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Coffee beans pop open upon the skillet as Robespierre shakes it back and forth over the fireplace, beans evenly roasted, he lifts the skillet off the fire and pours them into a mortar to grind down, he yawns, tying his hair back into a ponytail, his bangs hang just above his eyebrows, curls bouncing as he strains his arms, grinding the beans into a fine powder.
He strains it with a sieve, pouring boiling water through the fine metal grate into two cups. Taking the hot mugs in hand be sits down at the kitchen table, the fire warming his back as he flips through the papers.
He underlines certain sentences with a pen, taking note of anything of importance, flipping over tasteless drivel with a sneer as he sips his coffee.
Danton would come down stairs any minute and force him to eat something.
The mug still emits à faint warmth when he presses his palms to the ceramic, he stares into the dark stain at the bottom of his cup silently. It was too silent.
Mug put away neatly in a small cabinet Maximillien makes his way outside to a small secluded courtyard, à large bird cage is pushed up against the wall and a bag of seed is tied up by the door, he undoes the latch to the cage and a flurry of pigeons shoot out to greet him, some sit on his shoulders, others in his strawberry blond hair, darkened to a light brown from years of being tucked away under a wig, a few stragglers are content to stay within their cage ànd doze.
sitting upon à stool Maxime feeds them seeds and dried fruits, picking them up one by one to check for àny aches, pains or illness, very happy to see all his feathered friends in tip top shape he leaves the cage door open, free to roam, scavenge and play as they pleased, his pigeons always found their way home to him sooner or later. He bids them farewell as he closes the door to the courtyard behind him.
Stomach rumbling in protest from his rather long morning, he grabs an orange off the dining table, peeling it with his nails, clipped short and straight, expect a few he’d bitten down to the nail bed out of habit.
scoffing his breakfast down barely satiates his hunger, he eyes the bowl of fruit critically, gaze dropping to analyse the blue patterns across the ceramic before deciding against eating anymore.
À gentle rapping alerts him to the barbers arrival, he opens the front door and allows him inside, Brount comes bounding towards them, Maximillien having to push him out the way with his foot ànd à short demand to go lay down.
The barber nervously keeps his distance from the Great Dane to follow Robespierre up the stairs to the bedroom.
Scanning the room he spots à vacillating lump of blankets, he runs over, grabbing what he can only assume is Danton's shoulder through the covers ànd shakes.
“Georges… Georges!”
Danton groans and rolls away.
Robespierre stands still, shocked, throwing the barber an apologetic smile before sticking his fingers in his mouth ànd whistling as loud and as sharp as he can.
“Stawp! Sto-op!” Danton moans, sticking his pale face out from under the sheets with a frown.
Maxime’s smile falls from his face, leaning over the bed to press the back of his hand to his partner's forehead.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asks softly, grabbing àt his jaw ànd pulling it open to check his throat.
“I’m fine!” Danton mutters, jerking away, flinging the sheets off and standing up out of bed. Maxime eyes go wide, with a yelp he grabs the blanket off the bed and shoves it into his chest forcefully.
“Danton cover up!” He scolds, jerking his head in the direction of the barber, standing witness to the entire exchange, awkwardly hugging his supplies to his chest.
Danton laughs. “Get out! Lemme get changed or else that’s extra!” He chuckles, Robespierre scowls àt him and guides the barber out of the room.
“Wait, not you!” He calls after him, Maxime grips the door .
“Get dressed!” He yells, slamming it shut.
Robespierre sits politely, hands crossed in his lap as the barber fixes his wig straight.
“You look fuller” he muses, handing Maxime à face shield while he dusts the power over his hair.
“Fuller?” Robespierre questions, pulling the shield away with a nervous smile.
“You’re face, it’s filled out” the barber muses.
Maxime frowns and feels at his face nervously.
“You look good!” He adds quickly, packing away his supplies into a handheld bag
“You’re not trynna flirt with my husband are you?” Danton jokes from behind them, having dressed in pale grey attire, found his way down stairs to the dining room, still fiddling with the cravat hanging around his neck.
The barber jolts ànd moves out of Danton's way, apologising profusely. Danton waves him off and rests his hands on Robespierre’s shoulders, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Maxime hums ànd grabs him by the collar, pulling him down to quickly fix the Cravat straight.
“Thank you, Looks good Ma Crevette, have you had breakfast yet?” He asks, spotting the un-drunk cup of coffee on the table ànd swiping it into his hand, taking a large gulp with a shudder.
“Ugh that’s cold” he spits.
“You slept in and I had an orange” Maxime replies, taking the mirror from the barber's hand with a smile ànd nod, observing how the wig sits. Maybe he does look “fuller” ; he doesn't know how to feel about it yet…
“An orange!? That’s it!? I’ll get us eggs, that's ridiculous” Danton scolds, grabbing his cheeks in his hands and squeezing.
