Revived (The Dungeon Black Duology 2)

Blood drained from Max’s face. He suddenly felt nauseous. Jesus God. He’d just gone from one nightmare to the next. He scanned the bed and spotted Sean’s clothes. He remembered Sean taking them off. Taking them off and then straddling Max’s lap…

Head pounding, he drew up his knees and covered his face. Goddamn. The things they’d done. The way they’d fucked. The things Max said. None of it should’ve happened. That shit belonged in Max’s head. In the confines of his imagination. Where things weren’t fucking real.

And honestly, it didn’t even belong there, either. But he’d been drunker than shit and couldn’t resist. He’d figured, what the hell. It was only a dream. A tender indulgence he’d never even remember. Where he could be with Sean in the way he’d always wanted. Holding him, and telling him things, taking him like a lover. Showing him how he felt without parameters.

And fuck, it’d been incredible. Better than Max ever could’ve imagined. Which he supposed made fucking sense since he hadn’t been imagining it. But now that he knew it’d happened for real? That he’d given Sean his heart and Sean had taken it? There was no turning back. Now he’d crave Sean forever. What they’d shared in this room. What they’d done on this bed. A life together that was still fucking impossible. Because he’d never take that risk again. He had to stay his course. Like an airplane passenger as the oxygen bags dropped; he had to take care of himself first.

Max’s insides churned anxiously, his heart pounded faster, remembering the wicked nightmare he’d just woke from. In so many words, that was exactly what he’d been dodging. Losing another loved one with no power to stop it, helplessly watching them slip through his hands.

He had to keep control. But last night, he’d had none. Due to extenuating circumstances and a whole lot of whiskey.

He lifted his head. “Were you drunk, too?”

Please say yes. The less Sean remembered, the better for both of them.

Sean shook his head. “No.”

“Not at all?”

Another no.

Max sighed, then frowned, doing a quick bout of math. “So, I was wasted to the point that I thought I was dreaming, while you rode my cock stone cold sober?”

Sean stiffened. “It wasn’t like that. You wanted it, not me.”

Max stared at him incredulously. “You saying you didn’t wanna fuck?”

“No.” Sean’s jaw ticked. “With you I always wanna fuck. What I’m saying is that I wasn’t the one pursuing it.”

“What’s the difference,” Max muttered, “when you wanted it, too?”

“The difference is that I repeatedly told you no. Said I didn’t want to take advantage when you were drunk.”

“So what happened? We still fucked.”

Sean’s eyes turned sad. “You promised.”

Shit… “I promised.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah. That you wouldn’t get mad. Said you’d honor your word.”

The memory came back. Sean was telling the truth.

Max groaned and scrubbed his face. “You need to go.”

“Do you believe me?”

“Yeah.”

“So… you’re not pissed?”

“No. Not at you.”

Sean sighed. “For what it’s worth, Max, last night was amazing.” He climbed off the bed and pulled on his clothes. “You let yourself be happy. You let yourself connect. And not one fucking lightning bolt struck you down.”

Was he sure about that? Max’s head was really pounding.

Gingerly, Max slid his legs off the side of the bed. “Goodbye, Sean,” he muttered, grateful to be facing away.

But Sean didn’t leave. He just frickin’ stood there. Frowning. Max could feel it. The shit was downright fucking palpable. “Dismissing me so quickly. Last night you begged me to stay.”

Max winced, heart fisting. Yeah, he remembered.

“Hell, you even said you were glad that I came. That there was no one else on Earth you’d rather see.”

Max closed his eyes. “Sean.”

“Then you asked if you could hold me… Said I felt good.” Sean cleared his throat. “I said you felt good, too.”

Max’s stomach twisted miserably. “I remember,” he rasped.

“Do you remember wanting to kiss me? You literally said please.”

Max nodded.

Sean’s voice softened. “You said I always make you happy.”

Fuck. Max grimaced. “Sean—”

“And you never stopped looking at me. And when you fucked me? Goddamn it, you fucked me with feels.”

Max squeezed his eyes tighter.

“Said that was the way you always wanted it. The way you always wanted to love me.”

Max rubbed at his temples. Sean needed to stop talking. “Sean. Enough. You need to fucking leave.”

Sean’s voice cracked. “Then you begged me to let you pretend. That I was yours and you were mine. And you know what? I let you. I let you so that I could pretend, too.”

Max lurched up and spun around, his insides fucking dying. “Stop. I can’t do this. Goddamn it, Sean. Just go.”

Sean stared at him, crestfallen, then picked up his shoes. But as he reached the door, Max forced himself to stop him.

“Sean.”

If he didn’t do this now, he never would.