Chapter Text
It was a warm autumn day in the shadier section of the forest, birds were flying all around and flowers were in blooming with many a butterfly arising in the nice weather, and the sun shone brightly with neither the darkness or the moon in sight; a nice day in the constant by most standards, for as long as it could last anyways.
Two solid bodies could be seen hauling armfuls of various materials to some nearby destination, followed by 4 shadows of a tall mans mind, likewise carrying a bounty of logs.
Once he had arrives at the small encampment, Wilson gently ducked down and released his burdens onto the luxurious carpeting surrounding the tent in the center. A quick stretch got him back into flexible shape right away.
Maxwell followed, along with his various shadows, also opting to put everything down first and worry about sorting it out later. He dusted himself off with a quick stroke of his hands, gently fixing the thorny rose in his breast pocket by habit. The shadows around him began to pile their loads around his feet, keeping everything in a nice little circle.
Wilson was in no rush to put away everything after the long distance he had to walk from the main base to this little secluded ‘get-away’ post. He had been helping Maxwell to move things over here all day, by the magicians request, enticed by Maxwell’s need for isolation to be a favorable reason: He wanted to ‘experiment’ a bit more with what he could do with the codex, and Wilson was never one to turn down a good excuse for science, even if it wasn’t his own. He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow.
“Well, that should be the last of the list you had! So, now that we’re here...”
“Now you get to put it away in the chests while I make some quick food, there’s no way I can justify leaving all this laying on the floor after all the time it took to get it here.”
Maxwell walked past Wilson with a smooth stride over to the lone crockpot on the opposite side of the chests. Wilson’s pout went unnoticed while the shadow clones continued to follow the original.
Wilson started to pick up the logs first, bringing over a few stacks to the orderly line of chests. Maxwell had always been a stickler for every inch of furniture placement, and even if he didn’t have the excuse to practice his magic in seclusion, it was only a matter of time before Woodie’s random piles of logs or Wigfrid’s chaotic chest use started to give him another valid reason to depart before he could try to murder another survivor for filling the nightmare fuel chest with manure (again).
Wilson actually liked coming here with Maxwell, he was certainly no stranger to the mental wear that being around every other survivor all the time could bring. While Maxwell was valid to put away their haul before bad luck could strike, Wilson couldn’t help but feel a little impatient to get the show on the road. It wasn’t everyday that Wilson could get a good chance to study the science behind his ‘magic’, and even less frequently still that Maxwell would let him get close to the codex’s deeper pages and its secrets.
There was also the prospect of another chance to do some ‘ungentlemanly things’ with Maxwell that night, as they were prone to do whenever away from the others, but science was the primary goal Wilson had in mind today.
While Maxwell cursed into the air about another misremembered recipe leading to another helping of leafy meatloaf, Wilson carefully went back and forth between the piles and the chests, filling the boxes of stones and gold and pigskin and silk, and…
Wilson blinked as the last chest in the line felt different when he tried to grab the lid. He looked up, and an odd looking box with some red fabric was where the last chest for nightmare fuel should have been. He brushed his fingers over the top, decorated with curled metal shaped like the top of the throne he had become intimately familiar with when Maxwell’s reign came to an end. This was something new and yet startlingly familiar, but Wilson found it a simple task to let his curiosity overcome any sense of unease he had. He began to feel the smooth wooden sides, and poked at the red fabric until it began to part like a curtain down the middle. Wilson figured it would be like a theater curtain if it was anything, and felt it to be a fitting thing to have in Maxwell’s camp.
He opened the curtain, and was rewarded by a spiraling mini-portal and a weak flow of air pushing the curtains out of the way. He looked to Maxwell with confusion and questions, but upon seeing him fiddling with his top hat with his back turned, he looked back towards the boxed in portal with what most might agree was a bad idea. He stuck his hand inside, and felt no real change in temperature or moisture. It simply felt like thick air until his hand bumped into something, and he grasped and pulled the object out without thinking twice about it.
The scientist found himself with a lap full of stale leafy meats and pilfered vegetables from the main camp’s garden, all tugged around the single piece of leafy meat Wilson had pulled out
He held up one piece in sheer confusion, unsure of what the box was even more than he was before. His daze what cut off by a sheer shriek of “HOW AM I OUT OF THEM I GATHERED 20 OF THOSE LITTLE CUNTS!” Wilson flinched and dropped the limp floral flesh with a meaty thwack.
