Max - Bey Deckard Page 0,40
made his way from the bathroom to the living room. Every horizontal surface had at least one empty beer bottle on it, if not more, and there were eight empty bottles of liquor on the bar. Sighing, he walked to the kitchen and moved some dirty plates out of the way so he could rinse his coffee mug in the sink. However, when he had it clean enough to drink out of, he realized there was no coffee left in the cupboard.
“Hm.” He rubbed his face, then massaged his temples. It was like there was a belt tied around his brain, and his whole head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. If there was no coffee… Well, might as well have a beer. He moved some Chinese take-out containers towards the overflowing garbage can with his foot, making a mental note to take out the trash later before he was too drunk or stoned, and opened the fridge. There was a disappointing dearth of beer in the drawer, and even the bottle of vodka that usually sat in the freezer was missing. Heaving another sigh, Crane walked heavily towards the bed where Max lay half-covered in a sheet that had seen better days.
“I’m going to run to the grocery store. Uh… and the liquor store.”
“Hm?”
“Do you need anything? We’re out of everything.”
“Mmhmmlube,” Max mumbled, turning his head, eyes still closed. “G’morelube.”
“I don’t think they sell lube at the marché. Unless you count cooking oil.”
“Buh’m’sore.” One bloodshot eye cracked open to stare at Crane. “Monster.”
Laughing, Crane reached out to pat the back of Max’s calf. “All right, all right. I’ll spare your poor ass and make a pit stop at the pharmacy. Anything else? A bottle of St. James?” Max loved rum, but he was picky, and Crane could never remember which was the one he really didn’t like.
“Noooo… huhh,” Max lifted his head, his dark brows dipping low as he thought. “Get, um… that Haitian stuff. The old reserve stuff.”
“Really?” If he remembered correctly, it would set him back almost two hundred bucks, if they had it in stock.
“Yeah, yeah,” the young man sighed, burying his face in the pillow again. Crane shrugged to himself. He grabbed Max’s wallet from atop his jeans and slipped the Visa Platinum out. He’d used it a few times before, his own funds dwindling, but this was the first time he noticed the name on it: E Duvernay. He smirked and wondered if Mrs. Duvernay knew her sweet little “Pumpkin” was using her card, though it wouldn’t surprise him if she did. From the way Max talked, he’d never been refused a single thing growing up. Spoiled brat.
Smiling to himself, he threw on a warm sweater and put his loafers on, but when he looked back and saw the extent of the mess in the condo, his expression soured. He’d pick up the rum and beer and a few groceries to try to entice Max to cook for him, but that night would be the last night they got completely wasted. Tomorrow, he’d go over his CV and start looking for a job. He and Max would clean up their mess, and then they would sit down and discuss their… situation. Crane frowned, closing the door. As he walked down the hallway, he wondered what the hell to call their living arrangement. They spent almost all of their time together, they shared a bed, they had a disturbing sexual relationship that felt like a power struggle more often than not… Though, to be fair, lately there’d been more tenderness. Less violence.
Crane punched the button to the elevator and waited. Were they lovers? Boyfriends? It was ludicrous even to think it. Crane would have to be gay to be in a relationship with a man, wouldn’t he? Or bisexual. But he wasn’t… It was just Max.
The elevator arrived with a soft chime, and he stepped into it. How did that explain him getting so aroused at the porn Max showed him? Big, hairy muscly men in leather who took turns with a skinny young man in restraints. Fists covered in thick white lube stretching asses. Men pissing on each other. Extreme deep-throating. Urethral sounding. Giant dildos. Fuck machines. Electro-stim buttplugs… face-fucking, balls-deep, punch-fisting, cumpig—all part of his vocabulary now, thanks to Max. Then there were the videos of abuse that looked too real to be consensual.
A woman got into the elevator on the sixth floor and gave Crane a wary look before standing as far