Max and the Real World

 

Lana: Ashley’s a pretty suave guy! Max liked how Ash made him ask him out too. It works cause, as you said, Max’s head is pretty far up his ass. Please don’t stop reviewing! :)

Annabellalee: Dean is fairly creepy! Jake and Knarly would make a cute couple. There is more to come on this later (this is NOT a spoiler) I doubt it will be like anyone expects. Knarly is a total sweetheart, he’s got things in perspective I think. I hope the change that Max is going through isn’t too rapid, I don’t want to make him change too fast because that’s just unrealistic, but I also don’t want the story to be boring. Thanks for the review!

Lisa: Oh Lisa! Monotovs (like the cocktail) is my boyfriend indeed. I’m so flattered that you think I write well! Monotovs is actually the artist between the two of us! Haha, everything I know from art comes from him! I’m also really happy that I got you to ‘LOL’ in public, that’s awesome. And you’re welcome for the explanations! 

Lawldongs: A) I’m so happy you think my story is fantastic! B) Look forward away! Tons more chapters and drama to come amongst the characters! :D C) I love the blurb suggestions! I will try and change the blurbs within the week. THANKS!

Kylee: Max is finally turning out to be a decent brother, huh? Glad you like the changes that are gong on between Jake and Max! :D

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It’s stupid. The way Max is standing in front of the bathroom mirror and trying to assess himself. He shaved, he took a shower, his teeth are brushed, his clothes are clean, his shoes are tied. That’s about all he could figure that he should do to get ready for one of these.

These date things.

Truth be told, this was the first one that Max has ever gone on. Yeah, he dated people, but that was making out in the back of his university studio, it was handjobs in someone’s dorm room, it had been fucking at a friend’s apartment after underaged drinking.

Basically, he doesn’t know what to expect and that makes him really fucking uncomfortable. 

“Max! Your date’s here!” Knarly yells from the sitting area and with a steady breath Max leaves the bathroom just in time to see Ashley wail on Knarly’s stomach, making him bend over so Ashley can then get Knarly in to a playful headlock. 

It’s weird because Knarly is a little plumper and a little taller and is decked out in bulky parachute pants and the ridiculously hard-core tshirt that Jake had designed for Pain’d Autumn and Ashley is slim and dressed... really fucking hott. 

Ashley’s got dark navy blue jeans on and they’re cuffed at the bottom again and he’s wearing these black tasseled loafers with black socks and a stiff white v-neck is on under a black vest. His hair is perfectly tufted over his ears and he’s got his adorable glasses on. It’s just hott. 

And sexy.

And Max seriously regrets that he didn’t jack off before this outing. He’d heard that people do that, well, that guys do that, but he’d never worried about it during a date. 

Now he’s worrying about it.

Because everything needs to go perfectly with Ashley and already Max’s mind isn’t functioning properly because he just wants to do something drastic like shove Ashley on the stupid fucking sofa and suck his cock until he screams. 

Or something like that. 

“You okay, Max?” Ashley asks, looking at Max’s dumbfounded expression.

“You look really good.” His filter isn’t fully back up yet from being caught all off guard.

There it is again. The blush thing where Ashley dips his head down and his glasses fog up.

“Thanks.” He murmurs and Knarly is laughing his fucking ass off like this is the funniest thing that has ever happened in the history of the world.  “Um, so are you ready?” Ash asks, just trying to get away from Knarly’s cackle.

Max pads around his pants making sure he can feel his keys and his wallet before he nods, “Yeah, if you are.”

“Yeah, I am.” Ashley’s blush hasn’t diminished at all.

Max likes that. 

It’s embarrassing because now they’re getting in to Ashley’s car and Max feels lame for not having a car. Should he have borrowed Jake’s? Would that be trying too hard?

So now they are in the car and Ashley is starting it up and they still haven’t said a word since they’d been in the apartment. Max clears his throat to try and start talking just as Ashley starts to speak.

“Oh, sorry, go ahead.” Max urges.

“No, it’s okay. It wasn’t anything important. What were you going to say?”

“Oh, nothing...”

