Pairing: Max Adler/Darren Criss
Warnings: Brief mention of Max/OFC
Summary: When Darren shows up for a weekend at Max's, everything changes; there's no going back.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. (Read full disclaimer here.)
Notes: For a fic under 10k, I got to say... this mother wrecked me. I can't even deal with the amount of blood I put into this thing, who knows why it was so rough on me, but it's here now!!!1!(!!)! Written for tooursavior in the gleerpsx exchange. Huge props to snarkgasm, who listened to me ramble about this thing for weeks on end. Like, baby, what? Why... why did you not punch me? All lines that may slightly resemble those written by Ke$ha, eh, yeah... they probably were. Since apparently, she makes a lot of valid points when it comes to how Crissler exists in my headcanon.
Prompts used; Domestic bliss when they stay together over a weekend. Wearing each others shirts, kissing noses, lazy afternoon loving, relieving tension, romantic, real intimacy that isn't sex (although sex would be a bonus).
Max shuffles into the kitchen, sure his Super Bowl zombie dance moves had been more graceful, as he blinks squintedly against the early morning sun. His boxers are twisted, he can feel it when he walks, but he doesn't bother to fix them; no one else is around to really see.
His agenda in that moment consists of only three things. The first of which is coffee, second shower, third Darren. He owes the guy a phone call, after the way he'd accidentally and clumsily disconnected on him the night before. It wasn't his fault, he'd insist, his hands had been a little shaky from the way Darren's soft moans had broke his brain and all.
But while coffee and shower could be checked off the list, a phone call to Darren might prove a little difficult; Max Adler had five and a half feet of gorgeous boyfriend currently standing in the middle of his kitchen.
"Morning," Darren greets cheerily, smile on his face hinting at being a little smug.
"...Wow," Max tosses back lamely, confused and surprised and not nearly awake enough for this. He hadn't seen Darren in a few days, and definitely not in his house. They lived a little more than an hour apart, and since Darren's flat was a lot closer to set, they usually spent their alone time out there.
"How about 'Good morning, Darren'?" He prompts, hooking his pink sunglasses into the collar of his shirt with one hand, and Max's eyes follow the lines of his body, finding his other hand holding the straps of a black weekend bag.
"Mmm, I'm sorry," Max finally shakes himself out of it, stepping forward to spread a hand over Darren's hip, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. "Good morning, baby."
"My day is now complete," Darren insists happily, turning toward the coffee pot on the counter. "Well, you know, except for the part where it isn't, since I haven't yet gotten official permission to stay here for the weekend, and all," he adds with a tone that is almost sheepish, turning back to hand Max a cup of coffee the way he likes it.
"What?" Max asks incredulously, feeling a grin wake over his face. "The weekend? Seriously?" He insists for an answer, hoping to god his man was serious. They didn't get to spend a lot of time together like that, not alone, and not for long, a few hours stolen here and there, usually with Chris in between them.
"I'm... hoping so?" Darren asks by way of reply, wincing really dramatically as if he were afraid of the impending answer.
"I wish it was a week instead of a weekend," Max pouts playfully in response, hoping that was as good a confirmation as any.
"Me too, Adler, but that just means we'll have to make every minute count, I guess," Darren tosses back, always on the brighter side of things.
"Mmhm," Max hums around his coffee, feeling slightly more human now that he's drank it. "Please tell me you brought your hair gel."
"What?" Darren huffs in amusement, stepping in to wrap his arms around Max's waist. "Why, you don't like my hair?"
"No, I love your hair," Max insists, reaching up to brush his fingers through it. "You don't like your hair. Not when it dries, anyway," he explains, and Darren shakes his head against his chest, clearly quite confused; maybe he needs coffee too.
"But it's dry and it's fine," he deadpans, as if the discussion was somehow something deathly serious.
"You do know it's gonna get wet when you get in the shower with me, right?" Max asks a little matter-of-factly, flinching away from Darren's playful punch to his arm.
"You assume I'd want to do such a thing," Darren tosses back coyly, letting go of Max in favor of crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh, I know you do," Max corrects, pulling his faded t-shirt up over his head before turning toward the bathroom, taking seven full steps before receiving a reply.
The water seems louder than usual against the tiles as Darren unbuckles his belt, and Max is struggling to keep his eyes open, cursing the late night he pulled just to watch reruns of The Cosby Show on TV, because he was pretty sure that Darren was half (or fully) naked by now, and be damned if he was gonna miss that.
"Baby, you shoulda went to bed a lot earlier," Darren scolds softly under the sound of rushing water, and Max's eyes are closed, blinding him as he becomes aware of nothing but Darren's hands on his body, stripping him out of his boxers carefully, and it's more caring than it is even sexual, and somehow, Max really appreciates that.
"I was plannin' on sleepin' in today though, didn't know you'd be here," He explains as he forces his eyes open, finding Darren directly in front of him, entirely naked and it's a beautiful sight.
"I can leave," Darren offers back with a soft frown on his face, and Max is essentially sure that he's kidding, but it kind of breaks his heart.
