Work Text:
“Driven"
Chumbucket woke up with a start, covered in a cold sweat. His body ached in remembrance, checking to make sure he wasn’t under the knife again on the table, being mocked for his unnatural form.
He let out a sigh of relief upon finding himself whole and uninjured. Chum plopped back down in his hammock and tried to slip back into sleep’s comforting embrace, but the past his nightmares had brought back persisted, consuming his thoughts.
Needing reassurance, Chum got to his feet and walked over to the half-finished car sitting in the open-air garage, the metal chassis cold underneath his hand. Even now, he found it hard to believe it was slowly coming into being piece by piece. His life's purpose, which he owed to one man.
“What?”
The rough sleep-addled response came from the direction of the driver’s seat, where Max slowly sat up from his reclined position.
“N-Nothing, sorry to disturb you.”
Having pulled the seat completely upright, Max peered at him momentarily before opening the car door. He held a hand out and used the other one to pat his lap. “Sit.”
Chum's throat went dry as he complied, certain he knew what was coming next.
It had been a month since Max came into his life, and Chum was ever thankful for the company, assistance, and protection. Before, he’d been easy pickings, and now just the truly stupid and arrogant tried to fuck with them.
After all, his Saint was a mighty man.
He was a towering being of muscle and pure willpower who refused to bend down to anyone else's will, no matter how tall the odds were stacked against him. Max took on challenges that would have killed lesser individuals, secure in the belief he couldn’t fail.
Given his sole strengths laid in manipulating vehicles and Chum's quick and dexterous black fingers, there was much he admired in Max, the talented driver who had graciously been delivered unto him from above.
He was everything Chum could have asked for and more. His faith in Max was second only to the Angel made steel, the Magnum Opus, which haunted Chum’s every waking moment. A miracle of metal, gas, and combustion.
It was a harsh world full of ugly people doing ugly things, Chum no exception. He was scarred and malformed, marred everywhere except his crotch.
His executioner’s idea of a joke. Who would want to sleep with a disfigured hunchback? It turned out there were always exceptions to the rule.
Max's grip tightened on Chum's hips, drawing him back to the present, and he didn’t protest the rough treatment. Nor did Chum say anything as Max removed his tool belt and yanked down his pants, his warm fingers settling around Chum’s cock.
When they first started doing it, it had been more pain than pleasure, but practice made perfect, and Max was nothing if not full of vigor, ready to channel his frustration and anger at the world’s injustices. If it wasn’t vented through sex, it was in killing his many enemies.
Because it was hard on his back because of his hump, Chum had fast learned that straddling Max was the easiest and most comfortable position for him to maintain. With his hands atop Max’s shoulders, he could control the pace and keep a firm hold should his partner start to lose control of his passions.
While they never kissed, Chum appreciated the care in which Max handled him, as if aware that though his body was healed, it could still be sensitive and sore in places.
Max had his own many scars to bear, favoring his right leg when he thought no one else was looking. The white mass of scar tissue Chum had seen on his left knee was enough of an explanation for him.
His Saint wasn’t one to mince words, hardly saying anything unless pressed to. Even then, he maintained a distance from others, keeping his private thoughts to himself.
Chum only knew as much as he did about Max because they bunked together, thrown together by fate, and united in a single goal.
He moaned under his breath as Max worked his cock, his dark eyes focused on Chum's face while he trembled, tension slowly building in the pit of his stomach and below.
Watching, waiting, biding his time until he proceeded to the next step. Not unlike how Max approached enemy strongholds.
“Saint,” Chum muttered, his skin buzzing with nervous energy. “Mercy.”
At Max's heated gaze, Chum swallowed back a groan, mourning the loss of Max's hand as he reached for the lube underneath the car seat.
Like every other hard-fought resource in the world nowadays, lube was no exception. Chum made his own because savaging had always been difficult for him. It was also somewhat of a specialty item.
Max nudged one finger inside him. Chum shuddered, an almost electric sensation shooting up his spine as Max started teasing him, knowing exactly where to hit to drive him crazy.
Relentless in his task, Max only stopped once Chum silently put a hand on Max's forearm. His breath was uneven as he gathered himself together again.
Taking the gesture as permission to proceed, Max undid his belt and pants, his hard-on straining the cloth of his underwear.
Chum moved closer and pushed the last barrier aside, freeing the man's cock. With Max holding him steady, Chum sank down onto it, impressed as always by the thickness and heat.
He was sweating in earnest as he started moving, Max's eyes fluttering closed as he let out a deep grunt.
Chum raised his hips again and was startled as Max took a firm hold on his shoulders and bucked upwards, a surge of bliss seizing Chum at the action, at the inherent possession and power of it.
“Fuck,” Chum panted out, a jolt running through his body as Max pumped in and out of him, barely giving Chum enough time to catch a breath between powerful strokes.
Just like everything else in life, Max gave his all, his body a wild ride from start to finish.
Chum dug in his fingernails and hung on, his head dipping backward. He reached for his cock and closed a hand around it. The added stimulation welcomed tension that burned through Chum's insides.
As fast as the action was, it couldn’t last long; Chum resigned to the fact that this was as close as Max would let him get. As soon as he climaxed and caught his breath, he'd push Chum aside, and that'd be that.
Part of Chum wanted more from Max, but he knew he couldn’t be selfish. After all, he was sitting within the metal body of his true love, which was being built part by part with his own two hands.
Max leaned forward, and Chum was shocked when he laid his mouth on Chum's upper chest around his right nipple, biting lightly. He growled and slowly deepened the gesture, eventually breaking the skin.
Chum couldn’t help thinking that Max was claiming him in the primal and fierce move, leaving behind a visible mark for others to see.
He whimpered.
The fire in his gut exploded, spreading to his every nerve. Chum shook atop Max, his vision going in and out at the intense finish.
The blood on Max's bottom lip as he smirked and sat back from him was almost enough to set Chum off again. He forcibly closed his eyes and moaned as Max returned to his former task, his cock still hard and hot.
Wanting to give as good as he got, Chum bore down on Max from within, relishing the strangled sound Max gave in return. His gaze was wild as he raised it to Chum's, one corner of Max’s mouth turned upward.
It was all Chum could do to restrain himself from closing the remaining distance between them.
Instead, he grinned back and released Max, the man’s eyes narrowing before he jerked once, then grunted as Max gripped Chum's upper arm hard enough to bruise.
The euphoria that softened Max's face said everything. He panted, dropping his hands to his lap.
Neither said anything for a minute, simply taking the moment for what it was. Chum imagined a more loving couple would’ve cuddled and basked in the afterglow, but that wasn’t their way.
“Off,” Max said quietly, Chum awkwardly moving to do so. It was close to thanks as he'd get. Max did at least provide a supporting hand as Chum relocated to the passenger seat beside him.
Max handed him his tool belt stoically. Chum slowly put his clothes back to right after using a rag to clean up, and his partner did much the same.
Under no illusions, Chum knew the only reason Max slept with him was a matter of convenience. The second he found someone better, likely of the female variety, Chum knew he'd be tossed aside without a second thought.
For now, though, it was a win-win situation, and Chum would worship at Saint's altar for as long as he allowed it.
Max started the car, the engine purring loudly in the garage. He eyed Chum briefly before looking ahead to the desert landscape in front of them. “Let's ride.”
Chum hid a smile. “Yes.”
They left a cloud of exhaust and dust in their wake as they raced off into the sunrise.