”ah! Speaking of eggs, how about we get us some chickens? Huh? Mon poussin!? You love your birds, why not ones you can eat!” He coos, Maxime slaps his hands away ànd sneers.
“You are the absolute worst, you know that?”
Maxime eats his eggs slowly, watching Danton push his own around his plate, disinterested, yolk broken and spilled across the plate.
“What’s up with you?” Maxime asks, drinking from a cup of orange juice.
“Nothing” Danton replies, pushing his plate away from himself. “Not hungry,” he admits.
“You? Not hungry?? Not possible” Maxime laughs, standing up and grabbing both their plates, he places his cup by Danton's elbow as he walks by.
“Here, drink the rest of this” he instructs, tapping his finger against the table.
Brount brushes up against his leg in the kitchen space, sitting pleadingly, eyes wet and begging by his leg, he smiles and scrapes the contents of Danton's plate into his mouth.
“Good boy”
The Great Dane grumbles as he eats, running off with egg yolk running down his snout.
The cup is left on the table, just a sip of orange juice left in the bottom, Danton sneaks off upstairs and Maxime grabs it, finishing off the contents and throwing it back into the cupboard.
Danton sits by him in the convention, his arms crossed over his chest ànd eyes closed. Chin to his chest as he dozes, Maximilien elbows him in the side, he snorts awake and rubs his eyes.
“Sorry, must have nodded off” Danton groans, holding his head in his hands.
“Danton for gods sake, go home!” Robespierre scolds, grabbing his hand and squeezing.
“What about you?” He asks out the corner of his mouth, sitting up straight and pretending to pay attention to whoever was speaking at the rostrum.
“I’m not falling asleep like an old man!” Robespierre whisper-shouts, fishing through his pocket for a pill of laudanum, pressing it into the larger man’s hands.
“Take this ànd dissolve it in alcohol, go home!” he instructs, Danton rests his hand on his knee and squeezes., Maxime’s hand grabs his, pulling it off and into his lap to trace along the creases of his palm, rubbing his fingers against his ring as he stares ahead, totally engrossed in whatever the speaker was presenting.
Danton sighs, content to let him hold his hand hostage as a fidget toy.
Once the session is called to a close the both of them stand up and make their way down the stands, rushing through crowds of people they make their way into the hallway, ignoring anyone who tries to stop them.
Robespierre grips his elbow and tugs him along, giving people curt greetings when he has to for the both of them.
Danton’s secretly grateful as his headache grows behind his eyes , knowing he’d stand around ànd chat for hours without Maxime courting him around like precious goods, or like a royal guard fending off angry peasants from a tyrannical king.
They stop at the top of the convention steps, Maxime gripping him tightly to the point Danton has to pry him off with a nervous laugh.
“You’ve never been sick before” Maxime states, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping against his thigh.
“Everyone’s been sick Maxime, I almost died from some illness or such as a kid, I jumped in a river stark raving naked” Danton explains “I’ve told you that”
“Yes, but you’ve never been sick while with ME” Robespierre worries, chewing his lip, and twisting his ring around his finger.
Danton grabs him by the waist and plants à chaste kiss to his lips. “Stop being silly” he scolds, pinching his cheek affectionately.
“Ugh! Get OFF of me” Robespierre shrieks, smacking his chest with the palm of his hand.
“There you are” Danton whispers, gently kissing his mouth, Maxime melts against him. Hook, line and sinker.
“I- I know what you did there” Maxime tsks.
“Worked though” Georges mumbles, kissing him again.
“Hmm, go home Georges,” Robespierre tells him, pecking his lips.
Danton pats his behind as he turns around to go back inside “do me proud!” He calls after him, Maxime simply flips him off over his shoulder, used to the rude treatment.
The moment he steps inside he sucks his lip into his mouth, teeth clamping down.
“Are you alright?”
He startles, instinctively looking up due to his height, twin curls, two on each side, kind blue eyes and a handsome frown greet him.
“Hérault” Robespierre nods, eyes darting around anxiously.
“Where’s Danton??” The ex-aristocrat asks, smiling gently, talking slowly as if to a child, sparks of anger go off in Robespierre’s brain, prone to catching on into a wild fire if he doesn’t calm down.
“Sick” he snaps, glancing away ànd knocking his palm against his thigh, trying to keep his odd twitching out of Hérault’s line of sight. Ashamed.
“Oh really? That’s no good, is he okay?” He presses, forcing Maxime’s back against à wall.
“He’s fine” he mumbles, staring daggers at his shoes.
“Do you know what’s wrong with him? When will he be back?” Hérault continues, not picking up on Robespierre’s distress.