"Don't you dare," he warns back immediately, because he'd rather not sleep for a week if it means a single day with Darren. "Don't you dare," he whispers again, pulling Darren against him as the shower runs on beside them, steaming up the room quickly, and there goes Darren's hair.
"Come on," Darren pulls at his hand, leading him like a child into the shower, and Max sighs deeply as he stands under the spray. "You're kind of beautiful right now, you know that?"
Max quirks a soft smile, reaching his hands up to run through Darren's hair as the water wets it. "No, I don't know that," Max denies, shaking his head as he looks over Darren's body. "Tell me again."
"Oh god," Darren groans long-sufferingly, smiling at the end of it, leaning up on his toes to press a kiss to the corner of Max's mouth. "You're beautiful," he insists softly, despite the fact that they both know Max was joking.
The silence burns long and heavy after that, with neither of them saying anything as their hands run over each others' bodies, messing with Max's emotions, because it's hard to be tired, blissful and horny all at once.
The hot water runs out before Darren's patience with rubbing Max's back does, and he continues to do it as they shut off the shower.
"Lets go to bed," Darren breaks the silence after a moment, standing behind Max in the cooling shower stall, wrapping both arms around him. "You need sleep, you're useless to me right now," he teases with an overdose of attitude, crying out loudly as Max reaches back to pinch his sides.
"Mmm, you just got here," Max complains, despite the fact that 'bed' sounds like 'orgasm' to him right now. "Don't wanna sleep right now."
"Sleep right now, be awake later tonight," Darren reasons, raising his eyebrows in a way that suggests about a hundred and eight dirty things.
"Yeah, okay..." Max gives in with a smile, reaching for a towel as Darren does the same. "You got me with that one."
Sharing a bed is a luxury they don't often get, at least, not when there's actual sleeping involved. They roll around in motels and trailers often enough, but when you're renting by the hour, or on constant call for set, there's not a lot of time left for things that actually mean something.
It's why Max is facing down a dilemma now, tired enough to sleep for two weeks, in love way too much to close his eyes to the sight of Darren laid out in his bed, skin still slightly dewy from the shower, warm and inviting and smelling of Max's soap.
"Baby," Darren laughs softly, running a hand through Max's still-damp hair, and Max tries to recall when Darren started using endearments so often, all casual and affectionate, like he's decided Max's name is no long good enough.
"Don't," Max warns pseudo-seriously, actually kind of meaning it. Darren goes off on these tangents sometimes, caring about Max vocally more than Max even knows how to handle, warning him that it's cold outside, and he should zip up his jacket. That coffee's hot, baby, stir cold creamer into it. Your pants will wrinkle if you leave 'em in the dryer for too long, and sometimes, Max thinks he sounds a little like--
"If you say I sound like your mother again, I will--"
"Mmm, then don't sound like my mother," Max warns with a playful groan, rolling into Darren, pulling the covers over them both, arm around Darren's waist as he finally decides it's okay to fall asleep.
"Max?" Darren asks softly, lips brushing against Max's cheek as he runs his fingers down his arm.
"Mmm," Max moans back in acknowledgement, opening one eye to find Darren looking at him with something soft in his expression.
"I love you," he answers back, and it's not the casual toss of words they've been giving at the end of phone conversations, or when being dragged away from each other on set. It's full of other words and meanings, like the first time they ever said it. And Max is pretty sure he falls asleep with a smile on his face.
He wakes up three hours later with a hobbit straddling his waist, and he's pretty sure he's still dreaming, until there's coffee, oh god, there's coffee.
"Good morning... again," Darren lilts a little mockingly, putting the mug on the bedside table as he leans down to press a kiss to Max's lips, both hands on the sides of his face as Max flounders for his bearings.
"Thought I was just havin' a really good dream," Max grins softly, remembering that Darren's actually here for the weekend. "My god, you are a beautiful sight to wake up to," insists as he shifts in the bed, struggling to sit up straight, while still keeping Darren in his lap.
"Oh, you're such a charmer," Darren rolls his eyes, and Max realizes then that he's wearing his jeans.
"You goin' somewhere?" Asks a little tentatively, isn't ready for the almost inevitable speech where Darren explains that he forgot he had to be somewhere tonight.
"We are, baby," Darren answers back instead, rubbing one hand along the back of Max's neck, and really? That's not gonna help him stay awake. "I wanna go out."
"Out," Max echoes, hasn't been out in almost two full days. He works long and hard when he works. But when he's off? His house is his friend, and he kind of likes it that way. "Where do you wanna go, then?" Asks anyway, letting out a groan as Darren shifts in his lap. "Oh, Jesus, no... no..." Shakes his head as he laughs playfully, moving his hands to rest over Darren's ass. "No, you don't get to do that to me and then say we're going out," he warns, grinning brightly as Darren kisses him, lips landing on the corner of his mouth.
"Come out with me now, and I'll do that to you later," Darren counters with a wink, all cheesy and exaggerated, and Max can hardly stand it.
"Man, you're always saying later," Max whines with a faux pout, one he's not even sure Darren can see from where he'd focused on biting at his ear.
"Well, just imagine how much the wait will be worth it when I'm saying now," Darren muses roughly against Max's neck, and in that moment, Max is pretty sure that Darren could have talked him into murder.
