(BL)Alpha Made-Chapter 539: Hey, he didn’t throw up
It seemed that Ben had been a little off in his guess, and Andrew had been a bit closer on the money. Maxwell lasted just over half an hour before Andrew decided that time was up, the rest could continue the party, but for his sanity Andrew needed to get the troublemaker tucked into bed for the night.
This was mainly due to the amount of times that Maxwell had wandered over and groped Andrew in front of everyone. Sneaking up behind him, giggling like a fool and just grabbing him. Both hands.
Andrew was thankful it was dark out otherwise everyone would have been able to tell what kind of condition Andrew was in. The man grabbed him one too many times and Andrew spun.
"That’s enough." Andrew’s tone didn’t leave any room for arguments and he bent, shoulder going to Maxwell’s stomach and picked him up. Maxwell let out a screech, getting the attention of everyone else. Maxwell pounded on Andrew’s back weakly while Andrew rose, planting a firm hand on Maxwell’s ass.
Maybe he put his hand down a little harder than normal and heard an indignant sound come from Maxwell’s lips. It was his right. He’d put up with a lot tonight. Just a little tap was fine. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark.
Andrew would save that kind of treatment for when he was sober.
"Unhand me you-you brute!" Maxwell yelled and Andrew gave a bright, pleased smile.
"Apologies, everyone, but we shall take our leave. Thank you for attending our wedding and celebrating with us. Please, continue to enjoy yourselves." Andrew said, turning and moving towards one of the many exits. Everyone said goodnight, waving brightly.
Maria was winking so obviously that Andrew worried she might be hurt. Thankfully, he knew that Zack was nearby. The man had been keeping an eye on his wife, shaking his head with a deep affection that showed he knew exactly who he had married.
Ben, who had been near Andrew’s side most of the night, waved at them as they left.
"Good luck, Max! You’re going to need it!" Ben warned, and Maxwell’s struggles paused for a moment.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Maxwell asked, his speech slurred.
"He’s just trying to antagonise you. You know, big brother stuff." Andrew told him cheerfully as they left the loud, pulsing music behind and entered the rather serene hallways.
"Big brother stuff." Maxwell repeated, playing with the words in his mouth. It was so damn cute that Andrew wanted to squeeze him. Andrew, however, knew he was already playing a risky game by carrying Maxwell the way that he was. The reason for it? He knew that Maxwell would attempt to kiss him if he carried him in his arms like normal. He would try to wiggle his way out of going to bed, and Andrew wasn’t going to have that.
Until he got the man behind closed doors, or the man threatened that he was going to throw up? He was being carried over his shoulder. Andrew felt justified in his discussion as Maxwell reached down and groped his ass.
"You could bounce a coin off of this." Maxwell muttered to himself. Andrew shook his head at his drunken mumbling. "It feels so good inside because of it, right?" Maxwell asked. Andrew was glad that no one else was around to hear them.
"I guess." Andrew said, fairly certain that going into a lengthy conversation with logic was not going to be retained, or even make sense right now.
"How do I feel? I know my ass isn’t as firm. I sit down for a living." Maxwell barely made sense and when Andrew was able to piece together what he was saying, his face warmed.
"We aren’t having this conversation right now." Andrew told him. It might be quiet, but Andrew didn’t trust that for a second. He only knew where he was going because he had walked the route several times during the days they’d had here before everyone else arrived.
He knew that this was going to be his outcome at the end of the party. He wanted to play his role right.
"Why not? It’s a great time to have a conversation!" Maxwell’s voice was loud and whiny, and Andrew was glad that he couldn’t see Andrew smiling. Andrew picked up his pace, wanting to make it to their room quickly.
"Okay, but we don’t need to talk about that. What was your favourite shot of the night?" Andrew asked, hoping that he was distracted enough that he’d change the subject naturally. Maxwell moaned, sounding upset but not like he was going to throw up.
Andrew was hoping that he knew the difference, but it wasn’t like Andrew had been around Maxwell a lot when he was ill. He’d been around Amir more.
"I don’t know. They all tasted the same." Maxwell slurred. Andrew was pretty sure that wasn’t the case, but he wasn’t about to argue with a drunkard.
"Did they? That’s interesting. You were able to make them all taste the same?" Andrew asked. He was kind of pushing Maxwell’s buttons, and from the way that Maxwell squeezed his ass, he was aware of it as well.
"Shut up." Maxwell slurred. "You’re up to no good." He slapped his ass and Andrew chuckled. Thankfully, they were only a few steps from the honeymoon suite and Andrew rushed towards the door.
