Chapter Text
Max was nearly asleep when the sound of steps on the stairs roused him. Jerking upright, his weapon was drawn and trained on the open archway in less than three seconds. Slow.
He was met with grease-stained palms, held up in surrender, bookending a sheepish grin. Max relaxed, lowering the weapon as Nux walked into the firelight.
They were standing on a small, rail-lined ledge, an outcropping of rock on the walls of the Citadel. There were many like it covering the great rock towers, acting as sentry posts marked by small fires. This one was Max's preferred spot, overlooking the desert to the South where he could easily spot approaching parties from Gas Town. Not that there were any threats from them lately; Furiosa had negotiated the treaties well after coming into her new regime. But Max had picked this ledge in particular because it came off of the staircase that lead to the chambers where Furiosa and the Wives (now the "Sisters") slept. It felt right, somehow, like he was guarding them.
He knew the others (with the exception, perhaps, of Furiosa) didn't really understand why he preferred the ledge to one of the many rooms the fortress had to offer. In truth, he didn't want to give the impression he'd be staying for very long. He came and went; days, weeks at a time. Though lately some of those weeks were turning into months in favor of the Citadel, while the nomadic lifestyle slowly lost its appeal and its purpose.
"Didn't mean to startle you," Nux offered, shrugging.
Max scoffed. His reaction time had been shoddy. Furiosa would have pointed it out if she'd seen.
"Mind if I sit?"
Max shrugged his consent, settling back into his spot. They often did this when he stayed here, all of them. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes several at once, but whenever he stayed he'd end up with visitors. Like they didn't want him to forget what they'd gone through together.
As if he'd forget. Why else would he keep coming back?
Capable would always update him on what he'd missed at the Citadel; improvements being made, how the inhabitants were adjusting to Furiosa's new rules. Toast would tell him about the treaties, what the War Boys were doing to maintain and defend their territories. The Dag would tell him all about the garden, and Cheedo would usually try and cook something for him with the produce (the few cook books the Imorten had hoarded in the Vault were ill-matched to cope with the state of the Citadel's kitchens, but it was getting closer to edible each time). Then she'd update him on the state of the Pups; it turned out she had a soft spot for kids and had become some sort of matron figure, along with several Milk Mother's and other women from around the Citadel. Furiosa would usually just sit with him in companionable silence.
Nux would usually talk about anything and everything that came to his mind, until exhaustion caught up with him and he'd curl up against Max's side and sleep through the night. The first time it had happened, Max had stiffened uncomfortably before Nux apologized; "Sorry, I know you usually like some space. Only, it's kinda cold out here. That, and I sleep better if I'm close to someone. Keeps Larry and Barry quiet, mostly." That was all it took for Max to concede, pulling the younger man into his arms.
Tonight followed the same pattern. After talking for close to an hour about the latest upgrades to the best cars in Furiosa's fleet, Nux yawned and stretched his shoulders, before giving Max a hopeful smile.
"D'ya mind?"
Max pursed his lips, as if considering it, before finally he nodded, smirking fondly and giving the Boy's shaved head an affectionate ruffle before leaning back against the rock face. Nux eagerly settled in next to him, pressing his back against Max's side, sliding down until he could rest his head against his shoulder. He sighed happily as he nestled in.
It felt right, somehow.
Max shifted, his left hand settling low on Nux's bare back. Absentmindedly, he began rubbing circles into the skin, hardly noticing until Nux made a small noise like a moan. He paused, until the Boy merely nuzzled closer to him with a soft smile on scarred lips.
Those scars drew his attention. Most of the War Boys had some kind of scars, whether old battle wounds or self inflicted decorations, but few were as extensive as the ones Nux had undertaken. Back Before, when Nux had looked to Joe for something to believe in, Max supposed it must've been an important mark of his dedication to the cause.
He wondered if Nux had been the one to do the scarring himself. He'd never bothered to ask. To be fair, he'd never bothered to observe them so closely. Nux was Nux, and he hardly noticed the scars for the person they decorated anymore. At least until now, when he was actually looking.
And now that he was, he had to admit the kid wasn't too bad to look at, scars and all. No wonder the Sisters warmed up to him so fast. It was strange to realize that Nux had never taken advantage of that attraction; as far as Max could tell, Nux had never dallied with any of the girls. Max never understood why. After all, he could've sworn there was something going on between Nux and Capable during their first adventure, but time had shown him they were just friends. Perhaps Nux just wasn't built for that kind of attraction, or at least not towards the women. Or perhaps he just respected them too much to make a move.
Glancing down, Max reasoned that Nux probably hadn't done the V8 on his chest himself; it was too big, and the wrong angle to be able to achieve such detail. But the ones on his face, perhaps. The twin scars highlighting his skeletal cheeks, those could easily have been nicked there with his own blade. Maybe they were from some kind of accident; as he looked again, the marks matched up with the ghost of a once broken nose, in the shape of what was probably a pair of goggles. Or both, he though. A pair of cuts to highlight a bruise before it could fully heal. His eyes focused on the Boy's left cheek, the scar too bumpy to be from just a deep bruise. Yes, there had to have been a cut.
On impulse, Max reached across, pressing his right thumb along the silver, raised skin.
The Boy's breath hitched, and Max froze, afraid he'd crossed a line, as Nux turned to look at him. Why had he even done that? He waited a beat, but noticed he wasn't pulling away. When he dared to look, wide, blue eyes were meeting his with a kind of excited curiosity.
Startled, he started to pull his hand away, but Nux protested. "You don’t have to stop."
