Love Bites
Pairing: Monster!Max x F!Reader (Lamb)
Word count / Rating: 9k (it's a big boy I know) / EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY
Warnings: Monsterfucking, a handful of angst (some hurt/comfort vibes in here), unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), one (1) pussy slap, real switch behavior, blood kink, size kink (please let me know if I missed something!)
Summary: A visit to Max's office goes wrong - but maybe it helps to make things go right.
A/N: Shoutout to @sergeantbannerbarnes who's ask is what set me down this path and to @radiowallet who's ask just snuck its little way right in here 💕 and a shoutout to @escapades-to-rivendell who read this big boy over for me, ily all sm. Alsooo - there might be a special surprise at the very end of this chapter ;)
Series Masterlist
Your anxiety mounts with every additional floor. The cheery milquetoast corporate music does nothing to help, your hands growing clammy as you near the 13th floor. There's a chance this is a terrible idea. Max has never said anything about visiting him at work before and you worry you’re crossing some unspoken line by showing up unannounced like this. Then again, the surprise treat of blood you have carefully disguised in a regular coffee cup might be able to sway him otherwise.
It feels a little silly being this nervous. You’ve never been this nervous when it comes to Max – it’s just that work is usually something he tries to keep separate from you. Ever since what you like to call The Great Rebecca Debacle, things are kept relatively simple. He gives a general overview of how his day went, how stressful things are, the usual daily complaint about the mysterious and very hated Evan. Otherwise specific details aren’t discussed. Even the work dinners you’ve joined him for have been more social networking than business related.
All things considered, this has the potential to be a bad choice.
Alternatively, this could be the best choice you’ve ever made and result in hot office sex. Possibly with the addition of horns if Max is feeling extra risky. Only time will tell. You’re definitely hoping for the latter.
The elevator finally stops moving, a happy ding! announcing your arrival on Max’s floor. Stepping out you find yourself… disappointed. With Max’s eclectic but beautifully designed apartment, you expected something similar with his offices. In your mind it had been immaculately decorated, large, open floor plan, like something ripped from the set of a trashy unrealistic show off The CW. This is anything but. In fact, it’s even worse than your own offices. At least you have enough natural sunlight for a plant at your desk.
The walls are a dingy gray, the carpet looking like it hasn’t been replaced since the nineties. Cubicles more depressing than your own can be seen through the door of the small lobby, which has a strange smell you hope to never discover the origin of. There’s a shockingly bright piece of corporate art across from the receptionist’s desk, which you feel might have been placed there in a terrible attempt to make the place seem cheery. It only serves to set your teeth on edge. You’re half convinced this isn’t Max’s office at all.
“Hi, can I help you?” The receptionist calls over to you. She must have noticed your confused expression at walking into an office straight out of a trashy horror flick.
“Um, yeah, I’m here to see Max Phillips?” If your hands weren’t full you would have crossed your fingers, praying that she says Max is another floor up or something.
Your dreams are immediately crushed. She perks right up at his name. “Oh! Do you want me to call him up here for you?” Her hand is poised over the phone, waiting for your answer.
“No, no, that’s okay. I was actually hoping to surprise him, if you could just point me in the direction of his office?” You’re really hoping there isn’t some protocol that requires him to come up here. It will still be a surprise but then you wouldn’t get to see that cute little look on his face when he realizes you’ve done something nice for him.
The receptionist points at the door leading further into the offices. “Go through there, turn right, and his office will be at the very end of the hall. You can’t miss it.”
You really wish she would blink. With her plastered-on smile, chipper attitude, and perfectly lacquered nails it feels like you’re talking with a robot rather than a person. Her hand finally drops when you take a hesitant step towards the door. “Thank you,” you uncertainly offer.
“No problem!”
Stepping into the office space is no better. You make a note in the back of your mind to message Sami and let him know how much worse things could be than your few inches too small cubes. The mysterious smell from the lobby thankfully dissipates, only to be replaced by the high pitched hum of fluorescent lighting. With every passing moment you understand why Max prefers working from home rather than in this little hellhole. Maybe you can convince him to come home with you at the end of this visit.
You only make it halfway down the hallway before someone feels compelled to stop you. And touch your shoulder. Gross.
“Excuse me? Can I help you?”
Turning around you come face to face with someone you never expected to see again. Evan Sanders. The last time you saw him you were both pimple faced middle schoolers but there’s no mistaking him. He hasn’t changed all that much really, losing the aforementioned pimples as well as his braces but for some mystifying reason keeping the same hairstyle. You suppose it works for a business setting, but between that and his ill-fitted suit he could do better.
He seems to recognize you as well, squinting slightly before saying your name with a bit of disbelief. You don’t really want to talk to him, but you figure for the sake of social niceties you should. Max probably wouldn’t but then again he’s a vampire and people call him an asshole so that’s probably not the right course of action here. Lame.
“Hi Evan. Long time no see,” you greet.
“Yeah no kidding, how are you? What are you up to these days?”
“Not much, just trying to get by.” It would probably be polite to ask that question in return, but the answer is kind of obvious. He works here in this weird, dark dungeon of an office space.