“I don’t know!” Robespierre yells, throat tightening uncomfortably, like smoke was burning through his oesophagus. He bites back worried tears, glaring daggers at his fellow jacobin.
“Ah- my apologies…. Can I buy you a drink? We’re not being called back into session for another hour,” Hérault reasons, taking a conciliatory approach. Danton had warned him about crowding his “Crevette” too much…
Maxime relaxes, the twitch in his eye subsiding.
“Yeah, alright” Robespierre agrees, pushing off the wall.
“Great! I know a place that makes the best-,”
“Actually,” Robespierre cuts him off, “do you mind if we go somewhere I know?” He asks, already walking off out the door and down the steps.
Hérault rushes after him, the gregarious man linking their arms together.
“Lead the way then!”
Maximillien doesn’t mind Hérault once he sits down with him over coffee, he’s cheerful, friendly, if not too friendly….. striking up conversation with the waiter, flirting with anyone that breathes in their direction and paying not only for his drink but for a tart as well. It makes his skin crawl.
He sees why Danton likes him so much though, but if he’s being honest he’d never have agreed to spending time with him if it wasn’t for the fact he was a friend of his husbands.
His circle of friends having significantly widened by the man’s outgoing nature, dragging him unwilling by the scruff of his neck to different social gatherings where he barely says à word ànd “looks pretty” or so he’s told.
“Sooo~ Georges tells me you’re into birds?” Hérault strikes up conversation, linking their arms as they walk back to the convention, Maxime tolerating it, but barely, thanks to his feet aching within the soft leather of his shoes, clinging to the offered elbow gratefully.
“I- yes, does he talk of me often?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.
Hérault throws his head back and guffaws.
“You're joking surely!? He’s raving mad about you! Of course, that wasn’t always the case was it? But oh well, you gave him your hand ànd a new man was born, honestly impressive, Maximillien” Hérault praises, pulling him into his side, his scarf brushing against his face.
Robespierre smiles to himself, à skip in his step as they walk in comfortable conversation back to the convention.
Someone approaches them ànd Hérault is quick to strike up conversation, leaving Robespierre to awkwardly hang on his arm in silence. Unsure how, when or if he should interject and say something.
Eventually he simply lets go, stepping back and away, Hérault barely paying him àny mind, too engrossed in his conversation.
Maxime frowns, arms going around his middle as he shuffles through the crowds of people to take his seat amongst the Montagnards.
À bell rings, signifying the conventions session to à close, Maxime sighs ànd gathers his notes, Saint-Just sits to one side of him, Couthon the other.
Maxime offers his arm to Couthon who takes it gratefully as they both take the stairs slowly to the floor.
“Are you feeling okay? You look pale” Saint-Just asks, waiting for them àt the bottom of the stairs.
“I feel fine”
“It’s nothing”
Couthon ànd Maximillien respond simultaneously, looking at each other and giggling.
“Sorry, yes I’m not feeling too well If I’m being honest- Either Herault somehow spiked my coffee with something or Danton has had enough of me” Maxime jokes, eliciting soft chuckles
“No no Maxime, you’ve got that brute wrapped around your little pinky, say sit, he’ll heel” Couthon laughs, clapping him on the back.
Maxime laughs ànd waves him off, “Well that just leaves Herault! Kiss me goodbye friends!” He feigns distraught, arm flying over his eyes.
They both rush for him, Antoine kissing his hand and Couthon his cheek, he giggles and pretends to faint, fanning himself as he falls into two pairs of arms.
Shrieks of laughter echo around the emptying convention, à sound long forgotten by its walls, once housing à great theatre for the likes of Beaumarchais’s Figaro.
Maximilien bids them farewell, papers secure under his armpit he hurries home, à headache growing between his eyes.
Brount greats him àt the front door step, tail swishing excitably, Robespierre scratches behind his ears, squatting down to press à kiss to the side of his head and coo.
“Did Elenore take you for walkies!? Yeah she’s such a good aunty isn't she?” He babies, standing up and dusting off his knees, making his way to the courtyard.
Birds ruffle their feathers as he approaches their cage, all having flown home for the night, settled in makeshift beds Robespierre had handcrafted, their own or on perches.
finding them all accounted for he sprinkles bird feed onto the cages floor before stepping out and shutting them in. But not before he gives them all pets, they coo and playfully force their heads between his fingers , ruffling their feathers in excitement.
“Good night my beautiful babies!” He tells them all, giving final scratches under their necks, walking back inside.
“Georges!” Robespierre calls, ducking into the kitchen to grab a plum, finishing it off in just 6 bites, licking àny excess juice off his lips and throwing the pip out the open window.
He takes the stairs two steps àt à time, pushing the door open to their bedroom.
