Archive of Our Own

It starts when Max is away from the show.

He and Nev have never exactly been the overtly clingy, lovey-dovey, ten texts in one day type of couple, but they've also never been away from each for weeks at a time since Catfish began. They got used to each other being there, and suddenly the very real concern of withdrawal has risen.

"Like we can't figure it out," Nev tells him after they work out the schedule and how many episodes Max’ll be gone for with MTV. "We can do long distance for a few weeks. Find ways to keep it interesting."

"I'm not worried about us," Max says. "I'm just. I don't know. Upset to not be around you."

He looks at the wall, which is better than looking at the shit-eating grin he can make out on Nev's face in his peripherals. Truth of the matter is, he likes spending so much time with Nev and not getting bored of him. He likes that comfort that comes with hanging out with him. He likes being able steal Nev’s peanuts on airplanes if need be. It's an unfortunate crossroads in his mind, two completely polar opposite forces trying to coexist: the part of him that's excited to work on such a huge project and the part of him that wants to stay with Nev and his tiny handheld camera.

Nev's hand claps on his shoulder. "Trust me," he says. "It'll be like we're never apart."

"How's that?"

Nev wiggles his phone in his hands like it's a magical ingredient. "Some Richard pictures ought to make it easier."

"Oh god," Max groans. "Don't. Don't do that."

"Well, fine. There are still other ways."

--

Max shoots all the necessary goodbye messages and YouTube videos explaining his absence before he goes, and it all happens faster than he expected. Before he knows it, his first day of shooting begins and Nev starts back up with Catfish and they’re in very different places living mainly separate lives.

It doesn’t feel like it, though. Not with the way Nev is documenting every moment without Max with selfies and shooting them his way just so he gets to stay involved in Nev’s world. Max could easily be annoyed by the dozens of pictures his phone gets to store, but he can’t find it in himself to actually mind. Nev is considerate and loving and honestly, Max feels lucky just to get to return to him soon.

--

He gets a text message in after a long day of shooting, well after midnight, and slides open a picture message of a selfie of Nev with Angel. They look like an adorable, goofy duo and Max is both upset that he isn't there and jealous that someone else gets to be. A lot of his feelings these days are conflicting, like when he wakes up early to direct his own film in the San Fernando Valley of all places and is both grateful as hell and extremely mad that he can't be in two places at once and be traveling cross-country with Nev sleeping on his shoulder on an airplane as usual. Trying to make his peace with the two sides usually results in him remembering that soon enough, he'll be back with Nev and an accomplished director to boot.

He types back a response just as he toes off his shoes. You guys look great.

Nev chimes in with his response almost immediately. How does it feel to be replaced so easily? Does it sting real good?

Fuck you! Max shoots back, the exclamation point seeming very necessary. Then, How did your day go?

Not good :\ Didn't get a happy ending out of this one.

Maybe next time, Max offers. As much as he knows the catfishes make for better episodes after they're all said and done and edited together, he also knows they're pretty draining for Nev. He and Max typically blow off steam after some intense days of shooting by going swimming in the hotel pool or, alternatively, discreetly making out in the hotel pool, but right now, Max can imagine that Nev has nothing but working out past two a.m. in the fitness rooms to use as an outlet.

Out of left field, Nev's next message chimes in. What are you wearing?

Max resists the strong urge to roll his eyes. He can see the ridiculous waggle Nev's eyebrows would be doing if he were standing next to him right now, the same look he gets right before he snakes a hand down Max's back to get a grope of his ass in just for shits and giggles.

Clothes. He hits send just as he's taking off his shirt and stretching his arms out.

I'm not wearing much, is Nev's reply, and again, the eyebrow waggling appears like a movie reel in Max’s mind's eye.

That doesn't surprise me. Besides, is someone with that much body hair ever really naked? Max doesn't think so. He sends as an afterthought, Are you alone?

Wish I wasn't.

A thrill, one that tingles like electricity, tickles its way down Max's arms. Nev is insatiable. Nev is going to be the extremely undignified death of him. He scrubs a hand over his face, unsure of what to reply with. Nev solves his conundrum by also sending What do you think we'd be up to if you were here?

The winking smiley face goes unsaid but hangs in the air anyway. Max furiously taps back You know what we'd be doing.

He looks at the clock on the nightstand. It's almost one a.m., prime time for fucking Nev into a stupor or vice versa. The mental image does more for him than he'd like as a few memories of last year's particularly sticky summer and the two of them, tangled up in hot bedsheets completely in the nude in the middle of the night come to him alongside a wave of arousal.

Do I? Maybe you should tell me. Nev sends.

Max bites his bottom lip. For a moment, a nightmarish horror story crosses his mind: Rel's new and improved Catfish the movie sequel featuring his brother's functional, post-Angela love life, and Nev, sitting on a sofa reading aloud his and Max's heat-of-the-moments sexts as he's been prone to do. Then again, more than five years have passed and Max is hopeful that Nev's learned the value of privacy.

He goes for it.

I'd push you down on the bed and finger you open while leaving marks on your thigh with my mouth, he replies.

Damn, Nev writes back, and there's a bit of a delay before his message arrives like perhaps he was a little taken aback—if not turned on—by Max's boldness. That sounds phenomenal. His second text reads, So you’d want to fuck me then?

Of course he would. At least seventy percent of the time, he’s thinking about it, especially when Nev’s climbing stairs in front of him in particularly well-tailored pants.

I would.

What if I wanted to ride you? Nev replies.

Max very nearly throws his phone onto the bed just to have a moment to compose himself. There’s something stirring in his pants, awakening just because Nev’s sending him a few dirty suggestions over text messages. He rubs a hand over his eyes, trying to remember when he became a seventeen-year-old boy controlled by his hormones. Being away from Nev, who is his primary source of tension relief aside from his hand probably has something to do with it.

Well, I wouldn’t stop you.

So let’s say I get on top of you and sink down on your dick. What do you do?

Beg for mercy, is Max’s first thought. Nev paints a pretty poignant image, and it doesn’t help that Nev is particularly good at riding Max’s dick. He takes a deep breath, stares down at his phone, and then gives in and unzips his pants.

Grab you by the hips and watch, Max types back. He palms himself through his boxers, and it strikes a thought in him. He texts Nev, Are you touching yourself right now?

What do you think? is Nev’s reply, and it’s followed up with a single picture: Nev’s pants discarded in a wrinkled heap on the hotel carpet. Max swallows.

It makes him push his boxers down as well, kicking them aside. If he tries hard enough, he can imagine Nev next to him, running his hands up and down Max’s thighs and nipping around his hipbones. He slowly strokes himself, his dick going from half-mast to hard embarrassingly fast. In his free hand, his phone vibrates with another message.

The best part of riding you is seeing your face. You always look so overwhelmed that I’m sitting on your cock, Nev chimes in, determined to keep stirring the pot of Max’s arousal.

I think watching you is better, Max replies. He’s all out pumping his length by now, actually devoted to getting off from Nev’s words. His tiny, electronic, pixelated words. He doesn’t know if this is pathetic or genius.

How come?

You look fucking incredible being fucked by me, Max says, and his fingers fumble on the keyboard so much he has to rely on autocorrect to fix his mistakes. His hands are too shaky to focus, the feeling of heat coiling in his belly rising up and up as he keeps touching himself.