Maxwell turned around with an angry scowl and saw Wilson covered in the very thing he was looking for like a kitten wrapped in unraveled twine.
Wilson blinked.
“I found some leafy meat. And some produce to go with it.”
Maxwell thought he looked and sounded idiotic but he supposed it was his own fault for sticking his special chest out in the open.
“Right. I forgot I made that only recently. I suppose you want to know what it is?”
Wilson nodded, not bothering to move the meat or plantstuff,
“It’s a form of convenient magical storage. If you could put the meat back inside…?”
Wilson nodded again, before snapping himself out of his stupor and grabbing the piles of leafy meat and vegetation, shoving his filled hands back into the swirling vortex, and letting go. Wilson drug his empty hands out, feeling strange if only for the lack of properly feeling strange from the unusual device.
The scientist cocked his head, still not quite picking up what Maxwell was putting down.
“...Okay? This is impressive, but is this better than a normal chest?”
Maxwell smiled and brought out the top hat again, reaching in and pulling out a fistful of leafy meat.
Wilson’s brows raised a little.
“Oh! You made a portal between your box and the hat! Well, I suppose all our research and testing did yield some extra useful results after all, I’m certainly happy to see if we can-”
“Before you start, it’s not linked to each other, just to a little pocket of magical space I recently learned how to access.”
“Oh. But that’s still useful! I could send you anything you might need from here if you’re traveling. Wait… does it go both ways?”
Wilson still sounded curious, but a little hint of irritation had crept into the last question- Wilson always got impatient when discovering something new. Maxwell didn’t see provoking Wilson as a negative outcome, so he let himself continue.
“Why yes, though only I can reach into the hat to access the space, so your only way to reach in is though the box. Could you hold this rabbit for a moment?”
Maxwell pulled a trembling rabbit from his pocket and dropped it into the hat like a fluffy sack. Wilson didn’t turn his head away from Maxwell, simply reaching in until he felt something furry and pulled out the poor little creature by the antlers. He pet the terrified rabbit but kept a tight grip while his glare at Maxwell intensified.
“So you can. So we could have used this chest this whole time if I stayed here and pulled out whatever you put in instead of running around half the constant going back and forth?!”
Maxwell took a moment to consider the accusatory idea, stroking a black talon across his protruding chin with considerable thought.
“...Yes. Yes, we could have.”
He walked towards Wilson with a large white-toothed grin and took the rabbit out of his hands with a gentle touch.
“But what kind of pal would I be to leave you out here by your lonesome? You do so enjoy my company, who am I to derive you of it when you insist upon it so?”
He snapped the rabbits neck with his continuously wide smile while looking Wilson in his frustrated eyes, and walked back over to the crockpot to toss the carcass in.
The scientist scrunched his nose at the insinuation more than the action. Theatrical asshole, he thought.
Wilson sighed and resumed his poking of the strange and new dark magic device as if it had never hurt him before to do so.
Maxwell seemed to had refocused on the bubbling pot of what was soon to be rabbit stew, and so Wilson began to stick his left arm in a little longer to see what else he could feel in there, or if anything of an unusual proportion was lurking inside.
“Hey Maxwell,” He felt a clump of ice, “-had you ever-” A pile of nightmare fuel, “-had anything-” A fluffy mound of beefaloo wool he thankfully couldn’t smell from this side of the portal, “-get stuck in here?” Wilson asked, fingers gliding across the blunt end of a dark sword without confidence it was the blunt end.
Maxwell huffed and turned bock towards Wilson.
“If you’re worried about getting yourself stuck inside, don’t rummage around my things.”
He turned back towards what was about to be lunch, too hungry to pay attention to his favorite albeit most annoying pawn.
Wilson considered Maxwell’s answer, mouthing the word ‘yourself’, as an even worse idea masqueraded itself as a moment of brilliance in his mind.
Maxwell felt himself relax as the crockpot’s bubbling overcame the rustling of various items getting chucked around behind him. Higgsburry might get on his nerves from time to time, but loathe as he was to admit it, he did enjoy his company aside from moments of impulsive stupidity that overtook what he considered to be a brilliant and underappreciated man. The lid of the pot sprang off to reveal a steamy serving of rabbit stew, a dish Maxwell had been craving for the last few days, and he helped himself to pour the contents into a stone bowl with a delightful sounding slosh of broth. He did not bother to move elsewhere to eat, seeing as there was no proper table in his little camp (yet), between sips and bites he felt a contemplative peace. Now that things were quiet, he felt he could have a pleasant evening with Wilson, sorting things and making things and talking about whatever they may please, and perhaps this time- if his companion were to ask politely- he just might share more of the codex’s secrets with him. Perhaps, just maybe, he could make him see things the way Charlie and himself did, and not have to worry so deeply about keeping such a secret around somebody he cared a great deal for.