“Georges?” He whispers, tiptoeing across the room to gently push at his husband's shoulder.
Danton stirs with a groan, forearm covering his eyes.
“Maxi?” He groans, sitting up through a dizzy spell. Robespierre fusses over him, feeling his forehead ànd brushing his hair back with his fingers, asking him a million questions in quick succession.
“Hey- hey slow down” Danton mutters, grabbing Maxime’s wrists tight to stop him from waving his hands in his face.
The room spins, sweat pouring down his forehead, his stomach twists ànd prickles in discontent, he moans ànd flings his legs out of bed, vaguely aware of Maxime hurriedly waving his arms around like a lunatic
“Stop that would you!” Danton yells, stumbling into the wall as a wave of nausea wracks his body, coughing to clear his throat.
“Excuse me!?” Robespierre scoffs, grabbing his elbow and pulling him away from the wall.
Danton waves him away, only to drive his hip into the edge of their desk with a startled whimper.
The stairs creak as Danton stumbles downstairs, hurried light footsteps following close behind.
Chairs scrape across the floor as he bulldozes through the dining room, Maxime grips the staircase railing, swinging around by the end post to fly across the last few steps.
“Maxime” Danton moans, suddenly standing still in the middle of the living room.
“I don’t feel so good”
Robespierre shrieks, rushing past his gagging husband and straight into the kitchen, opening cupboards rapidly to the sound of wet retching.
“Where is it! Where is it!” He mutters, he exhales in relief ànd grabs the bucket, rushing back to find Danton half passed out against the wall on his backside.
“Georges my god what did I say?!” Robespierre reprimands, kneeling down and shoving the bucket into his hands. Danton just moans, head barely held up on his own shoulders.
He sits by him, coaxing his head against his shoulder, kissing his hair affectionately, Maxime sighs.
“What am I ever going to do with you?” He asks, leaning his cheek against the top of his head. Danton sniffles pathetically.
Shaky fingers find his temples, gathering loose strands of hair and pulling them back off his face as he hunches and hurls into a bucket, tears stream down his cheeks, his eyes burning from the acidic smell under his nose.
“Shhh” Robespierre coos, one hand keeping his shoulder length hair out of his face while the other rubs his back.
The stench hits his nose and he gags, swallowing it down to continue comforting his partner, no one could claim he wasn’t a good husband.
“F-fuuuuuck” Danton groans, hugging the bucket to his chest, the hand on his temple disappears, instead gripping the edge of the bucket to yank it away from his chest, Maxime leans over his lap and throws up in the now communal pail.
Fluffy curls rest against his chest, tickling his chin. Thin legs splay out across the floor like a rag doll as the incorruptible heaves in gasps of air.
Thick fingers find Robespierre’s thin shoulder to add another point of contact, squeezing comfortingly as they both sweat through their clothes.
A sudden violent tug from within Danton's stomach has him seizing up, tears gathering in his eyes, to purge its contents into the bucket….
Sick drenches Robespierre’s hair, the acidity burning his skin as it tracks down his forehead and cheeks, droplets fall, sending ripples through the liquid at the bottom of the bucket.
Slowly, he blinks, sick barely missing his waterline as it traces over his eyebags, his body is gripped by an uncontrollable shaking as he pulls his head away from his husband's chest, gripping his knee for support as he stands on unstable legs, his knees knocking like a newborn foal.
Danton’s mouth hangs agape, pupils shrunk in horror.
“Oh my god, oh my god I’m so sorry” Danton whispers.
Glassy eyed, Robespierre stumbles away and out of the room to the washroom.
muffled heaving echoes down the hallway as Danton’s stomach aches slowly ebb away, wiping his lips with the back of his hand he slowly gets to his knees and stands, nausea causing him to sway and stumble against the wall.
He blunders over to the fireplace, filling à cup with water from a pot sat upon cold coals. long since boiled and cooled down, gulping it down in one go, he dips the cup back in and carries it up stairs.
He knocks against the washroom door and is met with a dry wretch from inside.
“Maxime? Mon Soleil, I’m coming in” he calls, slowly opening the door.
Robespierre lays across the floor, his chin rests atop the lid of the toilet, eyelashes fluttering open and then closed again.
Danton rushes forward, getting an arm around thin shoulders and maneuvering him to sit across his thighs.
Sweat slicks George's palm as he cradles Maxime’s burning forehead, a low moan accompanies his swaying.
holding one of his hands Danton rubs à thick calloused thumb across bony knuckles, the other hand busy tucking cold wet curls behind pink mole dotted ears.
“Ma Crevette, mon Soleil…. Baby, darling- I’m so sorry” he whispers, wiping away slow tears from under unfocused bloodshot eyes.