You’re gonna give me a big head.

Max huffs out some breathless laughter at that. I was hoping to make something else big.

Trust me, you have.

Max reads it and groans. For a second, he almost regrets telling Nev to ease up on the dirty pictures—he could definitely use a visual right now just to push him over the edge. He tightens his grip, squeezing around the base, and sees a few stars erupt behind his eyelids at the sensation as he bucks up into his hand. He finds his phone, threatening to slip out of his fingers, and texts Nev I’m really close.

Nev’s response comes almost immediately. Me too.

Okay, so maybe Nev was right that this long distance thing really isn’t so bad. Max concentrates on finishing, drawing his lower lip into his mouth and sliding his hand over his cock over and over, precum slicking the way as he goes. His hips jerk into the movements, almost unsteadily, reminding him how long it’s actually been since he’s had to jerk off on his own without Nev’s arm looped around him, helping the process along.

He comes two minutes later, phone still clutched in his free hand. It’s a bit stronger than he expected, knocking him incoherent for a few moments afterwards as he slowly realizes that Nev texting him filth actually managed to help get him off. He laughs into the air, suddenly feeling much less tense than he was before.

He texts Nev wow and leaves it at that. His response comes about half a minute later: I know!

Okay, so it was just that good for both of them. Max scrubs a hand over his face, much sleepier than he was a few minutes ago.

We should do that again, Nev suggests with his next message.

And yeah, Max definitely agrees.

--

Have time for a call?

Max swears as he throws his sandwich wrapper into the garbage, already on his way back to set. He texts back, A few minutes too late, just finished lunch.

That's okay, Nev responds, and then his phone buzzes one more time with a picture message that he slides open. It's of a rumpled white hotel bed and a sliver of an empty nightstand. Sent afterwards as its caption is Your side of the bed :(

Max can hardly even believe the corniness. He's in a relationship with the biggest dumbass he knows, a hopeless romantic dumbass who sexts him one day and then talks about how much he misses cuddling the next. A heat spreads over Max's neck that has nothing to do with the sun.

Are you serious?

Nev texts back, I miss holding you.

Max grips his phone more tightly, stuck between wanting to swallow it and burying it in the sand where no one will ever, ever know how downright cheesy he gets with Nev when he tries hard to be the cynical hardball that no one dares to coo at. He doesn’t want to actually put it into writing and physically tap it out on his phone, but he misses that stuff with Nev too. The sleepy cuddles, the demanding to stay in bed just a few minutes longer with his ankle hooked over Nev’s.

Me too, he says.

Twenty minutes later, back to baking in the sun and kneeling over a dozen cameras to try and get just the right shots, his phone vibrates in his pants, this time with a picture of Nev lying in bed, his arm hooked around invisible shoulders on the empty left side of the bed, a massive pout on his face. Max tucks it away before the blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck.

--

They never really had to deal with the long distance thing once Catfish started. They went from hanging out every so often to being attached by the hip and documenting nearly every second of it along the way, taking detours to carnivals and bowling alleys while on the road just to drag out the journey.

Needless to say, it all went downhill from there. Or more specifically: when Nev grabbed him outside of a motel in Wichita and kissed him with the ferocity of a man keeping his feelings bottled up for a few years if not more. After that, there didn’t even seem to be any time left to spend apart. They filmed for a few months, and then naturally segued into spending hiatus together, and that suddenly became being side-by-side for the entire year. Max supposes that happens when your very good friend abruptly becomes your very good naked friend.

So taking a break from Catfish and seeing Nev off at the airport is not exactly familiar territory. Max knows he’s in good hands, and that he’ll have just as much of a blast with Max’s replacements as Max will filming We Are Your Friends, but that doesn’t make the separation any easier. He thinks about it while he’s driving to the San Fernando Valley, if it would’ve been any different had they never made that transition from friends to more than friends. If it still would’ve been as tough. Max thinks it would have.

--

Nev calls about twice, sometimes three times a week. People on set are starting to laugh every time Max sprints off the side to say hi or FaceTime with Nev and his partner-of-the-week to share some tips or get an update. It's getting to the point where he wouldn't be surprised if he'll be led into the reveal via the phone in Nev's hand come the last episode without him.

Most of the time, they're just lunch break calls. Quick little hellos and how are yous that, even in their simplicity, make Max feel good for the rest of the day. Except, of course, when Nev calls at night.

He's already in bed shaking out his sunburnt limbs when Nev calls. His phone vibrates on the nightstand next to the clock reading 11:42 pm, which is admittedly an early night for Max as a director.

"Hey, stud," Nev says, voice dipped low and smooth. For a second, Max can picture completely gameless sixteen-year-old Nev in front of him and has to fight to keep a snort at bay. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just got back," Max says. "I think I actually burned my knees." He looks down at his legs as he toes off his sneakers. "Too much fun in the sun."

"Fun in the sun? What happened to long, grueling director hours?"

Max snatches a few pillows from the far end of the bed to stuff behind his back. "I lied to you. I'm actually at Disneyland and will be for the next few weeks."

Nev tuts. "I knew you didn't have enough talent to make it big," he says, and then promptly comes back with, "I'm kidding. You're incredible."

Max smiles. He tries to imagine all these weeks out here alone, no phone calls and no text messages and no voicemails reminding him to get on Skype in the evening. It occurs to him how loved he actually is. He quite likes the feeling.

"Tell me about your day," Max says. "Was your flight good?"

"Yeah. Had my neck pillow. Plus the flight attendant gave me extra pretzels."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'm extremely charming," Nev says, and Max can hear him preening.

"Right." Max breezes on to the next topic. "So where are you now?"

"I'm in this really big hotel room," Nev is saying. "And the bed is huge. Huge enough that your legs aren't long enough to kick me across it."

"I don't kick," Max says, petulant.

Nev huffs out a gust of laughter. "Okay. Whatever you say." Max can hear the eye roll without seeing it. "How are you doing over there?"

There isn't even a soft sound in the background like the TV is on; instead it's just Nev focusing all his attention on Max and wanting to hear from him. Out of nowhere, Max feels a surge of affection run through him that ends in the disappointment of not being there with Nev, which is a little ridiculous when he considers that there's a beach right outside and beautiful weather drifting in through the open patio door.

"I miss you," he says, deciding to be honest about it.

"Aw, really?" Nev says, sounding absolutely delighted that Max is being sentimental with him. "Even with all that shirtless eye candy like Zac Efron walking around?"

"Stop fishing for compliments, Schulman," Max tells him. He shifts on the bed until his head is perfectly cushioned against the propped-up pillows heaped together by the headboard, and hearing Nev laugh in his ear, his world feels a little fuller.

"Okay, fine," Nev says. "And hey, I miss you too." He pauses. "Actually, I've got this really big bathroom too. It has this huge sink that would be just perfect for bending you over and fucking you against."

Instantly, the mood changes, and Max goes from laidback to high strung in a truly impressive amount of time. His mouth seems to lose all of its moisture in a matter of seconds.

"What?"

Nev chuckles like he isn't billions of miles away and teasing Max is a fun, pain-free way to spend the evening. "You heard me."

"Are you seriously doing this?" Max asks even as he has a nagging feeling that it's going to turn into are we doing this? any moment now.

