A Maxerica One-shot written from the inspiration I got from a post on tumblr concerning after marriage Maxerica life. I've been missing having a little Maxerica goodness, so this little one-shot was born.
Warning: I'm going to be on the safe side and say this is rated M. It doesn't get super explicit, but it's definitely on the smuttier side. Not full on lemon, more like lemonade? HA! But things are implied and well...yeah. ;)
I apologize in advanced for typos. I edited this in a hurry. If you see something blatant, please let me know! FYI, this was originally posted in my One Night Series, but has been moved due to the content of chapter 2! Enjoy!
Maxon stared at the paperwork in front of him, utterly lost for words. He knew how much serving as Illea's King would take; he saw the time, the passion, the effort that his father and mother both exerted. There would be difficult decisions and long nights, sacrificing his needs for those of his people. He was born with privileges that came with a price: doing right by the people of Illea, focusing on them instead of himself. It was worth it if it made his country, his people better.
"Your majesty, the council should be arriving shortly," Aspen informed him as he walked into his office. "All the security is taken care of. We have guards posted at all the property lines and entrances."
"Good," Maxon muttered, shuffling the papers in front of him. He wanted to get them back in the correct order and thumb through them one more time. The security was just a precaution. Today wasn't something he would risk in an attack. Eliminating the caste system wouldn't be easy. The logistics were a nightmare but would be well worth it. This was the first step in getting that goal started, by getting the elected council's approval for the plan. Of course, things would have to be altered as the country's reaction and needs were assessed. He just had to convince the council that this was the right way to start.
"Maxon?"
He looked up at Aspen. It wasn't so long ago that he was convinced that this man was secretly trying to steal the love of his life. Now, things had changed. Over the past few months, Aspen became someone that he trusted and depended on. He was more than his Chief of Security; he was his dear friend.
Aspen smiled. "You've done all the prep. I may not be as educated as some of the council, but there's no flaw in that plan."
"They'll find one," Maxon responded. He remembered how his father's council would react at times. Now, in addition to his royal council, there was a committee chosen by the representatives of all the provinces he had to convince as well.
"Maybe so, but with your plan and America's passion, there's no way they'll leave saying no."
"I'm not going to let them say no."
That voice had become his light, his belief in himself when he wasn't positive he would ever be a good King. America Singer Schreave walked through the door held open by the guard, looking as regal and commanding as she ever had. Her dress was simple, a deep navy blue shift with lace, looking both professional and tantalizingly gorgeous at the same time. Her wild red hair was swept up into a low, messy bun, her make-up soft and natural. The tiara that sat on her head, small compared to the normal one, conveyed just the sense of propriety they needed. It marked her as a royal but wasn't ostentatious.
"Lucy knew you would like that one," Aspen murmured. America smiled in his direction before giving his shoulder a squeeze.
"Thank God she still gives me opinions on dresses. You and I both know that I'm not even close to being use to this."
"You are adjusting well," Maxon replied, his eyes glancing over her once more. Never in a million years did he think he was capable of being this happy, of ever having a chance of finding her. He was the undeserving one, the one that was lucky to have her.
Aspen quickly bowed. "I'll go make sure everything is ready. Good luck, your Majesties." He left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. The minute it closed, Maxon's chest grew tight. He'd had quite a bit of time to adjust to being married, almost six months now. The tension, the sensation that took over his body every time he was alone with his wife, was something he'd doubt he would ever get used to. He focused on arranging his papers, getting the stack in order again. Still, Maxon was painfully aware of every step his wife took towards him, of the butterflies in his stomach going wild at her impending closeness. His heart pounded deep inside his chest, loud enough that he swore everyone in the palace could hear it. She came to stand by his chair, her arm laid carefully across his shoulders. She straightened the top sheet of paper, the lavender and vanilla scent of her perfume both calming and familiar.
"You are ready, Maxon."
"But what if they don't approve it? How many more months will we sit in committees discussing things over and over again?"
"That's not going to happen. We will have the vote today," she replied confidently. Maxon was a little skeptical. Usually, he could read the council, anticipate which way a vote would go. This time, it was all up in the air. He wanted to be sure of something, to quell the nervous energy in his stomach. Maxon spun his chair towards his wife and opened his arms. America sat in his lap, letting him pull her close. She laid her head against his shoulder, her soft breaths hitting the bare skin at his neck. For a minute or so, they just sat there together, basking in one another's embrace. When she was close, the whole world seemed to stop. There was no unrest, no kingly duties to attend to. It was just him and his girl from Carolina, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. It felt easy, simple. He liked that.
