#max fic

He kept on wondering if you were always like that or if it was only while you worked for him. He's been so efficient these last days he wishes you had stopped him from entering his own building months ago. 

He rolls the golden ring on his index finger as he looks at you, moving around the board room table with stacks of paper in your arms. There's a crease between your eyebrows that he has noticed appears only when you're concentrated or nervous. This time, you're most likely both.

He ordered you to schedule a meeting with the soon to be associates in London, to arrange a partnership he had the second he met them, but they've been playing hard to get. It's been bothering him so much he's been tenser and more snappy, and he doesn't know how to let it all out, it's just getting worse with every second that goes. But if he's being honest with himself, he has never snapped at you for fear of you resigning. You don't handle bullshit from anyone, he knew that the second he saw you. 

And if he's honest with himself again, he'd love to take the stress out with you.

He has been wanting to take you so bad for weeks, walking on to his office and getting a hard-on almost instantly when he looks at you is getting old now, having to stay in his chair until some gross thought he conjures scares it away. It's painful, seeing you walk around his office and go back to yours without being able to do anything. The way you move as if you own the place, knowing how every single thing works and understanding everything so easily. It makes him burn, how in control you seem to be.

He wants to see you lose it, that's mainly what's killing him. 

You walk towards him and stand in front of his desk, gripping your black leather portfolio with stretched knuckles. "Everything is ready, sir"

He nods, smirking at you with his head tilted to one side. "You need to relax," your face breaks out of the calm demeanor for a second, annoyed with his words. He can see you want to say something, but you purse your lips and nod. It sends something running down his spine, seeing you break for a second. It just increases his desire.

"15 minutes," he mutters, checking his F. P. Journe watch and stands up, smoothing his black suit and crossing his arms. You nod again, walking outside and talking with Amanda one last time to check everything is right. He has no doubt you have everything perfectly sorted out, with no room for mistake. And he also knows he will be able to close the deal, but these men can be hard to handle. They're little old money pricks. He hates old money.

You come back and he moves to his chair on the board room table, quickly giving everything a last look over. He's pleased to see all is where it's supposed to be. Content with your work, he leans against his chair and waits. 

He can hear his watch ticking in the silence of the room. You come to stand beside him, both of you looking straight to the door, waiting. He breathes deeply, feeling how the nervousness comes off of you in waves. But it doesn't show on your face, nor your posture. How you manage, he doesn't know. 

Multiple footsteps sound outside the office, with formal greetings to Amanda as she lets them inside.

Maxwell straightens, putting the businessman face mask on. His face turns serious, with square shoulders and hard eyes that pierce through the 5 men that enter the room. Their posture is too proper, high on their golden breed, and thinking that everything they touch has a blessing seems to be the way they act. 

Two of them are blonde, with cocky smiles and blue eyes that seem almost fake. They're taller than Max, but it doesn't intimidate him. If anything, he raises an eyebrow and scoffs quietly, turning to look at you. Now you can also see amusement in his eyes. He's going to handle them just fine.

The other three are brunette, with tanned skin possibly caused by holidays spent in the summer of some Mediterranean land, and green eyes that seem to shine with malice. They look like siblings, but one of them towers over the others. He seems as conceited as the other ones, looking older and more experienced just by how serious he tries to act, and it does a bad job at hiding how spoiled he must have grown up. You see right through his facade and would bet anything on Maxwell being able to do so too. 

The shorter one, with cutting cheekbones and sharp nose, looks at you and smirks, winking. You stop yourself from rolling your eyes and don't make anything to return the attention. 

"Good evening, Mr. Lord", the one that seems older gets closer, extending his arm and gripping him in a handshake. Max nods, looking him straight in the eye. The other four go silent when the room gets stuffy, tension seeping from their pores. You stay by his side.

"Good evening, Mr. Reuben." Maxwell turns to look at the table, gesturing for them to sit. They comply, walking to take a seat. He notices how they try to choose a chair that isn't close to the glass window, and both of you have to repress a smirk.