"You're incredible," Max insists as he grabs at Darren's waist, picking him up and moving him off of him. "Where do you want to go?"
"Only you could think this is fun," Max shakes his head fondly, trying not to knock anything over as Darren pulls him through the cluttered carts and tables of the district's Chinatown, all full of scams and outdated foreign foods, and Max doesn't know how to feel about the fact that most of the vendors aren't even Asian.
"It's more fun than laying in bed all day," Darren shrugs simply, as if that actually provides an answer as to why they're doing this. "Oh, 'what's wrong with laying in bed all day, Darren?' I know, I know," Darren adds as he rolls his eyes, hooking his fingers into Max's pocket, pulling him along behind him.
"Dude, I so do not sound like that!" Max huffs as he tries to keep up, and it's the biggest disadvantage of dating someone the size of a twelve-year old; they're goddamn easy to lose. "And what is wrong with laying in bed all day?" He asks after a moment, crashing his chest into Darren's back as Darren stops short.
"Nothin', baby," Darren insists with an odd sort of smile, turning to run a hand along the side of Max's face. "Except that we'll be spending all night in bed--"
"Now you got it," Darren teases, clapping a hand over Max's shoulder as he turns to drag him into an Asian restaurant.
"So, I've been thinking," Max takes the plunge ten minutes later, as they're working on eating their Tikka (and really... is Tikka even Asian? Max doubts the authenticity of this establishment).
"Uh oh," Darren groans with a crooked sort of grimace, and Max kind of wants to reach across the table and slap him. "Last time you 'been thinking', I ended up with rope burn on my ankles, I mean, I'm just saying," he raises his hands in objection, and Max bites his lip as he tosses a paranoid glance over his shoulder, praying that no one fucking heard that.
"Okay, first?" Max starts in a rough whisper, raising a finger at Darren. "That was an accident, and I apologized. And second... this isn't like that," he insists, sitting back in his chair once that's out of the way.
Darren shrugs and waves his hand, unable to speak around a mouthful of duck (the guy ordered duck, seriously, what is wrong with him), and Max takes in a deep breath as he folds his hands over the table.
"So... you know, I've been thinking of... moving," he starts, kind of glad that Darren's temporarily rendered speechless. "You know, since I've got a bigger role in Glee now, I gotta be around that end of town more, I mean..." Clears his throat, hates the way that this whole speech had sounded so much better when he practiced it in his head earlier.
"Mmhm?" Darren hums a little skeptically, and it kind of breaks Max's heart that he actually has to say this.
"Well, I mean... I was just thinking maybe I could move down to the East side, and we... I mean..." Looks down at his plate with forced focus, wondering maybe if he's taking too big of a leap here. "Maybe we could get a place together," he forces out finally, eyes locked on his chopsticks as he sees Darren shift awkwardly in the peripherals of his vision.
"Oh," Darren answers back finally, and it's really not an answer at all, and Max is a little upset with himself for thinking any of this could be a good idea. "I mean... well the East side is... you know, rent's really expensive over there, and... I mean, the ice rink is down here, and I don't think you'd wanna drive an hour every--"
"Yeah, okay," Max interjects with a wince, feeling like his life could not get any more awkward than Darren's blatant rejection is making it right now. "Okay, let's get out of here, huh?" Asks with a grin he hopes looks real, knows doesn't, as he pushes away from the table, hoping Darren will follow, because at this point, he's afraid that he might not.
Of course, he does, and his hand is warm against Max's knee five minutes later as they drive to the cinema, Darren's idea, and Max isn't quite on board. He knows he shouldn't be so hurt about Darren's rejection, after all, they're still a happy couple, what difference would a house deed make? But the fact that Darren didn't even really consider it, the fact that he clearly doesn't see it as an option? Well, that really kind of hurts. And sitting in a movie theater for the next two hours where they can't even talk about it isn't exactly Darren's best idea to date.
"What do you wanna see?" Max asks anyway, itching to hold Darren's hand as they walk into the building, knowing that he can't; they're not entirely public yet, despite Cory's constant threats to out them if they don't do it themselves soon.
"Anything you wanna see, baby," Darren lilts back as he leans into Max, wrapping both arms around his waist, and so much for being subtle.
"You're such a pushover sometimes," Max teases, pulling Darren in closer.
He's afraid for the first time to actually let him go.
The theater is nearly empty as they settle in to watch some gorefest that Max is actually kind of dreading. He'd chosen it because he knows movies like this, they don't require attention, and that's exactly what he wants.
His hopes and dreams for a moment of Darren Time are ruined, however, as he watches Darren type and send an endless amount of texts out on his iPhone. And for the first time in a long time, Max feels a little jealous.
"You're quiet," Darren muses softly as they head back to Max's apartment, and Max is struggling to keep his eyes on the road, prevent them from straying down to watch the way Darren's hand is inching up his thigh.
"Sorry," Max apologizes with a smile aimed out the windshield, before reaching down to turn on the radio.
He can feel Darren's eyes on him for a time that feels like forever, silently judging, and it's burning Max right up. He hasn't felt this exposed under Darren's attention since the first time they had sex, and that had been entirely different. That had been about nudity and low inhibitions. This right now was about... worries and high insecurity.