"I'm just talking," Nev says. "Imagining what you'd look like bent over a sink while I get to watch you be fucked by me in the mirror." He hums for a second. "Maybe I'd pull on your hair a bit. I know you like that."

"Nev."

"And I'd lean over and kiss down your back," he continues, merciless. "Can you see it too?"

He can, and that's the problem. He can practically feel it too, the way Nev's hands would be a little sweaty on his hips, how his breath would fan out over Max's neck. The fact that Nev knows exactly what he likes and has taken the time to catalogue that information to use in times like this seems like both a blessing and a curse, a combination that's currently making Max very aware of the newfound tightness in his pants.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Max says. He has to fight it; he can't just give in. He has to make Nev work for it a little.

"Oh, not just this," he says with the glee of someone laying down an ace. "I'm touching myself too."

Max closes his eyes, which is a horrible idea if there ever was one, because behind his eyelids the images are stronger and more persistent than before, assaulting his mind with flashes of Nev sprawled out on the bed, palming himself through his jeans, mouth slightly parted.

Max swallows. "Where?"

"Oh, just my dick," Nev says, but jokes aside, he already sounds genuinely breathless. "I'm starting out slow, though. Wouldn't want this to be over too soon."

Max groans without intending to. His plan of letting Nev work for this and get himself worked up in the process is cut a little short by Max's slipping self-control, not to mention his imagination, which is not short on fuel of seeing the mental pictures of Nev's jeans rucked off to his thighs and his hand fisted around his dick.

"Are you hard?" Max asks.

"Yeah," Nev tells him. "Are you?"

Of course he is. With Nev's breathy, soft keening noises drifting through the phone along with his words, he can't very well not be. He shifts his hips, his pants tight around his hips. He unzips them and slides his hand into his boxers.

"Yes," Max admits. "Tell me more about the room you're in."

"Okay." A hint of smugness is evident as Nev starts talking again, like he's personally satisfied that he managed to push Max to the point of arousal that he'll play along. "The bathtub's not too shabby either. I could sit between your legs and lean against your chest while you finger me and jerk me off at the same time there."

"God," Max groans, sliding his hand down his dick, the pull and slide of his palm amplified with Nev talking. "Like that one time in—in—"

"Fort Worth?" Nev offers. "I think that time I repaid the favor by sucking you off."

He had. It was absolutely glorious and filthy and not easily forgettable. Nev had Max, still dripping wet from the bath, pinned up against the bathroom wall and had nearly swallowed his dick down with absolutely no warning, coaxing him to the brink just with the way his month looked stretched around Max's dick.

God, now he's really hard. The power of imagination is not to be underestimated. Max struggles to shuck off his pants, suddenly too warm around his legs, and return to stroking himself. He can picture Nev doing the same hundreds of miles away, how his eyes would flutter closed and his feet would twitch and his hips would push upward into his grip.

"You look so good sucking me off," Max says, unable to help it. His voice already sounds a little strangled.

"Yeah? I love doing it." Nev takes a breath. Vaguely, Max can make out the sound of rustling fabric, like Nev's currently taking off his clothes. "Tasting you. Feeling you in my mouth. You always make these... noises."

"You do too," Max feels the need to shoot back. "Not to mention that face you make when you come."

"Describe it to me."

Max's neck goes hot like fire ants are nesting behind his ears. "You don't have any shame, do you?"

"Nah."

Of course he doesn't. It never fails to surprise Max how unabashedly dirty Nev can get in bed compared to how perfectly innocent he can appear any other time. He loses all of his inhibitions once his clothes are off, hardly ever suppressed with humiliation like Max sometimes gets.

"Your mouth falls open," Max says. Not seeing Nev's face and his devious smirk tilting in front of him is somehow making it easier to say these words without combusting on the spot. "And you close your eyes. And sort of... concentrate."

Nev's low chuckle breaks through the phone. "Does it turn you on?"

Yes, yes, yes. Max twists his hand on the upstroke as he speeds up his stroking and says, "You turn me on."

"You too, babe," Nev murmurs. Max pretends he doesn't like the terms of endearments, always pushes Nev away when he tries to use them, but in the throes of passion, Max will admit that they run through him like electrical currents. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Are you kidding me?" Max says, his hand stuttering as it slides down his dick. "Yes. Obviously."

"Good," Nev says. "If I was there, you know what I'd be doing?" When Max does nothing but give a low groan as a response, he keeps going. "I'd be fingering you open... Getting you ready for my cock."

"Nev," Max moans, his vocabulary starting to suffer. Since getting together, he and Nev have swapped who's on top countless times, but Max has to admit that he absolutely loves being fucked. Something about the feeling of Nev inside him, the pinched look on his face when he's entirely enveloped by Max's heat, how incredibly full he feels when Nev thrusts into him at an always ruthless pace. He can imagine the prep work now, how Nev always takes his time bringing Max to a writhing mess with his fingers before actually fucking him.

"You should do it now. Pretend it's me."

Max doesn't have any reservations against the idea. He cradles the phone in between his shoulder and scrambles off the bed to his duffel bag to feel for the emergency lube he and Nev started implementing after one too many hot and heavy sessions of foreplay that ended early because their preparation skills were lacking. He pulls out the tube and heads back to the bed.

"Max? You still there?"

Max unscrews the lid with his teeth and elevates his hips a few inches. "Yeah. Just got lube."

Nev's breath hitches over the line. "God, I wish I was there," he mumbles. "Watching you touch yourself. Spread yourself open."

"Soon," Max reminds him, the same mantra he repeats to himself whenever he wakes up grumpy in the morning because he's alone in bed.

"Yeah, soon," Nev agrees. "Tell me what you're doing."

Max touches a well-slicked finger to his entrance, pushing in. His fingers are different from Nev's, not as slender and certainly not as unpredictable, but he can still pretend it's Nev who's kneeling between his leg murmuring on his thigh while he fingers him. They've done this enough by now that Max's imagination doesn't fail him, providing him with all of the needed memories and sensations of Nev's hands on him.

"Just slid a finger in," he says, officially feeling a little short on breath. "Tell me—tell me about you too."

"Stroking myself," Nev replies. "Your words—well, let's just say that you're affecting me. Strongly."

"The idea of you fucking me probably helps too."

Nev laughs, short and out of breath. "Yeah. Definitely that too."

The next words are stolen from Max when he focuses on fingering himself, slipping in the first finger to the knuckle before sliding it back out and straight back in. He shuts his eyes when a high-pitched, needy sound, a pant, falls from his mouth and probably straight through the phone. Nev has said before that he loves the noises Max makes, the way he sounds when he’s wrapped up in sex, but that doesn’t stop him from being mortified every time an r-rated moan comes out of his throat. This is just like the sexting—he’s away from Nev for too long and all it takes is a few words and he’s uncomfortably hard, uncomfortably close.

“You know,” Nev says, sounding breathless. “I don’t think I’ve ever watched you prep yourself. I think I’d like to.”

“Do I get to watch you too?”

“I was actually thinking you send me a sex tape, but sure, I can get on board,” Nev says, laughing, and then regains his composure. “What are you doing?”