When he opened it, he was glad to find that he wasn’t going to have to clear the bed of rose petals or something else as ridiculous when Maxwell was this intoxicated.
The room was big, with lots of open space. A small table with two chairs was tucked into a nice nook with a pretty rug underneath. It had some snacks laid out on the table and Andrew was grateful to know that they were there. The large, four-poster bed had red flimsy cloth draped between each post. Enough to add dimension to the bed without getting in the way. The blankets on the bed were red and rich toned. Lots of silk, smooth fabrics that Andrew was sure would feel lovely against his skin.
The hardwood was worn, aged, covered in more pretty, probably expensive rugs. Andrew noted that their bags were in the room as well, tucked next to a wardrobe that was pushed up against a far wall where a door was closed. Andrew assumed that was the bathroom, and with a few steps, Andrew moved and placed Maxwell on the bed.
Maxwell fell over, huffing as he tried to push himself back up. Andrew glanced behind him, wondering if he had to close the door but found the heavy wooden door had already closed. Pausing, Andrew did turn and move towards the door, locking it behind him. He knew that this was the Beckett estate, however, he didn’t want anyone walking in on them at any point. Either at night or in the morning.
"Help!" Maxwell called and Andrew felt his body jerk. He rushed to the other man, worried that something terrible had happened but instead he found that Maxwell had gotten himself caught on his clothes. All of the buttons were too hard for him, and the drunk man looked close to tears. "Andy, help!" Maxwell was shouting, but they were behind closed doors.
Andrew didn’t have to worry that anyone else would hear them.
"Oh Angel, I can help. Come on, let me do that for you." Andrew’s voice dropped into a deeper tone, his panic subsiding as his caring side came out. The silly man. As if Andrew wouldn’t help him undress. He might not touch the man tonight, but he was going to help him. Of course he was.
Maxwell still struggled, still making it difficult for Andrew to help get him undressed. He was practically throwing a fit like a toddler until Andrew had his shirt unbuttoned. Maxwell then turned to his pants, giving frustrated noises as he stripped himself of his clothes. Soon, he was on the bed, only in his underwear which had Andrew’s breath catching.
The man wasn’t going to let Andrew catch a break.
He wasn’t wearing his normal underwear. Of course not. He was wearing this white, lacy thing that had Andrew salivating just at the sight. It cupped Maxwell’s body well, and Andrew could barely breathe as the other man thrashed around.
Andrew was only able to breathe again when Maxwell grabbed onto his shirt, tugging on him and breaking his trance.
"Give me your shirt." Maxwell ordered, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. Andrew just nodded, undoing the buttons on his shirt and then helping Maxwell into the shirt. He even did up the buttons for him.
Andrew stared at the drunk, flushed man, in lacy underwear and Andrew’s shirt and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in to grant him sanity.
"Maxy, are you tired, Angel? You want to go to sleep?" Andrew asked and Maxwell nodded. He rubbed at his eyes.
"I’m tired now. You coming?" He asked, holding out a hand. Andrew, not an idiot, stripped off his pants, grabbed the other man’s hand and turned down the sheets. Soon, but Andrew and Maxwell were under the covers and Maxwell, the alcohol heavy in his system, nuzzled up against Andrew. He wrapped himself around the other man, holding on tight.
The soft exhale against Andrew’s skin, the small twitches as he fell into slumber were a balm to Andrew’s heart. It was so nice to know that Maxwell found comfort in Andrew. It would never, ever grow old to him. His precious husband. His omega. His Maxwell.
He was looking forward to tormenting Maxwell tomorrow, putting on a great show of how they didn’t get to spend their first night together. Making Maxwell feel a little guilty when Andrew knew that there wouldn’t be anything happening between them pretty much from the beginning of the wedding planning. It would just be nice to tease the other man, poke some fun, and watch his ears turn pink.
All while he groaned about his hangover.
A shiver of excitement slid up Andrew’s spine, his hands reflexively flexing on Maxwell’s body and the smaller man let out a small huff. He was excited for their honeymoon too. A nice warm place for Maxwell to escape to. Somewhere they didn’t have to worry about others finding them. A place where it would pretty much be just Andrew and Maxwell outside of the staff that were hired to take care of the property.
The exhaustion of the day was slowly making Andrew’s eyes close. He knew he should have taken the contacts out of his eyes, but there was no way that he could wiggle himself out of Maxwell’s hold now. He just hoped it didn’t hurt him.
