(no subject)
Title: Amour De Tête
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Max/L'ron (not a typo)
Word Count: 1270
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: Inspired by the steampunk AU I'm working on and phoenixfire_lia's insistence that roboporns were needed. (Be assured that photos and Boostle porns are not far behind. ...Though probably not photos of Boostle porns.)
Many French terms stolen from found here and here, translations on the bottom.
Amour De Tête
It's dark in his room, dim yellow lights along the wall at ankle height provide the only illumination. Max lowers himself to his bunk with a sigh and unbuckles his boots.
His vest is already unbuttoned and he leans forward to shrug out of it, hanging it haphazardly over the back of a chair. His hand shakes just slightly, and he doubts he'd be able to hang the vest up properly if he tried. Anticipation and arousal always jangle his nerves when he does this.
The shirt follows the vest, though he only tosses it instead of attempting to get it to hang over the chair in a manner that will minimize wrinkles. He's getting impatient, but his dignity demands he take his time.
There's a phantom ache in his wrist and he reaches up to where metal meets skin to massage the damaged muscle and nerve there. Ted did his best with what was left of Max's arm, but though the man's a mechanical genius, he never made claim to be a doctor. Still, the arm rarely acts up and it's better than the alternative.
Leaning back, Max can feel the ship humming against his spine and sighs. Much better than the alternative.
"L'ron," he breathes, closing his eyes. The hum changes pitch in response.
Sitting on his bunk in nothing but his trousers and socks, Max presses his clockwork hand against the wall and reaches out.
"Hh!"
Ted probably never intended this particular side-effect, probably isn't even aware of it, but Max owes the man more than he could ever pay for giving him this.
L'ron reaches back and he feels fingers linking with his. The sensation jolts up his arm, like those first experimental attempts to capture and harness lightning to aid in his dexterity.
"Monseigneur," L'ron greets him, and Max finds his amant within his arms.
When Max first discovered this amour de tête was possible, he had questioned the suddenness of such things. Now he just equates it to a dream, where unnecessary and uninteresting steps are skipped in favor of instant gratification.
"Mon coeur," Max replies with a sigh of relief, tightening his arms around the man as he rests his cheek against soft hair.
"I have missed you."
"It's been crazy lately," Max says, voice thick with regret. "The National Aeronautical League keeps hounding us."
"As I noticed," L'ron chuckles, fingers gently tracing over Max's spine. "Will my hull ever be the same?"
Smirking a little, Max promises, "I'll get Ted on patching the holes."
"Je ne sais pas comment vous remercier," L'ron purrs, shifting in Max's arms and leaning up to kiss his jaw. "Mm, le droit du seigneur is yours if you would but avail yourself, Maxwell."
Max smiles and tilts his head down to peck the man's lips. "Is it, mon poupelet?"
Wrinkling his nose, L'ron replies, "Only if you refrain from calling me that, Monseigneur."
"You drive a hard bargain, L'ron," Max laughs, cupping the man's face with one hand. "But one I can't resist. Deal."
They're kissing then, and Max feels it everywhere. L'ron's mouth is hot and wet and just as he remembers it, tongue darting past his lips to tickle his palette.
L'ron's fingers dig into bare skin and both are suddenly naked, because one or both of them wish it to be so. Then they're horizontal, though on what neither cares. Max only cares that L'ron's hands are skimming over his chest and his own are in L'ron's hair and on the man's rear.
"Je t'aime," L'ron whispers in his ear, breath hot and moist and Max shivers. "S'il te plaît baisez-moi."
"God, L'ron," Max moans. His hips jerk upward, meeting L'ron's as they slide against each other.
He would have laughed if anyone had told him years ago, freshly divorced from his first wife, that the loss of this, what L'ron once jokingly called "amitié particulière", would cause "cri de coeur." Another of L'ron's contributions, as the French apparently had a phrase for everything involving love.
Even a broken heart.
"I'll find a way, mon coeur," Max gasps, clinging to L'ron as the first tinglings of jouissance caress his nerves. "I'll find a way to fix this. I--Oh! Oh god, there."