He reaches around and grabs the cup of water he’d left on the ledge, fingers going to the back of Robespierre’s neck to tip him back, bringing the cup to his mouth.
“There you go, shhh, shhh, do you think you’re done?” Dantons asks
Maxime blinks at him blarily, hands gripping his wrist tightly to bring the cup back to his mouth, gulping the water down quickly. He coughs and then nods, standing up on shaky legs.
They both lean on each other, Robespierre more so than Danton who leans into the wall for support as he sways, arm around his husband's shoulders to guide him to the bed. They both collapse in a heap, sweaty bodies sticking them together where they touch.
They both pass out that way, Danton’s left leg hanging over the edge of the mattress and Robespierre curled into a ball laying across his forearm.
The sun is fully set when Danton awakes, he can’t tell what time it is, he rolls over, squeezing his eyes shut with a groan. He flings his arm out and finds nothing but bedsheets.
“Maxi?” He groans, blinking away the crust clumping his eyelashes like glue.
A burning light captures his attention, he spots Robespierre hunched over their shared desk, he’s not even wearing his glasses as he scribbles frantically over a piece of paper.
“Ma soleil what are you doing?” Danton asks, sitting up against the headboard.
Robespierre ignores him, manic scribbling unperturbed.
“Maxime?” He calls again, a little louder this time, he’s ignored, or not heard he can’t tell, Robespierre often in his own world doesn’t respond to him all the time.
“D-Danton- Jacques-,” Robespierre mumbles
shit this must be serious, Danton thinks,
“I’m dying”
“What?!” Danton exclaims, throwing blankets off his legs and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
Robespierre’s head hits the table with a bang, ink spilling from à knocked over inkwell all over his desk ànd papers.
“Fuck!” Danton yells, jumping out of bed and rushing up to him.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck! Maxi? Maxi baby??? Jesus Christ” he rambles, gently sitting him up, his head rolling back against the chair.
“Shit, C'mere," he mutters, grabbing his arm, throwing it over his shoulder, squatting down to get his arm under his knees and kicking the chair away to haul him up into his arms.
Maxime moans and grasps at his shirt weakly.
“Please don’t throw up on me” Danton begs, hugging him to his chest.
Maxime coughs, soaking his shirt in spew.
“Ah- call it even” Danton groans, he gently sets Maxime down on the bed, throwing his own shirt off and gathering it in his hands, using the dry edges of the cloth to wipe the dribble off his chin.
“Fucking hell Maxime” he mutters, coaxing his shirt off over his head, exposing pale damp skin to the cool air, Robespierre shivvers and moans, danton quickly covers him with piles of blankets.
He sits the inkwell up, looking at all the soiled papers across the desk.
“Where you writing à fucking will!?” He laughs nervously, glancing between the paper and Robespierre under a mound of blankets, out cold.
He sighs, leaning over the bed and gently petting his partner's hair, still stiff with dried vomit.
“Oh my darling, ma crevette, beautiful, my love” Danton murmurs, laying down next to him and pulling him close protectively.
“This is all my fault” he laments, holding him tight.
Robespierre is awoken by a hand tugging on his wrist, blinking open his eyes he takes in the scowling face of his sister.
“Maxime!” She hisses, letting go of his wrist.
“How do I get this pig off of you!?” She whisper-shouts, Danton snorts, arms going tighter around his waist.
Robespierre groans, head still sore, but stomach mostly settled, Danton has him in a vice grip, pressing him into the mattress.
“Ugh- Charlotte what are you doing here?” He asks, arms going around Danton's bare shoulders, closing his eyes.
“No one’s seen you since yesterday! Bonbon knocked on the door and you didn’t answer! He sent me in instead!” She explains in a hushed whisper.
“How long has it been?” Robespierre asks, sitting up, eyes flying open, straining to roll Danton off of him, like a great big heavy blanket, he snorts again and grips him tighter.
“It’s 3 in the evening!” She yells.
“3!?” Maxime exclaims, grabbing George's hands around his waist and prying his fingers loose, Danton rolls away, mumbling nonsense in his sleep.
He stands up on shaky legs. “Brount!?”
“He’s fine, I already fed him.now get up I ran you a bath” she sighs, pinching her nose shut, “god you reek!” She gags.
“Sorry, Georges threw up on my head” He explains, bringing a hand up to his hair, pinching à strand between his nails and scraping the crust off.
“That’s disgusting- I’d leave him”
“Oh don’t start Charlotte” Robespierre groans, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying throwing up on your head doesn’t really seem like husband of the year material” Charlotte explains, playing coy and shrugging.
“Charlotte.” Maxime scolds.
She sighs ànd makes her way out of the room.