The meeting starts, with Maxwell quickly wrapping them in an engaging talk about gains and expansion. Your cheeks get hot and your insides heat up at seeing Maxwell's power take over five grown men, handling them in whichever way he desires. Knowing you have helped him this time makes you feel like flying. You feel like a queen next to a king taking over a kingdom, using only words as a weapon.

  He looks at you every time he needs you to do something, without saying anything and silently communicating his wishes. All men look at each other and seem quietly amazed by your interactions, how he doesn't seem to order you but rather ask you for things. It is never condescending or disrespectful, so fluid and easy it takes their breath away. You work together, even though it may seem you work for him.

You see the exact second Maxwell has them wrapped around his finger. They are absolutely engrossed by him, listening to everything he says and not looking away, following him around the room. They all look like children looking for the first time at a magic trick. He turns to you and smirks with a predatory smile, absolutely convinced that he has already won the deal. Judging by the state of all five of them, he surely has. 

For the first time since they appeared, you show something other than seriousness and smile back at him, something like pride and satisfaction showing in your eyes. It makes his heart jump.

The contract passes through their hands as they sign, not hesitating and trusting completely on Max to take care of what they are signing into. You don't understand how, and it scares you slightly how easy it is for him to entangle people. You wonder if he has ever done something like that to you, if he ever would.

Amanda comes inside right on time to pour some expensive wine in glasses you don't even know where they came from, making a toast and drinking happily. Max exudes satisfaction, grinning behind the glass. 

They all stand up and shake hands one last time before they leave again. All stress and tension leave your body slowly, knowing that no matter what happens now, Maxwell has his deal secured.

But as they start walking outside, the one that winked at you turns and gets uncomfortably close to your body.

"Miss" his voice is so high pitched it nearly hurts your ears, "would you be interested in going out with me?"

His hand creeps up your arm and ends up next to your neck, barely stopping from touching your face. 

You have to stop yourself from recoiling, instead shaking your head and smiling politely.

"Thank you, but I'm not interested."

The man chuckles, rolling his eyes and turning to leave.

"I should have guessed," he mutters, fixing his tie. "You're just another cheap bitch"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Max's blood boils in his veins, fury making his skin crawl and his eyes burn. For a moment, his vision turns red. 

When he moves to pull him back and beat him up, your hand firmly but softly stops him.

"If you want to think that, you may," your voice is so steady and cold Max looks at you, stunned. " It does not mean it's true, and even if it were it would not make you any less of a spoiled brat who can't get anything without forcing someone into it. You disgust me."

Without another word, you let go of Maxwell's hand and turn to walk to your office. Both of them look at you, open-mouthed. 

Fury still pumps in Max's veins, but he takes a deep breath and tries to repress the violence that threatens to show. Even if he decided to take that path, he won't get his hands dirty.

He turns to look at the man, with a hurricane inside his heart and what could be lava shining in his eyes.

"I hope you have enough of the old money you grew with," he threatens, whispering so low the other four go completely unaware. "because I assure you you won't be making any in this life"

It scares him back against the door, nodding without being able to speak. He's gone pale, and his hands look like they're shaking.

Good, Maxwell thinks.

He looks at him practically run away from his office, shutting the door behind him. He can feel how his body is tense, but he urges it to relax. 

He feels hot, burning. Rage is not something he feels often, used to have everything working the way he wants. And usually, not a single person is stupid enough to mess with something or someone that matters to him. 

He turns to look at your office, and there's no sound coming from inside. He doubts you're affected by everything that just happened, but he definitely is. 

His hand goes over his face, angry. His rings feel cold against his skin, grounding him more. 

With a deep breath, he walks slowly to your office and knocks, saying your name.

"Can I come in?" he brings his hand to his pocket, waiting for your answer almost nervous. He's not used to feeling like this, but you do something to him. He fears it will be one false move and you're gone. He doesn't want you to go.

