Private Lessons
Summary: When posed with a question from a perseverant reported, Max is overcome by curiosity and goes to Rick for help. Rick/Max yaoi
Disclaimer: Screaming fangirls, mild swearing, boy-kissing
Warnings: I do not own anything.
A/N: Writing one-shots are addicting. And because I'm going on vacation tomorrow, I won't be updating my chaptered fic in a little while, so I'm posting this to make up for it. This is a Rick/Max pairing, only because I couldn't resist. I was supposed to be eating dinner, but instead I came up with this piece of crap. Don't shoot me if you hate it, I did warn you.
--
Private Lessons
The hoards of screaming girls were enough to deafen anybody within a five mile radius. As The All Starz stepped off their plane and out of the airport, fans and news reporters started pushing to try and get closer to them. Questions were being flung at them like bombs; what did winning feel like? Rick, what kind of stereo is that? Max, what's your favourite cereal brand? Are any other members of The All Starz jealous of your two? Judy was trying her hardest to keep her precious baby son and team away from the vile, cruel creature that was media, but it didn't stop them from hearing the rather odd questions.
"Emily, do you ever feel weird you're the only girl on the team?" A reported asked.
Before Emily could speak up, somebody else butted in. This time, a screaming fan. "I LOVE MICHAEL!" she screeched, while a dozen other girls cheered.
Max shot a look at Michael to find that the baseball player was flushing hard and signing as many autographs as he can. He didn't hide the fact that he was obviously pleased.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get a load of him," Max heard Rick mutter.
Somebody with a giant camera jumped in front of Max and Rick, "Smile, boys! What was it like to be chosen to represent your team?"
"Well we-" Max began, as the camera flashed. He was interrupted by another reporter, "Rick, is your hair really white?"
"None of your business," Rick growled.
"Eddie! What's it like being out of the spotlight?"
"Enough," Judy said, steering her team away from the crowd, "We have to go."
"Judy! Would you rather be a good coach, or a good mother?"
Another group of girls were waiting for them, "Oh my God, Max!" One cooed.
"Isn't he cute?" The other one gushed.
Max signed a few autographs and a pair of breasts, all while blushing furiously.
"Max!" Somebody yelled, "What are your thoughts on making out?"
"I said enough," Judy said sharply, grabbing Max by his shoulders and guiding him through the crowd. The rest of The All Starz followed.
But in the limousine, Max's head was still ringing with the last question that really couldn't be answered.
--
At the hotel, The All Starz were waiting for the rooming list. "Okay," Judy squinted her eyes at the list, "Max, you're rooming with Rick tonight."
Max's eyes widened. He didn't want to room with Rick. He had a feeling the older teenager didn't like him. "Why?"
"Because I'm rooming with Emily," Judy explained, "And Michael will room with Eddie. This way, Emily won't have to room with boys."
Emily stuck her nose in the air. Michael made a gagging noise and Max bit back a laugh.
Judy placed her hand on her son's shoulder, "Are you going to be alright?"
"Yes Mom," Max smiled. "I'm not five years old."
Judy laughed, "Well, okay! Then I guess we can go to our assigned rooms and unpack." Before Max left, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, "Max, listen to me," She said sternly, "I know you're all grown up, but really, if you feel uncomfortable or bullied by Rick, don't hesitate to tell me."
Max snorted. Like he was going to run to his mother's room crying when Emily was there. "Don't worry about it, Mom, I'll be fine."
He grabbed the team's beyblading equipment as a favour for his mom. Then Max made his way to the elevator. The rectangular, metal box was heavy, all the spare beyblade parts were stored in there too. When the doors opened, he tried to carry it inside, but apparently he was too small to move it.
Out of nowhere, Rick came into the picture and picked up the equipment like it was a plastic bag full of air. He walked into the elevator and held it open so the blonde could run in.
"Thank you," He said gratefully, hitting 'twelve' and sagging against the wall.
Rick just shrugged, "Don't mention it." He promptly dropped the box back into Max's arms, causing the smaller boy's knees to buckle at the weight. He chuckled, "Are you okay?"