“I emptied your bucket, you or someone else can mop the floors, Elenore will help with any laundry tomorrow morning, BonBon let your coworkers know you’d be absent tonight ànd potentially tomorrow” Charlotte narrates, in the doorframe.
“I’m leaving, bye Maxi” She whispers, forcing à smile as she leaves.
“Thank you, goodbye!” Robespierre calls after her. He waits ànd hears the slam of the front door and sighs, ridding himself of his clothes and finding himself suddenly overwhelmingly itchy and runs to the bathroom to clean up.
Once he’s clean he empties the bath, throwing bucket after bucket of water out onto the below streets, thankfully empty.
He refills it, warming large pots of water over the stove and pouring them in one by one. By the time the bath’s full he’s exhausted.
“Are you having a bath?”
Robespierre looks up at his husband, his hair is matted and eyes sunken, however his cheeks have thankfully taken on a slight tint of warmth.
“No you are” Maxime replies, standing up, grabbing the front of Danton's shirt and helping him undress.
Danton flushes ànd sighs, leaning down for a kiss. Maxime bends backwards, bringing à hand up to block his path.
“What is it?” He asks, dejected.
“Brush your teeth first please” Robespierre tells him, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a glass bottle of clear liquid.
“Ànd drink some of this, it’s mineral water, Marat’s own recipe…. He probably conned me didn’t he?” Robespierre sighs
“Yeah probably” Danton scoffs, taking the bottle from his hand to drink down a few mouthfuls.
“It’s nice though” he adds, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Maxime takes the bottle back curiously, sniffing the top and swirling the contents around before throwing his head back for a sip.
“Well it beats àny water from the sein” He admits, twisting the lid back on ànd returning the half full bottle back to the cupboard.
Danton spits out the foam in his mouth ànd smiles at Robespierre in the mirror, showing off his cleaned teeth proudly.
“Hmm, come here then” Maxime sighs, holding his arms out invitingly, Danton rushes into his arms, kissing his mouth excitedly.
“Okay bath time! Let go!” Maxime snaps, pushing Danton’s naked body away.
Danton sinks into the tub, blowing bubbles as Robespierre grabs à bucket, sitting upon a nearby stool as he dips à sponge into the warm soapy water.
Hands grip his elbow, coaxing his arm out straight, the sponge scrubs across his skin, scraping away the keratosis pilaris bumps and dirt as Maxime presses the cloth close.
Danton hums, preening under the attention, closing his eyes in bliss as hands scrub across his chest, paying extra attention under his pectorals.
Jolting, Danton splashes water onto the ground as the sponge attacks his armpit, shouting à laugh.
“Stop moving” Robespierre demands, leaning over the tub to scrub around his neck, Georges obediently turning his head this way ànd that for easier access.
“Why do you treat me so well?” Danton asks curiously, belly protruding out the water like a great big island.
“Someone has to look after you.” Maxime scoffs, standing up and circling the tub to stand behind him, landing à hand on his shoulder to coax him forwards.
Thin hands squeeze the soaking sponge, water cascading down Danton's freckled back, à startled moan slips through his lips.
Maxime hums softly, it’s a song Danton doesn’t recognise, an Arras local perhaps.
He sighs, closing his eyes and hanging his head, curls falling across his forehead.
Water splashes over the lip of Robespierre’s bucket as he discards his sponge, replacing it with his hands.
Soft moans echo around the room as he presses his thumbs into the notch below Danton's neck, his other fingers splaying to grip his upper trapezius.
Danton's breath hitches as Maxime’s finger nails slowly lightly trace down his spine before zipping back up to his neck again.
His nails scrape across his shoulders, dip and tickle his sides, an arm wraps around, feeling along the roll of his stomach, pinky slotting between the fat of his chest and belly, à stray nail catches a nipple eliciting a soft gasp.
Maxime hums his song absentmindedly, leaning closer so his clothed chest presses against his back, chin resting upon his shoulder.
He pulls away, Danton's eyes fluttering in bliss.
Danton yelps as water is suddenly dumped over his head to the sound of amused giggling.
“What was that for!?” He yells, scooping water in his hand and throwing it at Robespierre who cowers, à leg and his arms going up to protect his face.
“Need to wash your hair darling” Maxime sighs, arms wrapping around his neck. Uncaring for the now soaking wet fabric of his dress shirt.
“What is up with you?” Danton asks, perplexed, shaking off his husband's cuddly embrace.
“I don’t know…. Nice to be alive, missed feeling that way….” Maxime mumbles, looking away in embarrassment.
Danton melts, grabbing his hand and kissing the knuckles.
“Join me?” He asks.
Maxime looks at him softly, nodding yes as his hands go to the waist line of his pants, slowly pulling them down his hips ànd over his buttocks, his thighs, his calves until finally they pool around his ankles and he steps out of them entirely.
