Fabby
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- Formula 1 RPF (24)
- One Direction (Band) (1)
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Summary
“Well... whip it out, Verstappen. Let’s go,” Charles said, smirking at him.
Max hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his stretchy shorts and pushed them to the floor, taking his boxers with them. He could feel Charles’ eyes burning into his skin like somebody was holding a lighter to his flesh and willed himself not to blush.
This was fine; everything was fine.
He had his cock out on a Wednesday night in Singapore, but everything was fine.
OR: After a hook-up gone wrong, Charles asks Max to critique his blow-job skills. Neither of them expected to fall in love on their knees, but reality can be... hard to swallow. (The friends with benefits to lovers fic that has haunted me for months.)
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Summary
“Will you let me take care of you tonight?” Charles asked, leaning back to meet his eyes.
“I’d let you do anything to me,” Max easily admitted, and Charles knew it was the truth. “What did you have in mind?”
“I thought maybe I could sit on your cock for a little bit,” Charles said, smiling softly at him. “We can cuddle, or talk, or... whatever else you wanna do.”
“Fuck, baby,” Max groaned, wrapping his strong arms around him. “That sounds perfect.”
OR: The surprise return of the warming verse, two years after they’ve come out. Charles takes care of Max.
Series
- Part 7 of The Warming Verse
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Summary
“What did you come here for, Charles?” Seb asked, his voice light and airy because he was fucking with him.
They had been doing this long enough to know exactly why he came here.
Charles wanted to be fucked, and Seb wanted to hear him ask for it.
It didn’t make it any easier to say, though.
OR: the sebchal fic I’ve been threatening for months.
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Summary
Sometimes, Oscar liked to be dominant. He wanted the push and pull of power between him and Max. He enjoyed taking charge of the situation and fighting to be on top, to come last, and to be the big, strong alpha dog.
But sometimes he also liked it like... this.
Where Max called the shots, and made his decisions for him, and touched him where he needed it the most.
He didn’t have to pick one role and stick with it.
He didn’t always have to be daddy.
OR: the surprise return of the lestappen+guest series that I swore I'd never write for again. Max and Charles take care of Sad Oscar™ after a shitty home race.
Series
- Part 6 of lestappen + guest
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Summary
“What do you want?” You. Only you. Always you. “Tell me what you want, Logan.”
“Oscar, ple—”
“Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”
“You,” Logan said, not looking away from his eyes. “I want you.”
“Well, then I’m all yours, baby.”
OR: the angsty estranged-best-friends-to-lovers loscar fic we all needed. They haven’t talked since Logan left the grid.
Recent series
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Summary
“Charles,” Max said, his tone soft again and breaking Charles of his thoughts. “Please just ask me for whatever you want to ask me. You don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”
Charles laughed again, his cheeks bright red.
“Could I... sit on your cock for a little bit?”
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