Just Tonight.

Ronnie is a liar.

He knows this. Max knows this.

But that does not stop Max from drinking up his lies like the sweetest, most sinful nectar.

Neither of them are sure what time it is, and, to be honest, it really doesn’t matter. Darkness coats their movements in a shroud of tantalizing mystery, and that protection is all they need.

Max’s body is warm and soft against Ronnie’s own, and he can’t help thinking that maybe, if things had turned out differently…

But no. Those thoughts only cause the sort of pain and confusion that he can’t afford to feel right now.

Max’s soft, panting breaths fill the hotel’s corridor, and Ronnie realizes that his own gasps are louder now, too, twining and mingling with Max’s in a messy symphony of ecstasy.

Their bodies are hot and sweating, clothing uncomfortably restrictive as they strain to get closer, closer, until Ronnie wonders if they will just meld together into one, an eternal fire never quenched.

Max is whimpering now, gasping and moaning as Ronnie’s hands slip down into places they really shouldn’t be. His slender neck, so red and raw from his recent tattoo, is grazed by soft, plush lips that send shivers down his spine.

Ronnie lets go of him then, giving him a reassuring smile as the younger boy sways back against the wall, hazy eyes full of unsatisfied lust.

There is fumbling, hasty and clumsy, and then the door is open and Ronnie is wondering whether that last drink was one too many after all, but then it just doesn’t matter because Max’s lips are on him again, teeth clashing, hands grasping.

Soon their clothes are gone, falling away from heated skin like so much irrelevant fiber, and they are falling onto the bed, sweat-slicked skin rubbing together, legs tangling.

And then there is heat around him, and Ronnie vaguely wonders how Max continues to stay so goddamn tight, but oh fuck it just doesn’t matter because it feels so good, so good, and for a fleeting moment, he feels as if he’s missed this.

They are loud, too loud, they both know this, but it doesn’t matter. For tonight, just tonight, they are the only two in existence, perfectly fitting pieces of one puzzle, complete in one way and alone in all others.

Max mewls, dull fingernails scraping skin as his hot breath brushes Ronnie’s cheek, green eyes hazy, full lips swollen, and somewhere in the back of Ronnie’s mind, he thinks that he has never seen anything more beautiful.

And then Max is screaming, head thrown back, hair splayed across the pillow as his muscles clench around Ronnie and his hot euphoria spills across soft skin. Ronnie does the same, filling the younger with a mess of himself as cries spill from his lips and his fingers bruise porcelain hips.

Then they are side by side, twisted and tangled in the sheets and each other, and Max’s soft, scratchy voice fills the warm, still air.

“Do you love me, Ronnie?”

Ronnie looks at him for a moment, so open and vulnerable against the startling white of the pillows, eyes open and earnest, and he realizes that he just can’t be the one to destroy that sort of innocence, not now.

“Yeah, Max. I do”

Max smiles then, a real smile, full lips parting to expose a flash of gleaming ivory. He is so pure, so trusting.

But there is something in his eyes, submerged so deeply in pools of emerald that Ronnie can just barely see it. It is the part of Max that knows, the part buried deep within his heart that wonders.

But Max will not doubt. Ronnie knows this all too well.

He will not doubt, not tonight, encased in warmth and a cheap imitation of perfection, protected and consumed by naïve bliss and contentment.

Not until tomorrow, when he wakes up to a cold, empty bed, will he realize, will he break.

Ronnie is a liar.

Max believes.