Max hesitated, unsure what had even possessed him to start touching Nux's face. What was he thinking? Sure, the kid was fairly tactile himself, but randomly caressing his face like this might've been going too far. "Is this… hmmm," he cleared his throat eyes darting uncertainly away and then back to connect with Nux. "Is this okay?"
Nux's pink tongue darted across serrated lips, and he nodded encouragingly. "Yeah, it… feels good."
Max returned the nod, reassured, and rubbed his thumb once more over the scar, watching Nux's mouth twitch into an amiable smile. Such a simple thing, just a gentle touch. He tried not to think about it being such a rare thing. About the not-so-gentle touches Nux was no doubt accustomed to, before, a life evidenced by the very decorations beneath his fingers now.
No. Best not to think of that.
That smile drew his fingers right to it, running across those bumps and feeling Nux's warm exhale, as warm as blue eyes meeting his.
Nux, apparently inspired by Max's actions, lifted his own hands to touch Max's generous pink lips. The older man sighed, eyes fluttering closed as something inside him stirred; A spark, a fire he hadn't felt in a long time. A spark reflected in blue as he looked back up at Nux.
Oh.
He felt the tug of facial muscles as Nux smiled encouragingly. "I like that. I like when you touch me."
Max broke eye contact, and it was all he could do to give a non-commital grunt about the statement.
"You can keep touching me," Nux said. "If you want," he added, looking shy, as if already convinced Max would pull away.
A muscle twitched in Max's cheek, and he moved both hands up to cup Nux's jaw. He did want. It felt so easy to want this from Nux, and here he was, offering it. He looked back into blue eyes with warm green ones, and nodded. If Nux wanted this, the way he did, he was willing to see it through.
He lifted his thumbs, placing them gently on the bridge of his nose and sweeping down to trace the length of the scar, back up again over his cheekbones. Blue eyes darkened before fluttering shut, as Max traced his jaw back down to his chin.
Next, he pulled his fingers down over the smooth skin of Nux's neck. It was just like the rest of him; thin and pale, but all solid, wiry muscle under the skin. Down to his shoulder, where his right fingers reached those bumps with the cutesy names. Max frowned. He didn't like those bumps, even if they had stopped growing with the help of healthier living. They were still just sitting there, their little smiley tattoos looking less friendly and more like a dark threat, waiting to return.
Max realized he'd stopped moving and was just glaring at those little lumps. He glanced up to see that Nux was watching, looking nervous, and decided to correct his mistake. He didn't want Nux to think anything was wrong about him, so he drew his pointer finger in a circle, first around Larry, then Barry.
Nux sighed as his fingers settled at the cup of his collarbone, sitting just above the next mesmerizing panel of flesh; the carved V8 scar on Nux's chest.
He marveled at it for a moment, at what that process must have been like. Certainly bloody, painful; the War Boys must've loved it. He ran his digits back and forth over the panel of ribbed skin at the top of the intricate scar. This close, he could see every detail in the firelight. Dozens of parallel gashes in each little line where the scar was reopened, once and again, to finally heal into this masterpiece of skin and gristle. I cut, I heal, I cut again. It seemed like something they'd say.
He traced further along the edges, over valves and tubes and cylinders, following the maze of devotion with his fingertips. Every breech onto a new section yielded appreciative sighs or sharp gasps from the Boy they belonged to. Max watched him carefully. He looked… unfocused. Lost.
"You'll… tell me, if I should stop, yeah?"
"I, yeah," Nux assured. "I mean, it feels funny, but not bad. Kind of… sparkly. Shimmery. Right here," Nux gestured to his abdomen, frowning up at Max, looking for some kind of reassurance. "Is that… normal? Is that okay?"
Max's eyes glinted in the low light with what, on anyone else, might seem like a grimace, but his friends would recognize as his smile. His thick lips only twitched slightly to imitate the gesture. "Butterflies in your stomach?"
"The hell is a 'flubber-tie'?"
"Just an expression." That time there was definitely a smile. "Just relax."
The Boy nodded, leaning back against the rock. His eyes fell closed with a contented sigh as Max traced the outlines of cylinders in a 'V' down to the gear-shaped crankshaft of his solar plexus.
Max grunted thoughtfully, tracing round and round the shape, lingering there for a moment. Then he laid his palms flat and smoothed them back up across the textured skin, earning a loud gasp when his thumbs brushed over pert nipples marking an edge to the design. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Nux's hips thrusting, the teasing touch obviously causing a reaction in the younger man. He could see the fabric straining from it, twitching slightly as he teased those two pink buds.
"Wh- ohh," Nux gasped, gaping up at Max. "Aah- oh!"
Green eyes widened as it struck him that the Boy was so close to release. He hadn't been sure this touching would even go that far, but he certainly hadn't expected it so soon. Taking his cue, Max moved one hand down to cup gently over Nux's canvas covered erection, giving just enough friction to-
"Oo-ooohh!" Nux crowed with his release, and Max worried for a moment he'd attract attention. He glanced at the doorway, but it was quiet on the stairs. "Glory- aaah!" Nux panted heavily as he went limp against the rock wall, chest heaving.
Max smiled- it was easy to do around the Boy. Big, blue eyes locked with his and he tried to look reassuring. There was nothing to be embarrassed about- sure, it had been quick- he'd hardly even done anything- but if it felt good, that's all that mattered. Maybe next time (next time, his mind buzzed at that possibility) he'd last longer.
"S'okay," he tried to assure him, "I-" But the thought died when he registered the look of sheer panic on the gaunt, pale face.
Uh-oh.