Work Text:
The problem with Max, Charles thought, was his inability to read the fucking room.
The end of a season used to be a bittersweet time for Charles.
On the one hand, he had always looked forward to the time off. After sleeping in hotels for nine months, there was nothing quite like coming home to your own bed and going to sleep without setting an alarm for the following day.
He loved having a few weeks in-between seasons to spend time with his family and catch up on everything he had missed. He liked going to dinners, spending quiet evenings with a book, or meeting up at one of his favorite Monaco clubs with friends he had known his whole life.
It made the madness of his life worth it. It made it tolerable.
But on the other hand, the end of the season was always a little sad because no matter how much he loved sleeping in his own bed, he liked being tucked deep inside a race car even more. Racing was his life, his passion, his gift. Nobody ever forced him to get into the car; he had always chosen to do so.
Because he loved it.
Because it was fun.
Because he loved the competition.
But... not this season. The 2022 season couldn’t end fast enough.
The season had started off so strong. He had traded off wins with Max in the first three races, Charles winning Bahrain and Australia, and he remembered feeling so optimistic about his chances during the long-haul flight back from Melbourne.
It was going to be his year.
After so many years of falling short, 2022 was finally going to be his time to make his mark on history.
But... then he finished sixth in Imola.
He convinced himself it was just a one-off. Everyone was allowed to have bad races. He and Xavi spent the ten-hour flight from Italy to Miami going over every detail of the new circuit, every place Max was going to be stronger and faster than him. They had such a solid plan going into the race.
When he crossed the line in Miami, delirious and on the verge of having a heat stroke, he felt confident in his P2 finish. He was back. It was going to be okay. This was still his year.
But he didn’t even finish the fucking race in Barcelona.
Then, to add salt to his bleeding and seeping wounds, his team fucked him over in Monaco the following weekend. He doesn’t even know why he was so surprised. He should have seen it coming; his Monaco curse would never be broken, even in what was supposed to be His Year.
And so the rest of the season went.
He DNFd in Baku, came fifth in Canada, and fourth in Great Britain.
It was around the time he was packing up his race bag in the paddock of Silverstone that he realized, devastatingly, that 2022 would not be his year after all. It was a hard pill to swallow. He had tried to be a good teammate and smile and celebrate Carlos’ first win. However, he was still a miserable bastard to everyone around him.
Even his brother, Arthur, wanted nothing to do with him by the end of the weekend and had told him to “grow the fuck up.” Which was funny because... Charles was older than Arthur.
But the sentiment wasn’t lost, and he deserved to be told off.
His win the following weekend in Austria should have changed his outlook on things. It should have sent him into the summer break feeling optimistic, but Charles was his own worst enemy. His win in Austria felt like the universe had mashed more salt into his wounds.
Ha, ha, look what you can’t have!
Max must have known it, too. He wasn’t even upset that Charles had won. If anything, he had seemed delighted by it. He had drowned him in champagne, congratulated him to anybody that would listen, and boasted about how fast Charles was and how he was such a great competitor.
Because... of course, Max wasn’t upset.
He could afford to lose a race here and there.
He would still be champion by the end of the season, and everybody knew it.
Obviously, he was going to drown Charles in champagne. Obviously, he would slap a hand down on Charles’ shoulder and tell him what a good job he did. Obviously, he would giggle and laugh and want to have a long, thorough discourse with Charles about every detail of the race.
Why? Because obviously, Max couldn’t read the fucking room. That’s why.
Charles spent his summer break trying desperately to avoid the outside world.
He spent a lot of time on the water with his brothers or hiding away in his mother’s kitchen, letting her cook him food that went against his meal plan. The one afternoon he had gotten together with his group of friends back home, they had marveled at how close the championship was.
But Charles didn’t marvel about it at all.
He knew it was over.
This is why Charles wasn’t even surprised when he came sixth in Hungary or sixth again in Spa. He was on the podium again in Zandvoort, but who the hell cared? The orange smoke was so thick he could barely breathe when he pulled himself out of the car. Nobody paid any attention to him or his podium. It was the Max show.
But that was fine.
It was Max’s home race. He was always going to be the star of the show.
In Monza, it was a different story. Even though Max won the race, Charles got all the celebrations this time. He got the Tifosi's tears, screams, and joy. He came in second, but you would have thought he was first with how they celebrated.
It should have been enough.
It was nice to be choking on red smoke for once, but Charles couldn’t help but feel like it should have been him on the top step, not Max. He tried not to be upset about it. He tried to tell himself that second was still a great result. He was still living his childhood dream, even if he wasn’t winning the championship.
But it wasn’t enough.
He still felt like shit when he parked his car in P2.
And, to make matters worse, Max still couldn’t read the room. He had barely pulled himself out of his car when Max was already in his space, chatting at top speed about how his tires had gone off at the end. He was laughing about how hard it had been to keep Charles behind him.
What a fun, cute little race they had just had!!!!!!
Charles wanted to die.
Somehow, the season still wasn’t over. No matter how much Charles wanted it to be.
He came second in Singapore and third in Japan, where Max officially took the title. By then, Charles wasn’t even upset. He watched Max sit on the literal throne they had made for him, and when he laughed about how ridiculous Max looked, there was no bite to it.
Because he had accepted his fate many weeks before, back in Silverstone.
He knew it wasn’t a matter of if Max would win... but when. And the answer to that was Japan.
Still, the season went on.
He came third in Austin and forced himself to smile on the podium. The universe was teasing him at this point by letting him get close to another win but always falling short. He supposed it didn’t matter anyway since the championship was over.
By the time he finished sixth in Mexico and fourth in Brazil, he was numb to the world.
This season would never fucking end.
It was the first time in years that Charles didn’t even want to go to Abu Dhabi. He couldn’t have cared less about the last race of the season. He was still in a battle with Checo to see who would come second in the championship, but it was just for the glory of being the First Loser, so it didn’t mean much of anything to him.
He just wanted to go home.
He wanted to hug his mother, let her make him dinner, and then tuck him into bed like he was five years old again. He wanted to hide away in her house until everybody in the world forgot about this stupid season.
He mentioned it to Carlos one day in passing, about how he didn’t want to fly all the way to Abu Dhabi just to become First Loser, and Carlos had looked at him like he had two heads.
Right. It was better to just keep things to himself.
So, Charles was the good little Ferrari golden boy he was supposed to be.
He dragged himself to Abu Dhabi and didn’t complain to his team once about how he had no desire to get into the car. He smiled at the cameras and signed autographs for fans. When Brundle asked how he felt going into the last race, he responded very politely (and very media trained): “I feel very strong going into the weekend. We have a really good race car, and we will definitely be taking the fight to Red Bull.”
The words sounded foreign to his ears, and it had nothing to do with the fact English was his third language. Because that’s what was expected of Charles, and Charles didn’t like to let people down.
Even if it made him miserable.
He was supposed to smile politely and never show how he actually felt because it would embarrass the Tifosi and bring shame to all of Italy. So he dragged that stupid, red tractor into P3 in qualifying and congratulated his team for building him such a “great” race car.
Not that any of it mattered. Max still won the race anyway.
When Charles crossed the finish line, he breathed a sigh of relief into his helmet. Not because he had managed to keep Checo behind him for the last few laps, securing his second place in the Championship, but because the season was finally, finally over.
What a goddamn relief.
He did a few doughnuts on the straight, which was fun, but he didn’t feel much like celebrating. Honestly, he had already started the countdown in his head until his flight would leave. He shut his car off and got himself out of the car, not at all surprised to see Max waiting for him.
Before he could even get over to his trainer Andrea or anyone else from his team, Max was already talking up a storm next to him. Maxsplaining, the internet called it. It was something that Max did after every race, and at this point of the season, he was honestly just... used to it.
When Charles first met Max, they were two little kids racing against each other in karting. He didn’t know much about him, and they were both still learning English, so they couldn’t talk much, even if they wanted to. But while Charles had always been outgoing, Max was always quiet.
Max’s dad, Jos Verstappen, was well-known in the karting circuits because he was a Formula 1 driver. But that added recognition didn’t stop Jos from following Max around, yelling at him in Dutch, and degrading him in front of the whole paddock. Charles couldn’t understand the words, but the look on Max's face told him everything he needed to know.
Charles had always felt a little bad for him. Even though they were competitors and spoke different languages, it always made him sad to see how Max was treated. Especially because Charles had such a happy home life in comparison. He supposed that’s why Max was always so quiet back then.
