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It’s winter break, between the last season and the upcoming, when Max and Checo loosen on the training and diets and media, and on their vacation they finally have real time for each other.
Here in California, they’ve had a nice balance, weather warm enough in the city to appease Checo, while they still get the typical winter activities for Max up in their winter cabin.
That’s where they are, currently, cozied up in bed after a long day of movies and baking.
Max’s hair still smells like the Mexican vanilla they’d brought after visiting his family. It makes Checo lick behind his ear, drawing a fond huff from Max.
“Haven’t had your fill?” he teases.
“Of you, never.” Max is beautiful like this, all warm and soft. Normally, this is where Checo would kiss Max down to the mattress, take him apart slowly and lovingly until they’re both sated and boneless.
Tonight, though…
"I want to try something," Checo says, voice gentle between kisses.
Max pulls back slightly, already eager. "What?"
"I want you inside me," Checo says, watching Max's pupils dilate. "But I want you to stay like this. Still soft and needy for me."
"I don't..." Max blinks. "How would that work?"
"You can still be so good for me," Checo explains, hands framing Max's face. "But you get to take what you want. Use me how you need to."
Max's breath catches. "Really?"
"Really. Would you like that, amor?"
Max nods eagerly, then immediately looks uncertain. "But if I'm... if I'm the one..."
"You're still mine," Checo says firmly. "Still my good boy. You're just going to show me how much you need me."
"Okay," Max breathes, already getting that soft, floaty look in his eyes. "Yeah. I want... I want you."
"Good." Checo kisses him slowly. "But first, you have to get me ready. Can you do that for me?"
"Uh-huh." Max is already reaching for the lube, familiar in the nightstand where they keep it. "Wanna make you feel good."
"You will, mi amor," Checo promises, settling back against the pillows. "Take your time."
Max's hands shake slightly as he slicks up his fingers, and Checo can see him trying to focus, trying to be careful. His pupils swallow up his eyes, and that pretty pink flush he gets when he’s turned on has stretched down to his chest.
Fuck, his Max is beautiful.
"Is this okay?" Max asks as he presses the first finger inside.
"Perfect," Checo says, and Max practically glows at the praise. "Just like that."
"You're so..." Max's voice trails off as he works Checo open, adding another finger. "So warm. So good."
Checo pants slightly. Max’s fingers feel good, but it’s mostly his earnest need to do whatever Checo asks, the flutter of his lashes when he’s told he’s good.
"You're doing so well," Checo tells him, just to see him react, and Max doesn’t disappoint, whimpering at the words. "Such a good boy, taking care of me."
"I am?"
"The best," Checo confirms. "Ready to fuck me, baby?"
Max nods frantically, pulling his fingers out and settling closer on the bed. Checo opens his legs, letting Max crowd up between them, holding one of his thighs up.
Max looks up at Checo with wide, trusting eyes. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," Checo assures him. "Go ahead, amor, dámelo."
Max pushes in slowly, both of them groaning at the sensation. When he's fully seated, Max looks dazed, overwhelmed, unsure.
"I don't... how do I..." His voice is small, but not upset. Checo reaches up to cup his face.
"However feels good, Emi," Checo breathes, the nickname making Max's lashes flutter. "Just move, si?”
Max starts slow, barely rocking his hips, looking down at Checo with wide eyes. "Like this?"
"Dios, yes," Checo gasps. "Whatever feels right for you, mi amor."
Max gains a little confidence, thrusting slightly deeper, and Checo's back arches involuntarily. "Oh... you like that?"
"Fuck, Emi, yes," Checo pants, hands gripping the sheets. "You feel so good inside me."
Max's movements become a little bolder, a little faster, and he watches Checo's face intently, learning what makes him gasp, what makes him moan.
"Can I... can I go harder?" Max asks, voice now high and breathy. He’s so perfect, asking for permission even as he’s fucking into Checo, it’s driving him insane.
"Por favor," Checo begs. "Whatever you want, mi amor, take it."
Max picks up the pace, gaining confidence with each thrust, and Checo is completely unprepared for how good it feels, how Max hits something inside him that makes him see stars, fuck.
"Shit," Checo gasps, back arching. "Max, así, just like that—"
"Really?" Max asks, rhythm quickening. "You feel good?"
"So good," Checo moans. "My good boy, fucking me so well—"
The praise makes Max whine, and his movements become more desperate, more needy. "Want to make you feel good," he pants. "Want to be good for you."
"You are, Emi, you're perfect," Checo gasps, eyes rolling when Max hits that spot again. "Ay, por favor, ahí—“
Max seems to understand, angling his hips to hit the same spot, and Checo practically sobs.
"Like this?" Max asks, confident as he watches Checo fall apart beneath him. "You want it like this?"
"Yes, yes, don't stop," Checo begs, completely losing composure. "Harder, baby, por favor—"
Max gives him harder, deeper, and then he's the one babbling, hips jerking as his rhythm falters.
"So tight," Max gasps. "So warm, I can't— you're so perfect, letting me— letting me use you like this..."
"Use me," Checo agrees desperately. "Whatever you want, Emi, soy tuyo—"
Max's hands roam over Checo's chest, his stomach, learning his body, and when his fingers find Checo's nipples, Checo cries out so loudly that Max does it again, pinching gently.
"You like that too?" Max asks breathlessly. "What else do you like?"
"Touch me," Checo moans. "Anywhere, everywhere, just don't stop fucking me—"
Max experiments, running his hands over Checo's ribs, his thighs, pressing kisses to his chest, his throat. Every touch is perfect, makes Checo writhe beneath him, feels so fucking good, and Max whimpers at the reactions he's causing.