"Fine," Max gasped out, trying to lift the box. Where were all his muscles he developed from training? "What's in this thing?"
"Just a few parts, a couple of launchers, and some attack rings." Rick shrugged, "Oh, and my stereo."
Max dropped the box. It landed on the elevator with a bang, and the whole thing shook. "Your stereo?" He replied weakly.
"Yes," Rick said, looking annoyed, "And be careful with that."
When they reached their floor, Max had resorted to pushing the equipment to their room. Unfortunately, doing it on a carpeted floor was a tough task and by the time they reached they room, Max was drenched in sweat.
"Oh for crying out loud," Rick muttered, pulling Max off the box and picking it up, "You're so weak."
"I'm not weak!" Max protested, "I just. Can't do that." He noticed that Rick had carried up his bag as well as his own. Max was immensely grateful.
They settled down on the separate beds, each to their own. Rick had jammed some headphones on his ears and lay back, closing his eyes. Max turned on the TV and started channel surfing.
They were all boring shows, some craft shows and something on antiques. Max didn't want to watch anything his grandmother would watch. Suddenly, the channel surfing stopped at a movie. Apparently the scene was a good one, because the male and female on the screen had their mouths glued together in a kiss.
Max's head spun as he remembered the reporter's question. 'What are your thoughts on making out?' Well, he didn't know, mainly because he'd never done it before.
That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Max Tate, champion Beyblader, never made out with anybody before.
He had to be prepared next time he was asked that question. Maybe he could ask somebody to give him a hand. Tell him what it feels like. Or show him. He thought hard. He couldn't ask Eddie, Eddie was too quiet. He couldn't ask Michael-albeit the baseball player was good-looking, but probably so cocky he'd naturally assume Max was in love with him. He couldn't ask Emily, she would broadcast it all over the internet and then possibly punch him.
That left one person. Max looked over at Rick, who conveniently happened to be rooming with him.
Rick. He could ask Rick. Rick wasn't the nicest guy on earth, but Max knew he wouldn't tell the world. And chances are, he wouldn't say no. Rick Anderson, tough, wouldn't back down from something as trivial as a make-out session. And Rick wasn't unattractive. In fact, the more Max thought about it, the more he noticed that Rick was rather handsome, in this rugged, street-fighting way. His dark skin and toned muscles definitely attracted the ladies.
As Max was thinking this, the washroom door opened. He looked to see that Rick had changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He looked a lot younger, not to mention less intimidating. Maybe he wouldn't beat Max to a pulp. He decided to take a shot.
"Hey Rick?" He asked hesitantly. Rick grunted, while rummaging in his luggage for something. Max noticed it was another set of headphones and decided to talk quickly before the older male was temporarily deafened. "Can I ask you something?"
"You already did," Rick said, turning to look at him, "But I'll let it slide."
"Right." Max frowned, "You know, the reporters today? They were pretty crazy."
"Oh yeah, don't listen to what they say, Maxie." Rick replied dismissively, "You shouldn't let them get to you."
"Uhh..." Maxie? Nobody except his mother and The Bladebreakers called him Maxie. "But you know that one reporter? The last one? Who asked me what my thoughts on making out were?"
"Yes…" Rick said slowly, straightening up to look at him. "And?"
"Well, the truth is…" Max chewed on his bottom lip, "I…NeverexactlydiditsoIdon'tknow."
Rick looked at him, "Uh, what?"
"I never did it," Max said, louder now, "So I don't know."
There was a brief silence where the older male looked at him for a while. Then he burst out laughing. It wasn't the quiet, snickering laughter he so often made at some of the bladers in the tournament, it was full-on, holy crap you crack me up laughter.
Max crossed his arms, embarrassed and offended, "You know what? Never mind." He turned to leave. Where to, he didn't really know, considering it was a hotel, but he could probably make a grand exit.
"No, Max, wait!" Rick called, still holding onto his sides. "I'm sorry."
Max was surprised, he wasn't aware that the other blader knew the word.