After that, they didn’t see each other for a while because Max went directly into F1 while Charles had to make his way up the junior series. Sometimes, he thought it wasn’t fair that Max got a seat so quickly just because of his dad’s legacy, but Charles had pushed those feelings down long ago.
When Charles got his Sauber seat in 2018, Max still didn’t have much to say, but when he did, it was never pleasant. Back then, Max was super aggressive and frustrating to drive against. He made questionable moves on track and would never back out of a corner, even if it shunted you into a wall because of it.
He would get out of his car, angry at you for getting in his way, even if he was totally to blame. It was a weird thing to watch, though, because after Max finished yelling, he’d turn around and get the same treatment from his father, still angry and still in Dutch.
Still in words that Charles couldn’t understand.
It was a vicious circle.
Until one day, Jos Verstappen wasn’t allowed in the paddock anymore.
Charles didn’t know the details and chose to stay out of it, but he had heard whispers around the track that Christian Horner had banned him from coming to any more races. Whatever was going on between Max and Jos was distracting him from winning, and Red Bull had finally stepped in.
The weird thing, though, was once Max’s dad was gone, Max was suddenly a new person.
Charles saw him laugh for the first time at the ripe age of twenty-two, just a casual fifteen years after he met him. He started joking with the other drivers, complimenting them when they did well, and even invited people to hang out with him in the off-season.
Charles was relieved to never watch Max be put down by his father anymore. And even though they weren’t friends, he was happy that without his dad around, he seemed to become his own person.
But that person was very chatty.
Charles really tried not to hold it against him, knowing everything he did about his childhood. And because they weren’t friends outside of work and Charles only had to put up with it for so many weekends out of the year, he tried to be patient with him. He tried to listen to everything he had to say and participate in the conversation.
But, god, sometimes he just wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up.
Not that he ever would. Because Charles was raised better than that.
But after the season from hell, his patience was thinner than usual.
He forced a smile on his face and listened as Max went on and on (and on) about his tires, his grip, and something about Checo. He kept talking the entire time they took their gear off and got weighed by the FIA, one after another, Max’s mouth running nonstop.
Charles was thankful when Max jogged off to do his post-race interview with Jenson, and he finally had a moment of peace and quiet. Not that there was a lot of peace and quiet standing in the middle of parc ferme.
Charles did his best to smile through his interview with Jenson, to make small talk in the cool-down room, and spray champagne on the podium afterward. Knowing he only had twenty minutes to himself before the last of his interviews would start, he tried to make a quiet escape off the podium to sneak back to his driver's room.
He was so close to being done with all of his obligations.
But there was Max. Not reading the fucking room.
With his first-place trophy pinned under his arm and a mostly empty bottle of champagne dangling from his fingers, Max fell in step alongside Charles and said, “Mate, there was no grip in turn five!”
Charles took a steadying breath before he turned his head towards Max and pasted on another polite smile. “Yeah,” he agreed, hoping Max would realize that he didn’t feel like talking.
“It was unbelievable! GP kept telling me it would get better, but it never did,” he said with a laugh. Charles wanted to scream. “I tried taking a lower line into the corner, but that only seemed to make it worse. That’s the line you usually take; how did you find it?”
Charles bit down on his cheek to stop himself from snapping. He spotted Andrea waiting for him up ahead. He only had to make it a few more steps before Max would have to stop talking to him. He readjusted his own trophy, held tightly in his hand, before looking back at Max. “Yeah, same. No grip.”
“So weird,” Max said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t have any of these problems in practice. I thought it might be the wind. Maybe there’s more sand than usual?”
Charles did his best to tune out the Maxsplaining as they walked past the media pen, where the hungry vultures of the press awaited their turn with all of the drivers. Every second Max spent talking to him was a second less he had to himself before he had to go in the pen.
Charles tuned back in right as Max said, “But I’ve watched a bunch of your onboards this year, and I’ve noticed you break later than me into corners, but it almost always compromises your exit. So I was thinking that--”
Charles stopped in his tracks, confused and offended by what he had just heard.
Unaware that Charles had stopped walking, Max took a few more steps away from him, his mouth still running a mile a minute before he must have realized. He stopped and turned around, tilting his head to the side, confusion evident on his face.
“Why are you watching my onboards?” Charles asked with narrow, suspicious eyes.
Max hesitated for a second before he laughed and said, “Mate, I watch everybody’s onboards. Don’t you?”
“No,” Charles said with a huff.
“Oh,” Max said, pausing for a moment, and then shrugged. “I like to see what the competition does. It’s interesting.”
Charles blinked at him. “Don’t watch my onboards,” he said, huffing again and shaking his head, feeling like his privacy had been invaded. Rationally, he knew the onboards were published on the internet for anybody to see. But there was a difference between some stranger watching them and Max watching them.
Max laughed, and it made Charles’ blood boil.
He was usually good about keeping his temper, even when bombarded with Post-Race Max, who never shut the fuck up. But today, and after such a long season, he just wanted to be left alone.
“You’re so weird,” Max said, rolling his eyes at him. “Like I said, I watch everybody’s. Not just yours,” he repeated as if that made it any better. As if it was a normal thing to admit to another driver. Max looked at him with innocent eyes and said, “You could watch mine if you’d like.”
Charles scoffed. This guy. “I’m good, thanks.”
“You might learn something,” Max offered, and, despite Charles’ annoyance, he knew there was no heat behind it. If he had learned anything over his lifetime of racing with Max, it’s that he came off much cockier than he actually was. Charles tried to remind himself of that as he took a deep breath and told himself not to tell Max to fuck off.
“Right. Well, I’m off. Have a good break,” Charles said, needing the conversation to be over.
Charles turned away from him, intending to finally head over to Andrea and exchange his trophy for a cold water bottle, when Max stopped him. “I could help you if you’d like,” he said.
Because... he was absolutely incapable of reading the fucking room.
Charles turned back around and narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t need your help.”
Max held his hands up, his trophy and champagne bottle almost slipping out of them with how quickly he moved. “I don’t mean any offense, mate.” Charles huffed out another breath of annoyance, bringing his free hand up to pinch tiredly at the bridge of his nose.
Finally, he looked back at Max, who stood there covered in sweat and champagne, offering to help Charles, and he just.
Charles laughed.
He couldn’t help it. It was so fucking funny.
Maybe he was dehydrated.
Max chuckled awkwardly, still not understanding how rude he was before Charles shook his head and repeated his earlier sentiments. “Have a good break, Max. See you in February.”
***
Except, it wasn’t February the next time Charles saw him.
It was only five days later.
Charles’ friends had finally convinced him to have a night out with them, even though he was still exhausted from the season and had been content to nap on his mother’s couch for another few days. But they had already asked a few times, and Charles hated to be rude, so he had pulled on some nice clothes and agreed to meet for a few drinks.
It wasn’t that Charles was necessarily shocked to see Max leaning against the bar of his favorite club, deep in conversation with his favorite bartender, discussing something he couldn’t hear. Because, after all, Monaco was a small city with only so many clubs. The fact Max lived within walking distance of Charles’ apartment no doubt made the opportunity to run into each other higher.
But he also wasn’t... not shocked about it.
It stopped him dead in his tracks as he watched Max shout over the music, laughing at something Miles The Bartender said while he prepared Max’s drink. It made something twist uncomfortably in his gut. It made him feel possessive of a bar he had no ownership over. It made him want to drag Miles The Bartender away from Max’s greedy, chatty hands and only let him pour drinks for him from now on.
Which made no sense.
This wasn’t even the first time Charles had run into Max here.
They had been sharing Charles’ hometown since Max moved to Monaco in 2016; they were bound to run into each other every now and then. He should be able to breeze right past him and find his group of friends without a second thought.
But after this shit show of a season, he couldn’t help but feel an ugly twist of... something at the sight of it. He felt like Max should be celebrating his two world titles on a beach somewhere and not taking up valuable space in Charles’ favorite club.
Charles didn’t like this ugly side of him, but he was only human, and it had only been five days since the end of the longest season of his life.
His wounds were still healing.
Max must have felt Charles’ eyes boring into the back of his head because he looked over his shoulder and smiled at Charles. And then! He waved at him with his big, stupid hand!
What the fuck?!
Just because they weren’t enemies, despite how terrible of a season it had been and how hard the media tried to spin the narrative, that didn’t make them friends, either. Smiling and waving at each other in a club was not something they did. They’d just... pretend not to see each other.
That’s how it had always been.
Why the hell did that have to change now?