Silence.

Awkward. 

“Did you study art at a university?” Max tries. This is awkward. 

“No.”

“Oh.”

Really awkward.

Out of no where Ashley starts cracking up. Like tears down face and skin flushed and eyes closing kind of laughing and Max is sort of torn between laughing with him and wanting to watch the road to make sure they don’t die or something. He opts for making sure they don’t get flattened like a motherfucking pancake.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just so awkward!”

“Is that okay to say on a date? ” Max isn’t being accusing, he’s just seriously wondering now.

“I don’t know. Who cares?” Ashley is still smiling as he pulls in to a parking garage across the street from the theater ten minutes later. “So, are you going to be silent all night?” Ashley teases, trying to make Max lighten up. They get out of the car and shuffle their way through the parking garage.

“Yeah, I just-” He stops himself and looks over to Ashley who’s hands are in his front pockets with his thumbs sticking out and he just looks... 

Max can’t put words to it, but he’s sure he could paint it if he tried.

“I don’t date.” He tries to explain. 

Ashley’s face falls and he stops walking, “So why did you ask me? You could have just brushed it off.” His voice is accusing and hard. Max finds himself walking right up to Ashley, and shaking his head.

“No, no, I didn’t mean as in ‘I don’t date period’, but I mean I’ve never really done this dating thing.” Max attempts a backtrack and Ashley relaxes again.

“Me neither.” Ash shrugs and smiles like he’s embarrassed “Sorry I’m being so weird.”

“It’s okay. I’m being weird too.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done this?”

“Shut up. Let’s just see how the night goes.”

“Right.” Ashley forces out an uneasy breath.

Inside the theater the atmosphere is just as pretentious as Jake and Ashley had predicted. Skinny girls with earrings bigger than their heads stand around with glasses of champagne, and guys who are too metrosexual for anyone’s good try to flirt.  

“So how many do you think have ever actually done art before?” Ashley asks and Max looks over to see a playful smile on Ashley’s lips, hands still in his pockets.

“How are they holding up their heads with those earrings?” Max has to comment.

“Well look at that guy’s  belt. If your buckle’s is that big, you’re really just trying to hide how small your package is.”

And it’s funny, but Max forgot a long time ago how to really laugh. How to let his stomach get loose and his lungs push out all the air and let a laugh come out. So he smiles a little bit instead.

“Talk about an exhibit on identity.” He adds and apparently it’s the right thing to say because Ashley looks really impressed. 

“That’s a really good point. Do you think we look like them?” Ashley asks, his long finger extends to push his glasses up by the bridge and it’s sweet. Max can’t really focus on the question because when it happens Max notices that Ashley’s arm has goosebumps. His own hands are heated from this strange energy of being alone on purpose with intent with Ashley, it’d be so nice just to press them to Ashley’s cool, smooth skin. 

Why are they in public?

“You in there?” Ash has an amused smirk on his lips and Max kind of likes that Ashley likes that he has that affect on Max. 

“Yeah, somewhere.” He offers apologetically. “No, I don’t think we look like them. For one thing, we’re actually laughing and -”

“I’m laughing.” Ashley corrects, “You haven’t even smiled yet.” Max can hear the confusion and a little bit of hurt in Ash’s voice, even though he’s trying to hide it.

“I’m still getting used to this whole... being comfortable thing.” He can’t stop it as his hand presses to Ashley’s elbow and the other flinches, but just from surprise. 

“Your hand is burning.”

“I’m having a good time, I promise. I just don’t know how to show it yet.” Max asserts while ignoring Ashley’s statement.

“Right well, should we actually look at some paintings then?”

--

“So I get that identity can be abstract, so I really like the blending of tones and textures. Over here,” Max motions to the upper left side of the canvas, “the texture is thick and the paint literally lifts off the canvas.”

“Yeah, and the colors are separate, you can tell the artist, wait, who’s the artist again?” Ashley leans forward between Max and the painting to get a look at the identification card. Max naturally pulls back just so slightly and he can't help but notice that him and Ash move like when you first put a drop of dye in water and the water and dye sort of start to mix together, but the equilibrium isn’t there yet so they haven’t quite blended. It’s nice.