Max doesn't like it.
Darren's hand shifts a moment later, sliding slowly off the side of Max's leg, until all that's left is a warmed spot over the denim, chilling quickly as Darren clasps both hands in his lap.
Max has got a weakness for when Darren wears his shirts. It reminds him of the first time they ever slept together, in Darren's apartment a few months ago. And that night had been sort of blissfully full of awkward words and questions, and clumsy kisses that just felt right. And Darren had pulled himself into one of Max's old Bon Jovi t-shirts, and Max had known in that moment, that that was where Darren belonged.
Now, though, it was a question, as Max sat sprawled on his couch, watching Darren make a ham sandwich in his kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxers and a T-shirt five sizes too big. Max wonders what was happening, if he'd ever see Darren in that shirt again. And he kind of feels like crying as he realizes it's a possibility that he won't.
"Why did you come here this weekend?" Max calls out over the threshold, face set in stony seriousness as Darren looks back at him, pressing his sandwich together.
"Because I missed you," Darren answers back simply, and Max wishes his mind could just accept it for what it is. He struggles not to believe that Darren came here to spend a couple last nights together before... breaking up. But Darren's been distant all day, sending secretive texts when all Max really wants to do is talk.
"Missed you, too," he sighs back instead of fighting, because, well, at least it's true.
They spend the next half hour on the couch together, with Darren curled up against Max's chest, tracing aimless patterns over his sternum as they silently watch TV. And Max's mind is splashing in the deep end, wondering if Darren's cheating on him, wondering if Darren hates him, wondering if he's overreacting. And he is, he knows he is, but he'd been insecure to begin with, dubiously believing that a man like Darren Criss (he's been on magazine covers all month), could truly be in love with a guy like him.
Max is just a hockey player who landed a lucky break between parking stick shifts in front of faux five-star hotels and serving drinks in bars he wouldn't have set foot in without getting paid for. He's just a guy who can remember a few dance steps if he really, really tries, and has to read his scripts fourteen times before he's got it. And Darren is... Darren. All classy and charming and of more talent than he knows what to do with. And Max has heard the people talking, about all the things they'd do with an hour of Darren's undivided time. And he's lucky that he gets so many of Darren's hours, he knows, but he can't suppress the fear that his time is now running short.
"Please," Darren pouts, puppy eyes wide as he kneels on Max's bed, and Max can't even suppress the incredulous grin that's breaking his face.
"We're not watching One Tree Hill again!" He insists playfully, grabbing the boxset from Darren's hands. "Like, man... as if you really even thought to pack this!" He teases with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, holding the case over the trashcan beside the bed.
"Oh god, no," Darren's face falls hilariously fast, and Max is having way too much fun to let go of the moment.
"This show is more chick flick than Titanic," he insists, stretching his arm further, pulling the box out of Darren's (admittedly short) reach.
"Yeah, well, you cried like a baby last time you let us watch it!" Darren tries to fight back, as if that somehow makes a point, crawling over Max, pinning him against the headboard.
"Which is why I'm no longer letting us watch it!" Max laughs back, wrapping an arm around Darren's waist as he sets the box down on the bedside table.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with cryin', baby," Darren lilts in some faux, exaggerated accent, and Max is really not sure who he's even trying to channel. "Admitting your feelings makes more of a man, anyway."
"Oh yeah?" Max laughs, closing his eyes as they shift on the bed, until he's horizontal against the mattress, with Darren laying over his chest. "I got better ways to prove I'm a man," he drawls out, cracking one eye open to find Darren's eyebrows raised high at him.
"Is that so?" Darren questions suspiciously, reaching up to trace the tip of one finger over Max's lower lip.
"Is it later yet?" Max asks by way of reply, opening his other eye, wondering if Darren can see how dark they probably are.
"Hmm," Darren hums, mouth crooked on his face as he takes an incredibly long time pondering. "Yes," he finally answers, grinning cheesily as Max runs his fingers through his hair, leaning up to kiss him.
"Thank god," Max groans out against Darren's lips, laughing softly as he rolls them over, pinning Darren underneath him.
"Whoa," Darren gasps out, still smiling blindingly as he turns his head, letting Max kiss at his neck. "Jesus," mumbles out a little lower, voice a touch rough as Max bites at his neck.
"Wh's'matter?" Max asks against his throat, hands skating down over Darren's sides, under his shirt, and back up again, feeling his skin warm under his fingers.
"No, mmm, nothing," Darren insists quickly, wrapping one arm around Max's neck loosely, holding him in place. "You just don't usually... well..."
"Get horny enough to be this impatient?" Max asks with a dark grin, straddling Darren's waist, sliding both hands under his back, pulling him to sit upright long enough to drag his shirt up over his head before dropping it to the floor.
"Uh, wow, yeah, I was gonna say 'take control', but I guess that works too," Darren laughs a little brokenly, biting his lip as Max lays him back down.
"You've been drivin' me crazy all day," Max muses, kissing down Darren's chest, finding it impossible now to take his time.
