Maxwell was in a big, comfy, Andrew sweater and a pair of short shorts. They were expensive, soft, made of a silky fabric that meant he couldn't really wear underwear with them, which meant, if the sweater was pulled up in the slightest, it was a feast for the eyes.
Not that it wasn't already.
Maxwell, in his sweater, those cock-teasing shorts, with soft, dried hair and a sparkle in his eye? Andrew was already hard as a rock all over again.
Andrew wasn't wearing a top, his chest on open display, and was just wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that Maxwell had gotten him. They were done in a simple pattern, green with a mild white. Classic bottoms.
Did Andrew believe for a second that they hadn't cost an unreasonable amount of money? No. That wasn't Maxwell's style. Plus, they weren't itchy, a key sign to Andrew that they weren't cheap.