This is already tiring. You didn’t come here to reconnect with a middle school acquaintance. You came here to be a good girlfriend and potentially live out a little fantasy of yours. No shame in that. Max certainly doesn’t have any when he asks you to dress up in ridiculous slutty little outfits – not that you’re complaining about that either. You’re still waiting for him to pull out the Megara costume. You know he has it and he’s talked about how much he likes her attitude too much recently for it not to make an appearance sometime soon. You wonder if he’ll go for a Hercules or Hades look to match it.
Evan is saying something and you know you should be listening but you’re already so bored. If you remember right the last time you saw him you kicked him in the shins. The specific reason why escapes you now, but you’re starting to remember. This is just so weird. You haven’t seen each other since you were thirteen and now he’s going to pretend like the two of you had been good friends? You just want to deliver Max his “coffee” and kisses, not be involved in whatever this is.
Evan assumes that stance men do when they’re getting ready to settle into a long conversation – legs slightly spread, arms folded casually over his chest. Maybe he’ll mindlessly follow if you continue to take slow steps down the hallway.
You finally tune back into what he’s saying. “So what are you doing here? I wasn’t aware we had any open positions.”
He’s eyeing you carefully now, as though he’s trying to catch you in some sort of a lie. You want to laugh. If you had come here for an interview you would have peeked out the elevator and taken the long trip back down to the lobby. After seeing if they would validate your parking – the prices they charge are practically theft.
“I’m not here to interview, just here to give my boyfriend a surprise visit.” Evan does not get the hint that you’d like to get on with that surprise. You wish you could kick him like you did in middle school again.
“That’s nice of you. Who’s your boyfriend?”
Maybe Evan’s job here is office inquisitor. It feels like it with the game of twenty questions you’ve suddenly embarked on with him. Who even holds a conversation like this? Clearly when one person is barely reciprocating it’s time to end it and move on with your days.
“Max Phillips.”
You can’t say you anticipated the way that answer would twist Evan’s face up. He looks like he just put three warheads in his mouth on a dare only to feel his cheek skin immediately peeling away. That endeavor wasn’t worth the five bucks you made off of it.
Evan’s hand is suddenly on your arm, tugging you to the relative not-privacy along the wall of the hallway.
“You need to break up with him.”
“Excuse me?”
Evan looks around the office, trying to see if anyone is listening in. He lowers his voice, leaning in towards you as he speaks. “He’s not- he’s not a good person.”
You roll your eyes. You know Max has a bit of a reputation but this is ridiculous. Despite his attitude with others, which is admittedly a work in progress, he’s treated you better than any other guy you’ve ever dated. He’s attentive, caring, and he sets your heart on fire with just the smallest of glances. You would have to be insane to give any of that up.
“I know Max isn’t everyone’s favorite, but that’s horrible to say,” you snap at him.
Evan casts another nervous look over his shoulder. “No, what I mean is- he’s not- he isn’t human.”
It’s impossible to hide your shock. He knows. Evan knows about Max and he’s apparently very willing to spill that secret. Thankfully he interprets your shock as you not knowing in the first place.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to know. You have to break up with him before he tries to eat you or something worse.”
You don’t get a chance to respond, not even a funny quip about how you like when he eats you or to ask one of the thousands of questions you have, as Max’s voice is suddenly filling the office air.
“Hey slugger, you finish those reports… yet?”
Max trails off once he registers that it’s you standing there with Evan and not another coworker. His eyes flash red as he takes in the scene before him and that finally triggers your own realization. Evan, this Evan, is The Evan that Max bitches about day in and day out. Whatever you just stepped in is decidedly not good.
The already long moment continues to linger and you decide to cut the tension. “Surprise!”
A smile slips onto Max's face but it's flimsy. To anyone else it might be convincing, but you know the difference between his real and fake smiles and this is the most put upon one you've ever seen. "Babe, what are you doing here?" he asks you.
"My office randomly closed for the day, so I thought I'd surprise you. I brought you some coffee."
You know Max knows it's not coffee. He can most certainly smell the AB- you squirted into the cup like you were emptying a macabre Capri-Sun. What you don't need is for Evan to know it's not coffee. Despite his apparent knowledge of Max's non-human status it seems like an unnecessary added stressor right now.
"You didn't have to do that, babe." Oh you hate this. Between the fake smile and the seeming condescension you are horribly reminded of one of your exes. It’s an incredibly unflattering comparison. The worst part is you're nearly certain this whole persona has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the long lost schoolmate currently standing between you and Max.
"So what are you two chatting about?" Max asks with a syrupy cheer, carefully eyeing you both over the rim of his cup.
"Just doing a little catching up," Evan unhelpfully explains. Of course he has to offer a terrible, ambiguous answer. It seems purposeful too, a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth while Max's nostrils flare.
You cut in before he can do more damage. "We went to middle school together. Honestly I forgot Evan existed before I saw him here," you say with a forced laugh.
Was that a bitchy thing to say? Yes, of course. Do you feel bad about it? Not in the slightest. It isn’t even a lie. Max and Evan's beef is between them, not you, and his attempt to use you against your own boyfriend warrants retaliation anyway. You know Sami will agree when you tell him about this later and that's all you need to justify it.
Despite your clear barb at Evan, Max's demeanor doesn't change. He doesn't even offer a glance in your direction as you move to stand beside him. In all your time with Max you've never felt more ignored – his hatred for the other man overshadowing everything else.