“Yeah, so Gerardo Malintik separates the colors to make them contrast more with the harsh texture, but down here,” Ash now motions to the lower right portion of the canvas, “he lets the colors...”

“Blend, yeah. And it’s smooth and easy to look at.”

“Yeah, you can’t really pick out the individual colors. Usually I hate that.” Ashley’s using his hands to talk but they’re mostly just making circular patterns that don’t go with the painting at all. Max can’t help but wonder if he held Ashley’s hand will the other hand keep moving or will it stop too? Maybe sometime he’ll get to find out.

“Same here, I like when you can really see the effort behind the colors.” Max nods in agreement.

“I noticed that with your self portrait outside of your studio. You don’t use a lot of gradients, you seem to just let each part of your self portrait have it’s own identity.”

“It’s inconsistent.” Max shrugs, suddenly becoming shy at the praise Ashley just gave him. His bitterness towards that word and his art probably shows through, but he finds that he doesn’t give a damn; he trusts Ashley with knowing shit like that.

“You say that like it’s a flaw.” Ash lets his elbow gently knock against Max’s to show that he’s not just saying it for the sake of saying it.

Max likes that. 

“Here’s something I don’t understand about this painting though. I like that the painting is abstract, it says a lot more for identity than the hyperrealism pieces, but I don’t understand why he has to title it Piece #56.”

“I think it has to do with how people view each other. I may view myself as this complex piece of art but then someone else will just say ‘oh that’s Ashley’. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, but then wouldn’t this piece be in a show about perception?”

“Maybe perception and identity aren’t that different.” Ashely shrugs. 

“Huh. I’m not entirely sure I like that concept.”

“That’s why you’re an artist.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like you make those perceptions concrete through art and each piece has it’s own identity.”

“Is that why you’re an artist?” 

“Yeah, sort of. It’s that stupid phrase that’s always on Hot Topic shirts, ‘I reject your reality and substitute my own’.”

“I like that. Your portraits in your studio I think portray that a lot. I was literally thinking about how you make people look so amazing but you’re not lying about them. I always thought that if portraits were to be honest they’d have to be mean.”

“Ah, so that’s why your portrait outside your studio looks like you’re about to die.”

“I’m pretty sure I thought was about to die when I painted it.”

---

They stay until the theater closes at eleven and they are only halfway through the exhibit. It’s a comfortable and easy and languid sort of conversation that keeps them going for the evening. There is never really a pause in conversation even as they are walking between paintings. Shoulders and elbows brush against each other and it feels really fucking natural. I feels really fucking good and Max is kind of surprised to find how much he really fucking likes Ashley.

“I can’t believe it’s eleven twenty.” Ashley smiles as he beeps the car to unlock in the parking garage.

“Feels like it’s only nine.”

“Yeah, we’ve been in there since like... seven, right?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m tempted to suggest we do the Burger King late night drive thru.” Ashley wiggles his eyebrows from the other side of the car. They’re still standing outside of the car so Max has to look over the roof to see it, it’s cute. 

“I didn’t suspect you for a Burger King kind of guy.” He slips in to the low seat of Ash’s car and slams the door so it echos through the now empty garage.

“I’m not. Vegetarian, remember? I’m pretty sure there is nothing vegetarian friendly in Burger King. Even the fries are probably cooked in cow fat.”

“Probably. We could always just microwave something at one of our places.” Max suggests and immediately looks at Ash apologetically. “I swear I wasn’t just trying to come on to you or something like that. I just meant that the only place that isn’t closed is probably that and I just thought it would be easy.” He takes a deep breath but notices Ashley’s stunned expression, like he just got hit by a tidal wave, “Not that I wouldn’t want to come on to you! I mean, I do, but I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I mean... do you know what I mean?” Max calms down just a bit and Ashley still looks like he’s in shock.

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t know where that came from. All that just fell out of my mouth. I’m sorry.” Max shakes his head in disbelief of himself.

“That was probably the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Really, it just happened. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell all of that at you.”