Obliging, L'ron scrapes his teeth over the pulse in Max's neck, short nails leaving tiny crescents in the man's skin. L'ron's breath comes in short pants as Max gasps his name again.
"Monseigneur, mon amour, en ce qui me concerne--" L'ron cuts himself off, finding Max's lips as he tries to remember English. "As...As far as I am concerned, Monseigneur Max, as long as we have at least this much, it will be enough for me."
Crying out, Max wraps himself around L'ron. He can feel the man everywhere, stroking his mind with gentle thoughts, hands rubbing over his skin as their bodies move together. After being broken seemingly beyond repair, that they can have even this still seems a miracle.
"L'ron...L'ron!"
L'ron is babbling disjointed French that Max simply can't translate, but the meaning is clear enough. They tumble over the edge connected and intertwined in ways only mystics could comprehend.
Max catches his breath with L'ron laying in his arms, pressing lazy kisses to sweaty hair as the tips of L'ron's fingers brush over his ribs.
"Je t'aime, mon coeur," Max tells him softly.
"And I you...mon poupelet."
Max chuckles and ruffles the man's hair.
"Transmettez mes remerciements à Ted?" L'ron asks.
Mind fuzzy with pleasure, it takes Max a moment to understand the request. "Mm, I'll pass on your thanks, yes."
Glancing up, cheek against Max's chest, L'ron smiles at him. "Ca s'arrangera, Max."
"For a man currently living as an airship, you're remarkably optimistic," Max mutters.
"With you as mon capitaine, how can I be otherwise?" L'ron replies, taking Max's hand in his and carefully massaging it. Their earlier activities had made him aware of the pain Max was in before.
Max sighs contentedly and wraps his free arm around L'ron's waist. Then he frowns as he notices a steady, insistent beeping nearby.
"Dammit, they're trying to contact me," Max grumbles.
Chuckling, L'ron presses a kiss to the center of Max's palm and withdraws. "I think I know why," he says. "Goodnight, Monseigneur."
"Goodnight, mon coeur...."
Coming back to himself, L'ron's kiss still lingering on his clockwork hand, Max gives the beeping tube next to his bunk a quick crank. "Ask Sue where the spare fire-dousers are, Ted, I've told you I don't know," Max speaks into it.
"...Uh..." Ted's tinny voice clanks through from the engine room. "Er, actually, I was going to tell you the engine was running hot, but...huh, it's back to normal now. Sorry, it does that sometimes and I haven't been able to figure out why yet."
Yes, Ted definitely isn't aware of what Max gets up to with their transport.
"Sorry to wake you, Max."
Max sighs. "Good night, Ted." A thought suddenly crosses his mind and he adds, "And thank you."
"Tha--What for?"
"Just...thank you." Max rubs the bridge of his nose and reaches for the crank again. "Good night."
"Oh. 'Night, M--" Ted's voice cuts off as Max turns off the contraption.
Max lays down and closes his eyes, the ache in his wrist isn't as bad, but the ache in his heart has reappeared. Rolling on his side, he reaches out and presses his hand against the wall, metal humming against flesh and blood.
"L'ron," he whispers. "Mon coeur...."
And the good ship L'ron Hubbard continues to glide peacefully through the night sky.
-----
French Translations:
Monseigneur = "my lord"
amant = "lover"
amour de tête = "intellectual love," a "passion experienced largely as a matter of the imagination"
mon coeur = "my heart"
Je ne sais pas comment vous remercier = "I don't know how to thank you."
le droit du seigneur = "the right of the lord"
poupelet = "a darling or favorite male"
Je t'aime = "I love you"
S'il te plaît baisez-moi = "please fuck me"
amitié particulière = "a homosexual relationship"
cri de coeur = "heart's outcry," a broken heart
jouissance = "merriment, enjoyment, bliss, total ecstasy, complete joy, utter delight, pleasure especially on the part of the whole person," "unconditional self-surrender in the throes of sexual pleasure," "that part of sexuality that cannot be fully captured within language"
mon amour = "my love"
En ce qui me concerne = "As far as I'm concerned"
Transmettez mes remerciements à Ted? = "Pass on my thanks to Ted?"