"Is that a fact?" Darren chides playfully, as his own hands finally start to move, making quick work of Max's shirt.
"Goddamn true one," Max confirms, leaning up to pull the shirt up over his head, lets it make friends with Darren's on the floor.
"You coulda had me, you know," Darren whispers softly, voice dropping into that register that lets Max know it's on now. "In the restaurant, in the theater," he lists darkly, no longer grinning now as he's spreading his hands over Max's hips.
"In my car?" Max asks after a moment, focusing his attention to Darren's waist, running his fingers along the top of his boxers.
"Mmm," Darren bites his lip, before leaning up to do the same to Max's ear, warm and soft as Max hooks his fingers in the underwear, pulling them down Darren's hips. "Yeah, baby... in your car, please," he lilts out a little breathlessly, and Max stops for a moment, cocking his head to the side.
"Please?" He echoes, looking down at Darren with confusion on his face.
"Please," Darren confirms, smirking kind of wickedly as his eyes flicker over to the window, and Max follows his gaze, laughing in amusement as he nods his head.
"You are such a sex fiend," Max accuses playfully, sliding off the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to Darren's lips as he picks him up off the mattress, letting Darren wrap his legs around his waist, as Max keeps his hands on his ass.
"Oh, what? I am not," Darren insists, words mumbled against Max's lips as they start toward the door. "Mm, oh, lube, lube, get it," Darren cries out, reaching one hand away from the back of Max's neck to clumsily pull at the bedside drawer from his awkward angle.
"Sex fiend," Max states matter of factly, smiling softly as he kisses at Darren's shoulder, letting his tongue run over his collarbone.
"That is a horrible thing to call the one you love," Darren pouts exaggeratedly, as Max maneuvers them through the house, playfully smacking a hand to the side of Darren's face when he laughs at him for bumping into a wall, throwing Darren off balance for a moment until he catches him.
"Well, who said I even loved you?" Max teases, fumbling with the doorknob for a moment, pressing Darren's back against it as he struggles to flip open the lock.
"You did, baby," Darren answers back a little seriously, voice soft and affectionate, and Max's hand stills over the knob as his mind is attacked by all things Darren. His skin is warm and flushed against him, smelling like coffee and raspberries and something Max can't even name. His hair is tangled perfectly, stray curls falling wildly over his forehead, framing his face with eyes blown dark and wide, and Max's chest aches for him then, can't imagine him not being in his life. "And I love you too," Darren adds after a minute, and Max is reminded of his acting classes, when his coach would yell out activies, and he'd have to play them out, with no time to plan or explain. And on the day the man had said 'heart attack', Max had thought back to his first girlfriend in high school, and how it'd felt when she broke up with him, leaving him alone at their table with nothing but a pitiful shrug in his direction.
That had been nothing compared to right now.
"Don't... Darren, don't ever leave me," he begs without planning to, afraid that he might cry, as Darren slips out of his grasp, feet hitting the floor as he leans back against the door.
"Max," Darren starts, reaching up to run a hand over the side of Max's face, the other trailing down his arm slowly.
"I can't even... I wouldn't know what to do without you," he confesses, pressing one hand to the door beside Darren's face, leaning in against him slightly.
Darren's silent for a moment, a moment that drags on forever, and Max's legs are getting weak as he waits, and waits, wishing life were like that one Adam Sandler movie, so he could just pause this moment, and never have to see what happens after it.
"You'd probably... put your shirts on backward," Darren starts seriously, nodding to prove his point. "And... never clean your fridge out," he adds, face schooled into something perfectly insistent. "Oh, and you'd definitely never remember your Daddy's birthday, which is next week, by the way," he scolds, tisking playfully as he runs a hand through Max's hair. "But fortunately... we're never gonna have to deal with that," he insists, running the back of his hand lazily over Max's arm. "'Cause I'm never gonna leave you."
The words hit Max like a physical feeling, kind of like the time he'd gotten the call that told him Karofsky was destined for more than tossing slushies. And he kind of feels like crumbling, like the visual death of characters in video games from 1983, pixels exploding away from each other until they're just a blanket of dots flashing on the screen. His eyes slip shut for a moment as he listens to Darren breathe, until suddenly, Darren's talking, and everything is better.
"Sooo... not to be a sex fiend, or anything... but is this the part where, you know, we get to fucking in your car?"
Max laughs loud and sudden, an incredulous grin painting itself across his face, as he shifts Darren away from the door, pulling it open, letting the chilled night air wash over their bodies.
"If my neighbors see this..." Max warns, biting his lip as Darren steps out into the driveway wearing nothing but his boxers, arms spread wide as he yells into the darkness.
"Attention, May Street!" He calls out, laughing wildly as Max flies into the driveway, wrapping one arm around Darren's waist, covering his free hand over his mouth.
"Oh my god, Darren, Seriously? Seriously?" He shoves at him a little roughly, feeling relief and love and arousal thrum through his veins as he opens up the back door of his car, ushering Darren inside.
"Oh, come on... you totally want that pervy old guy in the blue house to know that you're actually gettin' some right now," Darren teases, sliding back over the seat as Max pulls the door shut behind him, wondering how the fuck it manages to be so damn hot inside the vehicle when the air is so chilled outside.