"Emi," Checo gasps, overwhelmed. "Please, I need..."
Max doesn’t let him finish, wraps a hand around Checo's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts, and Checo nearly comes apart completely.
“I love seeing you like this," Max pants. "Love making you fall apart for me."
"Only for you," Checo gasps. "Only ever for you, mi amor— so perfect, you're being so good for me—"
The praise makes Max whine, his rhythm becoming more erratic. "Wanna be good," Max pants. "Want to make you feel good but I can't... it's too much, you feel too good around me..."
Max's hand on Checo's cock becomes unsteady as he gets lost in his own pleasure, and Checo can see him struggling to focus on anything but the overwhelming feeling of being inside him. He’s so good and sweet, fucking him so good, Checo can keep it together until Max comes.
"It's okay, Emi," Checo soothes, even as his own voice breaks. "Eres tan bueno, mi amor, just take what you need."
"But you," Max whimpers, trying to stroke him properly as his movements become more desperate. "Want to make you— want to be good for you—"
"You are being good," Checo assures him, grinding his hips up. "So good, using me like this. Taking what you need from me, my good boy, making me feel so good."
Max sobs at the words, completely overwhelmed, his hand falling away from Checo's cock as he braces himself on Checo's chest, movements becoming desperate and uncoordinated.
"Yours, I'm yours, but you're mine too, right? You're mine?"
Fuck, Max is gonna be the death of him.
"Tuyo," Checo promises, squeezing Max’s hips wide his thighs. “I'm yours, all yours—"
Checo reaches down to stroke himself as Max falls apart above him, flushed all over, tears at the corners of his eyes. Shit, this was such a good idea.
"I don't know—" Max whimpers. "I want to make you come but I can't— I want—"
"It's okay," Checo pants, still stroking himself. "You're perfect, Emi. Just keep fucking me like you are."
Max leans down, pressing desperate, messy kisses to Checo's throat, his jaw, and Checo can feel him getting closer, movements becoming more erratic and needy.
"I love you," Max whimpers against his neck, voice broken and desperate. "Love you so much, love how you let me— let me be like this with you—“
"I love you too," Checo manages. "So much, Emi. You're being so good for me, sweet boy."
Max's rhythm becomes completely uncoordinated, and he bites down on Checo's shoulder— desperate, needy, like he needs to muffle his own cries.
"Gonna come," Max sobs into his skin. "Can't stop it, can't... Checo, I'm gonna—“
"Ven por mí," Checo moans, voice wrecked as his hand works frantically on his own cock. "Come for me, vente dentro de mi, te quiero sentir—“
Max comes with a broken, muffled cry against Checo's shoulder, body shaking as he spills inside him, and the feeling of Max falling apart completely pushes Checo over the edge too.
They collapse together, both shaking, Max still pressed against Checo's shoulder. After a long moment, he pulls back, looking dazed and tearful.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks immediately, voice small as he touches the bite mark gently.
"No," Checo says quickly, though his voice is rough. "No, baby, you were perfect for me."
Max slowly pulls out, both of them wincing at the sensitivity, and collapses beside Checo, suddenly looking uncertain again. He buries his face in Checo's neck, breathing heavily. "I wanted to make you feel as good as you make me feel, but I couldn't... you felt too good around me."
"That's exactly what I wanted," Checo says softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I wanted you to get lost in it. Wanted you to just feel good and take what you needed."
They lie there in silence for a while, both coming down from the intensity. Max is still trembling slightly, completely wrung out and emotional.
Checo kisses the soft blonde hair at the top of Max’s head, arranging them so Max’s body is completely blanketing him, supported. Max wriggles even closer, somehow, little huffed breaths reminding Checo of a kitten.
"We should..." Checo starts after a while, voice still rough, then trails off as Max makes a soft sound of protest against his neck.
"Should what?" Max mumbles, not moving an inch from where he's sprawled across Checo's chest.
"Clean up. Get a towel or something at least." Even as he says it, Checo's arms tighten around Max, making no move to actually get up. He would really like to, but Max is warm and boneless against him, still trembling slightly with aftershocks.
"Don't wanna move," Max says, pressing a soft kiss to Checo's collarbone. "You're warm."
"Sí, and we are going to be gross in the morning," Checo says, though he isn’t really particularly concerned about it. His hand is already running through Max's hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp in the way that makes Max practically purr.
"Worth it," Max says decisively, snuggling closer again.
They drift in comfortable silence, the fire crackling softly in the other room, snow probably still falling outside their little bubble of warmth. Max's breathing evens out gradually, and Checo thinks he might be falling asleep when Max speaks again.
"Checo?"
"Sí, amor?"
"Can we... can we do both sometimes? Like this, and the other way?"
"However you want," Checo promises immediately. "Whatever you need."
"I just need you," Max says simply, voice already getting that dreamy quality that means he's close to sleep.
"You have me," Checo tells him. "Always."
"Love you," Max mumbles, barely audible now.
"Te amo también," Checo whispers back.
Max's weight becomes heavier as he properly falls asleep, and Checo knows he should probably wake him up, get them both cleaned up and under the actual covers. But Max looks so peaceful, so content, and Checo finds himself drifting too, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the steady rhythm of Max's breathing.
The mess can wait. Right now, this is perfect— Max soft and trusting in his arms, both of them sated and happy, the rest of the world locked out by snow and distance and the simple luxury of having nowhere else to be.