"How are you so sure?" he murmured before placing a soft kiss against her forehead. America smiled before lifting her head and taking hold of his face, forcing Maxon to look her in the eyes. That simple touch stirred something inside of him, made his breath hitch and catch.
"Because," she murmured, his fingers slowly grazing his jaw. "I believe in you, and you have worked so hard at this." She leaned forward, placing her lips just under his ear, causing his heart to skip a beat. Hadn't she heard it by now? "You've made a crazy idea come true, Maxon."
"You helped," he murmured, his voice way huskier than he would like. Having America like this just added fuel to the always dull fire he had for her. It didn't matter that they spent almost every minute together. Every time her skin brushed his, her breath washed over him, was like the first time. He wanted more, to hold her and love her until all his worries and concerns fell away.
"I think you mean I was insane enough to suggest it on national television."
"Still, it was a great idea," he countered. Maxon's hands had ventured to her waist, feeling along the line where the lace and fabric met. She continued to press her lips along his jaw, making it all the way to the corner of his lips. "Maybe not the most artfully revealed, though."
America pulled away with a look of mock indignation, her eyes alight with humor. "You accusing me of lacking tact!? And you call yourself a gentleman!"
"Your words, not mine. And I prefer to call myself a husband."
Maxon gently cupped America's neck with his hands, pulling her towards him. She laughed, the sound radiating joy and love. The minute their lips touched, the embers ignited, the butterflies vanishing from his stomach, morphing into electricity careening over his whole body. Every cell felt alive, ready to take on the world. It didn't take long for the kiss to grow needy and intense. America's fingers laced into his hair, pulling him closer, wanting him just like he did with her. He broke away briefly, assaulting her neck in that spot he knew that she liked, a sigh of pleasure leaving her.
"Oh," she warbled, her voice saturated with want. Her hands tensed against him before she tilted her head to give him better access. Part of him knew that America deserved better than having a quickie in his office. But the way her body shuddered at his touch, the soft sigh and eagerness she exuded before she came back to kiss him, was almost his undoing.
It took every ounce of self-control he had to pull away from her. Maxon cleared his throat, glancing at the clock.
"We, um, we have fifteen minutes until the meeting." It was plenty of time, but at the same time, not enough at all. Like a drug, he wanted more. He was addicted to America, in every way: her mind, her body, that devastatingly cute smirk she now wore with a raised brow.
"That's plenty of time. We only need five," she purred as she reached for his tie. Maxon's hands clenched the arms of her chair, watching her artfully undo it. Part of him, the anxious part that was still lurking deep within him, needed to look over everything one more time. That part was quickly shoved in a drawer when America started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
"You only need five. I need ten, dear," he countered with a grin.
America paused about halfway down, a look of righteous indignation on her face. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, loving his teasing.
"I think you are overestimating your abilities in the present situation. And I'm not your dear. Seven max."
"Still, that's cutting it close."
America pulled his shirt from his pants, exposing his chest and abs. She greedily ran her hands over him, her fingertips leaving a line of fire in their wake. Without even thinking, Maxon slung his tie from around his neck as America shot him a wicked smile.
"Even if it takes ten minutes, that gives us five to spare. Haven't you ever heard of being fashionably late?" She quickly kissed the base of his neck working her way down to his chest. "Besides, I'm betting that you'll finish the same time I do."
"That so?" Maxon's voice trembled as his wife continued down, her nimble fingers working on unbuckling his belt. "And what are you willing to bet, darling?"
Her hand trailed him in his pants, just enough pressure to know that there was no going back now. America stood, Maxon following.
"I bet you tonight. We are going to celebrate finally getting the vote. If I win, then I get to choose how we celebrate." She reached up under her dress, sliding her blue lace panties down her legs before kicking them off and sitting on the desk. "If you win, then you get to choose." America spread her legs, the perfect amount of space so her husband could stand between them. Maxon grabbed her hips, hard enough to make her gasp but not hurt her. He kissed her deeply before pulling away, still close enough that his lips brushed hers as he spoke.