Danton watches on in appreciation. Tongue swiping àt the gap torn in his top lip.
Maxime notices his hungry gaze ànd smiles, teasing him by slowly lifting his shirt up and over his head, hands going to the tops of his stockings, he rolls them down as he hums his song, making a dance of it.
Danton lets out a low whistle.
“How much will that cost me!” He hollers.
Robespierre sighs, hands on his hips.
“Bed privileges if you keep it up” He warns, quickly removing his underwear and peering into the tub.
Danton shuffles back and sits up straight.
“I’ll be good!” He promises, gesturing for Maxime to get in.
Robespierre’s legs go either side of his thighs as he sits, water splashing as he gets comfortable, leaning back to lay down, head resting against the opposite end of the bath, feet wide, resting against either side of Danton's head on the edges of the tub.
Danton gulps, shifting to make more space.
Robespierre ignores him, sighing and leaning his head back to stretch his pale neck, his finger drawing swirls in the water.
He exhales, looking up at Danton with a smile.
“Don’t scare me like that ever again, writing yourself à will you goof” Danton replies, grabbing the ankle by his head, bringing the arch of Maxime’s sole to his lips.
“Hmm”
Lips find Robespierre’s ankle, up his calf before strong hands pull him forwards, the back of his head slipping into the water, drenching his hair.
Robespierre sits up and shuffles forwards, bending his legs to go either side of Danton's waist, who shuffles forwards to meet him in the middle.
They sit stomach to stomach, Maxime comfortable in his lap, arms wrapping around Danton's thick neck.
Danton's hands find his thighs, massaging the modest fat and muscle with thick calloused fingers.
Robespierre sighs into his neck, going lax against his chest.
Danton shifts, his cock rising to press against the underside of his partners.
His left hand abandons its task of massaging Maxime’s thigh and sneaks to tap inquiringly àt his penis.
Maxime stills ànd pulls back to look him in the eyes, Danton looks away like a scolded child caught trying to steal sweats.
He gets a pleased hum in response, Maxime shifting his hips to rub his penis against the hovering hand above it.
Danton smiles, submerging his hand in the water to fish his own twitching cock in hand, bringing it up to stand against his partners.
They both frot against each other, searching for pleasure, water sloshing dangerously close to spilling over the lip of the bath.
Danton grips them both in hand and squeezes.
Shudders wrack both their bodies as Danton's grip tightens ànd loosens under the water, bucking up into his fist against Maxime’s now erect cock.
Robespierre leans back and watches his partner's hand move under the water, eyelids lidded and heavy as he pants.
Danton shifts forwards, nudging his cheek against his, nuzzling along his jaw searching for his lips.
They share a sloppy kiss, pulling back and pressing their foreheads together.
Maxime tilts his head, bumping their noses softly, earning desperate opened mouthed kisses to his lips in return.
Teeth clamp down on Danton's lip in warning, he jolts ànd pulls away with a frown.
“Stop sulking” Robespierre coos, holding his husband's face in his hands to pull him back in for a much tamer soft kiss.
Water splashes over the edge of the bath and onto the floor, Danton's hips bucking violently.
Robespierre tsks, ànd bites his lip.
“Calm down” he whispers into his mouth, getting a scoff in response.
Hands pat across Danton’s chest, fingernails skirting across his skin, tracing scars, fingers tangling in curled hairs.
“You’re always doing that” Danton points out
“Doing what?”
“Messing with my chest”
Maxime hums, tugging the hairs playfully.
Danton's hand twists ànd tugs them both. Pulling their foreskins over their glands, thumb digging into Maxime’s head.
Maxime jolts in his lap with a moan.
Danton strokes faster, waves growing and soaking the floor.
Robespierre swipes his finger nails against his nipples ànd he moans, bucking up into his fist forcefully. Maxime hums ànd watches his face, eyebrows forced together as he bites his lip, face red, twitching, his lips wet and swollen. Maxime eyelashes flutter, tongue rolling out his mouth.
Danton’s hand speeds up as he bucks his hips, muscles going taught, he shudders à loud moan ànd spills into the tub. Spend murking the water.
He pants loudly ànd opens one eye to look at Robespierre who raises an eyebrow. He glances down ànd notices he’s still hard against his deflating cock, which slumps against his as if for support.
Strong fingers grip his wrist, preventing him from pulling away.
Both of Robespierre’s hands wrap around his own, he pulls it up and pushes it down, guiding him to work the both of them.
Danton whines
“Maxime…. Please…”
Robespierre leans forwards and kisses his cheek
“C’mon, finish what you started” he coos
“I will! Just let me-,” Danton goes to let go of them both but is kept in place by Robespierre’s hands.
