A pouting man

It was another day of Maxwell doing work from the bedroom, but this time, Andrew did feel a little responsible. Maxwell had given him permission, but about halfway through, Maxwell had passed out. 

Apparently, Andrew had been a little too intense. 

Andrew had stopped counting how many times Maxwell had cum after the fifth time, and poor Maxwell was sat glaring at Andrew, his cheeks flushed and several new hickies all over his neck and shoulders. 

Andrew did feel a little bit bad, but he also felt…satisfied in a way he couldn't put into words. When Maxwell wasn't looking at him, glaring at him, he was smiling to himself at the memory. 

It was also good because Maxwell had woken up out of his heat. He was now free of it, and Maxwell told him that it was the fastest he'd ever fully come out of his heat. Small victories, right?