Your door opens, and you appear very serious but for him, that's nothing new. What surprises him is how your hands seem to be shaking slightly.

Without a word, you move to the side and let him in, leaving the door open. He walks inside and stands there, awkward, and not knowing what to say. If he asks you if you're okay he's sure you won't like it, so after a few seconds of searching what to say and not finding any good options, he stays quiet and waits for you to speak first. 

"I'm okay, in case you're wondering." It startles him how well you can read him. "And thank you for defending me."

It takes him a moment to remember you can see outside through the glass but he can't. Weirdly, the thought sounds similar to the way you two seem to work. 

He nods. "You don't have to thank me, it's the least I could do."

He sees surprise in your eyes, but it doesn't show anywhere else on your face. 

The air is thick, heavy. There is something that is pushing him to get closer to you, to physically check if you're really okay. He knows the man didn't touch you and he's sure he would have made him bleed if he had dared to, but there are other ways to shake someone other than physical.

You cross your arms and turn away from him, looking down at the city. He admires your body, your posture. How strong you seem to stand, how unreachable you look. And he's used to fighting for what he wants if that's what it takes, but he doesn't want to fight for you. He wants you to want him back, to really want him. 

Judging by the signals he has seen the last weeks, you most likely do. But he's not gonna take anything for granted.

Slowly, he moves closer to you until his body is perfectly aligned with yours but without touching. His breath hits hard against the back of your head, sending shivers down your spine. You close your eyes, subconsciously moving your head to one side and letting him see more of your soft skin. You uncross your arms, letting them hang by your sides. 

One of his hands moves up and hovers over your shoulders while the other gets close to your hand, so close you can almost feel his touch. It's an illusion, you know it.

He whispers beside your ear. "Is this okay?"

You gulp, not daring to open your eyes when you nod.

"Say it." His voice sounds commanding.

"You can touch me." You finally mutter. A shaky breath leaves your lips when he laces his fingers with yours, pressing your shoulder and pulling you back against him. You're flush against him now, feeling his chest rise and fall against your back. 

His fingers move to your neck, caressing at the pace his mouth kisses the beginning of your spine. He can feel you fall back into him slightly, relaxing and letting him take control.

A mischievous smile graces his lips.

He turns you around to face him. His hands move to your back, down until they come to cup your butt. It makes you gasp, opening your eyes to look at his blown brown ones. 

He's torn between being rough, wrecking you completely, or listening to something inside his mind that tells him he should be good to you first, make you see stars just from his touch.

He decides to listen to it.

"I want to show you how you should be taken care of," he whispers, "can I?"

You're speechless, only able to look at him and nod. He doesn't seem to like it, pulling you harder against his body and digging his fingers in your skin.

"Speak" he orders. "I won't do anything if you don't."

You take in a harsh breath, feeling the air burn your lungs. "Show me."

Pleased with your answer, he grabs your jaw and presses his lips against yours at the same time you move your hands to his chest. The fabric  of his suit crumples under your fingers as he licks your lips and takes over your mouth, your heart soaring inside your body.

His hands move to push you back until you hit your desk, making you fall into it slightly. Your kiss breaks, leaving you breathless.

His knees hit the floor with a dull sound. If someone had told you before that you would have Maxwell Lord kneeling for you, you would have laughed to tears.

His hands move frantically up your legs until he touches the edge of your dress and rips it open, pulling it until it's completely in half and falls over your shoulders like a jacket, leaving your body exposed. 

If you weren't so turned on, you would probably complain. Your mind is in a completely different space though.

His fingers search until they find the elastic of your underwear and he's greeted by lace that matches your bra covering your skin. He rips them open too.

He nudges you to sit on the desk. You comply, and he pushes your feet up on it, with your legs spread open for him and your knees bent. Your heels fall off from your feet.

He caresses your legs, your thighs, sending goosebumps over your skin.

"You're so beautiful," he mouths against your body, trailing up to your core. You look down at him, threading your fingers through his hair.