“Second finger,” Max says as he slips in another. Sex for Max always used to be quick, always frantic, full of that frenzy of passion, but then Nev came along and it’s like someone pressed a slow motion button on his sex routine. Nev likes slow and careful, teasing and passionate, the kind of languid sex perfect for a summer day, and goddamn it, Max has gotten used to it, so much so that he can’t even rush it with himself anymore, too addicted to the slow push and pull of taking his time, drawing out every moment.

He does the same here and now, easing his fingers in and out of himself without haste. He can hear himself, the way he’s quietly panting, and wonders if Nev can hear it too.

“You touching yourself too?” Nev asks.

Max takes it as a command, one he is more than happy to fulfill, and wedges the phone between his shoulder as he reaches down to stroke himself. He can imagine Nev on the other end doing the same to himself, a slender hand wrapped around his dick the way Max’s usually is.

“Yup,” Max says. “Keep talking.”

“Getting kind of close already,” Nev admits. “It’s a little embarrassing.” His voice catches like his thumb is brushing over the head of his length. “I think we’ve been apart for too long.”

“I was just thinking that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Max bites his lip, grinning. “Now we’re sharing thoughts. Maybe we’re spending too much time together.”

“Nah,” Nev promises. “Now—now tell me. What you’re feeling.”

Max takes a breath and picks up the pace with his fingers. He remembers the first time he had sex with a man—some guy in college—and how quickly he had backpedalled when the finger in the ass concept had come to light, how long it had taken him to give it a try. He’ll admit that things have changed quite a bit since. “Not full enough,” Max says, just because he knows it’ll drive Nev wild. “I prefer your dick.”

“God,” Nev says, sounding wrecked. “What I wouldn’t give to see you ride me right now. You look so good when you do. How you—how you bounce on my dick.”

“Yeah?”

“And you get sort of… pink in the chest. It’s so hot, Max,” Nev says. He sounds just as close as Max, breathless and disoriented, and the sharp cry of him coming filters its way through the phone and Max’s hand stutters on his dick at the sound before speeding up again. Nev is incredible to watch when he’s coming, everything about him taut and frozen with pleasure before he shudders back into something soft and lax, aswim in the heady haze of sex.

“Nev,” Max whines. He’s still fingering himself, unable to reach his prostate like Nev can when he’s crouched between his legs, but the hand on his cock is making up for it. He speeds up, no longer slow and steady, and shuts his eyes.

"Come on, babe," Nev coaxes. His voice is different, newly deepened as a result of his orgasm, and the sound shoots straight to Max's dick. "Come for me. God, I wish I could see you."

Max keens and pushes his fingers in at the right angle just as he's pumping upwards, the synchronicity breathtaking. The phone threatens to slip from the crook of his ear and shoulder, sliding to the mattress until all Max can hear is the tinny, distant sound of Nev's voice. If he were here, he'd be bent over Max's side tracing his neck with his tongue and jerking him off to a slow, tortuous pace while Max begged, and that image is enough to push him over the edge.

The world whites out for a moment, a moment in which it's almost easy for Max to pretend that Nev is right there beside him, kissing him through the aftershocks and stroking him until he's too sensitive to take it. The bliss is temporary, however, when he peels his eyes open and all that greets him is the familiar sight of his empty bed, unfortunately and completely Nev-less. He slides his fingers out of himself and takes a long, shuddering breath as he fumbles to grab his phone again.

"You still alive?" Nev is saying.

"Hardly."

He chuckles. "Shame I'm not there to lick you clean."

Max's dick gives a feeble twitch. The rest of him draws taut through the sluggish satisfaction to groan. Nev's mouth should come with a warning sticker.

"Or just there, period," Max amends. Everything about him feels pleasantly boneless, relaxed after a hard day. Seeing Nev's sleepy smile on his left would be the icing on the cake.

"I know," Nev says. "There's no one to cuddle with."

"I love you," Max says, suddenly finding it important to say so. He doesn't say it much, not when he wants it to stay as meaningful as possible, but sometimes the words tumble out on their own accord. It's such an unstoppable reflex that Max has to believe that every bone in his body knows it too, feels the surges of fondness towards Nev even on a visceral level.

"I love you too," Nev says. Max can hear the smile in his voice. "And don't forget that while you're all the way out there."

"I won't."

--

The phrase "time flies when you're having fun" completely sprints out the window when Max finishes up the last few weeks of filming.

He's having an incredible time. He's learning, he's growing, he's laughing, he's even tanning out in the hot sun, and he's absolutely grateful to be able to do any of it in the first place. He tries to remember that every time he thinks about how much he misses Nev.

Another sad ending. Super long day talking w/ the catfish. Kept thinking about what you would've said, Nev texts him.

Max sighs. He's dimly aware of a familiar feeling crawling around him, a guilt that surrounds his being every time it's pointed out to him that he's not helping Nev. The co-hosts are all probably great—they were picked meticulously, after all—but Max knows that he and Nev balance each other out. It's not just Max's cynicism that matches Nev's optimism; Max is also there to reel Nev back in and tell him to step back when he gets a little short with a rather uncooperative catfish. Max is reminded of how similar it is to when they were younger, Nev going crazy at parties and school and occasionally jail and Max always seeming to be there next to Rel yanking him back. It just works when they're together, and Max is inclined to worry when they're not.

Probably nothing too helpful, Max reminds him.

He's just coming through the hotel doors when Nev texts back. Come on Skype?

Be there in ten.

The elevator seems to take an inordinate amount of time to arrive the second Max knows that Nev is waiting for him. It takes just as long for his laptop to power on and the hotel's Internet connection to sync with his computer, and then even longer for him to find the cable that'll save his laptop from shutting down due to lack of battery power. Finally, a familiar trilling of Nev calling him chirps through the air.

"Perfect timing," Max says as the screens adjust. "I just got done for the day. You know my filming schedule as well as me." Nev's webcam slowly registers the lamp light, sliding the picture into blurry focus. Max stares. "For god's sake, Nev, are you naked?"

Nev grins, wide set of teeth the brightest thing on the whole screen. He rises halfway to show off the towel wrapped low around his waist, leaving Max to ponder the pure tragedy that is knowing that even the towel falling is of no use to him this many miles away.

"I'm not," Nev promises. "Just getting ready for the shower."

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"What?"

Max waves a hand in front him without much coordination. "This. The teasing me through a computer screen."

"Teasing?" Nev repeats. "Ah, if I was teasing you, I'd do this."

He winks, stands up, and shimmies his hips along to a nonexistent beat as he turns in a slow circle, the pixels chasing the dark tattoo on his back. Max keeps his head in his hands.

"Sit down," he says, although it loses most of its authority being mumbled against his palm.

"Hey, you could always take your shirt off too. Make it a party," Nev suggests.

"There is no party in me showing off my chest," Max insists, feeling a redness tickle its way up his neck.

"I beg to differ." Nev leans back in his chair, stretching his arms out behind his head. "Those pecks of yours. Mm."

"I'm going to cut you off."

"You wouldn't. I need consoling after a rough day."

"Yeah, you look real broken up," Max says, very dry. He relents. "What happened with the episode?"

"Someone wasn't who she said she was," Nev tells him, instantly sounding much more tired. "A lot younger than she said she was. And definitely not as seriously in love as she said she was."

It sounds like a headache. Nev has gotten used to this—season one was a bit of a different story in terms of the culture shock that went into seeing so many people be so thoughtless—but Max can still tell that it gets to him sometimes. He has a good heart, which is both absolutely horrible and completely admirable.

