Tonight was full of robot love. For some reason. Fic!
Title: One Day To Believe In You
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Max/L-Ron
Word Count: 624
Rating: NC-17 (sorta)
Author's Notes: Set at some unspecified time before Countdown to Infinite Bodycount. Title from Fleetwood Mac's "Little Lies" (RAWK!). Angst, and human/robot porn. How does L-Ron feel about Max's world domination plans?
In the morning, I'll try to remember what comms I can post this to. Suggestions welcome.
One Day To Believe In You
It has to be said. Too late, perhaps, but it has to.
"I cannot be a part of this."
"Mm?"
L-Ron turns away from the computer monitor to face Max. How did he not see the change? Notice the steady decline?
Glancing up from the papers spread across his desk, Max gives him a quizzical smile and raises his eyebrows.
That's how. Max looks...like himself. He looks nothing like a man setting up massive global genocide.
"What was that?" he asks.
With a quiet sigh, L-Ron moves to stand in front of Max's desk, leaning forward a little. "I cannot be a part of your plans, m'lord."
Still smiling a little, Max clasps his hands on top of the papers and tilts his head to the side. "And why is that?"
There's no profit in it. L-Ron deletes the words before they can reach his vocal processors. Not the most compelling argument he could think of. But at one time, Max recognized what a valuable resource the meta contingent of his planet's population presented. These days, L-Ron isn't so sure.
"You've always cared more for these fleshbags than I have," he points out. "What can you hope to gain by killing so many?"
"Why...a safer world for humanity."
He says it as if the answer is obvious. L-Ron stares at him, stares into his eyes, as if their exact shade of hazel might reveal some secret explanation.
There is none.
"Humanity."
"Yes."
"Only humanity."
"I..."
"I've seen your plans for Skeets." L-Ron's head tilts disapprovingly. "What are your plans for me? Am I just another useful pile of parts for you to rearrange at your whim, Maxwell?"
"No, L-Ron, never," Max insists, standing and moving around the desk to stand beside him. His hands come down on L-Ron's shoulders, warm and organic. Kneeling, he stares up at L-Ron with sincerity. "I need you."
"Where do I fit in this grand scheme of yours?"
Max smiles at that, hand moving to brush over a sensor on the underside of L-Ron's head. "You're the one person I can't make agree with me."
"A yes-man by choice," L-Ron says bitterly, refusing to acknowledge the electrical tingle of pleasure trickling through him.
Leaning closer, Max presses soft, human lips to another sensor on L-Ron's head. "You're so much more than that, L-Ron," he murmurs.
Touching Max's side with one hand, L-Ron lets himself be persuaded to drop the conversation. He runs the numbers as he strips Max of the clothing protecting his delicate human skin. He reaches a projected estimate of a death count anywhere from dozens to thousands while clever organic fingers tease over his sensors. The statistics suggest the most likely final number to be in the hundreds. While Max is spread out before him, naked and vulnerable as he is for no one else, L-Ron doesn't care. They're just meaningless numbers. Human meatsacks he knows nothing about.
Still...it bothers him that Max doesn't seem to care either.
It bothers him that Max doesn't seem to have taken into account that the humanity he's supposedly trying to save does not include either of them.
It bothers him that Max is so convinced L-Ron is the only one he can trust to agree with him simply because he wants to agree.
"We'll fix everything," Max whispers into the darkness, voice sleepy and body still slick.
"Yes, m'lord," L-Ron replies dutifully.
When Max's breathing evens out, L-Ron quietly slips away. He wipes himself off, gathers the few possessions he really needs, and disappears into the night. He's heard about a group of robots, like himself. He thinks he might like to meet them.
He just hopes someone else can talk some sense into Max before someone gets killed.
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Max/L-Ron
Word Count: 624
Rating: NC-17 (sorta)
Author's Notes: Set at some unspecified time before Countdown to Infinite Bodycount. Title from Fleetwood Mac's "Little Lies" (RAWK!). Angst, and human/robot porn. How does L-Ron feel about Max's world domination plans?
In the morning, I'll try to remember what comms I can post this to. Suggestions welcome.
One Day To Believe In You
It has to be said. Too late, perhaps, but it has to.
"I cannot be a part of this."
"Mm?"
L-Ron turns away from the computer monitor to face Max. How did he not see the change? Notice the steady decline?
Glancing up from the papers spread across his desk, Max gives him a quizzical smile and raises his eyebrows.
That's how. Max looks...like himself. He looks nothing like a man setting up massive global genocide.
"What was that?" he asks.
With a quiet sigh, L-Ron moves to stand in front of Max's desk, leaning forward a little. "I cannot be a part of your plans, m'lord."
Still smiling a little, Max clasps his hands on top of the papers and tilts his head to the side. "And why is that?"
There's no profit in it. L-Ron deletes the words before they can reach his vocal processors. Not the most compelling argument he could think of. But at one time, Max recognized what a valuable resource the meta contingent of his planet's population presented. These days, L-Ron isn't so sure.
"You've always cared more for these fleshbags than I have," he points out. "What can you hope to gain by killing so many?"
"Why...a safer world for humanity."
He says it as if the answer is obvious. L-Ron stares at him, stares into his eyes, as if their exact shade of hazel might reveal some secret explanation.
There is none.
"Humanity."
"Yes."
"Only humanity."
"I..."
"I've seen your plans for Skeets." L-Ron's head tilts disapprovingly. "What are your plans for me? Am I just another useful pile of parts for you to rearrange at your whim, Maxwell?"
"No, L-Ron, never," Max insists, standing and moving around the desk to stand beside him. His hands come down on L-Ron's shoulders, warm and organic. Kneeling, he stares up at L-Ron with sincerity. "I need you."
"Where do I fit in this grand scheme of yours?"
Max smiles at that, hand moving to brush over a sensor on the underside of L-Ron's head. "You're the one person I can't make agree with me."
"A yes-man by choice," L-Ron says bitterly, refusing to acknowledge the electrical tingle of pleasure trickling through him.
Leaning closer, Max presses soft, human lips to another sensor on L-Ron's head. "You're so much more than that, L-Ron," he murmurs.
Touching Max's side with one hand, L-Ron lets himself be persuaded to drop the conversation. He runs the numbers as he strips Max of the clothing protecting his delicate human skin. He reaches a projected estimate of a death count anywhere from dozens to thousands while clever organic fingers tease over his sensors. The statistics suggest the most likely final number to be in the hundreds. While Max is spread out before him, naked and vulnerable as he is for no one else, L-Ron doesn't care. They're just meaningless numbers. Human meatsacks he knows nothing about.
Still...it bothers him that Max doesn't seem to care either.
It bothers him that Max doesn't seem to have taken into account that the humanity he's supposedly trying to save does not include either of them.
It bothers him that Max is so convinced L-Ron is the only one he can trust to agree with him simply because he wants to agree.
"We'll fix everything," Max whispers into the darkness, voice sleepy and body still slick.
"Yes, m'lord," L-Ron replies dutifully.
When Max's breathing evens out, L-Ron quietly slips away. He wipes himself off, gathers the few possessions he really needs, and disappears into the night. He's heard about a group of robots, like himself. He thinks he might like to meet them.
He just hopes someone else can talk some sense into Max before someone gets killed.