You shudder as he kisses the skin around your mound, licking at everything. You get wetter by the second, aching for his touch 

"Take care of me," you moan, thrusting into his mouth. It makes him chuckle, and he finally moves to lick with his tongue flat against your clit.

You throw your head back, moaning and squeezing your eyes shut. His tongue thrusts inside you with vigor, pulling you closer by your legs. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard, making you give a short yell that echoes around the room. 

"You like it?" He asks, with a rough voice that makes the arousal go even higher. 

"Y-yes," you manage to stutter out, afraid that he will stop if you don't answer.

His thumb moves your bundle of nerves in circles, making your hips rise. He quickly slaps the side of your leg, stilling you.

You gasp, feeling your body tingle with everything he does. The position you are in leaves you exposed to him, and you can see out your window to the city. If the building was less high, you know anyone could look and see how Maxwell Lord is kneeling to pleasure you. The thought sends a shot of power and excitement through your system.

He laps at your soft skin, sucking up at your wetness and enjoying every second of it. Your hand pulls at his hair, pulling a moan out of his mouth.

His lips are red when he moves to suck at your swollen clit again, groaning and sending the vibration all over your body. 

You grind against his face desperately when the hotness spreads down your belly, making you feel near the edge. He increases his movements for a second, moving one finger up your slit before pulling away and stopping.

You whimper at the loss of contact, but he stands up to stay between your legs and moves his hands up to cup your breasts through the material. You bite your lip, your eyes rolling back into your head as his fingers get behind and open your bra. He quickly grabs one of your nipples and pinches it, kneading your skin with his palm.

His mouth wraps around the other one and sucks with force, sending electric shots over your breast. He rolls your nipple around with his tongue, getting it hard.

You can feel his erection through his pants and decide you've neglected him enough, fumbling with his belt and popping it open easily.

He moans against your skin when your hand moves inside to grip at his dick, moving your thumb over the head covered with pre come. He's hard enough to cut diamonds.

"Please," you moan. 

He breaks away from your breast with a wet pop, his lips glistening with spit. 

"Please what?" His voice sounds even rougher than before, with full blown pupils almost to the point that you can't see the brown of his eyes anymore.

He can see something take over you just as your hand tightens around his shaft, making him give a choked off moan.

"Fuck me." you say. It almost sounds like an order, and if it were he wouldn't mind.

He gulps, not trusting his voice to keep steady. He pushes his pants down and they fall to the floor to pool around his ankles.

He aligns his cock with your entrance, pushing the head in only slightly before he pulls away and then does it again.

A needy sound leaves your lips, and he aches to hear more. But he said he would take care of you, and that's what he's gonna do.

He pushes his throbbing length inside you, making you feel every inch with how slow he's going. You grip his shoulders, digging your nails on his skin and most likely leaving marks. 

He's stretching you so good and feels so deep inside you in this position you can't help but whimper, burying your face against his neck. His hands move to cup your ass again, pulling your hips closer to him. 

Your legs burn from the stretch, but you could not move even if you wanted.

He lets his whole body take over you, making you feel so protected and full it is nearly overwhelming.

His hands dig against your skin with a bruising force as he starts to move inside you, making you feel high on something you don't think you've ever experienced before.

"You're so fucking tight." He gritts out next to your ear. It makes you smile, how much he seems to be struggling to control himself.

You rise your face to look at him, holding his face and pulling him close to kiss him.

His pace quickens, slapping sounds filling the office along with grunts and moans that leave both your lips. 

You scream again when he hits an specific spot inside you, and something close to a growl leaves his chest. 

He moves to bite a mark in your neck, leaving his teeth printed there. 

Every thrust sends you closer to paradise, pushing and pulling and making everything feel bigger, better. 

He's hot against you, sweating and making little sounds that make your arousal grow.

You wish you could return his passion, thrust back and make him feel how good everything he's doing is. But you can't, you can barely stay upright with how much force he's putting into every thrust.

