Never Surrender

Max stood in front of her in his hoodie and shorts and stared at her like he'd never seen her before. It surprised her and made her nervous, but the look was something that she never wanted to end. She blinked when Max motioned her forward and took her hand. He didn't brush the towel from her body or press her damp hair back out of her face, instead, he rested her hand on his side, over the cloth of the hoodie and met her eyes.

"Go ahead," he said, not moving his foggy eyes away. The rest of the explanation was clear on his face. Kennedy swallowed. She'd touched Max's skin with her own hundreds of time. She'd slept next to him a thousand times while he sweated through his shirt due to heat and discarded all but his shorts to the carpet.

But something had changed. "Max," she whispered, looking up at him. Her voice was raggedy and it charged every millimeter of Max's skin. He nodded and pressed his hand on hers until her fingers disappeared under the cloth.

The feel of her fingers on his skin made his knees weak and his jaw clenched in agony as he struggled desperately to hold himself still. His bones felt hollowed out, like she took all the weight right out of him and he might just disappear. But when she moved her hand to his clenched jaw and her towel slipped just an inch down her body - held up only by being tucked in on itself - Max's bones were solid again as if filled with cement and anchored to the ground.

Kennedy's fingers spread over his face. Her heart was slowing as she studied him. She moved both her hands to his hoodie and pulled it up over his slim waist. He lifted his arms and ducked his head, and he stood in front of her in just shorts.

She had heard him gasp when her towel slipped down and it empowered her. She lightly trailed her fingers over his cheek and then his mouth. His lips separated and then he bit the right side, not even noticing. At the sight of him, his hair on his bare shoulders, his shorts low on his lips and his pale lip between his teeth, she pushed up onto her toes and pressed herself against him in order to touch his mouth with her own.

Max didn't bend down to her, he didn't really need to; their height difference was minimal, but she was delicate, small boned, much like he was. The simple feel of just a towel between their bodies was driving Max crazy' however, and he didn't move in fear of taking it too fast. Slowly, his fingers moved to the back of her neck and he pressed lightly on her spine. She gasped for air through the simple kiss and then her arms wrapped around his neck, the towel held to her only by their bodies.

Max wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her against him as hard as he could. He stepped towards her, forcing her to step back, and then again, and then they were backed up against the edge of the bed.

"Kennedy," Max whispered, opening his eyes to look at her face. When she met his eyes, he asked, "Are you sure?" He was nervous for her and he couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was entirely afraid of taking something from her that she could never get back.

But she nodded and tried to show him the determination in her eyes. "Max, I swear I want this," she promised, touching his face, "You're the person that I trust most in the world."

Max hesitantly kissed her. It was the first time he'd initiated anything and she reacted just as softly, but more confident than him. He sat on the edge of the bed and Kennedy slid down next to him. She let him fall over her and the towel fell open at her side, showing skin all the way down.

Max tried to keep his eyes from the strip skin at her chest and leaned down to kiss her instead. Having felt the towel fall, Kennedy pushed back on Max's chest, which was pressed to her and lightly spoke his name.

"Max," she murmured, looking up at him through the dim lighting.

He stared down at her, blinking in response to his name.

He held himself up and she reached across her stomach and grabbed the edge of the towel. She slid off her body and Max sucked in a breath. He was about to kiss her again, but Kennedy grabbed his face.

"What are you thinking?" she asked shyly.

"That you're beautiful," he whispered. When he saw the reluctance in her eyes, his jaw fell just slightly when he realized that she didn't believe him. "Ken, you're fucking gorgeous," he uttered. He had told her that before and she'd always laughed it off, but in this setting, when she was so fucking gorgeous, it pained him that she honestly didn't believe his words.

He wondered, so abruptly, who had hurt her so terribly that she couldn't see herself as she did. He had heard everything about each man that came and went into her life, but now, he wondered if she'd left out the most terrible details in order to spare him rather than console herself.

They been together for what seemed like an eternity. He was her safety net and he loved it. It was selfish, yes, because he coveted their time together, but she needed him too and he reveled in that.