“You know Max, given your condition, I’m surprised you’re capable of having a girlfriend,” Evan says. The subtext comes across loud and clear. Another day, another time, you’d be jumping to his defense but Evan knowing still has you so off kilter that words fail you completely.
“Mine is more manageable than yours,” Max replies. “How’s the free Phallisite sample working out?”
Evan’s face turns a bright red. It’s not hard to guess what Phallisite is for and regardless of whether or not his use of it is true, the comment has gotten under his skin.
Now you remember why you kicked him – you had been making good on the promise of giving him something to cry about when he wouldn’t stop whining about how unfair the kickball teams were. Not the time to dwell on it though.
“When are you going to stop pretending, Max?”
Max gives a short little laugh, rolling his eyes. “Pretending about what?”
Honestly at this point, you’re surprised you haven’t seen heads peeking from behind the cubicles. You know you would be if there was a heated conversation like this one occurring only a few steps away from your desk. Either arguments like these are a common enough occurrence that no one is entertained by them anymore, or this office is filled with workers who are better than you.
“Pretending like you’re normal somehow. It’s pathetic and now you’re dragging other people into it to make yourself feel better?” he asks, staring pointedly at you. “Even I didn’t think you were that much of a monster.”
Max’s eyes turn a murderous red and it’s all you can do to drag him away before Evan becomes confetti on the walls. It might not be a bad attempt at lightening up the interior design though.
Especially when taking into consideration the homicidal near-miss, you are incredibly curious as to how Evan even knows. In all of Max’s time spent complaining about Evan you just assumed it was because he was annoying and a shit worker. Seeing it before you now, it’s obvious this runs deeper.
Were they friends before? Something else? Had Evan discovered Max’s secret through a series of ridiculous coincidences and scenarios only ever before experienced on a witty sitcom? You can’t really bet on which of those could be true.
You tug Max back towards the lobby, his eyes fading back into his human appearing chocolate brown. He seems to return to his senses with the distance and moves you into the lobby.
“Are you okay?” you ask. His human visage is firmly in place again, but you can still see the anger thrumming under the surface.
Max ignores you completely. He walks over to the front desk, grabs a slip and scribbles something on it before pressing it and the coffee cup full of blood you handed him previously into your hands, and pushing you into the now open elevator.
“Max, what the hell? You can’t just ignore this and push me out of here,” you whisper furiously at him, not wanting the receptionist to overhear.
He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and steps backwards into the lobby. “Sorry, lamb. Talk later.”
The doors close, the corporate music fires back up, and you’re left with a coffee, not-coffee, and parking validation ticket in hand wondering what the fuck just happened.
You’re pacing in the living room, waiting for Max to get home from work. He’s at the office even later than normal and you swear if he’s staying there just to avoid this conversation with you, you’ll ring his immortal neck. This is not something that will get swept under the rug. This will be talked about, at length, until you are satisfied with its conclusion.
Your resolve doesn’t mean you’re looking forward to the conversation. In fact, every cell in your body is screaming to let it go. Max could come home, you could pretend there’s no issue to be dealt with, and do your best to move on. You know where that leads though – the same place it has before.
Mounting irritation. Repressed anger. Distrust. Animosity. The next problem will come along and continue to pile until you’re a year into a relationship with a person that you can hardly stand to be around. Arguments will escalate and suddenly you’re breaking up over an empty Pringles can that’s emblematic of a thousand other larger issues. The Pringles can is simply the easy one to blame it all on in the end.
This entire situation is scaring the shit out of you, but you refuse to let that happen with Max.
You finally hear the click of the door opening a few minutes after 7. Sounds of Max toeing off his shoes, hanging up his coat, and setting down his bag drift out from the hallway, freezing you in place. There’s only so much power stances and motivational pep talks can do to help you now.
Max walks into view after what feels like an eternity, his horns and wings already out on display, He’s left in his slacks and tank top undershirt, dress shirt already removed to avoid being shredded by his transformation. You don’t miss the way his wings look like they’re slung lower than usual.
He stops short, clearly not expecting you to be standing in the middle of his living room and quietly staring at him. Doing his best to recover from the awkward moment, he flashes you one of his big businessman smiles. You’ve seen it work on a variety of people, but you’re incredibly annoyed that he would attempt it on you. Just who does he think you are? Who he is? You aren’t going to fall for cheap Max is uncomfortable tricks.
“Are we going to talk about it?” you ask. You cringe a little internally. That already came off more aggressive than you wanted it to.
“Talk about what?” Max asks, making his way into the kitchen. You trail after him, stopping at the entrance and leaning against the breakfast bar. His back is turned to you, rooting around in the fridge and his wings rustle uncomfortably, a clear and obvious sign that he knows exactly what you’re talking about.
You aren’t going to have this conversation with him turned around. “Max, please look at me,” you try to say gently.
He huffs, face still buried in the fridge. “Look lamb, could we not? This merger at work is putting me under a lot of pressure and I don’t want to talk about this on top of it.”
"No."
Max's spine straightens at your answer, slowly turning to face you. "What?"
You're not sure you've ever denied Max anything, not that he's ever denied you anything either. So far your relationship has been a series of understandings and trade-offs, always making things even between the two of you. A hard no hasn’t been in either of your vocabularies up until now.
He’s pinning you in place with his eyes, the slow moving gold swirl of them becoming firm and solid. You refuse to back down. “You heard me. I said no. We’re talking about this, Max.”