"Did anyone ever tell you how good of a negotiator you are?"
America already had the button of his pants undone, pushing them over his hips. She pushed herself against him, the thin material of his boxer briefs an aggravating barrier between them. His mind honed in on his wife, focused on pleasuring her. Nothing else mattered at the moment. She lifted her hips for him so Maxon's hands could push her dress up just enough to expose her. America slide her hands under the band of his underwear, sliding them down and freeing him. She gently stroked him with her hand. She smiled into the kiss, at the gush of air Maxon let out at her touch.
"I was told I have talent in that area." She glanced back at the clock. "We have 12 minutes, now. Time's a wasting, my beloved Rock God."
Maxon laughed, the sound filled with mirth. She knew exactly what he desired, a way to ease the tension and anxiety. Maxon loved her so damned much. He had to taste her, to have that loving heart and wit become a part of him. She filled the room with laughter, with unbridled happiness and hope. She made him a better man, a better King. He pulled her closer, filling her. America gasped in pleasure, her breaths deep and heady. Her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him with the same amount of vigor. Nothing else existed outside of this moment, of their bodies pressed together, moving in perfect sync. No sound prevailed besides the pounding of Maxon's heart and America's labored breathing, along with the low creak of the desk underneath them as they moved. He leaned into her, needing to feel her muscles tense, the low whine that she muffled against his neck. He craved more of her, to know that he could make her feel as amazing she made him feel. He gripped into the edge of the desk, a stack of papers preventing him from getting the hold he wanted. He shifted his weight, prepared to sling the rotten pile on to the floor.
"Maxon!" America sputtered, grabbing his wrist just as he was about to push them off. She quickly shifted them to the back corner out of harm's way. She guided his hand back to her, a breathy laugh leaving her. "We aren't going to have time to get them in order again," she whispered seductively before rocking her hips against his.
"Oh," he stuttered, realizing what he almost did. A blush unwillingly rose to his cheeks, despite of their current state of undress. She smiled and shook her head, pulling him closer as they continued at a slower pace. She held his face, staring into his eyes as they slowly moved together.
"What would I do without you?" Maxon whispered before placing a kiss against her neck, rocking into her with every ounce of love and devotion he had.
"You'll never have to find out," she replied, her voice soft.
It felt like they had far passed the fifteen-minute mark. Surely, the whole castle knew what they were doing, why they were so late to the meeting, but Maxon found that he didn't care. He only wanted this to last forever, to have her hands gripping his shoulders, her body shuddering against his as they reached their peak together. His whole body had relaxed, the satisfied calm almost making him drowsy. Maxon lazily kissed his wife, thinking since they were late already, maybe another fifteen minutes wouldn't hurt…
A quick rap abounded through the door. They both stood.
"Yes?" America called out as Maxon hurriedly pulled up his underwear and pants. She quickly shifted her dress so that she was covered before grabbing her panties off the floor.
"We are ready when you are, your Majesties."
"Give us just a minute," Maxon called out. He quickly buttoned up his shirt, careful to ensure he didn't skip one. Thank heaven and hell it didn't have anything on it. America did the same, straightening her dress and freshening herself before returning to Maxon with his tie in hand. She wrapped it around his neck, tying it back just as beautifully as she had undone it. Maxon tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. How was it possible she looked even more radiant than when she walked in? Her cheeks were a lovely color, her eyes bright and wild, her stance controlled and confident. She was a Queen in every sense of the word.
"Do I have anything on my dress?" she whispered as she finished straightening his tie. Maxon took a step back, his gaze lingering over every inch of his wife. He twirled his finger around. America shook her head with a massive smile before complying.
"You look good, my love. Do I?"
America grabbed his suit jacket before walking over to him. She helped him slide it on before messing with the pocket square and running her thumb across the edge of his lips, no doubt removing a bit of her lipstick. "You look perfect. A King ready to conquer. But one that will have to settle to being conquered tonight. We even have time to spare."
She tilted her head towards the clock, clearly showing that they still had one minute. How, Maxon had no idea. His wife was right. She'd won, fair and square. Maxon bit his lip, trying to hide the grin. Really, this was one bet he didn't mind losing. He grabbed the stack of papers, quickly settling them into his leather binder before facing her.
"I'm looking forward to seeing what you'll do with me, my Queen."