Rather than making her explain her pain to him, he kissed her skin and showed her just how beautiful she really was to him. He could never dream of hurting her and couldn't imagine that anyone else would either. He went slow with her, discarding their items to the ground. She blushed and rolled her eyes at herself, embarrassed. Max led her through it, whispering words to encourage and make her brave.

Kennedy lost herself in him. She pressed her finger tips into his skin and cried out in pain, and then pleasure. It wasn't something she ever felt before and she couldn't imagine that anyone but Max could make her feel this way. She was comfortable around him, when things were awkward, they laughed it off and he tried his best to be sweet to her.

She could see that he wasn't used to this, but he handled their situation well. Softly, slowly - he was the strong. He held himself back to make it perfect for her.

Kennedy cupped the back of his neck and breathed out her words. "I want you to enjoy this too," she said trying to sound confident although her blush betrayed her.

Max kissed her softly, and nodded.

He quickened his pace, but watched her to make sure she was okay. He kissed all the skin he could reach and she tangled her fingers into his hair as it fell around his face. Max pushed hers back, sprawling it out over the pillow and Kennedy pulled him close, unable to vocalize any part of how she felt, how he was making her feel.

She was smart enough to understand that sex created attachments and when they were laying together, Max's arms wrapped around her as he dozed, she tried to push away the thoughts she was having about him the feelings for him; claiming it was only a reaction to what they just shared. She figured that she could ignore it and it would be gone in the mornings. Much like the other times she felt this was about the bassist.

Through the threat of sleep, Max opened his eyes and looked at the dark-haired woman. The comforter was pulled up over them and around her shoulders and underneath his fingers played on her skin.

"Kennedy," he whispered through the dark, "Are you okay?"

She nodded and he felt her reply.

Max sat up and yawned. His hair was in tangles and he didn't bother with it. Ordinarily, Kennedy would fight him to put it up, but tonight was different. Tonight she reveled in his care-free ways.

"Really," he said, his voice deep with tiredness, "I just want to know that you're fine. If you need anything, I can get it for you, Ken. Don't even think it'll bother me."

She shook her head and pulled his arm so he could lay back down beside her. She could feel the cool air seeping in from the raised blanket and shivered. Max slowly dropped down next to her and wrapped an arm over her stomach.

"I'm fine, really, Max," she promised, turning just slightly to look at him. "It was different than I thought it would be, but perfect, because of you."

Max looked up to the canopy in a thinly veiled attempt at dodging her words.

Kennedy reached over their bodies and touched his face, forcing him to look at her again. "Believe me, Maxwell," she spoke, dark eyes to hazy ones, "I'm never going to forget or regret tonight and that's because of you. All because of you."

Max kissed the side of her face. "I can't imagine why someone better hasn't come along and swept you off your feet yet. There are a million guys out there who want you."

She flattened her hair against the pillow as she shook her head. "Not in the way I wanted them," she said even softer, "They wanted all of me, in everyday but the one I wanted. The men I've dated only ever wanted my mind and my body."

"What else is there?"

"They couldn't see me, Max," she said, subdued and talking nonsense.

Max frowned and listened to her as though she was drunk and exhibiting her usual Freudian Slips. He listened to her tiredly ramble about the men that looked at her like she was invisible. They couldn't see her, yet they couldn't see through her. She was both thankful and upset by that, wishing only for someone to come along and see her the way that Max had for all those years. Like a child, she spouted whatever was on her mind, and Max listened through his own exhaustion.

"I love you, Maxie," Kennedy said finally, rolling over so that her chest was against Max's, "I don't know what I would do without you. You've given me everything."

He wrapped his arms around her back and tried not to take the words to heart. In reality, she had given him everything. She was the one who bought him clothes and restocked his fridge whenever she came over and disapproved of how thin he was. She gave him substance, made him feel real, and weighted him to the ground.

What he felt for her could never be replicated, and as she fell asleep on him like she knew he would keep her safe, he wondered how changed things would be in the morning and hoped for two out of countless situations to occur.

"I love you, too," he whispered and he tried to mean it in the same way she did, even though her body was against his and turning off his feelings was only going to get harder from then on out.