This is already not the direction you’d hoped this conversation would go. Emotions were going to run high no matter what, but you imagined that the two of you could be mature about this. The discussion didn’t have to become an angry one. Then again, you didn’t expect Max to try and avoid it entirely.
“Fine then. Let’s talk,” Max says, crossing his arms over his chest.
You move back into the living room, hoping that the more comfortable setting might put you both at ease. Max follows and sinks into the single armchair. Okay, this will be a distanced conversation then. You sit at the edge of the couch, as close to him as you can get without plopping down on the floor.
You both wait for the other to speak first.
“Well?” Max prompts, an irritated look on his face. He isn’t even looking at you – pointlessly picking at the velveteen fabric on the arm of the chair.
He’s clearly not going to offer any information unless you ask directly. Summoning the courage you’ve been trying to collect since leaving Max’s office this afternoon you blurt out the question that’s been weighing heaviest on your mind. "Why didn't you tell me Evan knows?"
"Because you didn't need to know," Max replies coolly. This bullshit attitude paired with his shitty half answer is really starting to piss you off.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"What it sounds like. You didn't need to know so I didn't tell you."
"Felt like I needed to know when he blindsided me today,” you spit back at him.
He finally looks you in the eye again. “Look lamb, there are a handful of people who know outside of you. I’m sorry if you thought you were super extra special or something, but I did have a life before you entered it.”
That comment digs in deep. He knew it would. While The Great Rebecca Debacle had taught you Max doesn’t go around revealing himself to people willy-nilly, you assumed there would be some others outside of yourself who knew. Past lovers, possible friends, family if he has any remaining. You don’t know for certain because Max never talks about it, but you assume they exist. It doesn’t make his comment sting any less.
“How would I know?” you find yourself saying. “You hardly ever talk about your past, only little hints here or there. For fucks sake, I don’t even know how old you are, Max. How am I supposed to handle randomly finding out someone else knows? Someone you seemingly hate.”
“I don’t know, but it seemed to me like you agreed with my dear buddy Evan today so why don’t you just do us both the favor and tell me what you really think. Then you can stop pretending.”
In a flash, the argument twists in a way you never saw coming. Where the hell did that come from? Throwing Evan’s words at you rather than finding some of his own. Another cheap shot.
“Pretending?” you say with utter disdain, jumping up from the couch. “Tell me at what point I have ever pretended with you. I told you what I thought of you the very first night we were together and that has never changed. If you really think I agree with Evan then you need a bigger reality check than I thought.”
“Reality check?” Max roars, joining you on his feet. “If anyone needs a reality check it’s you, little lamb.” He says your nickname like it’s a threat, twisting the relatively innocent joke into a harsh reminder. It makes your stomach twist, but even with tensions running high you still don’t believe he would ever hurt you.
“Is that so?” you challenge. You know what you entered into with him. Things like squirting blood into a cup make the situation hard to ignore even if you wanted to. If this wasn’t something you wanted, you would have backed out long ago.
“Fine,” Max says, and starts stripping off the clothes he’s still wearing. To say you have no idea what’s happening is an understatement.
“Max? What are you-?”
He cuts you off. “Showing you the reality of your situation.”
He’s left in his boxers, allowing himself to transform completely, only he doesn’t stop where he normally would. He continues to grow, his body filling out beyond his typically broad but athletic build. He gains more than his usual few inches, now pushing upwards of 6’6 as his body adds mass from seemingly out of nowhere. He softens in places, the new physique matching that of a powerlifter. He towers over you in size and mass, and the transformation hasn’t even ended.
A pink tint begins to glow across his skin, which you first mistake for embarrassment until you realize it isn’t stopping either. It darkens, reddening across his entire body, wings included. The tips of them blacken, mimicking the way the colors fade up from the base of his horns.
You notice that those have grown as well. They extend from the position you’ve seen previously, growing backwards towards his pointed ears before twisting forwards again, reminding you of a smaller ram’s horns. The color gradient continues beyond the previous red they’ve ended at, orange and yellow now finishing off the smooth, colorful progression.
Freckles rise to the surface, dotting his skin with darker pigmentation. They dust the back of his hands, the tops of his shoulders, and run down the center of his torso – dipping below the straining waistband of his boxers. You want to reach out, connect the speckles with the tip of your finger, but something stops you. Two somethings actually.
The first is that Max has begun to glow. Everywhere the freckles are on his body, the red tone of his skin fades, blooming into a warm yellow as incandescent light begins to emanate from within. The tips of his horns shine as well, casting a perverse halo of sorts around Max's head.
The second realization comes as a result of the first. There is something else glowing as well, something which you have never seen before. A tail. An honest-to-god tail.
The very end of it is glowing, the shape at the end of it looking like a sickle or a waxing crescent moon. The glow blends back down into red, which turns black once again towards the base of his tail. The length of it has ridges that run along the circumference, reminiscent of the ridges along Max's horns.
It's a lot to take in. Your stunned silence triggers something in Max as well, a dawning realization falling across his face. You're fairly certain he never intended on revealing himself to you like this.
There's a fainter glow along his cheek bones, the gold of his eyes seeming brighter than before. You're nearly certain that is embarrassment making itself known.