Ashley is silent for a moment before his blush comes back and he presses his hands to the steering wheel even though the keys aren’t in the ignition yet. “Do I really have that affect on you?” His voice is soft and he won’t look at Max and Ashley swallows really thickly like something’s stuck in his throat.

“I don’t know. I guess.” Max breathes and looks down at his lap. “I mean obviously you have that affect on me, but if it makes you uncomfortable or whatever I can tell you that you don’t.”

“Okay.” Ashley nods, but it’s vague about what he’s saying ‘okay’ to, so Max really doesn’t know what’s going on. 

They sit in silence for another minute before Ashley starts the car and they drive in silence to Max’s apartment. When Ashley pulls up to the right spot they exchange ‘good night’s. Max is too nervous to ask if they can do this again. He leaves the car without saying anything else.

--

Jake must have come home with Knarly from the Pain’d Autumn show because he’s standing in the kitchen in more of Max’s old hand-me-down clothes shoveling a bowl of Knarly’s Captain Crunch in to his mouth.

“Yo, Max! Where’s Ashley?” Knarly laughs, slapping a hand jovially on Max’s back.

“Not coming up.” Max shrugs himself away from Knarly’s hand and even though he’s already turning away to the fridge he knows that Jake and Knarly are exchanging worried glances.

“Wait, it didn’t go well?” Jake asks, or mumbles considering he has milk and chewed cereal trickling out of the corner of his mouth as he talks with his mouth full.

“Seriously, Jake. Use a fucking napkin.” Max can’t do it. He can’t stand here in this fucking kitchen and have people asking if he’s okay, asking if a fucking date went well. He’s not in fucking high school, what had he been thinking? And with Ashley? Ashley was ridiculous amounts of out of Max’s league. He has that casual sophistication and good conversing skills and all that other stuff that makes him a great catch. 

Max is just a bitter old man in the body of a worn out twenty-something wannabe painter.

“C’mon, Max. He was just asking how the date went.” Knarly tries to get Max to lighten up. 

“Shut the fuck up, Knarly. It’s not like you’re in the exceptional life position to give advice.” He does it. Max snaps again and he’s just thankful that the factory never locks it’s doors. He’s not entirely sure how he’s going to get there, but he can’t be in this tiny fucking apartment. With all this shit around and all these people around and music is playing somewhere and it’s just too fucking much. He’s out the door and he doesn’t care that it slams so loud he can hear one of his canvases fall off the wall inside to crash on the floor. 

He needs to release this fucking energy. He needs to forget about the fucking disaster that was that stupid date.

He needs to get all this spinning to stop, all this emotion to stop and all this-

“Max!”

Max’s head snaps back to see Dean in the stairwell somewhere behind him. When had he passed Dean? When had he even started going down fucking stairs?

“Are you okay? You look white as a ghost...” Dean’s cautiously coming down the stairs closer to Max and Max realizes that he must look like someone’s died. He’s sweaty and his skin is cold to the touch and he feels light headed and faint. “Did something happen?” Dean tries, his eyes a mix between caution and concern, most likely because of how Max snapped at him a few days ago.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” Max sighs, leans back against the cinderblock wall of the stairwell. He closes his eyes for a second, letting the flickering yellow light penetrate his eyelids. 

He feels Dean’s hand press to his forehead and Max slowly opens his eyes. 

Dean’s face is closer than he thought it would be. Max doesn’t pull away.

He doesn’t pull away even as Dean leans in.

He doesn’t pull away even as Dean’s lips press against his own chapped ones. 

At first Max doesn’t respond. His eyes stay open. His lips stay still. His hands stay at his  sides.

But then something switches off in him, or maybe it switches on. Max’s hands grip Dean’s hips and he turns them, pushes Dean up against the cinderblocks and crashes their lips together. 

Dean’s lips eagerly press back against Max’s and his hands are everywhere on Max’s chest, back and hips. 

The second Dean tries to gain access to Max’s mouth with is tongue the kissing stops. Instead, Max’s mouth moves to Dean’s neck, not holding back as he sinks his teeth in to Dean’s warm skin to pull a loud groan from Dean.