“Shhh, be a good boy for me, make me feel good” Maxime presses.
Danton groans and resumes his stroking, his penis twitching in protest from the overstimulation. He pants in effort, going faster, wanting it over and done with.
“Slower”
“What!?” Danton groans, forcing his hand to slow with no little effort. Maxime sighs and goes lax against him.
“Like that, so good~ ah! You make me feel so good” he moans in his ear, humping against his leg.
Danton's face brightens, thighs twitching as he shudders, his spent cock twitching against his palm, stretched and tugged tall.
Robespierre moans ànd pitches his hips forwards.
“Ah good boy! Doing so good, faster now” he demands, hands finding his ànd tugging insistently.
Danton shudders, feeling breathless, painfully forcing his cock to stay erect.
“Please-,” he begs, hand stilling.
“Ah-uh dont you dare” Maxime encourages, fucking up into his fist.
Danton speeds up, desperate to make his partner finish before he himself passes out.
Maxime moans and shudders against him.
“Ah! So good, look at your pretty cock, so beautiful against mine, so big~ hah! Are you proud of it? Of your massive cock? That twitches ànd cums before you can make me ejaculate? Maybe I should train you…. See how long you can last, do you think you could do that for me? I’d just use you as a toy, I’d never let you go soft again~” he groans, pitching his hips and sending water everywhere.
“I’d make you earn it, selfish bastard, cumming before letting me finish, Pathetic, what good are you to me if all you do is go soft before I can have any fun?” Robespierre spits, bouncing against his hips.
“Answer me!” He demands, grabbing Danton's face aggressively, nails digging into his cheeks.
Danton pants and keeps jerking them off, eyes rolling into the back of his skull, his cock àt half mast, twitching pathetically.
“Danton? Hmm? Tell me are you of any use to me like this? Cumming from nothing? Such a big cock- what a waste!” He scolds, pulling him closer.
“Hmm” Robespierre contemplates, tapping his cheek.
“Open wide”
Danton blinks and blushes, obeying ànd tipping his head back, widening his lips.
“Good boy”
Maxime leans over him, forcing his head back further before spitting into his mouth, saliva sliding down his tongue.
Danton groans loudly, gurgling Maxime’s spit.
“Good boy….. you can swallow”
The giant gulps it down and moans.
“Thank- y-you” he gasps, not stopping his hands movements.
“You’re very welcome dearest” Robespierre smiles, kissing his cheek lovingly.
His thrusts speed up, Danton can tell he’s close.
Robespierre pants into his mouth, hands upon his shoulders now as he bounces, shoving his cock into the tightness between his own flagging dick ànd curled fingers.
Danton gets an idea ànd sneaks his other hand to grab àt his buttocks, roughly palming the fat, his teeth attacking his neck biting down harshly.
Maxime jolts ànd cums with a scream.
“Georges!” he moans, thrusts stuttering.
They find each other's lips as they both come down from their highs, Maxime’s hips coming to a stop, arms going around Danton’s neck, head dropping to his shoulder.
“Mmm carry me” Maxime mumbles into his jugular, nuzzling his nose under his ear.
Danton sighs, one arm going under his thighs the other reaching out to grab the edge of the bath.
“Up we get” he grunts, almost losing momentum and falling back into the tub.
Robespierre clings to him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
Danton pries him away and wraps him in a towel, throwing it over his head to rub against his hair.
He dries off himself and scoops Robespierre back into his arms, wrapped in a towel, his pale feet sticking out to press against Danton's bare back.
They lounge in bed, towels thrown to the floor, Danton rolls over and pulls Maxime into his arms, kissing him on the forehead before tucking him away below his chin, thin arms go around his back, hands drawing circles into his skin.
“Well….. you’ve been begging for a holiday ever since we got married” Maxime mumbles into his chest.
Danton scoffs “I meant out of Paris- take you home- my mother wants to meet you”
Robespierre sighs ànd presses àn apologetic kiss to his shoulder.
“One day, I promise….,” his arms tighten around him, pressing his forehead into his chest to hide his face “I just!- I don’t want to be this- nervous wreck around your mother- I can’t- everything is so uncertain! I don’t want to embarrass you-,”
Danton shooshes him, hands rubbing his back comfortingly.
“You wouldn’t embarrass me…… let’s sleep on it. Okay?”
Maxime nods against his chest,
“I’m sorry”
Danton tsks, rolling over ànd crushing Maxime below him, rubbing his face into his chest ànd holding him to his torso like a pillow. Positions flipped.
“I love you” He grumbles.
Maxime smiles, looking down at the mop of curls upon his chest, bringing a hand up to scratch soothingly through the strands.
“I love you too” he sighs, closing his eyes.