You approach him more hesitantly than you ever have before. It's not from a place of fear, but rather concern, worried that if you approach him too quickly he might panic and run or even transform back. Reaching out, you take one of his hands in yours, noting that his fingers glow too.
As though you haven’t been given enough to process, Max's hand is not cold as you've come to expect. He's warm. You have no idea if it's a result of the light radiating from his skin or some other reason, but you bask in it, relishing in the heat.
"Can I-" you hesitate, free hand poised over his chest and looking up to meet his eyes. You can see the apprehension swirling in them. "Can I touch?" you ask.
Words fail Max. It’s almost funny to see. He’s usually so full of quips and smartass comments you expected to hear something along the lines of you already are. His mouth opens and closes almost comically, fangs poking out from behind his lips. He nods his head instead.
You let your fingers glide across his skin. It feels the same as it did before, the only major difference being the temperature. The glow does seem to have some effect, hotter where the yellow is brighter and colder where the red takes back over.
You gently press your fingers into the new plushness of his body. It’s a feeling you already know you won’t tire of. His muscles haven’t gone anywhere, just underneath the additional heft, and you can’t help but imagine the way it will feel to dig your fingers into his chest while you ride him or the added weight you’ll feel as he’s on top of you.
“You’re even prettier than I thought,” you tell him, looking up to catch a storm of emotions passing over his face. You wish you could know what’s happening in his head.
He sinks back into the armchair, barely fitting in it now, and pushes a hand into his hair. “Why don’t you get it?” he asks, sounding defeated.
“Get what?” you ask in return.
He’s hunched over, elbows resting on his knees. There’s genuine anguish on his face now, a pain you’ve never seen before. “I’m a monster.”
You immediately move to comfort him. “Oh, Max-”
“No,” he growls, cutting you off. “Evan was right. I’ve been pretending. I spent months lying to you about how I really look all in an attempt to seem slightly more normal. I let you believe a lie just to feel better about myself.”
Fear grips you, a worry that somehow this has all been some great ruse by Max. Some sort of attempt at a self-confidence boost that’s crashing down around him and now you.
“That wasn’t all this was, right?” You’re afraid to hear the answer. By the way Max is acting, there's really no guessing where this conversation is going.
Max’s eyes widen, pulling you into his lap. His large arms circle around you and hold you firmly in place. “No. No lamb,” he reassures. “I changed the way I looked, but my feelings for you have always been real."
You press your forehead against his, wrapping your arm around to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. It's silent for a long moment, Max warring with his own thoughts and you trying to sort out your own.
You could be mad at him. He's right that he has been lying to you for months now and yet looking at him now you can't find it in you. You've never seen him like this. It's as though every ounce of confidence has oozed out from him and despite his hulking size he's never appeared smaller.
The anger you'd felt at being cast aside and literally pushed out from the office dissipates. The pieces click together, explaining the behavior without Max ever saying a word. It still isn't really excusable, but that can be a conversation for another time. Right now you need to discuss something far more important.
You speak softly, looking him directly in the eye. From this distance you have to focus on one or else go cross eyed and you're not sure what you have to say will have the same impact if you do that. "Max, you know I want you right?"
"Yeah lamb, I know," he says dismissively.
You pull back, holding his face in both your hands, and forcing him to look at you. He needs to hear this.
"Max. I want you and everything that comes with that. If I wanted someone else then I'd be with them. I don't care if tomorrow I wake up and you're purple."
That seems to break through, the tiniest smile playing at the corners of Max's lips. "Some days I look a little more orange than red."
"You're not a monster, Max. Well, I mean, you are, but you know what I mean."
Max gives a tiny snort at that.
"I don't give a shit what Evan Sanders has to say. He was the kid who reminded teachers about homework assignments. You think I'm going to listen to that guy? He doesn't know anything about our relationship. He didn't even think I knew. I do though and I wouldn't want you any other way. I love you, Max."
You didn't expect to say those last words. They slipped out without a second thought, shocking you almost as much as they seem to shock him. He's searching your face, looking for something. Whatever it is, you don’t think he finds it. A smile finally breaks out across Max's face, his fangs further emphasizing the curl of his lips.
"You really mean that, don't you?" Max asks.
Your answer is automatic. "I do."
Max pulls you into him, his lips slotting over yours. He’s mindful of his fangs, careful not to poke you with one. You wouldn’t really care if he did.
He’s still grinning when he pulls back from the kiss, the gold of his irises shimmering like those water bottles full of glitter that kids make. “Good. I love you too.”
Your heart leaps at his confession. There hadn’t been enough time between your own and the kiss that followed to worry about him not repeating it back to you, and you’re glad he’s already rectified it. You’re sure you would have driven yourself crazy if left to wonder.
You shift your position, coming as close as you can to straddling him in the chair. The size he’s grown to forces you to shove your thighs around his waist rather than bracket his legs. It’s hardly something to complain about though, pressing your body closer to his and making it easier to grind against him. You can feel Max hardening underneath you – christ, is he bigger there too?
Max’s tongue presses into your mouth, distracting you from further thoughts about the other possible changes to his physique. His hands are everywhere – sliding under your shirt, squeezing at your thighs and waist, encouraging the roll of your hips. You tug at his hair and just like that Max is carrying you in his arms bridal style, marching straight over to the bedroom. You giggle and busy yourself with biting and sucking at his neck, in part to see what color he might bruise. You’re guessing a deep red to match his many freckles.
