Bobby Sox

Author's Note: Look, I never really intend any of this stuff to become ongoing stories, but I get hung on characters and just love writing little slices of their lives. So - here's more Mike and Max because who doesn't love a cocky sub and his quiet, confident dom? I'm trying to get related stories sorted out into Series formats, but all that is stuck in pending, sorry!

This picks up a few months after

Who Would've Thought

. You can read it as a stand alone if you want, but I think the character development is worth starting at the beginning.

Content Warnings with ***Spoilers***: this story includes an off-page car accident and some non graphic mentions of resulting injuries.

Thanks for reading!!

Mike

I was close to closing a sale with this mostly clueless restaurant owner. She had a lot of dreams, but very little understanding of what price points would actually sell in her market. The bar manager had quickly realized that I could make her life much easier and had teamed up with me to talk the owner around to my side.

My phone was buzzing in my pocket. I ignored it. That could be anyone, but I really hoped it wasn't Max. I hated to ignore his calls even though he understood why I had to.

The owner eventually came around and settled on the package that I recommended. The bar manager grinned at me gratefully over the owner's head. That was good. It was always more helpful to have the people who actually poured the drinks on my side once the contract was signed.

Outside, I checked my phone to see a missed call from Max. I started walking back towards my hotel and called him back.

"Hope I d-didn't interrupt anything," Max said as soon as he picked up.

I felt a little rush of warmth just hearing his voice. Max had a quiet confidence to him. I thought he was shy the first time I met him, but I quickly learned he was anything but. Max's stutter meant he was very deliberate with his words. It also meant that you had to really listen and make an effort to give him room to speak. Once I got to know him, I realized that Max just didn't bother working so hard to communicate with people who didn't want to hear him.

"Nope, just walking back to the hotel," I answered. "I'm going to grab a shower and then head to the airport. When will you be at my house tonight?"

"That's why I'm c-calling," Max said. I already heard a sour note in his voice and felt my chest flood with disappointment. "My truck is shot. I've been working on it all day, but I'm n-not really a mechanic. I'll have to get it towed out to a r-real shop this afternoon and who knows h-how long it will be there. Sorry, baby. I can't m-make it tonight."

I felt a hot knot constrict my throat. Max and I were only separated by an hour of country roads between his farm and my house in the small city of Monroe, but that distance proved challenging to schedule around. Between my constant travel for work, the bar I co-owned in town, and Max's responsibilities in running his farm, we had to work hard to see each other regularly. The promised two night visit was the only face to face time we would have for several weeks.

Don't cry, you big fucking baby.

Oof. I cleared my throat and tried to sound normal when I spoke again.

"Maybe I can come out there?" I suggested. My voice was a little too tight to sound casual.

"You h-have an open mic tomorrow," Max reminded me. "You can't stay out here."

"Then I'll come get you tonight after I land?" I tried.

"Mike, baby, it will be ok. I'll s-see you when I can," Max said gently.

"Please?" I resorted to begging. I

needed

Max. He didn't understand. He loved me, but he wasn't a desperate idiot like I was. Max had better control of his emotions.

"I'll come t-tomorrow if I can get the truck fixed," Max said. "Be patient."

I whined at him for a while longer, but Max had annoyingly calm, reasonable responses to all my increasingly frantic suggestions.

"I'll s-see you when I can," Max repeated firmly. He had switched to that confident, no nonsense voice he used to order me around. I stopped arguing and swallowed the rising sob in my chest. "I'm s-sorry. I need to get off the phone now and call a tow truck. Call me when you get home?"

"Ok," I agreed miserably. "I love you."

"Love you, you r-ridiculous man," Max said fondly. "Be safe."

...

Max

Finding a tow truck when you live well outside of anything that might be considered civilization is a nightmare. I called every towing service I could find, but none would come that day. Most wouldn't even go that far out of the closest towns. I prepared to make another call. I had a script written down in front of me so I wouldn't need to search for words as my growing frustration ate away my ability to speak, but even a script wasn't going to help much at that point.

Mike probably thought I was only mildly put out to not see him that night, but he needed to believe I was more in charge than I really was to trust me. Bitter disappointment sat in my stomach, roiling acid up my throat to leave a nauseating heartburn to go with the lonely ache.