Ca s'arrangera = "It'll all work out."
mon capitaine = "my captain"
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Max/L'ron (not a typo)
Word Count: 1270
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: Inspired by the steampunk AU I'm working on and phoenixfire_lia's insistence that roboporns were needed. (Be assured that photos and Boostle porns are not far behind. ...Though probably not photos of Boostle porns.)
Many French terms stolen from found here and here, translations on the bottom.
Amour De Tête
It's dark in his room, dim yellow lights along the wall at ankle height provide the only illumination. Max lowers himself to his bunk with a sigh and unbuckles his boots.
His vest is already unbuttoned and he leans forward to shrug out of it, hanging it haphazardly over the back of a chair. His hand shakes just slightly, and he doubts he'd be able to hang the vest up properly if he tried. Anticipation and arousal always jangle his nerves when he does this.
The shirt follows the vest, though he only tosses it instead of attempting to get it to hang over the chair in a manner that will minimize wrinkles. He's getting impatient, but his dignity demands he take his time.
There's a phantom ache in his wrist and he reaches up to where metal meets skin to massage the damaged muscle and nerve there. Ted did his best with what was left of Max's arm, but though the man's a mechanical genius, he never made claim to be a doctor. Still, the arm rarely acts up and it's better than the alternative.
Leaning back, Max can feel the ship humming against his spine and sighs. Much better than the alternative.
"L'ron," he breathes, closing his eyes. The hum changes pitch in response.
Sitting on his bunk in nothing but his trousers and socks, Max presses his clockwork hand against the wall and reaches out.
"Hh!"
Ted probably never intended this particular side-effect, probably isn't even aware of it, but Max owes the man more than he could ever pay for giving him this.
L'ron reaches back and he feels fingers linking with his. The sensation jolts up his arm, like those first experimental attempts to capture and harness lightning to aid in his dexterity.
"Monseigneur," L'ron greets him, and Max finds his amant within his arms.
When Max first discovered this amour de tête was possible, he had questioned the suddenness of such things. Now he just equates it to a dream, where unnecessary and uninteresting steps are skipped in favor of instant gratification.
"Mon coeur," Max replies with a sigh of relief, tightening his arms around the man as he rests his cheek against soft hair.
"I have missed you."
"It's been crazy lately," Max says, voice thick with regret. "The National Aeronautical League keeps hounding us."
"As I noticed," L'ron chuckles, fingers gently tracing over Max's spine. "Will my hull ever be the same?"
Smirking a little, Max promises, "I'll get Ted on patching the holes."
"Je ne sais pas comment vous remercier," L'ron purrs, shifting in Max's arms and leaning up to kiss his jaw. "Mm, le droit du seigneur is yours if you would but avail yourself, Maxwell."
Max smiles and tilts his head down to peck the man's lips. "Is it, mon poupelet?"
Wrinkling his nose, L'ron replies, "Only if you refrain from calling me that, Monseigneur."
"You drive a hard bargain, L'ron," Max laughs, cupping the man's face with one hand. "But one I can't resist. Deal."
They're kissing then, and Max feels it everywhere. L'ron's mouth is hot and wet and just as he remembers it, tongue darting past his lips to tickle his palette.
L'ron's fingers dig into bare skin and both are suddenly naked, because one or both of them wish it to be so. Then they're horizontal, though on what neither cares. Max only cares that L'ron's hands are skimming over his chest and his own are in L'ron's hair and on the man's rear.
"Je t'aime," L'ron whispers in his ear, breath hot and moist and Max shivers. "S'il te plaît baisez-moi."
"God, L'ron," Max moans. His hips jerk upward, meeting L'ron's as they slide against each other.
He would have laughed if anyone had told him years ago, freshly divorced from his first wife, that the loss of this, what L'ron once jokingly called "amitié particulière", would cause "cri de coeur." Another of L'ron's contributions, as the French apparently had a phrase for everything involving love.
Even a broken heart.
"I'll find a way, mon coeur," Max gasps, clinging to L'ron as the first tinglings of jouissance caress his nerves. "I'll find a way to fix this. I--Oh! Oh god, there."
Obliging, L'ron scrapes his teeth over the pulse in Max's neck, short nails leaving tiny crescents in the man's skin. L'ron's breath comes in short pants as Max gasps his name again.
