Chapter Text
"Fourth Floor, Going Down."
You glance up from your phone and do a double take, standing up a little straighter when you see the man getting into the elevator with you.
He smiles politely, but doesn't pay you much mind, more focused on the large dog he has leashed by his side.
It's your new neighbor. You'd watched him move in last weekend. You look at him out of the corner of your eye. He glances your direction and you hurry to look interested in your phone.
Dammit. Why can't you just flirt with someone like a normal person?
His dog bumps into your leg and you stumble a bit in your high heels, catching yourself against the wall.
"Sit!" he commands in a deep tone that brooks no arguments.
Without thought to what you are doing, you find yourself kneeling on the floor, eye to eye with his Great Dane.
He lets out a surprised laugh to find you both sitting at his feet. You pray for the floor to open up beneath you and swallow you whole.
"First Floor, Going Up."
He reaches down to help you to your feet, but seeing an exit, your panicked mind urges you to run. You scurry out of the opening elevator doors and onto your feet, trying to out run your humiliation.
"It was nice meeting you!" he calls out after you, voice light with amusement.
~~~
You manage to avoid him for nearly a month, mostly by taking the stairs. You tell yourself that you're doing it for the exercise, not cowardly avoiding the attractive man you'd humiliated yourself in front of.
However today, arms full of groceries, you take the risk.
Just as the elevator doors are closing, a hand shoots between them. They open again to reveal your hot neighbor. A delighted smile breaks out across his face on seeing you.
Your face feels hot and you quickly lower your eyes. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
"Sit," he orders and you flinch. Your wide eyes find his and they're full of mischief. He reaches a hand down to pet the dog sitting obediently at his feet.
"I said, sit." His tone is light and teasing, its a joke.
If you were cool, you could have laughed it off, flirted back, made it into some kind of innuendo.
Instead, in your panic and uncertainty, your-stupid, stupid-mind latches on to the one thing you're being told to do. You sit.
It's even more humiliating for it to happen a second time. Especially when your hot neighbor lifts his eyebrows in disbelief.
You can't take it anymore. You burst into tears.
"Oh no! I'm sorry. I was just teasing, trying to flirt with you," the man says, sounding apologetic. He reaches down to pull you to your feet.
"Let me carry those for you," he says, taking the bags from you with just one hand and offering you the other in a handshake. "I'm Max, by the way."
"Sadie," you whisper, still unable to meet his eyes. His grip on your hand is firm, his forefinger ghosting across the pulse point in your wrist.
"This is Emma," he says nodding towards the large dog. Her thick tail slaps against the side of your leg as she wags it.
"Eighth Floor, Going Down."
You startle as the doors open at your floor. Max laughs and guides you out of the elevator, a hand on the small of your back, Emma following the two of you.
He leans against your door frame watching as you fumble to get your keys out and unlock it. Christ, you like to think you aren't usually this awkward, but you just can't seem to pull yourself together around this man.
"May I?" he asks with a lift of an eyebrow. He takes your keys before you respond and-of course!-unlocks it on the first try. He holds the door open for you and you hurry in, grateful for an open escape route.
Only the horror show that is your social ineptitude doesn't end. Max follows you inside and puts your grocery bags on the kitchen island.
"Thank you," you rush to say, seeing the end in sight and eager to get this man out of your apartment so you can spend the next few hours agonizing about this encounter.
"No," he cuts you off, looking apologetic, "Its the least I could do. I shouldn't have teased you like that. I'm sorry."
"I think I smell," he leans over the grocery bags taking a deep breath, "garlic, tomatoes, Parmesan. Let me cook for you."
"Sure," you hear yourself saying.
Taking that as carte blanche, Max gets to work. He puts away your groceries, making a pile of the ones he plans to use on the island. Then he starts opening cupboards and drawers and pulling out additional things he needs.
He's already chopping vegetables by the time you realize you've done nothing but stare at him for the last five minutes, mesmerized by the efficiency of his movements.
You jerk your eyes away from him and they land on Emma who's made herself at home on your kitchen floor. She looks up at you mournfully and rolls on her back, presenting her belly to you for a pet.
You let out an amused breath and drop to your knees. Emma's tail slaps hard against the floor as you scratch all those hard to reach places.
"So you'll get on your knees for Emma too? Here I thought I was special," he teases.
"Here, try this," he says bringing a piece of cooked meat to your lips. You open your mouth automatically and his fingers slip in with the morsel, lingering on your tongue. You look into his eyes and find them on fire, locked on the movement of your lips.
"To your taste? Or do I need to add more garlic?"
"It's good," you say in a high breathy voice.
You relax again once he goes back to cooking. Emma is quick to demand more petting, placing a paw on your leg and giving you another mournful look.
You let yourself watch him. You still feel the heat of humiliation from earlier, but your desire to flee is fading. From the look you caught in his eyes, your whole awkward bumbling idiot routine does something for him. Thank god, because you don't know if you'll ever be able to act cool around this impossibly hot man.
Max fills one of your old bowls with a portion for Emma and sets it down on the floor next to the two of you. Emma wags her tail but waits until Max gives her the order to 'eat' before she digs in.
"Are you going to eat down there with Emma?" he teases before offering you his hand.
"This is delicious!" you say once seated at your little dining room table, bringing another bite of pasta to your lips.
"I'm glad you like it." Max had plated a much larger portion than you would normally eat, but you find yourself cleaning your plate. "Let me get you a second helping!" You try to refuse, but Max insists.
You've never been good at small talk, but Max either doesn't notice or doesn't mind. He's happy to steer the conversation for you both, asking you questions and telling you a bit about himself. He's much easier to talk to than you would have expected.
"So, I know it's rude to invite myself to your wine, but I saw a bottle of Sweet Riesling in your fridge. Can I pour us both a glass?"
You end up sipping your way through several glasses, chatting with Max on your couch.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you this past month," he whispers against the shell of your ear. He has a hand on your thigh sliding up under your dress. "You were so pretty getting on your knees for me."
You groan and hide your face in his neck. "Oh my god, I didn't mean to do that!" you whine, feeling mortified.
"You just couldn't help yourself?" he asks, fingers tracing along the edge of your cotton panties.
"God, that sounds so pathetic," you complain against his shirt.
"It wasn't pathetic, it was the hottest thing that's ever happened to me," he says.
"Look," he says pulling back from you to look you in the eyes, "Some people in this world are submissive, some people are dominant. I know where I stand and I'm pretty sure I know where you stand too. That's nothing to be ashamed of."
You bite your lip instead of responding, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. He looks you up and down thoughtfully, then looks to the floor. A wicked smile spreads across his lips.
"Kneel," he commands in that same steely tone from the elevator. You flinch, hesitating for a second, but he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at you and your scrambling off the couch to kneel at his feet.
He lets out a delighted laugh. You feel both mortified and happy that you've apparently pleased him.
"What a good girl you are!" he says, leaning down with his elbows on his knees to bring you into a kiss.
It's interrupted by Emma making her way over to you and placing her cold nose against your shoulder.
"No," Max says sternly, though obviously trying not to laugh, "you had all that time with her while I cooked and now it's my turn. Go lay back down," he orders, pointing to the other side of the room. Emma obeys, trudging back to her spot on the rug, looking back at the two of you mournfully.
You catch each other's eyes and laugh. You look down, growing self-conscious about your place at his feet. Deep down, you're afraid all of this is a joke. You can't believe someone like Max would be interested in you.
Max just cups your cheek, bringing your eyes back up to his.
"Let me take you out for dinner tomorrow," he says.
"Okay," you say obediently.