Andrew was really hoping that no one noticed how hard of breath he and Maxwell were when they arrived. Andrew tried to make sure that the kitchen didn't reek of their actions, but that other parts were quite obvious.
Maxwell looked like he'd been fucked. There was nothing Andrew could do about that. The man normally oozed confidence, sexiness and a cockiness that had most alphas and anyone who saw him with a desire to have him. Now? With his slightly flushed cheeks and that slightly satisfied and dazed look in his eye?
Andrew was a bit worried that the others might think it was okay to touch.
Andrew didn't even consider what he looked like. His glasses were clean, his back burned with the marks Maxwell had made under his shirt and he felt a little naughty walking around with the memory of Maxwell's breath against his throat, his soft cries as Andrew pounded him into oblivion on the kitchen counter.
