Maxwell/Wilson, Maxwell/Maxwell
NC-17
Warnings/Tags: Dubcon, humiliation, domination, medfetish, torture, gore, disturbing mental images, hurt/comfort, drug use, needles, overstimulation, forced orgasm
Continuation/Sequel to God of Second Chance
Summary: Wilson has found Maxwell again, and things have turned into a kind of normal. But with rules being broken and secrets being kept, even a kind of normal can’t last…
"Maxwell?"
He turned away at the sound of his name, flinched as Wilson touched his face.
"Maxwell, I d-didn't...why didn't you t-t-tell me, I kn-knew it was bad but I c-c-couldn't imagine...d-does it hurt?"
Always. For ages. Ages on ages. He pulled away from his hand. "What the hell are you doing here, kid? You had your chance and you took it."
"What a-are you talking about?"
Maxwell found himself focusing on Wilson's neck. If he could move, he could kill him so quickly, so painlessly. He'd never know. Never have to know. "Is this what you wanted to see? Are you satisfied now? Happy?"
"Wh--why would I be happy about this?"
He looked up, stung by the genuine alarm in Wilson's voice. "...you left. Picked a good time for it. Should've stayed away."
"M-Maxwell, I..." He hugged himself, dropping his gaze. "...I l-lied, I'm sorry I lied but you would have stopped me, you w-wouldn't have let me go, and...and..."
He didn't know whether to hope, didn't know what to hope for. "...and?"
"...a-and I couldn't let you k-keep suffering."
Maxwell closed his eyes, motioned him closer. Wilson knelt at his feet, resting his head close to his hand, and Maxwell stroked his hair as he cried.
It would have been so much easier if he hated him.
"Pal..." He shook his head. It wasn't the time. "Wilson. You need to go."
"No. N-not without you."
"It isn't possible. This is it, Wilson. This is the end of the game." A traitorous thought rose in him like bile, a giddy thrill at the idea of letting him open the Keyhole, letting him reap the consequences--better him than me--
He bit it back. He didn't deserve that, not now. "We can't both leave. It's the rules. I stay here, or...or you do, and you're not doing that." He grasped Wilson's hair, agitated. "Fuck, I don't know what you're going to do! You stupid--there's no way out!"
"There is. Th-there's a way."
There was stubbornness in Wilson's eyes when he looked up, and that was rote, but there was...something else, that flare of smugness he got when one of his ridiculous experiments went really right.
"I, I, I know you don't believe me, but the things I see--s-some of them aren't that bad, some of them are good even, even if they're unpleasant, b-because some of them don't like each other, and--and it's not so crazy that they'd tell me things, things to build, the s-same way you did but backwards, a simple matter of r-r-r-reverse engineering, of making the nnnn, nexus go the other way--"
Maxwell didn't believe, didn't dare to believe. "Spit it out, kid."
Wilson laughed, really laughed, not out of hysteria but of exhausted delight. "I built a door, Maxwell, I b-built a door. Not--not all the way back, I can't get it to go that far, but to the surface." He stood with some difficulty, leaning heavily on his cane. "I found my camp, the g-garden's still there, my machines--I could see the sun again, you c-could--"
"Shut up." Wilson wilted, light in his eyes fading at words spoken through clenched teeth. "Just shut up. I'm not going anywhere. I can't break the rules."
"You can, though, I've seen y-you--"
"Parlor tricks, kid. Stupid fucking gags an amateur could pull off. This--this is hiding the elephant. It's not possible." Maxwell gritted his teeth, body tense, then slowly slumped in the throne. "Even a king is bound to the board."
"There are two kings!"
Maxwell looked up in shock at the conviction in Wilson's voice. He couldn't remember the last time he had pushed through his typewriter-stutter. Wilson laid his hand's on Maxwell's, entwined their fingers.
"You just have to decide which side of the board you're on."
Wilson held his hands tightly and pulled.
It wouldn't have worked if he stopped to think. That was always the trick of it. Never look too close. But he didn't, couldn't, let the fervent devotion in Wilson's face misdirect him, and the pull of shadows down his back was like countless thorns hooked into his flesh, was more agonizing than he could have imagined, but when he thought he couldn't bear it any longer something snapped, something broke--
He was free.
His legs were weak, atrophied, and pain radiated out from his spine in every direction like electric shocks, but when he realized through the surreal haze that Wilson was the only thing holding him up, he steadied. "...leave it, kid, I'm up."
Wilson withdrew only reluctantly, but there was a trace of gratitude as he leaned on his cane, wincing and rubbing his thigh.
Maxwell stood for a moment, looking down at himself, not quite believing. God, how long had it been? Diminished as he felt, there was a surge of elation as his mind finally let it be real. He was out.
Although something...didn't quite feel right. He turned to look at the nightmare throne--
"D-don't." Wilson caught his arm, turned him back pleadingly. "Let's just f-f-forget. Please."
Maxwell dropped his hands, smiled ruefully as he shook his head. "I can't protect you out there. You know that, right?"
"We'll g-get by."
Wilson helped him ease forward, led him to the Door, and when it opened the sunlight was blinding and painful, but the wind that rushed through made his breath catch in his chest. Fresh air blew the dust away, brought in the scent of the wild.
Maxwell stepped through, petted Chester absently as she slammed into his knees, and was so transfixed by the sky that it took him a moment to realize Wilson wasn't following, was looking at something in the dark.
"Hey." He jerked his head toward the world ahead of them. "New rule, pal, you made it yourself. No looking back."
Wilson jumped guiltily and hurried to his master's side, the door slamming closed and disappearing. "S-s-s-sorry. Just...woolgathering."
Maxwell lit a cigar, inhaled deeply, breathed out smoke. "I'll take it out of your hide."
Wilson wasn't sure if he meant that literally, but he didn't mind either way. He was exhausted, aching, but it was worth it, it had all been worth it.
And anyway, he saw a lot of things. Thought he saw a lot of things.
If he told Maxwell that one of those things had been his very shadow breaking loose, bound to the hellish throne even after Maxwell wasn't, that it had been silently screaming in rage that he could almost feel, he never would have believed him.
