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Maxwell’s visits to Zern were never as long as either he or Torse wished they could be, which is why he threw himself into the rebuilding effort whenever he possibly could. It was much appreciated, usually. This particular visit, though, Torse was starting to regret.
The forges burned hot, and were in constant need of more hands. Maxwell, strong, beautiful Maxwell, had volunteered his time to hammer out new parts for damaged automatons, to haul water to quench the metal, to shovel fuel into the fires, whatever he could physically do without losing a limb.
Torse observed. For safety, he told himself, to make sure his friend’s fragile, human skin was not burned. To the others, he was a constant presence anyway, even if he himself did not always wield a hammer, watching over production.
Maxwell’s hammer clanged loudly against the chest piece he was working on, in time with the automaton across from him. Torse couldn’t help but stare at the way Maxwell’s shirt clung to his frame, his sweat dripping down the back of his neck, the way his brow furrowed when the hammer hit the metal. Deliriously, Torse wished he was the piece Maxwell was now working on.
Maxwell looked up to wipe sweat from his brow and pushed damp hair out of his face. It was longer now, and the sweat and steam from the forge had pushed it out of its styling. Torse wanted to grab it, to tug Maxwell’s head back to expose his neck so that he could-
Maxwell grinned at him, smile slightly askew, and raised a hand to wave. Torse returned it with a carefully controlled nod, and hoped the gesture did not reveal the desperate, burning want inside him. The automaton across from Maxwell rumbled something Torse couldn’t hear, and Maxwell went back to his work. Torse followed the arc of his hammer, heavy enough that it took both of his arms to wield, as it slammed into the metal. If Torse had suggested a tool slightly too heavy for Maxwell just to see the way his muscles flexed with the effort, well, no one had to know.
Maxwell turned his back to Torse for a moment, and oh, god, his shoulders. His back flexed in a way that felt obscene, even through the tattered short sleeved work shirt he was wearing. It was tight, and his sweat permeated the fabric down his spine, and the only thing Torse wanted more than to see him in it was to rip it off him. Maxwell reached down to grab the canteen that hung off his belt and yanked the stopper off with his teeth, like Torse wasn’t five seconds away from pulling him into the alley behind the forge and fucking him right there. He tilted it up, turning back to face his work as he took a break. His chest was heaving, Torse could see that now. The shirt did little to hide the swell of Maxwell’s pecs, much to his enjoyment.
Water dribbled from the corners of Maxwell’s mouth as he lifted the bottle from his perfect lips and shook the last drops out. He closed one eye to peek inside the container before sighing, putting it back onto his belt, and heaving his hammer into the air once again. When his swing missed its mark, the automaton he was working with paused and waved him off to take a break. Maxwell nodded, reaching up to wipe sweat from his face, leaving a dark streak of oil in the wake of his fingers. Torse wished for a tongue to lick it off.
“Torse! Are you on duty?” Maxwell grinned. It was hard to hear him over the clanging of the forge, but Torse would always hear Maxwell call his name.
“Techinically. I can take a break.” Torse signalled to one of the other Aganti to take his place watching over the workers. A safety system, to keep the forge running smoothly, one Torse had suggested himself. He was relieved that he'd had the idea now that he was being pulled away.
As they exited the forge, Maxwell rushed towards the large container of water used by Zoodians (and one Gathie) to refill their canteens. As soon as it was full, he gulped it down, portions of it spilling from the corner of his lips, tracing down his chin, down his neck, to his collarbones and then dipping down beneath his shirt. Torse tried his best to not stare at the entrancing way Maxwell’s Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. How would it feel to have his hand wrapped around Maxwell’s throat, to feel his pulse quicken as Torse took him in hand?
Maxwell was talking. Torse should probably be listening, instead of imagining his closest friend beneath him, writhing, begging-
“Torse! My good man, what has you so occupied?”
“My apologies, Maxwell. I find my mind… wandering.”
Maxwell leaned against the metallic bricks of the forge and took another deep drink from his canteen, chest still heaving as he wiped the last drops from his lips. “Dangerous to do in a workplace like this.” He said. Maybe it was wishful thinking that made Torse see the little glimmer in his eyes, the small smirk of his lips.
Torse nodded, slowly. “Are you done, after your break?”
“I can be.” Maxwell raised an eyebrow.
“Good. You should not-” Torse could feel the heat in his chassis cause him to vent steam. “Overexert yourself.”
Maxwell tilted his head slightly, and Torse found himself focusing on the curve of his jaw, the smooth skin by the nape of his neck. Maxwell nodded, taking another swig of water. “I should probably call it a day, then, if you’re so concerned.” His voice is light, teasing, but Torse reveled in the feeling that Maxwell would do as he asked.
“Quite. I find myself-” aching, wanting, needing “concerned for your wellbeing, at times.” Torse said, taking a tentative step forward. Maxwell clipped his canteen back onto his belt.
“You have no need, my friend. I know what my body wants of me,” He said, patting Torse on the arm, hopefully affectionately. Torse could have sworn there was an undertone to Maxwell’s words. “Would you mind if I took a break at your place? It’s closer than the ship.”