“Fuck! Ung, Max...” Dean breathes and Max doesn’t hesitate to press his knee between Dean’s thighs which causes the taller male to push his hips forward for more friction. 

A door slams somewhere a few floors up and the pair pull apart enough to realize that they have to get out of the fucking stairwell.

Dean seems to know that if he gives Max even half a second to process what’s going on that he’ll freak out so he doesn’t let his hands leave Max’s body as they stumble their way through the stairwell and down the hall to Dean’s apartment.

The door closes loudly behind them and Dean has Max up against it in less than a second. The skin of his hands are clammy and he’s pressing Max against the door a little too hard but Max’s fingers are probably gripping Dean’s hair too tightly also. But the pressure and the little bit of pain is okay because he can focus on that instead of Ashley’s silence.

Dean’s lips try to get Max’s mouth to open again but he turns his head away and presses his hands to Dean’s chest to get him to back up until they’re at the couch. Dean takes a breath and slides his hands back up Max’s shirt, lifting it to expose his thin trail of hair that starts low on his abdomen and trails down beneath the waist of his pants.

Somewhere in his throat Dean growls at the sight and it shakes Max out of his haze.

Dean doesn’t waste a second and pulls off Max’s shirt and presses himself to Max, kissing his neck and his chest and his collarbone. Dean’s lips are soft and warm, his hands are gripping Max’s hips right under his a-line that’s usually his favorite spot and he’s an attractive guy. 

But Max can’t get in to it, his head’s not focusing on they way Dean’s now trying to open his pants, the way his breath is warm  on Max’s hair. He’s focusing on the dust on the coffee table, the Men’s Health magazine that has Ryan Reynolds lifting up his shirt.

He lets Dean undo his jeans and Max forces himself to take off Dean’s shirt. His hands grip Dean’s shoulders and push him back so he’s lying against the couch and Max takes his turn to lay himself over Dean. He doesn’t let them kiss.

Dean’s hips push up against Max’s and Max can feel the thick heat of Dean’s erection. He slides his hand down Dean’s torso and to his center to deftly undo his pants.

Dean lets out another groan as he feels Max’s hand against his dick and it makes Max’s  limp dick stiffen slightly. It’s been so long since he’s tried to make someone feel good. That must be what he really needs. 

So he slides himself off of Dean and Dean gets the hint to sit up while Max maneuvers himself to kneel between Dean’s legs on the floor. Dean eagerly pulls his erection out for Max and looks down at him like Max should be really fucking grateful that he’s got Dean’s dick in his face. Maybe Dean knows Max is just barely holding on to sanity at the moment so he can get away with it. 

Max doesn’t wait, he knows he’s on the brink of acknowledging his feelings about Ashley and he can’t let that happen. So he lowers his mouth on to Dean’s cock and Max doesn’t try to do it with any grace or semblance of pride. He know’s what this is; it’s Dean getting off and Max trying his hardest to think about anything but Ash.

Dean’s cock is kind of small whih is good because Dean seems intent on pushing Max’s head down and Max just lets him. It’s a lazy blowjob, and he’s letting Dean do all the work with pushing Max’s head. He’s too grossed out by the whole situation to even try to use his tongue but Dean doesn’t mind. He’s grunting and  groaning and his hips are pushing up and Max knows it’s time to pull off. 

Dean cums soon after and Max is just kneeling there between Dean’s legs with Dean’s jizz cooling on his fucking hand.

He grab’s Dean’s stupid shirt and wipes his hand off on it and stands to button his jeans and pull on his own shirt. His erection died a while ago.

Dean’s eyes open slowly from his post-orgasmic daze and he looks at Max blankly.

“You know this is never going to happen again, right?” Max asks. 

“Yeah, I got what I wanted.” Dean smirks and Max gets that feeling like he wants to punch off Dean’s fucking face again.

He doesn’t waste his time giving Dean another second and heads for the door. Just as he turns the door knob, Dean speaks again, “Don’t worry about paying that heating bill. We’ll call it even.”

Max wants to throw up.

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