Melted: A MaxTul AU story

Fourteen: Arguments

Max felt warm as lips pressed against his and moved lightly but firmly. He felt as comfortable and calm and safe as he had felt in years, and he instinctively shifted to try to press his body closer to the other man. He loved his smell; it was distinctive yet familiar as if he wore a sent Max knew but in combination with his own natural smell. Max's hand languidly moved through the hair he had been itching to touch for so long—thick and soft at the top with that short bur-like bit at the back. His fingers traced the sharp hairline he had stared at so often at the same time that the other man's tongue softly traced his lips.

But then abruptly, the other man pulled away, and said coldly, "I'm done. I can't believe you kept this from me. You're just like everyone else. Full of lies."

Max felt tears come immediately at the loss of the warmth and the coldness of the words. He watched the man walked away and thought, "Tul. Don't leave me."

Max was staring at his coffee cup wondering about that dream for what felt like the ninetieth time that day. Where had that all come from? He hadn't had a sex dream in ages, years even. But was it even a sex dream when there had been no sex? And did he feel that guilty about not saying anything his interview with Plustor to Tul? He couldn't think of anything else about which he had lied to Tul.

And was he really lying? Tul knew that his brother didn't like him, right? But then Max remembered Tul's wary hopefulness that Plustor finally believed that he wasn't interested in taking over the company, and his doubts came back.

Max studiously avoided the other part of the dream—the way he had felt holding Tul, being held by him, being kissed by him. He ignored the delightful of the feel of Tul's hands on his waist. It was a feeling he remembered from the motorcycle ride around the city. Tul's hands had felt as though they had scorched imprints on his waist, and then when he had had the opportunity to go faster and Tul had wrapped his arms around him, Max had felt the shock then the warmth. The Bangkok traffic had been the only thing keeping him from wallowing in how perfect Tul had felt pressed up against his back.

Max shook his head again at himself and smiled ruefully. "Oh Max," he thought. "You aren't in high school anymore. You can't go back to pining over perfect straight dudes. And even if he weren't straight, it doesn't mean he'd be interested in you. He has so many options. People are lined up to have a chance with the "Pakorn boy"—most with far less baggage than you. He deserves someone unfettered."

He laughed at himself again, hearing Chalida's voice laughing at him for using such vocabulary even in his imagination.

What he didn't know was that this entire time, Tul had been watching him. Tul's office was almost all glass, allowing him to be separate from the team but still being able to see them. It's why he knew how often Ann took them on her field trips. It was how he had seen how close they all were to each other and separated from him.

Tul used it now to watch the changes of expression on Max's face. The man had looked bothered since the last time he saw him—the morning of the meeting with his stepbrother. He had called Tor to see how the interview had went, and his friend had been highly enthusiastic, talking about Max enough for Tul to start feeling a bit jealous—not that he would let Tor know that. It had made Tul look forward to his own interview with Max, which had to be rescheduled because of his trip to Japan.

However, what that did do was make him wonder more about Max's interview with Plustor. He had even asked Prin to look into the security footage of that day, but he hadn't seen the footage yet. He wasn't even sure there would be anything there.

He picked up the phone on his desk. "Prin. I need you to go to the 7-eleven and pick up a couple of ice cream bars. Different kinds and bring them up here. Thanks."