Charles needed a drink.
“Hey mate,” Max greeted with a smile when Charles finally got his feet moving again. Charles looked over at him and forced what he hoped was a polite smile onto his face.
“Hello, Max,” he said in an even tone and immediately turned his attention to the bartender. “Miles, mon chéri, could you please pour me something very strong?”
“Oui Monsieur,” Miles said with a bright smile, wiggling his eyebrows. Charles glared at him. He had known Miles for many years, ever since the Brit moved to Monaco, and knew he was giving him shit for having to make nice with Verstappen. “Vodka soda?” Miles innocently asked in his posh accent, batting his eyelashes and reaching for the bottle.
“Oui bien,” he replied, then muttered under his breath: “dickhead.”
Miles tipped his head back as he laughed, then held up the empty bottle of vodka in Charles's direction as he said, “I’ll be right back.” Charles’ jaw ticked open in annoyance when he shot him an overexaggerated wink before he slipped out from behind the bar.
Max, completely unphased by the interaction, turned towards Charles with a friendly smile on his face. Based on his glassy eyes, he was clearly a few drinks into his evening, but Charles wouldn’t hold it against him.
He was a double World Champion, after all.
If anybody deserved to be celebrating, Charles guessed it should be him.
Max leaned a casual elbow against the bar and said, “How’s it going, mate?”
Charles cleared his throat. “Good. And you?”
“Good,” Max said with a nod. “It’s nice to be home.”
“Yes, it is,” Charles said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, trying to appear busy. He switched between different apps before finally pulling up his Instagram feed and swiping through a few pages.
“Have any plans for the holidays?” Max asked, leaning into Charles' space to talk over whatever was blasting through the speakers.
Charles blinked at his phone for a second before finally looking at Max. Charles watched as Max picked up his drink and poked his tongue out to chase after his straw before he finally wrapped his lips around it.
Ignoring Max’s question, Charles asked, “Are you here with friends?”
Why hadn’t Max walked away yet? He had already been served his drink. He wasn’t waiting on anything. There was no need to keep this conversation going other than to torture Charles.
“Yeah, a few of us have a table in the back,” Max said easily enough. Charles watched him take another sip of his drink, but he still didn’t turn to walk away. “What about you?”
Charles finally sighed and locked his phone. Apparently, they were going to have a conversation. “Yes, I am meeting a few people here. I should probably go find them.”
“Don’t you want your drink?” Max asked, with a confused look on his face. Charles wanted to laugh because, of course, he wanted his drink. But he also wanted to get away from Max as fast as possible before Max did the unthinkable.
Like... ask Charles to join his group.
Charles weighed it over in his head, the idea of going through this night sober or getting away from Max, and finally decided he wanted a drink more. Charles sighed, readjusted his stance, and put another polite smile on his face.
“Yes, of course. I’ll wait for my drink.”
“I love this song,” Max changed the subject, head bobbing along to the beat. Charles thought it might be a Dua Lipa song. He was suddenly plagued with the thought of Max purposely pulling up this song on his phone and blasting it through the speakers in his house.
What a ridiculous image. A World Champion, for fuck’s sake, listening to Dua Lipa?
Does he dance to it?
Does he fuck to it?
What the absolute hell, Charles?
Charles pointedly turned back to the bar, feeling his cheeks flush at the idea of his intrusive thoughts. He had no idea where that came from. He hadn’t thought about Max that way in years. And even back then, it was just a proximity thing.
He had been a horny teenage boy, okay?! A warm breeze would have turned him on.
Charles shook his head and looked down at his phone. He definitely needed to get away from Max before his intrusive thoughts took over. Where the fuck had Miles gone to get more vodka?! Paris?!?!?
“What is taking Miles so long? I need a fucking drink,” Charles mumbled as he leaned over the bar to see where Miles had disappeared.
“Do you want a sip of mine?” Max asked and pushed his glass towards Charles across the shiny wooden bar. It left a trail of condensation in its wake, which reflected in different colors from the shiny lights above them.
Charles laughed a bit hysterically, his eyes wide. “No, thank you.”
Max shrugged, seemingly unbothered, then took another sip of his drink. If Miles took much longer, Max would need another drink by the time he returned. Charles wondered how many drinks Max had already.
Not that it mattered; that was none of his business.
Charles leaned far over the bar again and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally saw Miles heading back towards them, arms full of unopened bottles of vodka. “Sorry, lads. They tried to hide the bottles from me,” he said, grinning at them as if... as if they were at the bar together.
And, okay, Charles realized they were standing next to each other. Which meant they were technically at the bar together. But this was all just some horrible coincidence! They weren’t actually together!
God dammit, he needed a drink.
And he needed to find his friends.
And he needed to get the hell away from Max Verstappen.
“How about that drink, mate?” Charles grumbled when Miles took his time opening the new bottles.
“Ah, et si le garçon, mate?” (“How about that boy, mate?”) Miles shot back, pointedly in French and with a smug grin on his face. Charles looked at Max with panicked eyes, trying to gauge his reaction. Max was blissfully unaware, head still bobbing to the beat of the music as his tongue flicked out to grab his straw again.
Max had lived in Monaco for almost seven years but, thankfully, still didn’t speak much French.
Relieved that Max was none-the-wiser to Miles’ idiotic comment, Charles turned back to him and said, “Wow, the service sucks here!” Then he glared at his ex-friend. Since he would have to cut him out of his life now.
Suddenly Max laughed along, as if he was privy to what their conversation was actually about, and leaned into Charles’ space as he told Miles, “I offered him some of my drink! Don’t let him rush you, mate.”
Miles looked delighted by that.
Charles was going to sue.
It seemed like a lifetime before Miles finally, finally, set a glass down in front of him. Charles didn’t even wait for the lime that Miles reached for; he just picked up the glass and downed half of it and one go. He didn’t realize they were staring at him until he set his glass down and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
“What?” he said to them.
“I think you should pour him another one before you walk away, mate,” Max joked with Miles, laughing his obnoxious wheezing laugh afterward. Charles glared at him, but Miles seemed to agree because he started making another drink immediately. Max leaned over the bar to get Miles’ attention and said, “Put both of them on my tab.”
“No,” Charles said, shaking his head. “Don’t do that,” he told Miles, looking over at him and making it clear with just a look that he wanted his own tab.
“Why not?” Max asked, and-- was he frowning at him?!
“I don’t need you to buy my drinks,” Charles said, shaking his head and avoiding Max’s eyes.
“Mate.” Max laughed, and Charles couldn’t help but look back at him, the nickname coming out patronizing. “Let me buy you a drink, please. It’s the least I can do.” And, there Max goes again, not reading the fucking room. Opening his big, dumb mouth when he could have just said nothing.
“Why is that?” Charles asked, annoyed now as he turned to look at him head-on. “Because you won the championship, and I didn’t?”
“Yeah, exactly,” Max quickly agreed, shrugging a casual shoulder. “Winner always buys the first round, right?”
Charles felt like his jaw was going to hit the floor. “Piss off, mate.”
Charles expected him to react to that, to get that angry red flush down his neck that gives him away every time. But instead, he tilted his head back and laughed. Charles was so confused. Nothing about Max ever made any sense.
Charles watched, his jaw still ticked wide open, as Max leaned back over the bar and confirmed with Miles, “On my tab, please.”
“You got it, Champ,” Miles said happily, placing another full glass next to Charles’ half-empty one.
That was it. They were no longer friends.
“Tu es mort pour moi.” (“You’re dead to me.”) Charles glared at him.
Miles snorted, kissed the air in front of Charles, and trailed off to his other customers around the bar. Charles could never catch a fucking break, that’s for sure. He picked up his glass and drained the rest of it before setting it down next to the full one.
For some reason, Max was still standing next to him.
“What did you say to him?” Max asked, sipping his drink.
Charles’ eyes flicked over to him, considering him for a moment before he shook his head and told him instead: “You should work on your French, mate.”
Max snorted and clinked their glasses together, “I’ll drink to that.” Charles watched his stupid, pink tongue chase after his straw again before he had to look away. Charles squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself to pull it together, before opening them and reaching for his glass.
“I’m going to go find my friends,” Charles said, turning to look at Max. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Sure,” Max said with a nod. “You’re welcome.”
Charles blinked at him once, twice, three times before finally turning around and leaving the bar.
What the fuck just happened?