Something primal burns inside him at seeing how you submit to him, to how he treats you. 

His movements become harder, shorter. He starts losing his pace and you know he's close too.  His hand moves to circle your clit with his fingers, making you open your mouth in a silent scream.

"Come for me," Maxwell's voice comes with lighting passion that leaves you no option but listen to him.

You scream, pulling at his jacket with shaking legs as he keeps fucking you, and his ragged breath lets you know he's not too far behind. 

A deep yell leaves his lips as he comes inside you, burying himself deep until the waves of hot white pleasure start to subside.

When your body stops shaking, he pulls out and moves to grab tissues to clean himself up.

You don't move, trying to catch your breath. He doesn't say anything, just pulls his pants up and kneels down to lick you clean.

You're still sensitive, so your body tries to get away from the attention but he stops you, holding you by your feet. Little whines leave your mouth as he keeps going until you're clean, sending a new wave of arousal at the thought of Max tasting himself in you.

He stands up, buttoning his jacket closed and looking far more composed than you.

His voice betrays him. "Do you have clean clothes here?"

It sounds so soft and caring it makes you feel weird, but you nod. 

"Good," he says, moving to the door and stepping outside to leave you to dress alone, closing the door behind him. You see a satisfied smile show at his face as he sits down on his throne, spreading his legs open.

Your brain is still fuzzy from pleasure and there's a loopy smile on your face, but as you take out the dress and put it on you hear Amanda come inside and get close to his desk with an anxious expression.

"Sir, you have to go pick up Alex," her voice sounds too stressed. You frown, not recognizing the name.

A somber expression takes over Maxwell's features and he stands up immediately, not saying anything as he picks up his phone and rushes out of the office.

You stay standing there paralized in the middle of your office, confused by how things happened so fast in the last two minutes.

What could be so important for Max to run away without saying anything and just after giving you the best orgasm in your life?

Cassandra took his hand, gave an apologetic little squeeze. “I know. I did not intend for it to sound like that. I am sorry.”

“Then what did you mean?” Max sat forward to look at her, holding her hand tightly in return. “I want to marry you, Cassandra. But if you don’t want me to ask you…”

“Perhaps one day,” she said gently. “You’ll ask me again, and I will act very surprised. Whatever comes next will not be easy - for us, or anyone - but you do not have to fight for me. I am not going anywhere. Not even if the Maker himself tries to stop me.”

Max leaned in to rest his head on her shoulder, ignoring the mild discomfort from the ridges of her armor and the not-so-mild ache inside his chest. “I’d like to see him try.”

She huffed, not quite a laugh, and reached up to cradle the back of his head, lightly scritching the shorn stubble with her gloved fingertips. “Do you believe me?”

“Always,” he murmured, truthful and earnest even after being deferred. “I love you.”

“I know,” she told him softly. “I love you, too.”

------------

Cassandra was holding his hand. He was barely awake, couldn’t yet find the strength to open his eyes, but he knew it was her. No glove, no armor, just a familiar callused palm against his own. His thumb twitched, then glided, tracing a scar on the back of her hand. He felt her startle, and her strong, narrow fingers tightened around his. “Max?”

He squeezed back. He was weak as water but she felt it anyway, and he heard the rustle of movement, felt her draw near. Her other hand, cool on the side of his face. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?”

When he opened his eyes, she was there. Her face was drawn and lined with worry, but the hope that brightened her eyes when he looked at her was beautiful. He managed a smile. “Hi, Cassie.”

Her grip on his hand when she pressed it to her lips was almost painful. “Thank the Maker.” She breathed the half-formed prayer into his skin before kissing the back of his hand again. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

“A little, um. Fuzzy.” 

“Are you in any pain?”

He licked his dry lips as he took sluggish mental inventory of himself. He was warm beneath the blanket, even with his torso bare aside from the bandages he could feel winding up his left biceps to his shoulder. His left side felt disorientingly light and heavy at the same time, and although he knew what he would - or wouldn’t - see if he turned his head, he was afraid to look. But for the moment at least, he wasn’t hurting. “No...Should I be?”

