City Kiddy, Meet Mountain Brat (bxb)

Chapter 9

Clay P.O.V

     Son of a bitch, who the hell was that! I was pissed, on the inside of course, but I mean...come on. I finally got to fool around with Max, something I had been doing in my dreams way more often than I'd like to admit, and some dumb fuck decides its a good idea to prance around, loud as hell, and ruin our post oral sex shower! The nerve of some people.

     Max had completely stiffened in my arms...and not in a good way. He cast a horrified glance back at me with those gorgeous amber eyes, wide with fear at the rather unnerving prospect of getting caught.

     "So, do you wanna place your bet on the folks or Emmy?" I asked. I already knew exactly what he was thinking. I could see it as plainly as if it was written on his face.
     What if our patents found out.

     ...not going to lie, there is a part of me that finds that notion incredibly thrilling. I'm kind of messed up. The other, far more sane part, is picturing the expression on my dad's face if he found out I was taking a sexy shower with his girlfriend's son...it's miraculous how a kind face, understanding, easygoing father could resemble a grizzly bear.

     Oh God! I would get the 'corrupting the innocent' speech that Franky got! I already felt embarrassed and we still didn't know if it actually was our parents in the house or just an incredibly inept burglar and I was hopping it was the latter.

     "What do we do?" Max whispered urgently.

     "If it's our patents we lie through our teeth and it it's a burglar we shoot the basterd."

     Max gave me a rather disapproving look that was adorable. "Good plan." He said sarcastically. He was chewing one is bottom lip nervously.

     In all seriousness though, what did he expect: we creep out into the hall, roll down to the master bedroom, pick the lock and jump out the window, then I'll hot-wire the truck while you keep watch and we get the fuck out of dodge.

     Sounds like a badly writen James Bond movie. Before I could devote more than two brain cells to a plan, the answer came to us in the form of a pretty, familiar voice calling through the door.

     "Drop your cocks and grab your socks! I can't believe you're having shower sex and didn't invite me!"

     Oh thank God it was just Emmy. "Jesus Emmy! You scared the hell out of us! We though it was somebody important."

     She laughed and I heard her pick the lock and swing the door open. "I'm so glad you guys are together!" She sang happily.

     "Emmy!?! What are you doing?! We are in the shower!" Max cried indignantly, covering himself, even though we were behind the curtin.

     "What tipped you off?" I asked Emmy curiously, planting a kiss to the nape of Max's flushed neck, inyending to calm him, but making him shudder ever so slightly. His cheeks we're burning bright red as he leaned further against me.

     "Well," Emmy said in a tone like she was going to regale us with a thrilling tale. "I happened to notice it was first snow and you weren't answering my attempts to contact you via text. I skied over and found all your stuff strewn about near the back door. You really should mop up the melted snow by the way, it's not good for the floors."

     I didn't have to see her to know she was smirking. "I was undoubtedly curious, considering previous...conversations, " again I knew her devious little smirk was curling her smart mouth. "So I crept silently upstairs and low and behold somebody had made quite a mess of the sheets and the function and purpose of a laundry hamper seems to be lost on the two of you since you just let your clothes drop to the floor by the bed."