"Wait... what pervy old guy?" He asks after a minute, crawling over Darren's body as he questions him.
"Oh, you know..." Darren starts, voice slightly breathless as Max kisses at his neck, laying him flat against the bench seat. "That one with the super dark sunglasses... and the housecoat? When I pass by his yard, he always asks if I wanna see his record collection?"
"Uuh..." Max raises an eyebrow as he moves over Darren's body, pressing his lips to skin wherever he can reach.
"Or if I wanna taste his apple pie?" Darren continues, "or help him in his attic?"
"Or suck his dick?"
"Kidding, Jesus, fuck me," Darren laughs carelessly, reaching down to push at his own boxers, getting them halfway down his hips.
"Mmm, sex fiend," Max teases, sucking over Darren's collarbone as he lets his hand trail down his chest, playing over his abs for a moment, until he's pulling the purple fabric down the rest of the way, leaving Darren entirely exposed beneath him.
"Whatever, you like it," Darren drawls back as he rolls his hips up against him, pressing the solid line of his erection against Max's in a moment of perfect alignment.
"Mmm... yeah, yeah I do," Max confirms finally, sitting up as best as he can, shoving his own boxers down clumsily, until there's nothing between them but a thin layer of sweat.
"It's been, like... two weeks, you know?" Darren asks kind of quizzically, as he runs his hand down Max's chest, tracing idle patterns over his skin, moving painfully slow until he's finally brushing his fingers over Max's cock.
"What? It has not," Max denies, looking down between them to watch as Darren's hand wraps around him, soft and warm and tight.
"Mmhm, Honey Bee!" Darren insists with wide eyes, nodding his head frantically.
"No, we... I definitely sucked you off in your trailer on Tuesday," Max reminds with a voice that's low and broken, as his hips roll into the perfect friction of Darren's hand.
"Mmm, but that's not what I'm talkin' about, baby," Darren lilts darkly, pushing himself up from the seat, shifting them both until he's straddling Max's lap as they sit in the center of the bench.
"Oh," Max tosses back a little sheepishly, letting his head fall back as Darren grinds down against him, warm and heavy against his cock.
"Come on," Darren tempts darkly, rolling his hips until Max reaches down to palm him, stroking slow and tight. "No, come on... you know what I want," he nearly begs, and the sound of his voice alone is getting Max even stiffer beneath him.
"You are insatiable," Max muses as he leans in to bite at Darren's throat, knows he likes that, likes it too.
"Excuse me, have you seen my boyfriend?" Darren gasps out with a hand to his own chest, feigning shock as he settles lower over Max's lap, pulling a low groan out of the man beneath him as he rubs his ass his against his cock.
And it's perfect.
"Mmm, no, tell me about him," Max grins, reaching over a little awkwardly to grab at the lube, clicking it open quietly.
"Oh, he's got these eyes, okay?" Darren starts, and he's fucking goofy, all school-girl gossipy, and Max has no idea what his parents fed him as a kid. "They change color. Under the sun," he gasps, voice breaking a bit at the end as Max gently pushes at his chest, leaning him back against the front seats behind him, shifting his hips so he can reach in to trace one finger against his opening.
"What else?" Max presses, licking his lips as he watches his fingers rub at Darren's hole gently, getting it wet, taking his time.
"He... he's got... super soft hair, I love to run my fingers through it when he's falling asleep," Darren manages around a few hitched breaths, as his body relaxes against Max's.
"Bet he likes that," Max looks up to grin softly at him, pressing the tip of his index finger passed the tight resistance, biting his lip as he feels Darren's warmth around him.
"Oh..." Darren gasps out a little breathlessly, face falling more focused and serious as he spreads his legs a little wider. "Yeah, he's... got really big hands, too," he continues, sounding more distracted now, as Max pushes his finger in deeper. "Ugh, really... big hands, oh, Max," he sighs out softly, running his fingers over Max's arm, tracing over the hand that's sinking into his body.
"Darren, Jesus, you're so hot just like this," Max moans out, wishing he could take a picture of Darren right now, loving the way it's all so very obscene and intimate at the same time.
"Oh fuck," Darren gasps softly, laughing slightly as Max twists his finger, before pushing in another, stretching him slowly. "Shoulda... grabbed the camera, then."
Max laughs in amusement, before his brain melts back down at the sight of his fingers sinking into Darren deeply now. "Mmm, next time, baby," he insists hotly, achingly hard now, needing Darren to be ready five minutes ago.
"We should, you know?" Darren asks with a lilt, before taking in a sharp breath, eyes falling shut for a moment, letting Max know he was doing something right. "I wanna make a movie with you," he grins, mischief on his face as he tries to use his legs for leverage, pushing himself down on Max's hand.
"Uh..." Max hums out lamely, not sure what to say, or if he could find the words even if he did. "You'd make a very good porn star," he grins instead, tensing his arm as he pushes his fingers in hard.
"Oh, oh..." Darren bucks up against him, cock untouched and getting wetter by the moment. "Only... only for you though, you know," he insists, before making a low noise in his throat, and Max is pretty sure it means he's finished talking.