In a move that reminds you of your first night together, when Max had tried to keep even his wings a secret, he tosses you down onto the large mattress. He covers you with his broad, thick frame, his wings creating a little bubble around the two of you. You love when he does this. It lights up your brain in a way even you have a hard time understanding, everything in your line of vision becoming Max and nothing else.
Your hands find his shoulders and you can’t resist giving them a squeeze as he recaptures your lips. Soft golden yellow spills between your fingers. The newfound softness of his body is intoxicating, making you want to grope and explore every inch of him. You’re glad he already stripped down as much as he did, not wanting the barrier of clothes between you.
Max must feel similarly. He’s grabbing at both your shirt and pants, trying to get both off at the same time and failing spectacularly at both. His urgency makes you laugh, taking over the task of your shirt for him. Your bra comes off along with it and Max eagerly takes a nipple into his mouth. You moan at the feeling, still adjusting to heat coming off of him instead of the usual chill. It feels heavenly, but it’s not enough.
“Max, please.”
You push your hips up, desperate for any kind of friction. It’s completely useless. Max’s large frame keeps you pinned in place underneath him. He releases your nipple with a pop, lust coloring his features. No matter the form he’s in, that’s a look you can recognize. His cheeks glow slightly brighter than before.
“Say it again.”
You shift your hips again, pushing up against the softness of his stomach. “I love you.”
“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.” Max lifts himself up, pulling your panties off as he slowly kisses his way down your body. You have no idea why he even left the panties on when he took off your pants. As though he didn't know this was exactly where things were heading.
He lightly bites at your skin, never breaking it, making your skin erupt with goosebumps. You haven’t actually brought up that particular want with him yet and you’ve previously gotten away with blaming it on the chill of his body, but there’s no denying it now. It’s arousal, cut and dry. Well not dry, but the reason for your reaction is obvious. Despite not saying anything, the curve of his mouth against you tells you he noticed too.
He gives the same attention to your inner thighs. There are sure to be marks left behind for you to appreciate tomorrow. Max’s hand comes up to cup your pussy and you shamelessly grind against him. There’s hardly any relief though because the moment you do, Max gives your pussy a small slap.
“Don’t worry little lamb,” Max says as you cry out. “I’m going to take care of you.”
His mouth stays attached to your thigh while one thick finger slips up the seam of your pussy. He gathers the slick at your entrance and drags it up to your clit, making you whine at the stimulation. It takes all of your will to keep yourself still as he slowly circles it, occasionally moving back down to your entrance, but never quite pushing his fingers all the way in.
After what feels like forever, Max finally moves away from your thighs. “You’re doing so well,” he compliments. He spreads you open with his fingers, staring at you before lowering his head. “Need you all nice and ready for me.”
He only offers kitten licks at first, making you mewl with frustration. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Max isn’t usually one to tease. He doesn’t like making you wait for pleasure – all too happy to see how quickly and many times he can make you come. You’re about to ask him what he’s waiting for when his tongue plunges into you.
No matter how many times he does this, you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it. The length of his tongue reaches in deep, teasing you and hitting nerve endings you didn’t even know existed.
Glancing down you find Max's eyes are closed in pleasure, looking as though there is no where he would rather be than buried between your legs. His nose bumps against your clit, causing a fresh wave of arousal to wet his chin. He groans and pulls you down further onto his mouth. There’s another jolt of pleasure as you realize his tail is flicking behind him happily too.
You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, squeezing your own eyes shut as he continues. Reaching down blindly, you fist one hand into his hair, while the other traces the curve of his horn. His newer, larger horns are something you can definitely get used to.
One of Max’s hands moves upward to grab at your breast and the added stimulation finally triggers your orgasm. Your legs shake with the force of it, shuddering as his tongue slips out of you. He continues to work you through it, his finger tracing a small amount of pressure over your clit.
“M-Max, come here, please,” you gasp. He listens, crawling up the bed to lay out beside you. You immediately grab onto him, throwing a leg over his hip and messily kissing him. You can taste the tang of yourself on his lips and groan into the kiss. “Need you, handsome,” you pant into his mouth, toeing at his underwear to get the point across.
Max captures your wrists, easily twisting your bodies on the bed and pinning you in place. You’re convinced he’s going to start teasing you again. There’s no way you can take any more of that, needing to feel him now and not in ten minutes when he decides you’re ready.
Max speaks before you can voice your complaints. “There’s something I need to tell you first, lamb.”
That sobers you up some. Max sounds nervous to share whatever is on his mind. You nod, letting him know that you’re ready to listen to him and not in some far off haze of arousal. He releases your arms and drags a hand over his face.
“I’ve never um- well it’s a bit hard to explain so I guess I’ll just-” he cuts himself off and tips your head up to look at him. It isn’t difficult to guess what he’s nervous about. The glow along his torso is brighter than before, your eyes following it down the soft slope of his stomach, and through the stretched out black fabric of his boxer briefs you can see that the glow does not suddenly cut off at his hips.
After staring for probably a few seconds too long, you look up to see his cheeks blazing yellow. He’s embarrassed alright.
“You- you glow? There?” It’s about as delicate as you can be given the situation.
