he leans forward capturing Max’s mouth.
His lips are just as soft as Max had imagined, as steady as his hands. Undoing Max bit by bit, before building him back up just to repeat his actions again and again.
Max comes with a sigh, relaxing against Kyle’s body. Savoring the feel of Kyle licking into his mouth, pushing him closer to the car. Hand leaving the constraints of his boxers, to pull him closer by the neck.
His head feels like it will explode. Light and sound overstimulating him as he cracks open his eyes, a fan running in the room. He had too much to drink. That much he knows, since he can’t even remember drinking. Or where he ended up.
The air is cold against his bare skin, the only warmth coming from the arm draped across his stomach. He turns eyes landing on the soft looking face of none other than Kyle Valenti. His mouth is open slightly as he sleeps, the creases around his eyes smoothed out.
“Shit,” Max says throat dry and aching. He winces the sound of his own voice sending a throbbing pain through his head.
The fact he is naked finally dawning on him. That, Kyle fucking Valenti is naked next to him.
His entire body spasms, sending him tumbling to the floor, head nearly cracking open from the force. His limbs flail for a moment, wrapped up in the sheets. “Shit, shit,” he breathes under his breath.
Panic rising clearly in his chest, because he’d never even kissed a guy or wanted to. Yet he apparently got drunk enough to fuck one. He scrambles up, hands searching for his clothes. Head still throbbing, as Kyle groans sitting up head in his hands.
“What the fuck Max?” He growls.