The next few hours passed in a blur of drinks and catching up with his friends. He kept running into Max all over the club. At the bar, at the urinal, on the dance floor. He swore every time he turned around, there was Max, smiling at him across the room or taking up space next to him at the bar.
The longer the night went on, the harder it was to pretend he wasn’t there.
Charles lost track of the number of drinks he consumed, but Max was always there waiting on him every time he went up for a refill. Maybe they were pacing each other, or maybe god really just hated him. He wasn’t sure which one it was.
But whenever Charles ordered another drink, Max insisted it went on his tab.
“I get it. You proved your point, mate,” Charles said to him, swaying a bit before grabbing onto the bar. He wasn’t that drunk. He was just clumsy after he had been drinking for a few hours. “We all get it. You’re the big, bad World Champion. You don’t have to keep buying my drinks.”
Max laughed loudly at him, his eyes lit up with delight. Charles tried very hard not to be endeared by it. “The big, bad World Champion,” Max repeated, biting his bottom lip. “I like the sound of that.”
“Of course you do,” Charles groaned, rolled his eyes, and picked up his newly topped-off drink. “I’m just saying. You don’t owe me anything,” he said, uncurling his pointer finger around his glass to point it at Max. He swayed a bit further into Max’s space, totally due to the alcohol and for no other reason whatsoever.
Maybe he should order water next time around.
“What if I want to buy you drinks?” Max asked and... Charles wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly. It was very loud at the bar. He turned and raised his eyebrows at Max, asking him wordlessly to repeat himself. Max smirked at him and leaned further into his space, his lips practically touching Charles’s ear. “I said, what if I want to buy you drinks?”
He leaned away from Charles but kept looking at him.
Charles blinked, took another sip of his drink, and then turned away from Max. Because. He had no idea how the fuck he was supposed to respond to that. He took another sip from his straw and locked eyes with Miles, who was leaning against the back of the bar, watching the two interact like it was a live-action soap opera.
“Why are you staring, mate?” Charles asked, hoping his voice sounded normal.
“Il a un regard langoureux,” (“He’s giving you bedroom eyes,”) Miles said with a smug grin on his face, and Charles choked on his drink. Like, legitimately. He slammed the drink down on the bar as he coughed into his elbow, Max slapping him hard on the back as if that helped anything.
“Jesus Christ,” Max said with a wild laugh, still slapping Charles’ back.
“Et maintenant, je reçois l'aperçu!” (“And now I’m getting the preview!”) Miles cackled loudly, ecstatic at the situation. Charles was going to jump over the bar and finally kill him. He was still coughing, and he hoped he’d be able to blame it on his lack of air when Max realized how red his cheeks were.
“Mate, you need to be more careful,” Max said with a laugh when Charles finally got his breathing under control. Max kept his hand pressed heavily between Charles’ shoulder blades for longer than necessary before letting it fall back to his side.
Miles grinned at him and then walked away to pour a drink for someone at the end of the bar.
Charles’ life was so unfair sometimes.
“I’m going to--” Charles didn’t finish his sentence and instead nodded his head toward where his friends were sitting. He picked up his drink, looked at Max one last time, and then stumbled away from the bar, the back of his neck on fire.
Suddenly, Max was calling from behind him, “Hey, wait up.”
Charles stopped in his tracks, blinking in confusion as he turned around to look at Max. They were in the middle of the dance floor since Charles had been making a beeline toward his friends, and he felt stupid with everyone dancing around them. Max stopped in front of him, standing entirely too close, to the point where Charles caught another whiff of Max’s scent.
“What is it?” he asked, leaning further into Max’s space to hear over the music.
“I was thinking maybe we could--” but Charles couldn’t hear the end of the sentence because the song had changed and everybody had cheered. Charles squinted in confusion, tilting his head closer to Max’s mouth, and when Max repeated himself, all the blood drained from Charles’ face. “I was thinking maybe we could get out of here.”
“Get out of here... where?” Charles asked, pulling back from Max’s space to look at him.
Max smiled at him, shrugged, and said, “You can say no.”
“I--” Charles stuttered, his thoughts running a million miles an hour. Was Max asking him to...? Surely he was reading the situation wrong. His English wasn’t so good, even on his best days. “What are you asking?”
Max grabbed his arm then, gently pulling him off the dance floor and through the crowd. The rational part of Charles' brain, what was left of it at least, knew it was because they couldn’t hear each other. Charles let him lead him blindly off the dance floor and then down the hallway where the toilets were with a gentle hand on his lower back.
It made Charles sweat.
Finally, when they were away from all the speakers and the noise, Max stopped and turned towards him. Charles had to lean against the wall behind him so he wouldn’t fall over, all the vodka he had consumed tonight suddenly hitting him at once.
Especially with the way Max was looking at him.
“Look, there’s no pressure. I was just thinking that... I’m single, you’re single... and it was a fun season fighting against each other. Maybe we could, you know, celebrate together. Unless you have a better option here tonight.”
Charles was definitely not breathing.
“Celebrate together,” Charles repeated. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Max was asking him. It just... felt like he had to be misreading the situation somehow. Because this is not something they did together. He had known Max almost his whole life, and they never once celebrated together.
Finally, Charles asked, “Are you drunk?”
Max laughed loudly at that, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Yeah, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Charles immediately nodded.
Max laughed and shook his head fondly. He set his drink down on the ledge behind him before reaching forward and gently taking Charles’ drink out of his hand. Charles watched it go, watched it be set next to Max’s abandoned drink, and still had nothing to say by the time they locked eyes again.
Because, seriously, what the fuck was happening?
“I’m not asking you because I’m drunk.”
“You’re not?” Charles asked dumbly because... Sober Max never asked him to get out of anywhere with him.
Max’s eyes lit up again, and he must have said that last part out loud, based on Max's reaction. Max laughed at him for a second before biting his bottom lip. He leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms casually across his chest, smirking at him in a way that made Charles’ back sweat.
Then, he said, “I’m not so drunk that I don’t know what I’m asking you.”
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat. “Me either.”
“So, is that a yes?”
“Are you sure about this?” Charles asked instead, laughing unbelievably and shaking his head. “This is not something we do, mate.”
Max chewed on his bottom lip again, and his eyes flicked down Charles’ face until they landed on his mouth. It sent another wave of heat down Charles’ spine. He swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry.
Max had definitely never looked at him like this before.
Max looked towards the end of the empty hall before stepping into Charles’ space. He placed a gentle hand on his hip, the other on his shoulder. Charles sucked in a surprised breath, Max overwhelming all of his senses.
“It could be something we do,” Max said, grinning at him again. His fingers flexed on Charles’ hip, and it did something weird to Charles’ brain. When he looked back on this moment later, he would blame Max’s big hand on his hip for what he did next.
Because for some reason... Charles kissed him.
He wasn’t sure why.
He could also blame the vodka if anybody called him on it.
Max pressed him back into the wall, crowding into his space and pressing against him. He was boxing him in with his big limbs all around Charles, making his head spin. Max dragged a hand up Charles’ side until he could thread it into his hair, gently tugging and making Charles gasp into the kiss.
Max didn’t waste the opportunity to sneak his tongue into Charles’ mouth, deepening their kiss and making Charles moan.
This had to be some weird sort of vodka-induced dream.
Max suddenly pulled back from Charles’ mouth, still pressed against him and still breathing in his space. Charles panted, eyes wild with it. Max’s fingers tightened on his waist, and Charles wondered if there’d be finger-shaped bruises on him in the morning with how hard he gripped him.
The thought alone made his dick twitch.
“So, what do you say? Do you want to get out of here?” Max asked hotly against him, his eyes locked on Charles’ mouth.
And, really, what a ridiculous question.
Charles doesn’t want to get out of here with Max.
What an insane question! They’re rivals! They’re enemies! They’re childhood acquaintances! They’re... complete opposites!
What a stupid, stupid question for Max to ask.
But, then again, Charles was already hard against Max’s thigh.
So, naturally, he said, “Lead the way.”
Max grinned at him, pecked his lips again, and finally removed himself from his front. “Do you need to tell your friends you’re leaving?”
Charles blinked at him once, dumbly, before saying: “No. They’ll figure it out.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
***
Stumbling inside his apartment with Max’s lips attached to his neck felt like something out of those fanfictions people wrote about him. Somewhere between the club and Charles’ front door, he had stopped trying to make sense of it and let his dick do all his thinking.
He was surely going to panic about it in the morning, but for now, he was content to get off first.