"Sucks, man," Max says. "Maybe next time."

Nev's face brightens a bit at that. "Yeah, maybe. You know why?" He scoots closer to the camera, grin magnified. "Because you'll be back for the next one. The dream team, together on the road again."

He holds his knuckles out for an imaginary fist bump that Max indulges in for him. Even just the idea seems surreal now—him and Nev in the same hotel room again, sharing a bed and picking out breakfast foods for each other and holding hands over the car console. It's so close.

"Soon," Max says.

"Yeah." Nev pulls back from the camera a bit. "If only there was something I could do to get you here now. In the shower. With me."

His eyebrows do a dance of innuendo and Max hates his life a little bit more. He runs a hand through his hair, the length starting to get a bit unruly on him.

"Think about me when you're soaping up," Max says.

"I will," Nev replies, then leans in until he's giving the camera a kiss that leaves smudges behind.

--

So filming ends up taking longer than expected. Max had promised Nev that he’d be back in time for the sixth episode, no questions asked, with at least a week to spare in terms of free time, and then there are suddenly more days of shooting tacked onto the call sheet and scenes to reshoot and Max is starting to feel like he’s just put himself seriously under the wire.

He obviously doesn’t need a whole week to fly out to Nev, but he was, for obvious reasons, looking forward to the downtime, and all of a sudden an entire seven days worth of lazy sex and slow blowjobs are pushed aside and whittled down into one tiny day. If possible.

He's done with the movie much, much too late. He tells Nev as much through a few phone calls in which he tries to swear to him that the worst case scenario is he shows up the morning they’re set to shoot the email read. It seems to be the only case scenario at one point, except that Max has very strong motivations in terms of getting there at least the night before. At least.

So with little time to spare, he goes home in time to drop off his things, take a long shower, and repack his bags to meet Nev in a hotel. He's tired and also a bit exhilarated after finishing such a huge project, but he has a bigger priority: seeing Nev again. He flies out to North Carolina, catching a late flight out of Los Angeles and managing to sleep off some of his exhaustion in the plane. They’re going to get their one night together, dammit.

On my way, he texts Nev when he gets off the plane and hastens his way to the exit, thanking his ability to travel lightly enough that he doesn't have to stop at baggage claim and waste another half an hour. He's spent a few months away from Nev but now that he's in the homestretch, his patience is wearing thinner and thinner, like every minute is absolutely crucial. He supposes a part of it might come from the fact that once they're both wrapped up in Catfish again it'll get increasingly harder to find the energy or the time to spend quality time together without a camera in their faces reminding them to keep it professional on screen.

So. Tonight is going to count.

Are you serious? Nev texts back, followed shortly by I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow!

Didn't want to wait, Max sends back, hopelessly honest. Every dirty text and sexy phone call and half-naked picture sent his way over the past few weeks is running through Max's head, working him up into a pent-up frenzy of feeling separation anxiety and unsatisfied arousal and missing the scent of Nev's aftershave.

He's hardly sleepy anymore by the time he's in the cab and being driven past icy streets, a stark contrast to the warm beach he's been growing accustomed to. His foot taps an inpatient rhythm against the floor while the car drives through the lit streets, suddenly overwrought with the emotion of seeing Nev again, touching Nev again. He doesn't care what it'll take, they're never going this long without seeing each other again, not if this is the sentimental moron Max turns into when he's away from Nev for too long.

Nev texts him his room number right before Max makes it through the lobby. There's a Catfish production member sitting in the lobby preparing a cup of tea at the beverage station that, under other circumstances, Max would be happy to stop and chat with, but as it stands, he ducks behind a pillar and skirts past him to avoid being seen.

On the third floor, Nev's floor, he can actually feel his heartbeat pounding through the carpet beneath him with every step he takes. He reaches his door, suddenly very aware that only a few inches of wood are now what's separating him and Nev, and knocks.

The door opens a second later. On the chain.

A sliver of Nev's head pokes through the crack. "Oh, hi," he says, smile so wide Max can practically count every tooth. "Let me just hustle my undercover lover out the window."

"Very funny."

The door slams shut on Max, and vaguely through the door, he can hear Nev saying, "Come on. You can give me this after spending all your time around shirtless hunks these last few months."

Max lifts his hand to pound on the door again. "Well, I'm back here now, aren't I?" Where he belongs, his brain chimes in like the sentimental love-struck teenager apparently hidden in the depths of his mind.

The door opens again, this time chainless. Nev stands there, grinning, like he's waiting for Max to give in and magnetize toward him. All it takes is one look at his bare feet and ruffled hair and the last of Max's control crumbles away, and he charges forward to pull Nev into his arms, who responds by laughing in is ear all the while.

"Missed me?"

"I did," Max says into his neck, and presses a kiss behind his ear, instantly getting a whiff of the aftershave he had been thinking about earlier. It's the same, familiar as always.

He pulls back so they can kiss, mouths meeting easily like the last few weeks of being apart have been inconsequential, whittled away into nothing but here and now. Nev opens his mouth under Max's just as Max guides him to the nearest wall, pushing him flat against it to take his time saying his hellos. All of it feels easy, like picking up where they left off.

"We have work to do tomorrow?" Max asks when he pulls back from Nev's lips, freshly reddened from Max's doing. He feels proud of himself at the sight, sliding his thumb over Nev's lower lip.

"Yeah. Headed for Texas." Nev's hands slide into Max's hair as he talks. "Guy named Felipe needs our help."

"But tonight," Max murmurs.

"Tonight is all you and me."

Nev grins again. In the dim light of the bedside lamp switched on around the corner, bathed in a comfortable glow of a promising evening, Max feels a very long list of things he'd like to do with Nev pile up in his head that they definitely won't be able to finish tonight. There's the shower, which could involve some serious heavy petting to start the night off with, or the bed, which is practically beckoning them closer with open arms, and the wild idea of getting on his knees here and now and licking Nev open until he comes just to start the night off with a bang.

All ideas start jumbling together in his brain into one heap of overwhelmed arousal, urging Max just to keep his hands busy touching Nev, reacquainting themselves with his skin. He obeys, sliding closer again until he's back to slotting their mouths together and listening to Nev hum and sigh against his lips.

Nev's hand slides from his hair to his jaw, fingering the collection of stubble there. "Growing a beard?"

Max shrugs. "Thinking about it."

"I like it."

They kiss again. It seems impossible to not be doing so for more than a few seconds at which point it becomes a necessity to be as close as possible, to be getting each other worked up and in person this time. Nev pulls away first, tucking his face into Max's neck and nuzzling him there to breathe in his collarbones, feel the burn of Max’s facial hair on his cheek. Max holds on, hopelessly endeared, and hitches up the back of Nev's shirt so he can touch his back, tracing the bumps of his spine and listening to Nev inhale and exhale against his neck.

Then his hand comes down to Max's thigh, feeling for the seam on the inside of his pants. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"Yes," Max chokes out, and briefly thanks the gods that the bed is only a few feet away.

It's still an uncoordinated stumble, though, what with their inability to let go of each other. Nev has him by a fistful of his shirt and Max has his hands furled around the small of his back, and together they're one clumsy unit tumbling onto the sheets. Nev's chin collides with Max's teeth on accident, which hurts but still draws laughter out of both of them. It feels unbelievably refreshing, being back with Nev and listening to him laugh and doing so with him, holding him by the hips and slotting himself between his legs.