I was about to hit send on my phone again, ready to struggle through another embarrassing call, when I heard the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle roll up my driveway to die just outside my house. I stepped out on the porch in confusion. The familiar figure on the bike popped his helmet off and grinned at me. The man on the bike was tall and broad, like a quarterback dressed in motorcycle gear. He had shocking blue eyes that seemed somewhat out of place among his otherwise dark features. His messy dark curls were damp with sweat.

"Hey? What are y-you doing out here?" I asked Mike's friend Teddy. My friend, too, I supposed. Teddy was everyone's friend.

"Mike said you needed a mechanic," Teddy said. "Or a ride back to Monroe. Whichever comes first, I guess."

"S-so you just hopped on your bike and rode an hour?" I said, laughing in confusion.

"Yes?" Teddy answered like my confusion made no sense. There wasn't a reason in Teddy's world for leaving a friend in need to fend for themselves. "Show me what's going on with your truck."

I decided not to point out that Teddy wasn't that kind of mechanic. He was an industrial mechanic, working to maintain the giant innards of the local factories with his unflappable smile, but he still knew more than me. He thought he identified the issue, though he couldn't fix it with the parts on hand.

"I'll take you back with me to Monroe," he said and wiped grease off on his already grungy jeans. "We can get the part there somewhere before I bring you back so I can try to fix it."

"Ted, you don't h-have to do all that," I argued. "I'll go back to Monroe with you s-since you're already here, but Mike can bring me back and I can f-fix it."

"Eh, we'll figure it out," Teddy said and shrugged with that big, happy grin. I had a feeling he would be the one to fix my truck in a few days.

...

Mike scooped me up in his arms when he found me napping in his living room late that night. I struggled in his embrace, laughing and surprised to be woken up so suddenly, but I had no hope to break free unless Mike wanted to let go.

There was no pretending that I wasn't noticeably short with little to no muscle. Mike, on the other hand, was tall and lithe, with lean, sculpted muscle under every inch of his beautifully tanned skin. His pale brown eyes looked like warm honey and shone happily as he crushed me to his chest.

"Put me down!" I demanded, but I couldn't stop laughing.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said into my hair. "I missed you so much."

"I n-noticed," I said and gave up trying to get away. "How did you convince Teddy to come to my rescue?"

"I just asked," Mike answered. He finally let me go, but he kept a hand on my back. "Smokey doesn't need convincing to help someone. I'm pretty sure he's just on Earth to show the rest of us miscreants what bad people we are. Did he fix your truck?"

"I'll tell you all about it l-later," I told him and reached up to twist my fingers in his dark hair. I tightened that grip until Mike gasped and whined. "Are you too t-tired to be my good boy, baby?"

"No, sir," Mike whimpered. "Please, sir."

"Shower," I ordered him. "Come on."

Mike spent a lot of his time and money on renovating the historic home he bought in downtown Monroe. The gem of that work was the bathroom attached to his big bedroom upstairs. It was all shining marble, gleaming mirrors, and leafy, lush plants. His giant glass capsule of a shower included a soaking tub inside the enclosure and more plants that thrived in the damp.

Mike dropped to his knees on the marble tile the moment I stopped inside the room. He had his head politely down, but I could see the delighted grin tilting his lips and lighting his beautiful face with giddy eagerness. I gripped his chin to tilt his head up.

"Such a good boy," I murmured. "You m-must be desperate."

"Yes, sir. So desperate. I thought about you every night," he said cheekily. I arched an eyebrow at his cocky tone.

"Oh, yeah? And what did you do when you thought about me?" I increased the grip I had on his chin enough to make him whine again.

"I jacked this giant dick, sir," he answered without an ounce of shame. His eyes flicked down to the obvious bulge still trapped in his jeans.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, "One of these days, I'm going to f-forbid that. That's

my

ridiculous cock. You should have to wait for me to use it."

Mike groaned at my tone, looking full of both dread and anticipation.

"How would you make me do that?" Mike asked shakily.

"I can think of a few ways," I said. I raised him back to his feet with that grip under his chin. "Strip. Show me what I've been m-missing."

Mike obeyed immediately. He knew how to dress himself and always wore one of two styles - his professional high class party boy look of exquisitely tailored button ups, always worn with the sleeves rolled up to show off his strong forearms and half tucked artfully into his tight, custom-made jeans or his queer punk uniform of obscure band tees, chewed up expensive jeans, and a black jacket covered in pride patches. He was in a tight Dead Kennedys tee shirt and strategically ragged jeans that night. He flipped the tee shirt off one-handed and yanked his jeans off with a vengeance.