He placed the empty bowl down and brushed the rose on his lapel in silence.
Maxwell blinked.
Silence…?
When did- HIGGSBURRY
He turned around on his heels with a quickening pulse, only to find Wilson’s rear sticking out of the magic chest and softly kicking the ground. Judging from the way he would twist and squirm his legs, it would appear he had gotten stuck.
Of course he found a way to get himself stuck.
Maxwell dragged a clawed hand over his face as he went over to the half-idiot in his box.
“Dumbass! Moron! Idiot!! Why would you think it was a good idea to take me literally when I’m insulting you?!”
He pounded the top of the box with an angered fist, shaking the box ever so slightly but failing to dislodge the hapless human within/without. Wilson’s kicking became mush more animated, cuban heeled shoes clicking on the marble floor, and he could almost hear very distant yelling from within.
Maxwell struck the box again. “I can’t hear you from out here, idiot!” He kicked it for good measure, though he knew it wouldn’t break or jostle the contents enough to make an actual difference. More muffled screams could be heard from within.
The magician rolled his eyes and reached for and into his hat.
The first thing he touched felt like some half-spoiled meatballs he must have forgotten about.
The second thing he touched was round and semi-smooth; his emergency touchstone, naturally.
He brushed it aside and kept groping around until he felt something warm, fleshy and firm. He gripped it between his thumb and the side of his index finger, earning a few strong kicks and more muffled screeches. Realizing it was only Wilson’s nose, he released the squeeze and let his hand drift further down-
“Ow!” That impudent little shit, he bit me! Maxwell could only seethe as he shook the pain from his hand in the void space before gripping Wilson’s face by both cheeks and yanking up hard.
Wilson gasped for air as the front half of his head was pulled back into the constant. His chin just barely jutted out of the brim, and his hair remained pulled back and pinned against his trapped scalp, but he did not seem to mind in his occupation with oxygen. Maxwell wiggled his fingers, trying to free them from between the gasping face and the hat’s brim, no longer able to leverage more distance to pull Wilson out with. Once Wilson caught his breath, he did the second most instinctual thing-
“What the hell, Maxwell, I could have asphyxiated in there!”
Maxwell scowled, but could not be too angry at the sight of the other mans face absolutely squished between his hands, indignant and pathetic in just the way the magician loved to see. “But you didn’t, did you?” he mused carefully pulling out one hand to hold the hat as to remove the other. “Quite the curious predicament, wouldn’t you say pal?” Maxwell couldn’t help but smirk down at Wilson’s face, seeing him so small in form and so dependent on the former nightmare king for freedom, an interesting turn of the table from their prior history. It’s not like Wilson was in any danger of using up all the air in there anyways, given the creatures he would store within were no worse for wear.
“Alright, alright...” Wilson sighed, clearing away any remnants of his recent panic. “Now can you pull the rest of me out? I can’t seem to get my torso back out of the chest…” His eyes drifted to the side with mild worry, but at this angle he couldn’t see much that wasn’t Maxwell, the sky, or the treeline.
Maxwell’s sneer did not dissipate, leaving Wilson with the worry in his heart.
“Well, let’s not waste time then. Would you like to see where you went wrong?”
Maxwell flipped the hat up into the air with a spin and a startled yell, catching it and the dizzy face within at another angle to see the magical chest.
“The first mistake you made was going through my things like some sort of vagrant pickpocket. The second was exhaling every bit of breath your lungs could hold, letting your chest get small enough to fit in a frame it couldn’t slip back out of, and pushing through to your waist before your breath caught you in a bad spot. Honestly, such an amateur move can give you a pretty bad time if you don’t have a stage hand to spot you, I’ve heard of stunt magicians dying to far less stupid acts.”
Wilson took no time to take Maxwell’s angry observation into action, breathing out all the way and remaining calm while his lower half began to sway and wriggle and his legs bent to push his feet against the bottom of the chest… to no effect before Wilson gasped for air again.
“Damn it all! I’m still not able to pull free! Try to pull my legs out!”