He reaches out and arches up to get himself crucially closer when the laughter subsides, drawing his tongue up Nev's neck to feel the heat of his skin and catalogue every overwhelmed swallow that comes as a result of Max's ministrations. Nev takes a rattling breath, the kind Max knows to mean he's holding back, and leaves a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses up his jugular.

"I'm so glad you're back," Nev gasps out, already sounding a little hysterical. "If I had to jerk off alone in the shower one more time—"

Max smirks, infinitely smug as he gets whenever Nev admits that Max riles him up like a teenager just finding out what the downstairs is for. Max is affected by Nev, always has been, whether it's his dorky smile or his overgrown chest hair or ridiculous talent of slow, intoxicating kisses, and knowing it's reciprocated always feels good. Like they're in this madness together, just like always.

"You have any idea how much I've wanted to touch you these last few weeks?" Nev continues. He sounds like a tormented man dying of thirst, so Max takes pity and gives him another long kiss that seems to temporarily appease him.

"I think I have an idea," Max says. "I mean, all the phone sex gave me some clues."

Nev laughs but turns bright red. He doesn't let Max savor his embarrassment, however, instead firmly rolling on top of Max and straddling his hips. In this position, even with pants on, Max can feel Nev's erection pressing against him, sending him into an erotic tailspin that isn't exactly pleasant when all he wants is to grab Nev by the hair, yank down his pants, and give him the oral sex of his life, while Nev is extremely devoted to the Slow Seduction. Max whines.

"See? You're eager too."

"What a surprise," Max deadpans, then grabs Nev's hip to dig his fingertips in. "Now take off your shirt."

Nev, in a flash of mercy from above, doesn't make it difficult. He follows the order instantly, pulling his shirt off and letting Max run his hand down his chest, remind his palm of the familiar chest hair and the feel of Nev's flexing abdomen. After a few seconds of exploration, Nev stills him by seizing his wrists.

"You too," he demands.

"Then get off of me," Max says, and despite all of his impatient wriggling under Nev's hips, he's incredibly endeared by how reluctant Nev is to do so.

Nev finally rolls off of him, taking the opportunity to slide his pants off at the speed of light like he's racing Max, coaxing him to get undressed faster. Not that he needs much incentive, not when moments after throwing his tee onto the floor the bed bounces and Nev comes up behind him, arms snaked around his chest from behind to skirt over his nipples and flutter over his stomach. Max's coherent thoughts float away from him as Nev trails his mouth up Max's newly bared shoulder to his jaw and the back of his neck, ultimately focusing on the top of his spine.

"I missed you," Nev says, which Max could've sworn he's already said—or perhaps it was Max? He has the distinct feeling he's going to hear it a few more times tonight and doesn't particularly mind. "It's just not the same without you."

Max closes his eyes and lets his head fall back onto Nev's shoulder, letting himself be touched, loved. He hadn't even realized until now how much he had been craving the emotional aspect of sex, of feeling Nev murmur praise into his skin and soaking in the unadulterated affection in all of his deliberate touches. He leans back, scooting closer so Nev's legs bracket his backside and his erection presses up against the curve of Max's ass, pulling a smile out of him.

"Eager, are we?"

He can feel Nev's mouth stretch into a grin on his shoulder. "That, or you're just behind."

He follows up by sliding the palm flat on Max's stomach down to his dick, squeezing him through his pants, which for a hot minute, feel like the most useless invention in the world. Max's hips buck up on their own accord, seeking a firmer touch. He realizes pretty quickly that step one should be removing anything keeping him separated from Nev's hands stat, and he lifts his hips just as Nev frantically unzips his pants for him.

"Off," he demands, twisting his head around enough to catch Nev's mouth with his own. It distracts them for a minute, both of them pouring weeks of sexual frustration into one heated kiss while Max works on perfecting multi-tasking by wriggling out of his jeans and his underwear. Nev's hand, slightly less graceful than Max's, helps along the process, shoving and tugging where need be.

They pull apart when Nev's hand suddenly makes contact with Max's bare dick, his fist wrapping around his cock to slowly slide up and down his length. It's ridiculous how quickly Max melts when Nev's touching him, how he turns into a teenage boy all over again just because Nev's fingers are tracing his skin. An involuntary whimper escapes his mouth.

"You look so good like this," Nev says, his eyes riveted to the way Max's hips rise to meet his hand. "We should've done Skype sex."

The idea of Nev, grainy through the blur of a webcam on his laptop screen, legs apart and head thrown back as he touches himself moaning Max's name is a little too poignant than Max would like. He reaches for Nev's knees, squeezing.

"Stop," he says, lungs raw from lack of breath. Nev has that effect on him. "Get the lube."

"Aww," Nev whines, pressing a kiss to Max's neck. "Wanted to see you come."

Max pulls away, unwilling to let this be over too soon. Tomorrow morning is going to be getting up early and heading back to the airport and getting his camera bags organized again, but right now is about taking his time with Nev and the mattress and all the positions they and it can withstand. He twists around, running his hands down Nev's forearms.

"You can watch me come as you're fucking me," he suggests, squeezing his wrists. He can feel Nev's rapid heartbeat through his pulse point. "How does that sound?"

"Sold," Nev says, bending over the bed to grab his suitcase where it's sitting by the nightstand. Max watches, torn between his impatience and his desire to go slow, body desperately wanting to both hurry and savor. The spectacular view he gets of Nev's ass as he hangs off the bed isn't helping much either in terms of reining in his patience.

Nev resurfaces with a condom packet in his teeth and a tube of lube triumphant in his fist, arching his way back onto the bed. It makes Max laugh, something that always seems to happen during sex between the two of them, and the sound causes Nev to spit out the condom and laugh too, reaching for Max's hip to keep them connected.

"You're a complete dork," Max says, trying to measure the fondness in his voice so it doesn't spill over. "You know that, right?"

"Charmed you, didn't I?"

"It's a mystery to me too."

Nev keeps laughing, the kind of laughter that pulls his mouth apart with a wide, infectious grin. Max can't believe he's feeling the strong urge to start waxing poetic about Nev's teeth, an impulse thankfully curbed when Nev ducks in to kiss him again, and suddenly all laughter is replaced with arousal, rekindled like a fire bursting to life on an oil spill.

The sound of the lube lid snapping open hardly registers with Max's ears as Nev's free hand finds its place back on Max's length, and seconds later, one of his fingers is pressing against his hole. A noise inadvertently runs from Max's mouth straight into Nev's as he pushes in an inch.

"Did you finger yourself while we were apart, Max?" Nev asks on his mouth. "Did you pretend it was me instead?"

Max grabs Nev's hair and gives it the slightest of tugs. "You remember the phone call, don't you?"

Nev's mouth tugs upward at the corners. "I vaguely recall," he says. "You really did it?"

"Actually, I was channel surfing," Max says, and immediately takes it back when Nev's thumb rubs over his opening, teasing the muscle. "Yes, I did it."

There's this ridiculous smile on Nev's face as Max admits it. Nev leans in, dragging his tongue up Max's neck. Max's knees are starting to quiver, holding up his legs just enough to give Nev access to his entrance, and the distractions coming left and right and underneath aren't exactly keeping him at his strongest.

