#poor maxime

Me:

So about the Madame Guillotine character thats been brewing in my head-

Yes, I thought I left personification OCs behind too but I lied

Plus I love her

In which Maxime is eavesdropping and that doesn’t serve him well... or why I’ll burn in hell.

Read ahead for a bit of crazy, absurd, trashy-slashy stuff and a trope I already used in a different fandom... But my dear young friend Sasha talked me into doing it again. So... Just a quick warning, it does not make any sense at all, written purely for the lols.

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- Ah! Ouch, that hurts! - This is because you squirm like a cat in heat, Desmoulins. Is remaining in one position for a moment truly beyond your ability?

Maxime froze. He'd just climbed the stairs and stood outside the door to Camille's office. He had the newest issue of Le Vieux Cordelier clenched tightly in his hand, an irritated expression painted on his face in all its virtuous glory. Beneath him, on the ground floor, a group of citizens was working on the next issue of the journal that lately had been depriving him of sleep. Few steps away from him, behind the closed door, Camille and Antoine of all the people were arguing about something fiercely. 

What was Antoine doing there anyway? The only thing him and the scandalous journalist shared was a deep feeling of mutual hatred. True, they used to be fond of each other but those times were long gone now. And what they were arguing about? And... Oh. 

These noises. Maxime could swear he heard a quiet grunt and seconds later, a louder moan. His cheeks went poppy red in an instant. He took a deep breath. Surely he must be mistaken, it is beyond any possibility that they were... 

- A-ah...! - Ngh... What are you even doing?! Move that leg. - A-ah. A-are you not too young for p-pushing me around and telling me what to do? Ouch! I know what I'm doing. - Oh, I see. Just look at you, all flushed and sweaty. Clearly you haven't done anything of the sort before. Mhmm... Ah... Get this tangled mane of yours from my face at once, or I swear I'll... - Ou-ouch...! What a brute you are! Can't you be more careful?! - Quit being such a delicate pansy, Desmoulins. - I am not a pansy! Push harder. I can manage... - Ah, we will see. 

Oh. So they most certainly were.

A wave of heat almost took Maxime's breath away. Why...? They despised each other. How was it possible that they...? And in Camille's office, in the middle of the day? Oh. 

What's more, he couldn't understand why he felt an unpleasant pang in his chest. Almost as if he... No, that was truly beyond any possibility. He most certainly was not...

- A-h...! Ouch, my hip! Ouch, stop...! - I told you. You shouldn't even attempt it. Argh...! What the hell are you doing?! Camille's soft (with exhaustion?) chuckle followed. - Your neck's going to hurt later. A lot. - Don't sound so smug or...! - A-a-ah...! Mhmmm... Yes, right there. Just like that, just a little bit more...

Or maybe he was. A bit.

What was he even doing? When did he put his virtue aside? He tried not to imagine what exactly they were doing. He at least tried.

- I'm still wondering why exactly did I agree to do this. - One day... Ah... Without me causing a scandal, remember? Uhm.. Is that not worth a bit of struggle? Ah, ouch! You incautious...! - Pansy. You looked... Argh, stop squirming for hell's sake! You looked so miserable trying to do it on your own. I should've just remained where I was, standing in the doorway and laughing at your pathetic attempts.

What was Camille doing before Antoine walked in...?! Oh... Oh. 

- I am fully able of doing this... Ah! W-without your help, you insolent... Ouch! You...! You did that on purpose! - Of course I did and stop being delusional. Mhm... - Push harder, I’m almost...!

Maxime literally ran away as fast as he could without making any noise, more flushed and embarassed than he ever was in all his life.

Antoine and Camille, on the other hand, were finished moments later. It took them almost fifteen minutes to move the bulky, heavy bookcase further away from the window, but at least now Camille had much better light at his desk.

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