Maxwell was covered in sweat and several other body fluids. He knew it had only been a few hours since the rut had suddenly manifested but he knew that Andrew meant his words. How?
Well, it was the way that Andrew's gaze watched him. The way every touch was possessive, intentional, and the fact that Maxwell's skin was covered in marks. He had always marked up easily, but Andrew was making a dedicated effort this time.
He was staying away from his neck, but there was a very dangerously close soft bite mark near his shoulder that told him exactly what Andrew was preventing himself from doing. Maxwell didn't care, of course, but he just knew that Andrew would kick himself if they did it when he wasn't himself.
Especially because of a rut caused by someone else's pheromones. That was an annoying thing to think about, but Maxwell was doing his best to ignore it. Andrew was Andrew, he was Maxwell, and this was how they did things.