So, they don't even try anymore, as Max pushes in a third finger, slowing down out of courtesy, knows Darren's really tight, and the fact that Max has huge hands really hadn't been a joke.
"Max," Darren growls out finally, voice low and desperate and exactly what Max has been waiting to hear.
He pulls his fingers out of him slowly, tracing them around the ready hole for a moment, before reaching for the condom Darren had grabbed out of the drawer. He rolls it on quickly, a little clumsily, moaning softly at the teasingly soft touch of his hand against his cock, but it's not enough, and he knows he needs more, and if the way Darren's flushed and panting on top of him has anything to say about it, Darren does too.
"Breathe," Max insists as he tangles his fingers with Darren's, using his free hand to line himself up, pressing against him for a moment, until finally, Darren opens up for him.
"Max," Darren moans out again, and Max doesn't mind, could listen to Darren say his name like that forever.
"That's it," Max bites his lip as he watches himself push in slowly, torturously so, letting Darren adjust to his width.
"Max, come on, all of it," Darren snaps without warning, and Max's eyebrows fly up on his face as he huffs in amusement.
"Sir... yes, sir," he lilts out playfully, moving his hand away from his cock to spread over Darren's hip, holding him in place as he pushes the rest of the way in.
"Keyboard mash," Darren grits out as he sinks down into Max's lap, closing the space between them, hands on the back of the seat.
"What?" Max asks in confusion, letting his eyes slip shut, seeing goddamn fireworks as Darren starts to move slowly.
"Mmm, I... I wanna say 'asdfghjkl;', But... oh, but that's way too fucking long," he explains, raising himself up slightly, before dropping back down, leaning in to press a kiss to Max's jaw. "Keyboard mash."
Max laughs a little brokenly, blushing as it breaks off into a moan. "You ramble, oh god, you ramble," he teases, head rolling back to hit the back of the seat, lip bitten between his teeth as he watches Darren ride him.
"Fuck, but you love it," Darren tosses back breathlessly, hand in Max's hair as he bucks down harder.
"Love you," Max corrects, needs to say it as his hands tighten over Darren's hips, guiding him down, maybe just a little forcefully. "God, so much," he insists, can't seem to stop saying it, feels like it's the only thing really worth his breath in the moment.
"Max," Darren cries out as he drops forward, pressing his face against Max's neck, breathing hard against his skin, until he's biting a little clumsily, spreading dull throbs of pain across Max's skin, which only serves to turn him on even more.
"You close, baby?" Max gasps out as he slumps a little lower in the seat, pulling Darren down onto him with an almost bruisingly hard pace.
"Max," Darren sobs out again, voice rough and broken, an inadvertent answer as he's tensing around Max tightly, biting down on his shoulder as his hips stutter in an erratic rhythm, and the sounds he's making so close to Max's ear is more than enough, that's it folks, show's over.
"Fuck!" Max arches up into him, eyes slipping shut against the blinding flash of pleasure that sets his heartbeat off in a new rhythm. And for a few seconds, that's all there is; just bated breath, hammering hearts, too much sweat, and a whole lot of come.
But then Max is breathing again, and he's smelling the coffee and raspberries, tasting Darren's skin, touching his body, his hair, all of him. And that moment is perfect, and he hopes that it won't end.
"Max... Max, baby," Darren mumbles against his shoulder, body heated and flushed in Max's lap. "That was... fucking... Koala Tea."
"I'm saying it was good."
"Oh, well then, in that case, I'll take it," Max grins lazily, still in a state of post-orgasmic bliss, where everything's Darren and nothing hurts.
"But, oh my god," Darren moans, leaning over to the door beside them, tugging at the handle, popping it open. He shoves at it a little lazily, getting it to swing out as far as his lack of energy in the moment will allow.
"Yeah," Max agrees, laughing softly. "Hot sex," he muses literally, finding it hard to breathe in the thick, humid air in the vehicle.
"Always is with you," Darren insists as he leans back off Max's chest, laying against the front seats again, and Max hopes desperately that it's dark enough outside that none of his neighbors will actually see this, now that the door is open, and they're still both totally naked.
"Ugh, you know we need to shower again, right?" Max groans, reaching one hand out to brush Darren's matted hair away from his face, fingertips trailing over sweaty skin.
"Oh god, yes," Darren agrees a little more enthusiastically, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Max's lips. "Think we can... make it to your door without getting dressed?" He asks with raised eyebrows, grinning brightly as he slowly moves himself off Max's lap, falling to the seat beside him.
"What? No!" Max panics, eyes wide as Darren slips toward the door. "No! No! Darren, oh..." lets his insistence trail off awkwardly as Darren's out the door, naked. And in his driveway. He is in his driveway... naked. "My god, Darren, you've got some kind of issues!"
They shower separately when they get into the house, too overheated to even consider round two. Max runs his hands through his wet hair as he lays in his bed, one arm over his chest as the other holds the remote to the TV. Darren's cell phone sits crooked on the end of the bed, thrown there carelessly, and Max is kind of wary of it.