“Of course not. I will go with you, to ensure you get there safely.”
“Gentlemanly.” Maxwell smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
Torse led them, as they walked. He knew the newly rebuilt streets of Zern better than Maxwell, of course, and he led them to the little personal workshop he'd deemed his home. A place for him to rest, to enter a low power mode and run diagnostics if needed.
The bed covered in blankets in the corner he'd specifically asked Marya (who teased him relentlessly about it) to borrow from the Zephyr II sat widely unused, only occupied when Maxwell would visit for longer stretches of time than the Zephyr planned on staying.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Maxwell groaned and peeled off his shirt. “Apologies, Torse,” he said, seemingly realizing he wasn't the only person in the room. “I felt- constrained, and this shirt is filthy.”
Torse hoped his staring wasn't obvious. It likely was, if the flush blooming over Maxwell’s skin meant anything. He is magnificent, Torse thought, not for the first time. He was organic in a way only he could be, firm muscles and pliant fat, hair and sweat and skin. Torse’s fingers twitched involuntarily.
“Torse? Are you alright?” Maxwell raised an eyebrow.
“I'm fine.” Torse said, voice rougher than he'd planned.
“Are you sure?” Maxwell asked, taking a step closer, fingers reaching out and brushing over the iron of Torse’s ribs. “You’re… steaming quite a bit.”
“Maxwell,” Torse- oh, he hadn’t been aware he could sound like that, breathy and wanting without the ability to breath. Maxwell’s touch, even the brief contact he’d been given, felt like someone had poured lava through his coolant systems. Maxwell’s pupils dilated, and he went to move his hands away. Torse chased his touch. “Please, Maxwell. Let me-” Torse cut himself off as Maxwell pressed his hands against his ribs again.
“You have me, Torse.” He nearly whispered, eyes wide. Torse gingerly placed a hand over Maxwell’s on his chest, and rested the other on Maxwell’s hip. Torse could feel his friend’s (were they just friends, now? Were they ever just friends?) heartbeat quicken under his fingertips.
Maxwell surged upwards, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to Torse’s faceplate, and the dam broke. Torse pressed into him, moving the hand over Maxwell’s to rest on his hip as Maxwell brought their foreheads together. “Again.” Torse pleaded.
Maxwell obliged, moving one arm to wrap around the back of Torse’s neck to pull him down to place frantic, hungry kisses to Torse’s helm. Torse’s grip on his hips tightened, and Maxwell gasped. Torse wanted to hear that noise every day until he was nothing but a pile of rust. He crowded Maxwell towards the bed, savoring the small noises he could elicit from him as he went. When the back of Maxwell’s knees touched the mattress, Torse dipped his thumb under Maxwell’s waistband.
“Please. I want- please, let me see you.” He murmured into the crook of Maxwell’s neck. His skin was so warm. Not the burning fires of Zern, not the heat of the lava flows, but so achingly human.
Maxwell shuddered as the vibrations of Torse’s voice went through him. “Y-yeah, of course- fuck, anything.” Maxwell fumbled for the buttons on his pants, thick canvas as opposed to the soft fabrics of his normal clothing. Torse occupied himself with touching everywhere else he could reach in the meantime. He ran his hands over the lithe muscles of Maxwell’s shoulders before dragging down.
“Beautiful.” Torse murmured, the feeling of the coarse hair on Maxwell’s chest fine beneath his fingers. The flush on Maxwell’s face extended to the rest of his upper body.
“O-oh. Um-”
“Is this not what you wanted?” Torse moved to withdraw his hands, and Maxwell pressed back into them.
“No, I do, I really- I’m not used to- touch, like this.” Maxwell paused, the last button on his pants half undone.
“You may have to get used to it quickly. I find myself desiring to touch many parts of you.” Torse rubbed the smooth metal of his thumb over one of Maxwell’s nipples, savoring the gasp he earned for his efforts.
“Torse-”
“Maxwell,” Torse hummed, pressing his faceplate to the crook of Maxwell’s neck, letting the steam from his vents warm the skin there before pulling away. “Let me see you.”
Maxwell flicked the last button off and tossed his pants to the side, and-
Oh. His cock was firm, already leaking, the precum beading at the tip. “I knew you got me a heavier hammer than I usually get for myself.” Maxwell said breathlessly.
“I did. I wanted- it was selfish of me. I wanted to see your strength.”
“Yeah?” Maxwell breathed.
“Yes,” Torse shoved Maxwell back. “Did you enjoy showing off for me, Maxwell?” He flipped Maxwell to his stomach and urged his ass into the air.
“I did- fuck, Torse, I saw you watching me and-” Maxwell collapsed onto his elbows with a whine as Torse ran his hands over the smooth muscles of his back, tracing the crescent of scars leftover from the Imperasaurus. Torse wished he could have been there to see the battle. Maxwell in his element was a sight to behold, and Torse would never tire of witnessing it.
“Go on. Were you planning on teasing me? I was nearly about to drag you into the alley if you continued as you were.”
“I wanted to- I wanted you to want me.” Maxwell admitted, face a truly tempting shade of red.