"Commando? On an airplane?" I chuckled. I stepped forward and ran my fingers lightly over that stupidly big dick. Mike shivered. "You s-slut."

"For you," he answered. His voice was a little rougher than it had been before. "I'm always a slut for you."

"Shower," I said and started to remove my own clothes. Mike hesitated to watch me pull off my shirt. He groaned as my hidden tattoos came into view, but obeyed my order to get in the shower. I ignored him watching me through the glass as I took my time undressing. Mike reached for me when I opened the glass door, but I shook my head. He whined and dropped his hands.

"You're so beautiful," Mike whimpered. "Please? Please, Max?"

"No," I answered firmly. I perched on the edge of the tub and openly ran my eyes over his body. Mike brightened at that. He straightened up and flexed for me, showing off his admirable body with a grin.

"Look at you," I sighed. "So p-pretty. You look good wet and naked."

"I look better with your dick in me," he answered. "You know, wherever you want to put it. Want to see?"

I chuckled at his shamelessness.

"Wash off all that sweat," I ordered.

"Ugh," Mike groaned at me.

He started scrubbing quickly. I stood and grabbed him by the back of his neck. Mike immediately relaxed under my hand, letting me drag him down so I could speak directly into his ear.

"Is that h-how you treat my property?" I growled quietly. Mike whimpered and shook his head. "S-slowly. Carefully. Remember who you belong to and do it right."

Mike raised his eyes tentatively when I let him go and returned to my spot. I just waited. He had instructions, he could figure it out if he wanted to. Mike finally relaxed into my control and began to wash his long, lean body at a more leisurely pace.

I watched him silently, but that became more of a challenge as my attention finally got the response I wanted from Mike. He blushed under my gaze and his breath became shaky. I smirked. There was nothing quite like the way the soapy water slid over the delicious lines of his body. He glanced at me to see if I would stop him as he reached for his straining erection. He groaned softly and stroked himself with the suds from the soap.

"That's mine," I reminded him. "Just get yourself clean."

Mike moaned in irritation and moved on, soaping his muscled ass and lingering again between the cheeks.

"That's m-mine too," I warned him.

"Please, Max? Sir? Please?" he begged me.

"Be a g-good boy," I answered. "You know only good boys get to cum."

"I'll be so good," he whined. "Please. Anything you want. Please?"

"My turn. Rinse off," I ordered.

I pointed at the same place I had been resting once Mike was free of suds. He moved where I pointed, but gave me the most pitiful puppy dog look. I ignored that and took my time washing myself unnecessarily thoroughly.

Mike whined when I took liberties I hadn't allowed him, stroking my dick and fondling my balls. I let out a moan designed to drive him wild.

"Max," he groaned. "Please. Please? I need you Max, please?"

"Come here," I said.

Mike slid up to me immediately. He resisted the urge to touch me, but he was trembling in the spray of water bouncing off my skin. I ran my hand up his arm, following the line of his hard shoulder, up to the back of his head to grip the base of his skull. Mike let me pull him down to a vicious kiss. He purred in happiness as I bit his lip and forced his mouth open.

Mike inadvertently broke the kiss with a gasp when I slipped my other hand down to his crack. I smirked and circled his hole. Mike groaned and pressed back against my fingers.

"Always s-so ready to take me," I chuckled. "You're such a good boy for me."

"I need you, please?" he panted.

The needy, strangled noise he made when I pressed one finger into him surprised us both. The spell I put him under wavered when Mike laughed helplessly along with me. I reached back up and kissed him gently. He grinned and giggled against my lips.

"I l-love you, you ridiculous, beautiful man," I sighed.

"I love you, Max," he replied. "Fuck me hard like a worthless slut?"

"You're my precious s-slut," I corrected him. "My perfect whore. My beloved, back-talking hole. How m-much do you trust your own handiwork?" I pointed at the metal towel bar on the tiled wall by the bathtub.

"Not enough to put my weight on it," he answered honestly. "But you can fuck me against the wall."

"I'm not t-tall enough for that," I chuckled. "And there's n-no way I can hold you up if you s-slip."