He felt like he owed himself that.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Max pushed him up against the door once it was closed, his big hands going to his hips and digging into them, his mouth sucking bruises into his neck and making him see stars. Max moved one of his hands down, palming where Charles was hard in his trousers.
“Is this okay?” Max asked, pulling back just enough to make eye contact.
“Of course,” Charles choked out, shocked that Max was even asking him that. Especially since they had been groping each other the entire way back to his place. Max smiled at him, leaned back into his space to kiss him, and gripped him properly through his pants. “Fuck,” Charles groaned into his mouth.
“Mmm, I like the noises you make,” Max told him, almost conversationally, as he squeezed and petted him through his trousers. “You sound so good.”
Charles felt like he was on fire.
“I bet you taste good, too,” Max said into his neck before suddenly dropping to his knees in front of him. Charles’ eyes went wide as he sucked in a surprised breath, looking down at where Max was kneeling. Max smirked up at him before reaching up to undo Charles’ belt.
They hadn’t even made it past the door!
“Fucking hell,” Charles said, tipping his head back against the door as Max worked his trousers and boxers down his legs. Not wanting to miss the sight, he opened his eyes and looked down at him. Max chewed on his bottom lip as he wrapped a hand around Charles’ hardness, spreading the pre-come with his thumb before looking up at him.
Charles whined, his hips not-so-subtly fucking up into Max’s fist.
“Come on,” Charles urged, rutting up again when Max made no moves.
That made Max smirk even more. “What do you want?”
Charles glared at him. “What the hell do you think I want?”
“I want to hear you say it,” Max said with a casual shrug of one shoulder. Charles felt like his jaw was going to hit the floor.
“You want me to-- to say what?”
“Ask me to suck your cock,” Max said coolly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Charles was going to pass out.
“I--”
Max kept smirking at him, though not unkindly, as he stroked him with his fist.
“Come on, baby. You sound so good; I just want to hear you,” Max mused, and Charles was definitely going to pass out now. He had no idea Max would be like this. “Now ask me nicely, and I’ll suck you off.”
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes flicked over Max’s features, trying to decide whether he was being a dick or not. What was he playing at? Charles doubted that Max would be taking the piss since he was already on his knees for him with a hand on his cock.
If Charles looked down, he could see where Max was hard against his jeans! He would look worse for the wear if he were pulling some kind of prank. Max’s thumb swiped over his slit again, and Charles moaned loudly, his decision suddenly made for him.
“S-suck my cock,” he said, eyes wide and breathless.
Max grinned at him and then let his stupid, stupid pink tongue slide out of his mouth and flick over the head of Charles’ cock. Charles watched with wide eyes as he dragged it gently around the tip, causing Charles to whine again. He tried to press his hips up, but Max’s free hand roughly held him back against the door.
Max licked over him twice more before pulling back and sitting prettily on his haunches. “Ask nicer,” he said, smirking up at him.
“Fucking hell,” Charles groaned, slamming his head back against the door. “Please suck my cock,” he said, looking down at him.
Max dragged his tongue across Charles, gently wrapping his lips around the head and sucking before he torturously moved back off. Charles was close to crying. Or coming. Or both, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this kind of agony.
“You can do better than that,” Max teased, stroking him with a tight fist and making Charles sob. “You always sound so pretty. I bet you sound even prettier when you beg,” Max mused, licking over his head again and flashing his eyes up to meet Charles. “Come on, baby, let me hear it.”
“Fuck, Max,” Charles whined, thrashing his head against the door as words started spilling out of his mouth at top speed. Whatever he thought Max wanted to hear. Whatever he thought would get his mouth back on him. “Please suck my cock. Please, I need it. I need your mouth so bad, Max, please.”
“Fuck, there you go,” Max groaned and finally took Charles in his mouth, his lips sliding all the way to the base before pulling back up. Charles moaned loudly, steadying himself with a hand on Max’s shoulder so he wouldn’t do something stupid like pass out.
Max’s hands were low on Charles’ waist as he took him in his mouth again, setting a steady rhythm that would send Charles into an early grave.
“Max,” Charles moaned, reaching his shaking hand to wrap gently around the back of Max’s head. Max moaned into the touch, swallowing around Charles before pulling off entirely, his hand wrapping around Charles’ wet length.
“Fucking knew you’d taste good. Always knew you’d taste good,” Max groaned, latching his mouth onto Charles’ thigh and sucking a bruise into it. “Knew your pretty mouth would sound so good begging for me,” Max moaned into his thighs, switching sides to suck another bruise into the tender skin, “With your pretty little accent.”
Charles whined pathetically and gasped, “Then why’d you stop?”
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” Max chuckled warmly against Charles’ hip, his eyes flashing up to him again as he took him back into his mouth. His stupid, beautiful, warm, perfect fucking mouth.
God, they should have been doing this all along.
Why the fuck hadn’t they been doing this all along?!
Max’s fingers flexed roughly against his thighs, the obscene sound of him sucking his cock drowned out by how loud Charles was being. He was usually able to handle his emotions, but apparently, Max was sucking his brain out through his cock.
“God, Max. Your mouth,” Charles moaned, unsure if he meant how his mouth felt or the filthy words coming out of it. He tried to keep his eyes open, so he wouldn’t miss anything, but he was rapidly approaching his release. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”
But that only seemed to spur Max on, who redoubled his efforts, bringing his wet hand back up to fist around the base of Charles’ cock. Max licked and sucked over him, his hand pumping a steady rhythm, and-- Charles stood no chance, really. The pressure in his gut twisted until he saw stars and was suddenly shooting ropes of come deep into Max’s mouth.
Charles gasped, tightening his hand on the back of Max’s head, his hips twitching with how hard he was coming. Max moaned, swallowing around him and using his tongue to lick pornographically from the base of his cock all the way to the tip.
Charles shivered with oversensitivity, his hips twitching away from Max’s sinful mouth.
Charles opened his mouth to say something, to say anything, but there was no English left in his brain. He made a pathetic squeaking noise, and the volume only amplified as Max licked up the side of his cock again.
It was too much, way too much.
“M-Max, please,” Charles begged, trying to twitch his hips out of Max’s tight hold.
“God, you did so well. Came in my mouth just like I wanted you to,” Max groaned, palming himself through his jeans. Charles felt like his legs were going to give out at any second. He kept staring at where Max was touching himself, almost in a trance-like state. Max’s other hand was gentle when he wrapped it around Charles’ calf and smiled up at him. “You’re shaking,” he whispered.
Charles laughed a bit hysterically.
“Yes,” he said dumbly because his legs were very obviously shaking. Max grinned at him, leaned forward, and trailed his mouth softly up his thigh. Max pushed Charles’s shirt up and pressed his lips low on his stomach.
It made another shiver run up Charles’ body.
“Do you-- do you want some help with that?” Charles choked out, nodding towards where Max was palming himself.
“Definitely.” Max huffed a laugh against Charles’ stomach. “I was thinking I could fuck you if you’re up for it,” he said into the skin of Charles’ lower belly, flashing his eyes up to him.
Charles moaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “I am up for it.”
“Yeah?” Max teased, nipping at his hip with sharp teeth and making Charles shiver again. “You’re not too sensitive?” he asked, dragging his tongue up the side of Charles’ cock again, which was still half-hard against his hip since Max wouldn’t leave him alone.
Charles groaned, pulling at Max’s shoulders and trying to get him to stand.
“Come on,” Charles said, tugging at his arms. Max went willingly, standing up and bracing a palm next to Charles’ head. Charles kissed him, drawing a moan from Max’s lips. “Are you sure your knees are not too sensitive?” Charles mocked, pressing another kiss onto Max’s mouth. “They must be hurting.”
The fact he could taste himself on Max’s tongue made his cock jerk painfully against his hip again.
Max huffed at his smart-ass remark, deepening their kiss before pulling back just far enough to say, “My knees are just fine, thank you.”
God, Charles still had his fucking shoes on.
Charles couldn’t help but laugh at the situation as he toed off his shoes and pushed his pants and boxers off completely, leaving them in a messy pile by the door as he pushed Max backward down the hallway. He reached between his shoulder blades and pulled his shirt off for good measure, standing completely naked in front of a fully dressed Max.
It did something weird to his brain.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Max groaned, tugging his own shirt off before grabbing at Charles’ hips and dragging them together again. Max twisted them around when they reached the bed frame and gently lowered him onto the mattress.
He only broke away from their kiss to shove his jeans and boxers down, and Charles was finally met with the sight of his very hard cock.