"I like it when you listen to me," Nev says under his ear, mouth hot.

"I like it when you get a move on," Max grits out.

It earns him a raised eyebrow as Nev pulls back, but his wish is heeded: a second later Nev's finger is breaching him properly and sliding in with the ease of lube to slick the way. Suddenly, Max is rather glad that he's been fingering himself open now and again these last few weeks, staying prepped for this very situation. All he knows for sure right now is that the future holds sex, and he's absolutely ready.

The digit inside him is still too slow for Max's liking. Every inch of him feels as if on fire, impatient and hot and itchy for more. He starts rocking downward on Nev's finger, rolling his hips with his movements and pushing down on Nev's pushes upward. Nev's face, suspended by the sight of Max fucking himself on his finger, does the talking for him.

"So I'm the one being fucked for sure tonight, aren't I?" Max asks as Nev slips in another finger, no longer teasing.

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

Nev shoots him a smile; Max removes it with a quick kiss that ends in him tugging at Nev's lower lip with his teeth.

"You're so obnoxious," Max feels the need to say, just so Nev knows that he drives Max absolutely insane. Those jokes, that self-assured smile, the way his fingers are moving inside of him right now. Max's hips jerk.

"Hey, I know you like the bottom," Nev murmurs, and Max can't exactly disagree. "You're already loving this and it's just my fingers." He leans in so his mouth touches Max's ear, voice low. "Imagine how good my cock will feel, huh?"

Max pushes back the impulse to push Nev in the shoulders for being a fucking idiot. "I don't have to imagine," he says right as Nev starts scissoring his fingers. "I've had you inside me more times than I can count."

Nev puts his palm flat on Max's chest. "You didn't count?"

A fucking idiot, really. "So now you're funny during sex?"

"I'm always funny."

Nev ducks in, presumably to shut Max up before another sarcastic comment worms its way out of his mouth, and kisses him as he starts building up a rhythm with his fingers. Max retaliates as best he can, reaching down to pump Nev's length and deepen their kiss with his tongue. A moment later, Nev's kissing skills falter.

"Would you," Nev grits out, sliding away from Max's mouth, "could you not do that for a second?" His eyes drop to the hand wrapped around his erection. "I'm trying to concentrate here."

"Just helping," Max tells him, and doesn't stop.

Nev chokes out a laugh. The extra attention to his dick seems to speed him up, the fingers sliding into Max's hole picking up their pace and crooking, searching for just the right spot. Max feels his body tense at the feeling, the way Nev's fingers feel inside him, how close they are to his prostate, how he's not entirely sure he'll be able to keep it together if Nev finds it.

He does. He knows Max's body much too well, and Max feels the jolt of pleasure run through him like a shake to his every limb that lets Nev know exactly how much power he has over him. He grabs Nev by the shoulders to try and still his fingers, aiming for the same magical spot again.

"Okay, okay," Max pants. "That's enough."

"Done already?"

"Nev," Max manages to grind out just as Nev twists his fingers inside him. "I swear to god."

Nev obliges, taking mercy on Max. He pulls out his fingers and presses a few slow kisses on Max's neck right over his pulse point, probably just to feel him shiver as Nev's fingers slide free. The show goes from on the road to picking up speed, and Max eases things along by lying on his back and spreading his knees.

"Tomorrow night I ride you," Nev promises as he nudges open Max's thighs and settles between them. "Just like I told you I would."

Max gropes along the sheets for the lube until he's pushing it into Nev's hands. "What, in the airplane?"

Nev's eyebrows tilt upward. "Mile high club?"

Max gets an image of a cramped bathroom, sudden turbulence, and the flight crew knocking on the door to be followed by a walk of shame past gathered passengers all giving them the evil eye. He shakes his head. "No. No way."

"So it's a mattress or bust for Max Joseph?" Nev says, uncapping the lube again. "Not very adventurous."

"For fuck's sake," Max groans, wriggling his hips in impatience. He wants to be fucked, he wants to be full, he wants to feel Nev inside him, not dally in witty banter. "Just get inside me already or I'll do it myself."

"Okay!" Nev relents, taking a moment to roll his eyes at the ceiling. Max flicks him in the chest for it, which pulls him back to the task at hand: slicking himself up. His free hand grabs a pillow and nudges it under Max's hipbone. "Lift your hips, babe."

It's Max's turn to roll his eyes. "Stop with the nicknames,” he says, trying not to get distracted by the sight of Nev slowly stroking lube onto his cock. "It's a little too 'high school lovebirds' for me."

"I don't believe you," Nev says, ducking in to plant a short peck on Max's mouth as if to kiss away the frown.

"It's true. It makes me feel like we're—oh."

He stops talking when Nev slides into him without much prior warning, gently easing himself in. The sensations are one thing; the sight of Nev's face, suspended in pleasure while a flush spreads over his collarbones, is another, neither particularly conducive to dragging this out for very long.

And now, one hundred percent focused on the way Nev's gripping him by the waist as he slides into Max, Max is blown away with the force of how much he missed this. Nev. Being that ridiculously close to someone. Wanting to keep them nearby forever.

"Even better than I remembered," Nev says, voice raw, and then has the tenacity to wink.

The rhythm comes to them easily after that, smooth with habit and routine after months of figuring out each other's bodies. Nev pulls out, mouth open and eyes half-lidded, and thrusts back in to meet the rise of Max's hips, following his every move.

And God, something about them just fits. If Max could tell his twenty-year-old self that one day in the not so far future he'd be working with and also be regularly naked with Nev, tiny dorky lanky Nev, he doubts he'd be believed. He has no idea if life turning out this way has been fate or a random curveball or a complete coincidence, but he's glad it is the way it is. He reaches out to slide his hand in Nev's hair right by his ear where the sweat is building up right as Nev pushes back in.

"I should go away more often," Max says, hardly finding the breath to do so, "if this is the sex I get when I come back."

"Don't even dream of it," Nev warns, punctuating his words with a well-aimed thrust. He shifts his legs and grabs Max by the underside of his knees and the next snap of his hips is perfect, pushing fireworks under Max's skin.

He doesn't last very long. He can't, not when every touch feels like Nev's burning his fingerprints into his skin, throwing back all the slightly faded memories of all the times they've touched before, almost like he never left. Nev’s hips know exactly how to ease in and out, keeping Max on the perpetual edge.

"Right there," he instructs when Nev thrusts in and hits his prostate again.

"I got you."

And Max absolutely believes him. Nev has always been good at this, and Max has always been good at matching him, responding to and keeping up with his every move. It's their easy synchronicity in even something as intimate as sex that always leaves Max wondering why it took them this long to get here, why neither of them could figure it out for so long. He curls a hand around Nev's leg, following the motion of his tempo and his hips stuttering upward to chase Nev's dick whenever he pulls out, unwilling to let the heat of Nev being inside him slip away.

"Max," Nev says at one point, and he nearly sounds too breathless to put words together, eyes screwed shit and back hunched over. Max recognizes all of it—the needy pitch in his voice, the redness in his cheeks, the speeding up of his thrusts.

"Come on," Max tells him, thumb coming up to rub over Nev's lower lip, fascinated with the way it rolls out under his finger. "Keep going."