“I do want you. I've wanted you for some time,” Torse said fondly, placing his hands on Maxwell’s hips and squeezing. “Shall I leave bruises and marks, so everyone can know you got your wish? Send you back to the Zephyr with evidence of your success?”
Maxwell pressed his hips back as Torse drifted one hand down to spread his ass, his thumb gently pressed to his hole. “Torse- Torse, I want it- everything, please, I want you to have me.” Another time, Torse would tease him for his desperation, but today, now, he was inclined to give in. Torse pinched the meat of Maxwell’s ass, watching the way red bloomed across Maxwell’s skin. He’d enjoy marking it up.
“You will tell me if you want to stop, correct?” Torse said sternly. The oil he’d like to use was across the room, and Torse was not interested in moving at the moment. He instead brought his hand down between Maxwell’s legs and brushed his fingers over the red, leaking tip of his cock, gathering precum. Maxwell whined pitifully. “That is not an answer, Maxwell.” He reached up with his other hand, tangled his fingers in Maxwell’s hair, and tugged his head back.
“God- yes, I’ll tell you- fuck me already, please.”
“So impatient.” Torse chided, obliging anyway. He kept his hold on Maxwell’s hair, forcing him to bare his neck as he delicately pressed the tip of his index finger inside. Maxwell gasped, leaning his head back into Torse’s grip.
“I can take more.” He whined.
“Can you?” Torse burst steam from the vents on his neck and tugged on Maxwell’s hair sharply, at the same time inserting his finger fully inside. The warm heat enveloped him immediately, a sensation Torse had never before experienced. Maxwell keened as Torse crooked it carefully before loosening his grip on Maxwell’s hair.
Maxwell arched his back, pressing his ass back into Torse’s hand. Experimentally, Torse unsheathed the knives on the hand not currently occupied. At the noise, he felt Maxwell twitch around him. “Do these excite you, Maxwell?” Torse pressed the sharp tips of his knuckle knives to the small of Maxwell’s back, at the same time pressed the tip of another finger to his entrance. Maxwell shuddered at the touch.
“They do- fuck, Torse, give me more.”
Torse felt something hot and possessive curl down his spine. “Say please.”
“Please, Torse, I need it, I need you.” Maxwell bared his neck without being prompted, looking over his shoulder with wide, pleading eyes.
“Good, Maxwell,” Torse praised, pressing the sharp edges of one of the knives to the side of Maxwell’s throat as he began to move his fingers. He watched, entranced at the way Maxwell’s Adams apple bobbed as the knife pressed against it. “This is what you wanted, when you were teasing me, isn’t it? So pretty, and yet you waited so long to tell me what you wanted. I would have had you before now, you know. From the moment you told me it was you who carried me through Zern, I knew I wanted you as my companion.” Torse said appreciatively.
Torse trailed his knives down from Maxwell’s neck, curving them around his back, admiring the red lines in their wake. Not enough to bleed, not when they were so new, so unprepared, but the thought of involving his knives more extensively made Torse hungry in a way he had not known he was capable of. Maxwell keened, biting his forearm to keep himself quiet, rocking back into Torse’s fingers as he moved. Torse would have tugged his hair back again, brought him up to hear the pretty noises he was making, but he was occupied with pressing his knives into the soft fat of Maxwell’s ass, watching it divot around the points until he thought it would draw blood.
Torse added a third finger, causing Maxwell to give a muffled cry of his name. Torse wished he could bite. The nape of Maxwell’s neck looked so empty. “Would you like to finish, Maxwell? Tell me how much you want it.”
Maxwell finally released his own arm, drool dripping down his chin. “Please- please, Torse-” he gasped. “I want it so bad, please let me cum, pleasepleaseTorse-” He babbled as Torse brought his hand to wrap around his cock, knives sheathed, the head of it nearly purple and weeping against the bedding. Torse barely applied any pressure before Maxwell was bucking into his hand, eyes squeezed shut and hands grasping at the bedding beneath him.
“Go on then, Maxwell.” Torse purred. “Cum for me. Show me how much you want me.”
With a strangled moan, Maxwell spilled over Torse’s hand and collapsed as Torse eased his fingers out of Maxwell’s ass. Torse rubbed circles on Maxwell’s back, as he’d seen the other windriders do for comfort, as he waited for Maxwell’s breathing to even out. Torse sat gingerly on the edge of the bed until Maxwell reached over to pull him down. “C’mere.”
“I am covered in spikes, Maxwell. I will tear the blankets.”
“Torse. I want you to hold me. You’ll give me what I want, won’t you?” Maxwell said with the hint of a smirk. Torse conceded.
“I love you. If that was not made clear.” Torse said, wrapping an arm over Maxwell as the other man pressed his face into his ribs. It couldn’t be comfortable, but Torse had found Maxwell to be unique among his people. Perhaps this was just another way this showed.
“I love you too, Torse.” Maxwell softened, pressing a kiss to the glint of Torse’s heart he was able to reach through his ribs. Torse tightened his hold on Maxwell’s side and listened to his breathing slow before allowing himself to power down for the evening, content.