"Monseigneur, mon amour, en ce qui me concerne--" L'ron cuts himself off, finding Max's lips as he tries to remember English. "As...As far as I am concerned, Monseigneur Max, as long as we have at least this much, it will be enough for me."
Crying out, Max wraps himself around L'ron. He can feel the man everywhere, stroking his mind with gentle thoughts, hands rubbing over his skin as their bodies move together. After being broken seemingly beyond repair, that they can have even this still seems a miracle.
"L'ron...L'ron!"
L'ron is babbling disjointed French that Max simply can't translate, but the meaning is clear enough. They tumble over the edge connected and intertwined in ways only mystics could comprehend.
Max catches his breath with L'ron laying in his arms, pressing lazy kisses to sweaty hair as the tips of L'ron's fingers brush over his ribs.
"Je t'aime, mon coeur," Max tells him softly.
"And I you...mon poupelet."
Max chuckles and ruffles the man's hair.
"Transmettez mes remerciements à Ted?" L'ron asks.
Mind fuzzy with pleasure, it takes Max a moment to understand the request. "Mm, I'll pass on your thanks, yes."
Glancing up, cheek against Max's chest, L'ron smiles at him. "Ca s'arrangera, Max."
"For a man currently living as an airship, you're remarkably optimistic," Max mutters.
"With you as mon capitaine, how can I be otherwise?" L'ron replies, taking Max's hand in his and carefully massaging it. Their earlier activities had made him aware of the pain Max was in before.
Max sighs contentedly and wraps his free arm around L'ron's waist. Then he frowns as he notices a steady, insistent beeping nearby.
"Dammit, they're trying to contact me," Max grumbles.
Chuckling, L'ron presses a kiss to the center of Max's palm and withdraws. "I think I know why," he says. "Goodnight, Monseigneur."
"Goodnight, mon coeur...."
Coming back to himself, L'ron's kiss still lingering on his clockwork hand, Max gives the beeping tube next to his bunk a quick crank. "Ask Sue where the spare fire-dousers are, Ted, I've told you I don't know," Max speaks into it.
"...Uh..." Ted's tinny voice clanks through from the engine room. "Er, actually, I was going to tell you the engine was running hot, but...huh, it's back to normal now. Sorry, it does that sometimes and I haven't been able to figure out why yet."
Yes, Ted definitely isn't aware of what Max gets up to with their transport.
"Sorry to wake you, Max."
Max sighs. "Good night, Ted." A thought suddenly crosses his mind and he adds, "And thank you."
"Tha--What for?"
"Just...thank you." Max rubs the bridge of his nose and reaches for the crank again. "Good night."
"Oh. 'Night, M--" Ted's voice cuts off as Max turns off the contraption.
Max lays down and closes his eyes, the ache in his wrist isn't as bad, but the ache in his heart has reappeared. Rolling on his side, he reaches out and presses his hand against the wall, metal humming against flesh and blood.
"L'ron," he whispers. "Mon coeur...."
And the good ship L'ron Hubbard continues to glide peacefully through the night sky.
-----
French Translations:
Monseigneur = "my lord"
amant = "lover"
amour de tête = "intellectual love," a "passion experienced largely as a matter of the imagination"
mon coeur = "my heart"
Je ne sais pas comment vous remercier = "I don't know how to thank you."
le droit du seigneur = "the right of the lord"
poupelet = "a darling or favorite male"
Je t'aime = "I love you"
S'il te plaît baisez-moi = "please fuck me"
amitié particulière = "a homosexual relationship"
cri de coeur = "heart's outcry," a broken heart
jouissance = "merriment, enjoyment, bliss, total ecstasy, complete joy, utter delight, pleasure especially on the part of the whole person," "unconditional self-surrender in the throes of sexual pleasure," "that part of sexuality that cannot be fully captured within language"
mon amour = "my love"
En ce qui me concerne = "As far as I'm concerned"
Transmettez mes remerciements à Ted? = "Pass on my thanks to Ted?"
Ca s'arrangera = "It'll all work out."
mon capitaine = "my captain"