Darren had been immersed in it all day, grinning that excited grin, and happy and dopey kind of like... like the way he used to look at Max when they'd first started dating. The same way he still does now, only... not like he looked at his phone today, full of all the emotions Max feared would burn out between them. Which they would, he insists to himself, because Darren can't be that in love with two things at once. Or people.
Or two people.
It vibrates again, sliding a little lower on the bed, and Max can't keep his eyes off the screen, so fucking tempted to read the '09 New Messages' Darren has. But he's not that kind of person, the kind of who distrusts their best friend slash boyfriend enough to actually snoop through his stuff. And even if he was... he's not so sure he wants to know what's in those messages.
"You stole all the hot water, I feel like you should know," Darren drawls out as he walks into the room, toweling off his hair kind of lazily. "Also? A limp. You gave me... a limp," he deadpans as he dives onto the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of clean black boxers.
Max looks over at him a little tentatively, wondering how obvious the guilt is on his face. He'd resisted the urge to look, but... he so very desperately wanted to. And the fact that he was questioning Darren like this was probably just as bad as doing it outright.
"You okay, baby?" Darren asks after a moment of silence, laying on his stomach next to Max, leaning up on his elbows as Max stays on his back beside him, studying his face carefully.
"No," he finally admits, soft and a kind of broken, hadn't intended to do this, at least, not now.
"Uh oh..." Darren starts, looking at him in sideways suspicion. "Gossip time," he grins, and it's beautiful and heart breaking, and Max is so fucking scared right now.
"Are you leaving me?" He asks point-blank, knows he sounds like a Lifetime Movie gone wrong right now. But he can't keep his worries inside anymore, not nearly as much as he'd like to. He wasn't born a Karofsky, after all.
"What?" Darren asks with a kind of snap in his voice, one that Max doesn't hear too often, and is immensely glad for that fact.
"I'm serious, D. Are you... is there anything you're not telling me?" He asks, hating that he has to do this. "About this? About us?"
"What the fuck are you even saying?" Darren gasps out, not sounding mad now, not so much as shocked and kind of confused, as he sits up on his knees on the bed.
"I'm sorry, I just... I mean, you've been playing Space Cadet all day, and... you've been getting all these texts, and usually when someone texts you something funny, you tell me what it is, but you've been... keeping them a secret all day, and you downed a shot of vodka from my fridge, you only do that when you're really fucking happy, and--"
"So I'm leaving you?" Darren interjects, eyebrows low on his face, his tone a little incredulous, like he can't believe that Max is saying this.
"Well, what would you think?" Max shoots back, feeling kind of defensive now as he crosses his arms over his chest.
"I'd think I'd have to ask you what's up, before assuming something ridiculous like that!" Darren cries out in annoyance, hands flailing a little wildly.
"Fine then, Darren Criss, what is up. What is up, why won't you let me move in with you?" He snaps back, feeling his muscles burning tensely, he hates fighting with him.
"You wanna know why?" Darren taunts, leaning into Max's space slightly. "Because I'm moving in with you!" He throws back, collapsing against Max's side, spreading out to lay against him, one hand over his chest as he rests his head on his shoulder. "I lied. This isn't for the weekend," he adds, sounding a little frustrated. "I know you've been wanting to do this for a while, your hints? Baby, really? So not subtle," he sighs out, and Max is just trying to process the words. "Like I said... East side sucks. The west has got everything; better rent, better grocery stores, your ice rink... you," he lists, looking up at Max with more sincerity in his eyes than he can even handle.
"The texts," Max starts in confusion, knowing it's kind of douchey of him to bring that back up when Darren's making a confession like this one, but he can't let it go.
"Ah yes, Professor Paranoid wants to know about the texts," Darren singsongs, words falling out in a fairly awesome British accent. "The ones from my brother's best friend, I suppose? You know the friend, come on, you know, you know the one," he pokes at Max's side. "Come on, the one who always wears those wire-rimmed glasses, Jason Markal, Independent..."
"Real Estate," Max finishes, swallowing deeply as another piece of the puzzle falls into place.
"Atta boy," Darren grins a little crookedly. "He's been keeping me updated on the house, which is now officially sold," he explains, and Max looks at him incredulously, shaking his head.
"You did not sell your house. Why would you sell your house?" He cries out in confusion, crossing his eyes to watch as Darren leans in to kiss at his nose, lips soft against his skin until he pulls away.
"Because that was just a building. This..." He trails off, and Max kind of feels like he should be saying something right now. "Come on, Adler, tell me how it ends," he tempts, running his fingers in lazy heart shapes over Max's chest.
"This is your home," Max finishes, voice soft as his emotions finally break, and all the worry he's been feeling over the day just shifts, and all he can focus on is this.
"I love you," Darren concludes, soft and private, words just for him, and Max can't stop himself from grinning as he realizes that no one else gets to hear those words.
"You're an asshole," he teases as he feels himself start to cry, letting Darren climb over him, hands in his hair, on his chest, fucking everywhere, and it's amazing.
"You're a superfreak," Darren tosses back, wrapping his arms around Max tightly, pressing kisses to his face.
"But you love me," Max counters, running his hands down Darren's back.
"So, so fucking much," he confirms, smiling down at Max warmly.
In the morning, Darren makes him breakfast.