Andrew the milk man (m)

"W-Wait! A-Andrew!" Andrew drew his attention up to the mirror, licking his lips as he pulled back so that he could make full, unbroken eye contact with Maxwell. 

The man looked desperate. His eyes were watering. His fingers were white and clawed where they gripped onto the edge of the counter. His lips looked wet, and a little bruised and his legs shook. 

Andrew grinned, and Maxwell's watering eyes went wide. 

"Do you hate what I'm doing? Do you want me to stop? What seems to be the problem, Maxy?" Maxwell's cheeks flushed at Andrew's teasing, deepening voice. Andrew licked his lips, his hands squeezing the flesh under them. 

"I don't hate it, but my legs are-"