"It's just kind of funny," Rick wiped his eyes, "How the reporter expects you to even know what making out means! Innocent little Max, somebody who wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Hey!" Max defended, "I'm not that innocent."
Rick smirked, "Really? So why are you telling me all this, then?"
"Well…" Max tried to find the right words, "I was wondering if you could help me out?"
He saw Rick's eyes widen and continued, "Because…You know, I'm supposed to know how to do this, right? I mean, I am a sport's star."
"You're a fifteen year old who wears socks with flip-flops." Rick couldn't help himself.
Max flushed, "It was one time!" He shouted.
"How am I supposed to help you out?"
He shrugged, "Maybe…Tell me?"
Rick sat on the edge of his bed, "Making out…" He narrowed his eyes, "Making out is…Making out is like dancing in the rain. It's like…It's like lily pads in swamps. It's like ice cream on a hot day and roasting marshmallows in the fire."
Max didn't get it. "I don't get it."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know," he fidgeted, "Maybe…Maybe show me?"
Rick looked at him, this time in horror. He got up.
"I mean, it's not like that!" Max blurted out, "I mean, I don't want…I'm not gay. At least, I don't think I am. I just…You know? I just. Think of this as a learning experience for me. I don't want to sleep with you or anything. I just want to know. Right? I mean, my first time doesn't have to be anything special…"
He was still ranting he didn't noticed Rick walking over to him.
"…And I thought, why not? Right? You're older, you've got more experience, chicks probably throw yourselves all over you so why can't I-" He was cut off by the feel of Rick's mouth, warm and firm, over his own.
It was different than the kisses he got from his mother and grandmother. This was definitely different. Rick's mouth was hot and slightly wet, pressing tempting against Max's own. He felt the other blader slip out his tongue and probe Max's panting mouth and opened it welcomingly. He let his arms slip up Rick's muscled onse and encircle them around his neck, still surrendering to the feeling of the older blader's mouth. It was perfect, hot and a little messy, as Rick licked his plump lower lip and pulled away.
Max realized that his eyes were still half closed and he was panting. He tried to stop. It didn't work.
"Well, champ," Rick laughed shakily. He, Max was pleased to notice, was trembling slightly, his arms still around Max's waist. "You got your first kiss. Good?"
Max didn't answer, just pressed his mouth curiously against Rick's again, a little desperate. He made a slight noise in the back of his throat and pressed harder against the other blader's body. Opening his mouth, he let his tongue slip out, intertwining with the other one in a wicked, sensual dance.
They kissed for what seemed like ages, Max eventually settling onto Rick's lap, legs on either side of his strapping waist, giving himself completely up. It was funny, just by a little use of tongue; Max had turned into a hot, quivering mess.
To both of their displeasure, Rick finally pulled away, breathless. "I think Judy's calling us down for dinner," he said as the phone rang.
Max unattached himself from Rick's body and exhaled shakily, "Well, should we go?" He asked, feeling rather stupid.
Rick was staring at his mouth. Max knew it was probably just as swollen as the older boy's and fought the urge to throw himself into his arms for another kiss.
They were the last ones down at the lobby for dinner.
--
Two weeks later, The All Starz stepped off the plane and was once again attacking by fans, photographers and interviewers.
"You guys, what happened to Steven?"
"Michael, will you marry me?"
"Emily, are you still the brains of the team?"
"Rick, what attracts you most to a member of the opposite sex?"
Max heard Rick say, "I'm kind of into blondes," and bit back a laugh. He squeezed his arm and went over to sign a few autographs.
As he was turning down many product endorsements and marriage proposals, Max was on his third pair of breasts when a reporter approached him. "Max, boy, what are your thoughts on making out?"
Max grinned, knowing the whole team was listening, "Making out is like dancing in the rain. It's lily pads in swamps. It's like ice cream on a hot day and it's like roasting marshmallows in the fire."
And the reporter bought it all.
--
End
Ha ha! I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love Rick/Max, but I've never read any, unfortunately. Max just strikes me as the kind of person to wear socks and flip flops. Hope you liked, feedback and comments are more than welcome!