“You’re--” Charles' words died in his throat because the only word that came to mind was massive. He looked back up at Max, who grinned again as he wrapped a hand around himself.
Of course, Max would have a gigantic cock.
The world was so unfair sometimes.
Max got all the glory! The fastest car, the back-to-back championships, and a massive cock.
Charles was going to jump off the roof.
“I’m what?” Max pressed, kneeing his way between Charles’ legs, big hand wrapped around his even bigger cock.
Life was so unfair.
“Big,” Charles said dumbly, his eyes flicking back down to where Max gripped himself.
“Did you think I’d be small?” Max joked, laughing breathlessly at him and shaking his head.
“I have spent many years purposely not thinking about your cock, mate.”
“Really?” Max chuckled, one hand braced on Charles’ knee while jerking himself off with the other. “Because I think about your cock all the time.”
“Shut up, mate,” Charles groaned, covering his face with his arms.
“It’s true,” Max said, and even though Charles wasn’t looking at him, he could tell the situation amused him. Charles let his arms drop from his face and glared at him.
“Are you going to fuck me with that giant cock, or just sit there and talk about it all night?”
Max snorted, finally dropping his hold on himself to grip both of Charles’ knees instead. He grinned at him as he spread Charles’ legs apart and nudged between them, tipping his weight forward and kissing up Charles’ chest until he could seal their lips together again.
Max rutted forward into the dip of Charles’ hip, their cocks brushing together and making Charles break the kiss with a loud whine. He was already so hard again, and his head felt like it was spinning, which could definitely be the vodka still in his system.
Charles reached between them, finally getting his hand around Max’s cock and tightening his fingers around his girth. Max groaned, breathing hotly into Charles’ neck and fucking forward into his grip a few times to take the edge off.
Charles huffed a breath of amused laughter and mumbled, “I have no idea how this Thing will fit in me.”
Max laughed into the dip of his neck, pushing up on his palms to look down at him. He looked between them, where Charles’ hand was wrapped around him, before looking back at his eyes. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.”
Charles groaned and said, “Stop calling me baby.”
Max smirked at him, fucking forward into the circle of his fingers again. “Why? You seem to enjoy it.”
“No, I don’t,” Charles lied, feeling himself flush down his neck.
Max huffed and whispered against his mouth, “Whatever you say, baby.”
He pressed another chaste kiss onto Charles’ mouth before sitting back on his haunches, forcing Charles to release his hold on his cock. Max rubbed his palms down Charles’ thighs, which made him feel crazy, his body thrumming with anticipation.
“Where’s your lube?”
“I don’t have any,” Charles said, blinking at him.
Max abruptly stopped, his fingers gripping his thighs tightly. “What?”
Charles snorted, tipping his head back into the pillows. “I’m joking, mate. It’s in the drawer,” he said, nodding toward the table next to his bed. “You should have seen your face.” Max’s jaw dropped, but he laughed and smacked Charles’ thigh roughly, making Charles groan and squeeze his eyes shut.
“Oh?” Max teased, pleased with his reaction. “You like that?”
“Shut up,” Charles choked out, refusing to meet Max’s eager eyes. “Get the fucking lube.”
“Yes, baby.” Max laughed, spanking low on Charles’ hip without any real force behind it. Just enough to make Charles want to kick him off the bed and hide under the blankets.
There were things Max Verstappen didn’t need to know about him, and this was definitely one of them.
Charles bit his bottom lip into his mouth, watching as Max leaned over him and shuffled through the drawer next to the bed. Charles let his eyes wander down Max’s body, from his neck to his toned stomach and abs, down to where his cock was hanging heavy and hard between his legs.
Charles still wasn’t sure how all of that would fit inside him.
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat as Max shut the drawer and returned to his spot between Charles’ thighs. Max touched him all over. He dragged his fingers along his stomach, his thighs, his cock, and then between his legs.
It made Charles feel like he was on fire.
Charles whined, bringing his knees up with his feet flat on the bed, wanting Max to move on with it.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Max hushed him, squeezing Charles’ thighs once more before finally popping the top of the lube and drizzling some over his fingers. Charles wanted to protest the pet name, but any objections died in his throat as Max spread his knees again and swiped his wet fingers over Charles’ hole. “Look how pretty you are,” Max praised, eyes locked on where his fingers played with Charles.
“Max,” Charles groaned, burning with embarrassment as he brought his arms back up to cover his face. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” Max laughed, his fingers rubbing gently around his hole, spreading lube all over him and making Charles want to scream.
“You just-- you just can’t,” Charles mumbled into his folded arms.
“I can say anything I want, as long as it gets you off.”
Charles opened his mouth to respond but suddenly had nothing else to say as Max slowly pressed in with one of his long fingers. Charles let his arms drop from his face, gasping out a breath as he looked down at Max, whose eyes were still locked on where his finger disappeared in Charles’ heat.
“God, you feel so good, baby,” Max groaned, pushing one of Charles’ thighs back towards his chest to change the angle. Another shiver of pleasure ran through Charles’ body, both at Max’s words and how he felt inside him. “Hold yourself open,” Max instructed, grabbing Charles’ hand and wrapping it low on his thigh, taking over for where Max had him pressed back. Then he moaned and said, “Just like that, perfect.”
Charles whimpered, holding his thigh up to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut. Max pressed in with two fingers as his other hand wrapped around Charles’ cock. Charles looked down just in time to see Max take him back into his mouth. He was glad Max made him come already, or he would be done for.
“Fuck, Max,” Charles groaned, his hips twitching into Max’s mouth. “You’re going to fucking kill me.”
Max pulled off him, grinning at him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He removed his fingers from him, swatting at his hip again as he said, “Turn over.”
Charles wanted to sob.
He turned over on shaky limbs, and he wasn’t sure if the vodka or Max made him feel lightheaded. He gasped when Max grabbed at his waist and roughly pulled his hips up against him, pushing down between his shoulder blades with one of his palms.
Charles might actually be crying now.
He braced himself on his elbows, and his back arched as he pushed against where Max kneeled behind him. His hands spread Charles’ cheeks and then tucked two of his fingers back inside him. Max rutted his cock against Charles’ ass a few times before groaning and pulling back.
“You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around me,” Max said, biting roughly at one of Charles’ ass cheeks and causing him to cry out. He pressed his fingers in deep, twisting his wrist until they brushed up against Charles’ prostate. “Can’t wait to sink my cock into you,” he continued, soothing over his bite mark with his tongue.
“Fuck, Max, right there,” Charles groaned, his head dropping down on his folded arms, breathing heavily into the space as Max moaned and fucked into him with his fingers. Max dragged his fingers out and immediately pressed back in with three, Charles’ body opening easily for him.
Charles tried to fuck back against his fingers, but then Max’s big palm was coming down and striking his ass with more force than before. Charles cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing back again, desperate now and not thinking about anything other than how good Max was making him feel.
Max groaned, squeezing Charles’ ass with one hand while fucking in deeper with his fingers. “Fucking obsessed with the sounds you make, baby,” Max said breathlessly, spanking him again and then rutting against the back of his thigh to take the edge off. “Do you think you can take another finger?”
“Yes,” Charles choked out. “I-- I can.”
Max grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed some more out before slowly pressing in with four fingers, sucking in a shocked breath as he watched his fingers disappear into Charles. “God, look at you, baby,” Max moaned, petting his hip and thigh with his clean hand. “You take it so well. Practically have my whole hand in you.”
“Max,” Charles cried and reached for a pillow to wrap his arms around, needing something to ground him to reality. He buried his face into it as Max gently fucked his fingers in and out of him. Max brushed against his prostate again, and-- it was too much. Charles was going to die, and it was all Max’s fault. “Max, please. Fuck me. Come on.”
Max palmed at his ass harder, squeezing and pulling on him. “So pretty when you beg.”
“Please,” Charles cried, pushing back on his fingers and then grinding his cock forward into the mattress. He would say anything Max wanted to hear if it got him fucked faster. “Please, please, please.”
Finally, Max removed his fingers, and Charles cried harder at the loss, suddenly feeling empty after he had been so close to coming. He let his head drop back into his arms and pushed his hips against Max. He could hear the condom wrapper finally being torn open and Max’s groan as he slicked himself up.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Max was finally rubbing the crown of his cock against Charles’ hole, his hand squeezing roughly at Charles’ hip. Charles was positive he wasn’t breathing, but who needed air anyway?
Max’s grip on his hip loosened, and he braced his hand next to Charles’ head to lean down and press a gentle kiss behind his ear. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.” His words were soft compared to everything that had happened in the last half hour.
