Branded for Slaughter

The clock stopped... 74 minutes past 18...it was time to get up. Bleary-eyed, Max set the covers to the side, swung his legs over the bed, and stretched, then looked behind him, smiling to himself when he saw his boyfriend was still sleeping. He stared at Hugo, lost in the darkness of his curled, dark gray hair, the peaceful expression on his perfect, tan face. Then, Max stood, and quietly dug around in the closet. He had to get ready for work. He'd been a news reporter for about three years now, and honestly, he enjoyed his job. It was never boring, with something new to report everyday. Plus, it let Hugo know he was safe. Max stumbled into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, threw on some deodorant, and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't know how anyone could compliment his midnightblue mullet, didn't comment on how he was so pale, he looked like he was ill, or failed to notice the bags under his black, night-sky like eyes. Anyway, he threw on his blue suit with the matching pants, and fumbled with his tie, but couldn't get it quite right. He could never learn how to tie it correctly. "Looks like you need some help." Max turned to see a pair of amber eyes looking at him, with an amused sparkle to them, and Hugo chuckled as he came over and reached for the tie. Max let him tie it. "I was trying to let you sleep in, love." The gray-haired man stopped only so they could look into each other's eyes. "It's fine. I needed to wake up early anyway so I could meet my publisher." He finished with the tie, and pecked Max on the lip quickly, then said, "You better get going, then. Don't want to be late, do you?" Max smirked. "Thanks, babe. And no, I don't. I'll see you in a few hours, ok?" Hugo nodded, and off he went, wondering what he would report on the news today.