“Yes,” he admits. “I can- I can change back if you’d prefer. I’d understand.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” you threaten. Did he not listen to you at all earlier? You want him. Glowing penis and all apparently.
“Lay down,” you tell him. Max looks surprised but doesn’t question you. He knows that tone in your voice. It’s your shut the fuck up and listen to me voice, that’s reserved for situations like this one where Max (or others) has said one dumb thing too many.
You don’t go right for it. He needs to be comfortable and relaxed before you tear his boxer briefs off from him. You’re still aching to feel him pressed inside you, but that can wait for the moment. Instead, you rip a page directly out of Max’s book.
You straddle his waist, leaning down to press kisses against every available inch of him. Given how large his transformation has made him, there's a lot of real estate to be had. Sticking true to your own proclivities, you’re unable to resist Max’s horns. They’re simply too tempting in their new form and you plant a hand beside Max’s head on the mattress, giving you the support needed to touch and kiss down the length of them.
The way Max is moaning and squirming beneath you emboldens you to try something you’ve thought plenty about but have yet to dare try. You flatten your tongue along his horn, following the curve as far as you can. Max shudders underneath you. “F-f-fuck.”
You smile and whisper in his ear. “You like that, pretty boy?”
You don’t wait for his answer, repeating the action on the other one. What you assume was going to be his answer distorts into a groan and spurs you onward. You alternate between kisses and licks and when you’re satisfied with how worked up he’s gotten you stop. His hands tighten on your thighs, clearly not pleased with your choice. You echo his words from earlier back at him. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.”
You slide down his body, noting the way his glow has only brightened. A feeling of pride settles into your chest, knowing that you’ve caused him to feel that way. You randomly mouth along his torso, placing a long line along his waistband before slipping your fingers underneath.
Continuing to tease him crosses your mind, but given his nerves you figure it’s better to rip the band-aid off, so to speak. You look up at Max and he nods, letting you know he’s okay with continuing.
Freed of the confines of the tight boxer briefs, his cock bobs proudly up towards his belly. You had been correct earlier in thinking that he was bigger, and the glow of his body does now include his cock, but the most exciting change is one you didn't expect. He's ribbed – resembling the ridges around his tail. You can't believe he'd been nervous about this. The glowing aspect was certainly unique, but they literally make condoms and toys to mimic what he naturally has. So dramatic, you think to yourself.
If Max needed to breathe, you imagine he would be holding his breath. You don’t need to look up to know he’s waiting for your reaction and filled with apprehension. It’s ridiculous to think that this, after everything, would chase you off.
Rather than offer him compliments or try to assuage his fears, you do the one thing that you know will clear any doubts about his glowing, ribbed cock. You get comfortable and then without any preamble, sink your mouth down around him.
His hips jerk at the contact, chasing the wet heat of your mouth. You press against his hip, a slight warning that you’re the one in control right now and end up enjoying the extra softness you find there. You wrap your other hand around the base of his cock and slowly begin to pump what doesn’t fit in your mouth.
It feels different with the added ridges, but it's not enough to throw you off your game. You give them additional attention, noticing the noises Max makes when you do, and other than that it's like any other blowjob you've given.
In your peripheral vision, you can see Max digging his fingers into the sheets – the light emanating from them emphasizing the force of his grip. You love getting this reaction out of him and with his new features, it's only been made better.
The salt tang of his precum coats your tongue as you swirl it around the tip. Moaning, you continue to bob your head, squeezing at Max's stomach. You can feel his abs jumping with pleasure underneath the layer of fat.
Eventually your jaw begins to ache, unused to his increased size. Max groans when you pull off of him. "Lamb, please."
You place a small kiss at the tip of his cock, giggling. Max looks debauched. The freckles littering his body stand out in stark relief, backlit by his internal glow. You’ll have to ask about that later. You have so many questions, like why he’s been consistently getting brighter, but now isn’t exactly the time.
Before he can complain again, you climb onto his lap and line him up with your entrance. With his newfound size it’s going to be more of a stretch than normal, but you’re certain he’ll fit. You’re too turned on for him to not.
Max sits up, using his wings to help prop himself up, and places his hands on your hips. He holds you carefully as you sink down on him, letting you take your time. You can feel every ridge drag against your walls, increasing your pleasure.
“You look so pretty like this lamb. I love watching you take me,” he whispers to you, along with a thousand other filthy things that only half penetrate your mind.
He feels good. The pain of him stretching you open only lasts for a moment, giving way to immense pleasure. You’ve gotten used to his usual lack of warmth, adjusting to the ways you both have found to help heat him up a bit some days, but this is a thousand times better than warming lube could ever be. You pause once he’s finally buried to the hilt, catching your breath before you attempt to ride him.
Max is kissing all across your face, his arms wrapping around you. “Look at you, you’re perfect. I love you.”
You press your forehead against his chest, slightly grinding your hips and getting used to the way he feels. He’s pressed deep inside you, the feeling of him ending somewhere in your gut. Looking down, you can see light spilling between your bodies, now bright enough to put spots in your vision. You slide your arms around Max’s neck and pick up the pace.
Max completely envelopes all your senses. Every place that Max is touching you feels like your nerves are cranked to eleven, singing with absolute pleasure. His hair feels like the silk of the bedsheets between your fingers, his skin smells like the sweet spice of his cologne. He’s all you can see when you open your eyes. The breadth of his wings, the brick red skin lit by his ethereal glow.