Maxwell had a moment before he responded, mesmerized by the display, smirk washed away by contemplation, a seed of a different kind of terrible idea starting to sprout. “Hmm… Yes, I can do that. Just a moment.”
The walk over by a few steps was normal for Maxwell, but for Wilson, he could feel the sway of the hat in his hand, less strenuous than the spin he was forced through in the air, but still making him feel lightheaded. It didn’t help that his arms laid slack in the void, unable to push against anything that wasn’t just floating nearby. It was a strange position, and it could really only give him a strange feeling. Helplessness, certainly, but also something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not that he could put his fingers on anything at the moment, as the only thing he hadn’t taken out of the space was what felt like some stone fruits, and those kept getting bumped away before he could grasp them.
Maxwell put the hat down on top of the box and looked more closely at the situation. Wilson’s rear was protruding out the most, with his knees resting onto the carpet beneath, with not much more room to try to straighten the legs out without laying right on the dividing segment between the box and the portal. He called forth a shadow clone to clean up the piles of stuff around the space, taking care of that distraction while he focused on the main problem.
Placing his hands on the sides of Wilson’s thighs seemed like a natural starting point, the tips of his claws dipping into the taut fabric of the slacks as the hands spread to hold each thigh like giant loaves of soft bread, slipping further into the inner thighs to let his arms get some leverage.
“Alright Max, I think you have a good grip on my thighs now… Maxwell?”
Maxwell did indeed have a good grasp on the shorter man’s legs, but this time there was no intention to attempt another failed pull. The tips of his claws began to tap on Wilson’s inner thighs in waves before his thumbs started to circle on his lap.
The shiver and squirm he felt though Wilson's body confirmed there was something he could do to make a good show of this disaster. Lots of somethings.
“Maxwell, I’m starting to get a little ticklish, could you please pull already?”
Maxwell hummed as he began to move his hands up and down, massaging Wilson just enough to start some ‘increased blood flow’ as Wilson called it.
He pressed his left hand on Wilson’s buttocks and placed a finger to drag over the crease between them as he moved his hand down, relishing in hearing Wilson’s breathing start to become short and erratic as he shifted it to grope the left cheek. Placing a leg of his own over the kneeling calves as simple enough to make sure Wilson would stay put.
“I would pal, but my goodness, what if you tried to get stuck again? I think a quick bit of discipline is in order to make sure you don’t try such a foolish thing again.”
*Thwack*
His right hand came down on his victims right cheek hard and fast, a beautiful scream like the panicked blast of a trumpet coming from the hat.
Maxwell flicked his tongue with glee and anticipation.
“Well, maybe not quick, but certainly one you won’t forget anytime soon.”
“Maxwell, you fucking fuck, get me out of this thing!!”
Wilson’s legs began to buck and kick with his redundant swearing, but no no avail. Maxwell already had them weighed down with his own body weight, and scrawny as he might be, Wilson didn’t have the leverage to get his legs free from the magicians pinning hold.
Maxwell was grinning ear to ear, not that Wilson could see it from where the hat sat atop the magical chest. Oh, this was going to be fun.
*Thwack*
Another yelp came from that hat, though this one was less loud.
*Thwack*
“Maxweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell~!”
Maxwell let the satisfying sound echo in his mind, made up mostly of anger and embarrassment and frustration, with the little hint of something else giving him the confidence to try something else. With the bottom half of the man under him going nowhere anytime soon, he took his hands up and into the small opening and hooked the tips of his fingers into the portal and into the scientist’s waistline, beneath the vest and into the belt loops.
“What-”
“And for my next trick, I’m going to make your bottoms disappear!”
With a strong and fluid movement Maxwell had taken Wilson's pants, belt and all, to the entrapped mans knees.
Wilson said nothing but Maxwell could hear him stop breathing for a moment while his hands went back up to fondle the bare thighs and his face closer to the hat.
“Tada~”
The crooning tone of his sarcastic remark seemed to get Wilson out of his stupor.
“Maxwell I swear on science-”
“The same science that convinced you going head first into a confined space was a good idea? C’mon pal, look on the bright side, we get to fool around and test some theories in one day.”
The hat remained quiet and still, but Maxwell could tell Wilson was pouting without having to see his face. The lower half of him was even more readable, a half hard dick twitching from behind his hairy-
“...Fine.”
Maxwell’s smile spread so far across his face that one might think his head was about to split in twain.