“Okay,” Charles agreed with a frantic nod of his head.
Max kissed him again, “Promise?”
“Oh, my god. I promise. Now fuck me.”
Max huffed an amused laugh against his ear and said, “Okay, baby.”
And then, he finally pressed inside, just enough for the head. He paused when Charles gasped, his hands tightening on the pillow. Max pet gently at his hip, then his lower back, and down to his thighs as he sat stock-still with just the tip inside of him. “All good?”
“Yes,” Charles groaned, shaking a bit from the pressure. Charles had never felt so full in his goddamn life, and Max was just barely inside. It made him feel crazy. “You can-- go further.”
But Max didn’t move for another few moments, his hand still stroking over every inch of Charles he could reach. Charles whined, needing him to do something, his head feeling like it would explode with how on edge he was.
Just when he thought he would scream, Max sank further in. Charles gasped again, feeling like he was being split in two, but Max must have sensed he could take it because he pushed in deeper.
“God, baby.” Max panted, his fingers squeezing roughly at his waist now. “Fucking hell, you’re so fucking tight.”
“No, jackass, you’re just huge,” Charles groaned, bracing his palms against the headboard and breathing into the mattress for a moment. Max chuckled behind him and eased his hips back before pressing forward, fucking him so slowly and gently that it made Charles want to cry.
“You take me so well, though.” Max sounded amazed and in awe, fingers trailing around Charles’ hip to wrap around his cock. Charles cried out again, pushing back against Max’s hips until they were fully pressed together, and Max was buried to the hilt. “Fuck, look at that, baby. You’re taking all of me.”
“Max,” Charles sobbed, head spinning and cock throbbing.
“You’re so good,” Max moaned, dropping his hold on Charles’ cock to squeeze his ass with both hands instead. “So fucking good, baby. Holy shit.” Charles was definitely going to come again any second. There was no stopping it.
Max pulled almost all the way out, pushing his palms deep into the tops of Charles’ ass to spread him apart before fucking back in. Max moaned loudly, fucking in again and again, building up a rhythm that would surely ruin Charles’ life.
How was he ever supposed to think about anything else when Max fucking Verstappen was walking around with a magic cock and a dirty mouth?
Max pressed a heavy palm between his shoulder blades, pulling up on his hip as he fucked in deep, the sounds of their bodies connecting echoing through the room. Charles was moaning so fucking loud he didn’t even recognize the noises were coming from him.
Max wrapped his fingers back around Charles’ cock and stroked him as best he could while also fucking him at a devastating pace. Charles’ whole world narrowed in on where they were pressed together, his mind completely blank except for how well he was being fucked.
“Baby, I’m going to come,” Max groaned, fucking in deeper and deeper. “You feel too good, fuck.”
“Max,” Charles sobbed, tightening around him as the pressure in his stomach grew. He got his elbows underneath him again to reach between them, wrapping his fingers around Max’s on his cock and using their joined hands to stroke himself off. “Max,” Charles whined as Max hit his prostate on his next stroke.
Charles was suddenly coming all over their hands, crying out and gasping for breath. Max groaned behind him, gently letting go of his softening cock and then roughly grabbing his hip with his dirty hand.
He fucked in deep, and Charles cried out again. Max brought his come-covered hand down on Charles’ ass one more time in a harsh strike before he stilled inside, his hips twitching and his cock pulsing deep inside as he came.
Charles was totally ruined for life.
The only sound that could be heard for a few moments was their breathing. Max had buried himself so deep inside and hadn’t pulled out yet, and it was doing something weird to Charles’ emotions. Despite his soreness, Charles wasn’t sure he ever wanted him to pull out.
Which was ridiculous.
He definitely needed to pull out.
Charles breathed heavily into the pillow as they came down, trying to make sense of everything that just happened. Max’s hands were gentle as he rubbed at Charles’ hip before he finally eased himself out. Charles let out another cry as he did so, making Max wince in sympathy.
Charles slowly stretched his legs out, his muscles screaming and aching as he tiredly rolled over on his back. He watched in a haze as Max tied off the condom. His post-orgasm brain was not functioning well, and he had to stop himself from saying something sappy.
There was nothing sappy to say about someone disposing of a used condom, but Charles had the urge to write songs about it anyway.
Max collapsed beside him, the two of them still trying to catch their breaths. Charles looked over at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest for a moment before swallowing the lump in his throat. Max rolled his head to the side to look at him and smiled at him when they made eye contact.
Max turned back up towards the ceiling and took a deep breath in through his nose, his eyes closing as he exhaled. Charles blinked at him for another few seconds before finally opening his mouth to speak.
“Well,” Charles said and then cleared his throat to try and make his voice sound normal. “That was, uh... unexpected.”
Max snorted, tilting his head over to look at Charles again. “Yeah?”
“This is not how I saw this night going,” Charles said with a breathless laugh, shaking his head at the ceiling and avoiding Max’s eyes. He kept staring at the ceiling even as Max rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at Charles as silence washed over them.
“Me either,” Max said with another amused huff. Charles finally looked over, only to find Max smiling back at him. Max’s eyes trailed down Charles’ face, getting stuck on his mouth for a moment before making eye contact again. “But I’m very happy with how this night turned out.”
“Shut up,” Charles grumbled, rolling his eyes and ignoring how his stomach somersaulted at his words.
Max smiled fondly at him, and then before Charles could process what was happening, he leaned down and pressed their lips together in a mostly chaste kiss. It was less heated than before, but it still almost took Charles’ breath away in a totally normal post-orgasm kind of way.
Max pulled away and looked back into Charles’ eyes before he smirked and said, “You were great.”
“Shut up, Max,” Charles groaned, flushing from head to toe with nowhere to hide since Max was crowding his space.
Charles’ reaction only seemed to please him more because he smiled brightly at him and said, “You’re not very good at taking compliments, you know.”
“Whatever,” Charles grumbled, biting down on his smirk and tilting his head away. Max made a displeased sound at that and turned Charles’ head back with a gentle hand on his jaw. Charles met his eyes again, and Max smiled softly before pressing another kiss onto his mouth.
Charles tried hard not to whine into it, wrapping his hands around Max’s torso to ground him. Max smiled into their kiss, clearly enjoying Charles’ hands on him before gently pulling back from his mouth. Charles wanted to set himself on fire just to escape Max’s gaze.
“How are you feeling?” Max asked, his tone quiet and his eyes hard for Charles to read.
“I’m not going to be able to sit for a week, mate,” Charles said seriously.
Max barked out a shocked laugh, wheezing a bit with it as he always did whenever he laughed too hard. It was way more endearing than it should be. Charles bit down on his smile, trying to contain it and not let it take over his entire face. Max shook his head, his eyes flicking across Charles' features before he laughed out an: “I’m sorry.”
Charles snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re not sorry at all.”
Max laughed loudly, his stomach shaking as his eyes went comically wide. “I am sorry.”
“Yeah, okay.” Charles laughed and bit down on his smirk.
Max chuckled, shaking his head fondly at him, his eyes flicking over his face and getting locked on his mouth again. Charles licked over his bottom lip instinctively. They breathed each other in for a few quiet moments, Max’s eyes traveling across Charles’ features.
Max's smile was slowly disappearing, and Charles watched as Max chewed his bottom lip instead, still avoiding his gaze. Charles could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. He was obviously overthinking something, and Charles wondered briefly if it was something he said.
But... Charles was still a bit too fuzzy to figure it out.
Finally, Max looked back into his eyes, and his voice was quiet when he said, “But seriously. You’re okay, right? It wasn’t… I mean, I wasn’t too much?”
Charles frowned at him then, his question unexpected. “Of course, I’m okay,” he said, not liking how Max had phrased the question. It made something uncomfortable twist in his gut. Max’s eyes were hesitant now, as if, for some reason, he thought Charles wasn’t telling the truth.
It made Charles’ stomach flip again.
“I wasn’t too rough?” Max asked quietly, avoiding his eyes as he stared at the dip of Charles’ throat. “Like... with anything I said. Or, you know, did.” And, seriously, what the hell had brought this on? Charles’ brain wasn’t firing at top speed, but he was still at a loss from how Max went from this ridiculously sexy, dominating figure to... this.
He suddenly looked very young and vulnerable. And for some reason, it made Charles want to cry. He hated how unsure of himself Max looked. He was instantly transported back to their childhood, when Max would have this same beat-down expression on his face when his father yelled at him, in words Charles couldn’t understand.