You can’t believe Evan threw around Max being a monster like it was a bad thing. Who would ever want normal when you can have all this?
Max drags his fangs along your neck, making you shudder as goosebumps ripple across your skin again. “I knew you weren’t just cold those other times.”
“I- I didn’t want to freak you out,” you tell him honestly. You had no idea how he would react to that particular want, always being so careful to not hurt you.
Max groans, thrusting up into you. “Freak me out? Lamb, I have to hold myself back from biting into you every second you’re at my side. You smell so sweet.”
It’s not hard to say your next words. “You can do it. I want you to.”
Max pulls back, cradling your face and looking directly into your eyes. “You mean that?”
“I trust you. I love you.” You smile, sure that it looks punch drunk and strung out. It doesn’t mean you mean those words any less.
“I love you too.”
Max returns to your neck, his hands moving to your hips to help control your movements. This is already a messy business, having you bouncing on his lap wouldn’t help the situation. From this position, Max’s stomach rubs against your clit, replacing the pleasure that the decreased movement took.
He kisses and sucks at your neck first, careful not to bruise. He doesn’t want your blood spilling from your veins underneath your skin. His fangs press against your neck, skimming up and down until you’re begging him to stop teasing.
You can feel your arousal pooling heavily, dripping onto Max’s lap. You’re keyed up, ready for that final push that will overwhelm you entirely. There’s a prick at your neck, a momentary pain before you feel a rush of pleasure and you let go of any remaining resolve.
You can feel yourself shaking in Max’s arms, clenching down hard as he sucks and moans into your neck. If there’s any pain, you’re well beyond feeling it. Max fucks you through your orgasm, a satisfying lightheadedness slightly fogging your mind. You’re not really sure how long Max drinks for, the wet feeling of his tongue dragging over your neck signaling his end. You knew he would stop when he should.
It feels like you’re trying to think through a cloud. Every thought is thick and sticks before another one comes to push that one out. You pull yourself in tight to Max, randomly running your hands anywhere you can touch and mindlessly mouthing at his neck. “Cum for me baby, please,” you ask him. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Max moves you underneath him on the bed, pushing himself deeper into you. Despite the urgency in the roll of his hips, he’s still careful with you. He’s pressing compliments into you at the same time as himself, watching you come undone for him a third time. You look beautiful beneath him, coming for him, and Max lets himself go alongside you. It’s a good thing your eyes are already closed, the flash of brightness Max’s body creates enough to temporarily blind.
Groggily, you reach up and touch Max’s face. “I love you, Max.”
He kisses your palm and repeats the words back to you.
You wake up in Max’s arms. It’s still dark out so you know you weren’t asleep for too long. Max notices the moment you stir, probably picking up on the difference in your heart rate. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he grins at you.
You rub your eyes and blink at him. So it wasn’t a dream then. Max is still laid out beside you, in his full large, red, and glowing monstrous beauty. You’re so fucking relieved.
You throw yourself across Max’s body, nestling your face into his chest. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamed it.”
Max laughs. “Do you wish you had?”
He’s covering, but you can hear the authenticity wrapped in his question. You reach out, running a gentle finger along his horn. “Are you kidding me? I have a glow in the dark boyfriend who is ribbed for my pleasure. Why on earth would I want anyone else?”
Max’s cheeks glow bright as he smiles. Seeing him so happy makes your heart leap. It’s no wonder he hasn’t believed you all these months about how beautiful you find him. You haven’t even been seeing his true self and he’s never been more beautiful than he is at this moment.
You settle into his side, wrapped in one of his wings and mindlessly letting your fingertips dance across his skin. There are many questions you still have, but for now you’re content to lay here and enjoy being snuggled up with the monster you love.
You’re nodding off again when Max speaks. "I'm 136. 137 in three months."
That wakes you right back up. “You’re what?”
Monster!Max by @mjpens !!!! Thank you so so much for this BEAUTIFUL GIFT Maia! Having the visual reference helped me endlessly while writing this and I am very, very much in love with him 💕 The world now knows of Max and his beautiful beacon penis :)
A/N: As always, this fic is a relaxed fit so I'll be writing for it based on asks/when I'm feeling inspired. I'll be honest here and say that my attention is probably about to shift back towards my series fics, BUT please still send in asks if you have questions/thoughts to share! I might need a break from my series intermittently, or you might just get me extra inspired ;)
Everything taglist: @radiowallet @sergeantbannerbarnes @pilothusband @max--phillips @starlightmornings @moonlight-prose @practicalghost @sharkbait77 @honestly-shite @shadesofnerdlygrace @salome-c @artsymaddie @niki-xie @doin-stuff @magikfanatic @astoryisaloveaffair @tintinn16 @mswarriorbabe80 @phandoz @amneris21 @tenderwhat @asta-lily @chaoticgeminate @snarwor
Pedro Boys: @iamskyereads @writeforfandoms @girlwholoveswords @beskarboobs @littlemisspascal @ezrasbirdie @anaaaispunk @cannedsoupsucks @jaime1110 @lellowberry @castleamc @missminkylove @thirddeadlysin @maievdenoir @wordsnwhiskey @magpie-to-the-morning @deadhumourist @actuallyprettylucky @dinsangelx