Nev comes first, his body jerking to a stop when he does. The expression on his face is almost enough to push Max those extra few steps to the edge as well, but then to help matters, Nev pulls out the second he's done riding out the waves of his orgasm and slides down Max's chest, keeping eye contact as he takes Max's length into his mouth. It's like an electric shock when Max looks down and takes in the sight of Nev's lips wrapped around his dick, sucking him with an urgency that all but yanks Max closer and closer to his orgasm. He grabs the sheets, curling them in his fists just as Nev's hands run up his thighs.

It's almost sad how fast he's reduced to a quivering mess. It's Nev, and it's the first sex they've had in months, and it's a mouth on his dick, and it's so good. Nev is humming around Max with his tongue flat on the underside, licking him, tracing him.

"Yes, yes, yeah," Max babbles, his hips pushing upward into Nev's mouth. "Nev."

Nev's tongue swipes over the head of Max's erection and suddenly his fingers are toying with the swollen muscle of Max's hole and that's it, he's coming down Nev's throat with an orgasm that feels like sliding into home plate. His hands, white-knuckled and clawed around the sheets, unfurl themselves to land in Nev's hair, petting the tufts by his ear.

The aftermath settles in. It's pleasant, laying here trying to catch his breath while being perfectly aware, if not smug, about the sweat on their bodies and the scent in the air. Nev crawls back up into Max's lazily outstretched arms, tilting into his side.

"I missed this," Nev breathes, chest still heaving as he tips his forehead against Max's shoulder.

Max runs his hands up Nev's back, damp with the lightest sheen of sweat. "I gathered as much."

Nev snorts. "Not just that. This too." He wraps an arm around Max's waist to emphasize his point. "Just being with you."

He lays down kisses on Max's shoulder where he knows he likes to be touched, dragging his lips over his collarbone. It feels like absolutely nothing has changed from the long night of goodbye sex they had before Nev had to start traveling for season four, just like taking a bookmark out of a novel weeks later and being pulled straight back into the action.

He nudges his nose into Nev's hair, soft and gently fragrant with the smell of his shampoo. They're touching everywhere, legs tangled and chests nestled close, almost as if their skin is seeking out as much contact as possible to make up for lost time.

"See any dead relatives when you were coming?" Nev murmurs on his shoulder. "You seemed pretty enthusiastic."

Max pants out a breath of laughter, sliding his arm around Nev's shoulder even though he knows the pressure will pull pins and needles to the surface soon. "You're not lacking any confidence, are you?"

"All I'm saying is it sounded like you were having a pretty good time."

They chuckle. It's always been natural like this for them, even long before the clothes started coming off, and Max is glad that hasn't changed.

"What about you?" Max asks. "Enjoy yourself?"

Nev takes a moment to bite Max's shoulder before answering, tongue flicking out over the mark afterwards. "I almost blacked out," he says.

"Wow." Max feels a swell of pride balloon in his chest with a flush. "So that one's going in the Sex Hall Of Fame?"

"Absolutely."

Nev leans in for another kiss and Max lets it linger for the sheer sake of feeling them slot against each other in all the right sticky ways. There's something sated inside him, content and pleased and satisfied, and it lulls him to sleep better than soft music and warm milk.

--

Max wakes up the next morning to the slow, almost lulling feeling of someone stroking his legs and going progressively higher to his thighs each time. It awakens multiple parts of him at once, and is definitely an improvement over being hustled awake by an alarm clock reminding him that good directors are prompt.

He opens one eye and sees the blurry image of Nev leaning over his bed with a backdrop of incredibly bright sunlight while the hotel coffee maker gurgles in the background.

"Hey," Max says, his voice rumbling with sleep. The first thought that strikes him that he says out loud is, "I missed seeing you in the morning."

"You did?"

"Yeah. All I ever got out of Zac Efron's wake up calls were handjobs and pastries."

Nev pinches him in the thighs. The covers stifle the pain.

"You're hilarious," Nev says.

"I am," Max agrees.

Then he tries to go back asleep. His eyes droop and his head is searching out the pillow, but before he can, Nev is laughing and dragging him up into a sitting position. Max tries to shove him away.

"Come on," he groans. "We don't have to read emails to the camera at the crack of dawn." He grabs Nev's wrist, tugging with as much power he can muster up when he's still so sleepy. "Come here.”

Nev comes willingly, which Max is inordinately pleased by. He gets a knee in the stomach, slightly cushioned by his pile of sheets, as Nev crawls into the bed and molds himself against Max's back, effectively spooning him.

"See?" Max murmurs. "Isn't this nice?"

Nev hums his agreement. Sleepiness aside, Max has other reasons for wanting to stay in his warm cocoons of linens—he knows that the second he gets up, the reunion segues into work and being heckled by the production team and a whirlwind of traveling. Still. It's being near Nev again, so he won't complain too much.

"At least we know we can do it now," Nev says against Max's hair. "Handle all that separation anxiety without you running off and finding yourself a Hollywood star to fulfill your urges."

"You're less high maintenance than the stars," Max says, reaching behind himself to absently pet Nev's thigh. "And my urges are fine. You're the one calling me for phone sex twice a week."

Nev laughs and tugs on Max's shoulder until he relents and rolls over so they're face-to-face. His hand runs down Max's jaw, feeling out his gathered stubble. He leans in and kisses Max, his lips warm.

An insistent knock on the door breaks them apart. Max groans and throws a pillow on top of his face.

"We're wanted," Nev says. "Back to the grind."

He gets up, jostling the mattress as he moves to get the door. Max tries to grab him, reaching out for his arm to yank him back onto the mattress, perfectly aware that on the other side of the door is the end of glorious marathon sex with Nev all over the hotel room. He misses and swipes at the empty air.

He throws the sheets off of himself when he hears Danielle chat with Nev from the hall, whose eyes rivet to Max when he steps, boxer clad, into view.

"Hey Max," she says. "Nice mane. I hear combs do wonders these days."

Max's hand comes up to touch his ruffled hair, briefly catching the humongous smug grin on Nev's face like his hair is a beacon loudly declaring that good sex has been had recently.

"Thanks," Max says. "Miss me?"

"Sure." Her eyes slide to Nev. "Some of us more than others." She grins and claps her hands together. "This is your twenty minute warning and then we're coming in. We still have to go to the airport today, you know."

Max holds back another groan as Nev promises Danielle that they'll be ready and camera-decent soon. The door closes and Max resists the urge to drag Nev back onto the bed and recreate their earlier post-slumber, early morning make out session.

"Okay, I'll get my pants," Max sighs.

"I prefer you without them, but okay," Nev says, making life ridiculously hard on Max as per usual.

Max looks over at him, taking in the barest of pillow lines on his face and the lax, comfortable manner he holds himself with around Max. He can't kid himself—it doesn't matter that he's going to be cramped into an airplane and watching someone undeserving be manipulated online in a few days. He's so unthinkingly happy to be back with Nev.

It must show on his face, as Nev's mouth quirks and he says, "What are you smiling about?"

"Just... I think you're right. That we now know we can do this again." He doesn't say the subtext: the ecstasy of the reunion is absolutely worth the time apart.

"Again?" Nev asks, sounding appalled. "Have you already lined up more directing gigs without telling me? How popular are you?"

"Very," Max says. "But you got me for now."