"Bend me over the tub?" he suggested. "Put me on my knees? Please, Max, anything."

I slipped my fingers back inside him and pressed hard on his prostate. Mike moaned at the sudden sensation, wilting against me with an adorable, needy sob.

"Bed," I ordered him and let go. He stumbled out of the shower in his hurry to obey, but he remembered my earlier correction and carefully dried himself off while casting glances to make sure I was watching.

He hopped on the bed on his hands and knees, arched his back, and looked back over his shoulder at me with that burning desperation. I paused there to admire him. Mike knew he was hot and I loved that about him. There was a real rush in knocking that cocky sweetheart into a needy puddle just begging for my dick. He was at the edge of frustration right then. He would start bratting soon if I didn't get moving.

"F-fuck, Mike," I sighed. "Do you know h-how fucking gorgeous you are begging for me like that?"

"Please, Max?" he answered immediately. "Fuck me? Please? I need you so bad, baby. Please say you'll fuck me?"

"Yes, good boy," I assured him. "W-will you try something new for me?"

"Anything. Please?" Mike whimpered. I went to his nightstand and opened the bottom drawer.

"I didn't mean to s-snoop, but restocking the lube this afternoon was

interesting

," I said meaningfully. Mike's eyes widened and he giggled.

"You can snoop," he said "I have

lots

of interesting stuff around here. What did you like in that drawer?"

I held up the handcuffs and blindfold I found with a smirk. Mike's grin spread wider on his face.

"You want me helpless, baby?" he asked. "You want to see me struggle?"

"Do you trust m-me?" I asked. I advanced on him and pushed him to lay on his back. "I'm going to cuff you to this bed and blindfold you," I promised. Mike whined and nodded eagerly. "You better watch your m-manners or I'll gag you too."

Mike hesitated and looked away at that. I waited to see if he would speak up or if I was going to have to coax his boundaries out of him again.

"Yellow," he whispered, adamantly avoiding my eyes. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I crawled forward and cradled his chin in my palms to gently force him to look at me again. He tried to keep his eyes off me.

"Mike, look at m-me," I dropped the stern role I was playing completely to speak softly. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"Please don't gag me," he mumbled. "I really hate it."

Mike didn't like stopping me. He hated to admit to any boundaries. I wasn't entirely sure if that came from shitty partners in his past or if it was just his instinct to put on a shield of impenetrable cockiness, but it was something we both were slowly chipping away at.

"Good job, baby," I purred in his ear, kissing softly along his jawline. "You're s-such a good boy for telling me. I won't gag you. I won't cuff or blindfold you, either, if you don't like it. It's a game we play together. It's n-not fun if you don't like it."

"No, cuffs and blindfolds are fine," he told me. He was still a little shaken, but he was looking at me again. "I just don't like being gagged. I'll be good. You don't have to gag me if you just want me to mind my manners."

"I have other w-ways to make you be polite," I assured him, slipping lightly back into my sterner voice. Mike relaxed a bit at that familiar sound. "These are your cuffs, you know how the s-safety latch works?"

"Yes, I know. Please, sir?"

"And how do you s-stop me if you need to?" I pressed.

"I call red," he answered patiently.

"And what happens after you call r-red?"

"Um, you stop?" he asked in confusion.

"I s-stop and give you whatever you need to f-feel safe again," I promised. "And I reward you with whatever you want for being brave enough to stop me."

"Oh," Mike chuckled. "Are you bribing me to safeword you?"

"You get r-rewarded either way," I pointed out. "I'm reminding you that s-safewording doesn't mean you don't get s-something nice. Arms up, grab the headboard."

Mike grinned and raised his hands to hold the vertical bars of his headboard. I looped the cuffs through the bars and snapped one on each wrist. Mike's cheeky grin didn't falter at all when I fastened the blindfold around his head.

"Now, g-good boy," I growled in his ear just to feel him tremble. "Keep that pretty mouth shut unless I say otherwise."

...

Mike

I could be quiet. Probably. Maybe. I hoped I could. A constant running commentary was kind of my signature, but I could make a real effort.

Max didn't make it easy. As soon as he had me cuffed and blindfolded, his weight disappeared from the bed. I strained to listen. I knew well enough that Max wouldn't leave me there, and I trusted him to surprise me in the best ways, but the lack of sensory information was making me nervous.