“I hope not.” 

“What happened?”

She sighed a little, understanding what he meant. “Nothing has happened. The Exalted Council has come to a standstill - in spite of the Fereldan ambassador’s efforts - and no decision has been made. Although it cannot stay that way for long. Orlais has been willing to wait for your recovery so far but they are growing impatient.”

“‘M’surprised they’re not all sitting on my bed waiting,” he grumbled.

“I have no doubt they have considered it,” she said wryly. 

Max smiled a little and fell silent, content just to gaze at her as she sat beside him. He’d been the one to bring it up but he really didn’t want to think about the Exalted Council or anything else outside this room. Even in his hazy state, though, he could tell that Cassandra was preoccupied. He recognized the distant look in her eyes that meant she was turning something over in her mind. 

When she realized he was watching her she started slightly, but soon relaxed, enfolding his hand gently within both of hers. “Max. I have been thinking.”

“I could tell. Any longer and smoke would start to come out of your ears.”

She didn’t acknowledge his teasing. Her brows drew together as she shifted to sit a little closer, unusually hesitant. “This...may not be the best time to bring this up,” she said slowly, “but I’ve decided that waiting for opportune moments could mean the moment may never come.” She met his gaze, face stern but starting to turn pink. “I have been thinking about our discussion the other day. About marriage.”

“Cassandra.” Max’s voice cracked dryly and he tried again. “It’s all right, you - you’re all I want, I’m happy, you don’t have to - ”

She cut him off, gentle but irresistible. “Listen. No, really listen.” Max subsided, heart thudding against his sternum, nervous but desperate to hear what she would say. Her face was solemn as it ever was, but there was a warmth and softness in her eyes that she only ever showed to him. “You are the one I love,” she said quietly. “There will never be another. And despite what I said the other day, or how it sounded, I know that you feel the same way about me. These are uncertain times, but if we wait for certainty, the only thing that is certain is that we will keep waiting. I should not have discouraged you.” Her voice wavered a little, but her gaze was steady, and she gave him a faint, tender smile. “Ask me again.”

Max’s chest hitched. “Y-you mean that?” Cassandra just kept watching him with her little smile. Max took an unsteady breath, and let out a shaky laugh because if he didn’t laugh he’d do something stupid like burst into tears. “Okay. Okay.” He swallowed hard to keep his heart from climbing into his throat. “Cassandra?” 

“Yes?”

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena - ” The noise Cassandra made would have been described as a disgusted scoff, if her expression were any less fond. Max held her hand more tightly. “Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

Her eyes narrowed, and in spite of his exhaustion and the loss of his arm and everything looming with the still-unresolved Exalted Council, Max grinned back at her - because he knew the look on her face and he loved it. It was the look that said Did he just say what I think he said? Maker save me, he did. It was a look that he knew well, and it never failed to delight him, because it always started with exasperation and disbelief but ended with affection and an attempt to hold back a reluctantly amused smile. Her expression this time was a bit strained from lingering worry, but it was still the same as always.

“Considering that it is the only hand you have left...” Her dry tone softened, and she lifted their joined hands to kiss his knuckles. “Someone should make sure it is taken care of.”

The fluttering inside his ribs made it hard to breathe. “S-so...that’s a yes?”

She smiled, bright and clear and joyful. “Of course it is.” 

Another choked little sound escaped, and for a moment Max thought maybe he’d do something stupid after all, but Cassandra rescued him, as always. She moved to sit facing him on the bed and slid her arms behind him to help him sit up, and then she kissed him until everything else faded away. 

When his scant strength started to fade, he curled his arm around her and hid his face against her neck. Cassandra could feel the faint tremors running through him as he leaned into her, and she lightly brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes. “Mm-hm.”

“You should rest.”

“I am resting.” He nuzzled closer. “Just a little longer.”