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“So how do I do you?”
Maxwell’s already flushed face shot up from where it had been resting on Torse’s shoulder. “Oh, god that sounded rude! I apologize! I just- I think I need a little instruction here.”
Torse fought the instinct to laugh as his companion’s cheeks reddened further. He had not found the question rude (or mean for that matter. He was still unclear what the difference was).
Maxwell had only fully relaxed a few minutes ago. Torse had felt great satisfaction, watching sweat cool on his body as his companion’s heart pressed against his chest and steadied.
The perceived faux pas appeared to have undone some of that progress. His body tensed as he began gesturing to the cast iron body below him. “It’s only that- well I don’t have any experience with machinery. I don’t know what to avoid or focus on so I could use some pointers, so to speak.”
“I urge you to relax, I promise I took no offense. Do not worry, you are not required to do anything. I assure you I enjoyed the experience.” This did not appear to have corrected the issue. Maxwell’s brows furrowed slightly at this and his eyes focused on his visor, as though to make stern eye contact.
“It’s not an obligation. You made me feel good. I’d like to be able to do that for you, if I can.”
A desire for reciprocation was understandable. Honorable, even. And Maxwell had certainly always aimed to give as good as he got in any context.
Torse began to lightly rub his lover’s arms as he hummed and considered the best way to fulfill the request.
“Would you be willing to describe the sensation? So I may identify a similar experience of my own.”
“Oh! Uh- well I suppose most of the process feels like pressure? The sensory build up sort of fires through all my nerves until it peaks. And then there’s a feeling of release. I go a bit lightheaded and my body feels very relaxed and- comfortable? I guess?”
Until very recently- Torse had spent his entire life in a time of war. The ability to feel is not generally beneficial in such a time. Perhaps now that his home is safe again, now that his days are filled with repair rather than destruction, now that a being of soft flesh is at his side he should reevaluate. Feeling may yield pleasure as well as pain in the new Zern they are building.
Implementing more sensitive receptors would not be a particularly difficult process now that his kin have been returned- but it would be a lengthy one. Maxwell shifts nervously in his lap and Torse decides to postpone this train of thought for another time. When he is not otherwise occupied and Maxwell is clothed.
“I do not believe my receptors are tuned so acutely to allow for the same sort of release you have found. But your description-of a feeling of intense pressure that culminates in a more comfortable state of being- does bring something to mind.”
Blue eyes and a lovely smile widen. “Great! What can I do?”
- - - - -
Maxwell’s finger is on a trigger.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be doing this?” The pugilist is standing in front of Torse in what appears to be a large shower, naked as the day he was born with some sort of gun in his hand.
“I assure you I will be perfectly fine. I have adjusted it to its lowest setting, there is no screw or wire within me it could damage.” Torse cocks his head and Maxwell can feel his gaze narrow on him as he continues, “I remind you that the same may not be said for you and I urge you to at least put your shoes back on.”
“I’ll be fine, I just won’t aim down.”
“Maxwell-“
“I’ll be fine! Now show me how to use this thing.”
A huff of steam releases from within Torse’s ribcage as he leans forward to adjust Max’s grip on the gun.
“The safety is here, just above the coupling for the hose. Switch that off and support the barrel with your other hand while you squeeze the trigger. Do not take your hand off the barrel while you have your finger on the trigger.”
Maxwell nods as Torse steps back, taking a deep breath and doing his best to look confident. He aims the gun forward at the wall next to Torse (not near his feet at all!) and pulls the trigger.
If Marya’s piloting has taught him anything it’s how brace.
His arms flex and he plants his feet as the recoil hits him and a jet of water blasts into the shower wall.
“OKAY-ok, got it!”
Keeping the trigger clamped down- Maxwell slowly moves the stream towards Torse’s foot.
The jet of highly pressurized water hits an ankle and Max prepares to move it away at a movements notice. When the automaton doesn’t flinch he allows himself to relax a bit and begins to slowly sweep the spray back and forth.
A low hum emanates from Torse’s chest as he begins to shift his weight. Cogs shift and wires twist, and Max sees small pieces of dirt and rubble wash down the drain. When Torse eventually settles, his feet relaxing fully into the floor, Max takes that as a sign to keep moving and begins to carefully move up Torse’s legs.
“You’re doing wonderfully. Would you aim slightly higher and to your left?” Maxwell feels his dick twitch at the praise and directs the water into the joints of the automaton’s hips.
Slowly, the jet of water is dragged along Torse’s body. Dirt and metal shavings dislodge from the grooves in his hands. Grease, thick and grimy, washes out from behind iron panels. Bits of rust and stubborn flecks of blood wash away from his spikes and gauntlets, leaving smooth metal behind.
Torse shifts and resettles under the spray and Maxwell is reminded of the jets in the Zephyr’s hot tub. Of massages after a long bout of gentlemanly fisting. Battering the knots in his skin until they relax into blissful submission.
He does one final pass, from the shoulder spikes back to the feet before he finally releases the trigger and puts the safety back on.
Torse’s chest glows brightly and the clockwork heart within ticks loud and steady. Now that Max can hear something other than water he notices that all of Torse seems to be a little bit louder. Gears turn and wires hum with a sort of crisp efficiency, like there is nothing weighing them down. The light within him reflects off of freshly cleaned machinery and the whole room seems to be full of him. His light, his sound, his steady presence.
Torse leans down and presses his visor to Maxwell’s forehead. For a moment their hearts beat in sync, and everything is still.
A small smirk appears under a perfect mustache. “So how’d I do?”
“You performed flawlessly. All debris has been removed and the only weight I carry is my own.” The automaton pauses- as though he’s fighting to get his next words out- before he adds, “I want you to know that I appreciate the care you give me. I have not had the opportunity to prioritize my own comfort for a long time. That you do means more to me than I can express.”
“I understand. And I’m honored you trusted me with helping.” Maxwell presses a brief kiss to his lovers visor and leans back. “Anything else I can help you with before we turn in for the night?”
“I will need to be dried and freshly oiled to prevent rusting.”
Maxwell barks out a laughs as he starts to head back to their quarters. “You need to be oiled up? You’ve certainly found the right man!”
“Yes, I have.”