It made something ugly stir inside him at the thought, and he suddenly hated anyone who had ever made Max unsure of himself.
He wondered if there was an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend that had made him second-guess himself when it came to the bedroom. He had been so confident and unafraid to ask for what he wanted all night, which was way hotter than it had any right being.
But now he was looking at him with these big, sad eyes and worrying about whether or not he was too much.
It made Charles want to fight everyone who had ever hurt him.
He wanted to pick Max apart and figure out what had changed. He wanted to know everything about him, figure out all of his insecurities and find a way to fix them. He needed to know exactly what was happening behind those devastating blue eyes.
But... he was also still pretty drunk.
And orgasms always made him incredibly emotional.
So, maybe now wasn’t the best time. He’d have to save the digging for another day.
For now, he did the only thing he could do: lean up and press their mouths together. Charles pulled back and touched Max’s cheek with his hand, trying to see if his kiss had magically chased away any of his insecurities. Max closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, making Charles want to sob a bit.
But he wouldn’t.
Because he could control his emotions.
He was a big boy.
Charles kissed him again and then finally found his words. “You were not too rough, Max. You were... perfect. Everything you did was perfect. I enjoyed it very much.”
“Yeah?” Max asked, eyes flicking up to meet Charles’.
“Yeah,” Charles agreed, and relief washed over him when Max slowly smiled into his touch.
Just in time, too, before Charles did something crazy like ask him to marry him.
Orgasms really fucked with his emotions.
Charles cleared his throat and dropped his hand from Max’s cheek. He smirked at him and couldn’t help but to say: “I could probably get hard again just thinking about it.”
That finally had Max laughing again, his eyes lighting up with it. “Really? For a third time?” Max teased, wiggling his eyebrows at him. Max’s cocky little smile was back on his face, and Charles was so goddamn relieved. He never thought he’d miss such an obnoxious smile, but he would do anything in the world to avoid seeing Max’s sad, worried face ever again.
Max brought a hand up to his jaw, then trailed his fingers down the column of his throat to sit at the base of his neck. It made Charles shiver, and his cock jerked weakly against his thigh. Max grinned at him, but Charles quickly grabbed Max’s hand, halting his movements.
He narrowed his eyes at him and said, “Don’t even think about it, mate.”
Max snorted, his eyes still full of amusement. “But you said--”
“I didn’t say anything,” Charles cut him off, gripping his fingers tighter when Max tried to move them further down his chest. Max laughed quietly, relaxing against him and letting his hand fall back to the bed beside them. Max looked down at him for a moment before kissing him again, with no real heat or intention behind it.
Charles wouldn’t cry about it.
They kissed for another few moments, gripping each other with soft hands before finally pulling apart. Charles let his head fall back on the pillow, blinking up at Max with heavy eyelids.
A moment or two of silence passed before Max finally spoke up again. “If you’re sure you’re okay... I have an early training session with Brad. So, I should probably get going.”
“Oh,” Charles said, then quickly nodded. “Yes, of course.”
But Max didn’t make any moves to roll off him. Instead, his eyes flicked back and forth over Charles’ features, trying to read his expression. Whatever he saw there must have made him hesitate because he gently ran his knuckles over Charles’ jaw and said quietly, “I’ll stay if you want me to.”
Charles chuckled, a little overwhelmed by the affection. “Don’t be silly. Training comes first.”
Max hesitated for another moment before finally nodding and pushing himself up. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to grab his jeans and boxers. He held them in his lap for a moment, chewing his bottom lip back into his mouth before looking over at Charles. “You’re sure you’ll be okay if I leave?”
Charles did roll his eyes this time, but he smiled all the same. He leaned up on his elbows and said, “You’re very sweet. But yes, I am fine.”
“I feel like a dick leaving so quickly,” Max said with an awkward chuckle.
“Max, really, it’s fine,” Charles said, smiling at him. “I am very tired.” Max laughed quietly, but he was still chewing nervously on his lip, his expression torn. Charles finally sat up and shifted to sit next to him, leaning over and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. “I’m going to go wash up. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Max nodded, smiling up at him as Charles stood from the bed. Charles squeezed his shoulder one last time and turned away, heading into the bathroom. He closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath and holding it until his lungs felt like they were going to burst.
What the hell happened tonight?
Charles huffed an amused breath, shaking his head as he finally got moving. He grabbed a clean flannel from one of the cabinets and wet it under the sink. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and all the marks Max had left on his body. Another flash of heat went through him at the sight of it, and he shivered as he wiped himself clean.
He knew he needed a shower but was too tired to do that tonight.
He left the flannel to dry on the tub's edge before standing in front of the mirror again to brush his teeth, eyes locked on one of the darker bruises on his neck. His head was starting to throb, and he needed to drink some water, but more than that, he just wanted to sleep.
His muscles were screaming at him to do so.
He flicked off the light and opened the door. Max was gone, the apartment was quiet, and Charles wouldn’t let himself feel any kind of way about it. He liked cuddling as much as the next guy, but this night was weird enough already.
He didn’t need an awkward morning-after to top it all off.
He pushed the covers back and crawled under them. He really should have trekked out to the kitchen for water and knew he’d regret it immensely in the morning, but sleep was quickly taking over him. He rolled on his side, breathed deeply into his pillow, and was already slipping out of consciousness when a noise suddenly jolted him awake.
He opened his eyes and watched as Max quietly placed a small pile of folded clothes on his dresser. It must have been Charles’ discarded clothes from earlier. Charles smiled at Max’s back in the darkness, too sleepy to stop himself from being endeared by it.
Max turned around, and Charles expected to see him sneak back out the door, but he turned towards the bed instead. “You should drink this before you pass out,” Max said quietly in the darkness, stepping over to his bedside with a glass of water in his hand.
Charles could kiss him again.
“And take these. It’ll help with the hangover,” he added, pulling the blanket back and reaching for Charles’ hand under it. He gently turned Charles’ palm over and set two tablets down in his hand.
“Bless you, mate,” Charles groaned in appreciation, sitting up and accepting the glass Max handed him. He popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down with large gulps of water. He wiped the water droplets off his chin and smiled when he saw a few ice cubes floating around the top of the glass. He wasn’t sure how Max knew that he preferred ice water, but it made him feel fuzzy all over.
It was a long night, okay? Ice cubes didn’t normally make him feel any sort of way.
Charles finished the water and set the empty glass on the bedside table. Max reached out and gently brushed Charles’ wild hair out of his eyes. Charles looked up at him, their eyes locked for a moment before Max leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
“Sleep well,” he said, then pecked him again before standing back to his full height. Charles was so overwhelmed by the affection that he didn’t even say anything in return. He just sat there and watched Max leave the room, quietly pulling the door shut behind him.
Charles blinked into the darkness for too long before laughing at himself.
Charles was never able to guess Max’s next move. He was such a fucking mystery.
Perhaps, all along, it was Charles who couldn’t read the room.
What a weird fucking night.
***
When Charles woke up the following day, he was not too hungover. His muscles were aching, and his ass was sore, but he could open his eyes without feeling like he would throw up.
So that was something.
He had initially planned for today to be a productive Saturday. Maybe he’d get a workout in, or go to the grocery store, or maybe even fuck around and do all of the laundry that was still zipped up in a suitcase from Abu Dhabi.
But... he was definitely a little bit hungover.
And that was all the excuse he needed to do nothing instead.
He eventually dragged himself to the shower, the hot water feeling good on his sore muscles, and took his time to scrub shampoo and conditioner into his hair. Then he pulled on some comfy clothes, a pair of slightly too-big joggers and an oversized hoodie that he thought belonged to Pierre at one point.
He curled up on the sofa with one of the throw blankets his mum had made and intended to watch Netflix for the rest of the day.
Until his doorbell rang.
“Come on, mate,” he groaned to himself, having just gotten comfortable on the couch. He thumped his head against the back cushion, wondering who the hell could be at his door. He lived in a secured building, so he knew it had to be someone with access to the main entrance. Maybe one of his brothers?
He looked at the clock on his phone; it was just after 11 AM.
So much for doing nothing.
He sighed, tossed the blanket off his lap, and stood up. He rubbed at his hip as he walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. His eyes went a bit wide when standing on the other side of his door, holding two takeaway cups in his hands, was none other than Max Verstappen.
Of course, he could charm his doorman into being allowed up to Charles’ floor. He was a fucking World Champion, after all, and this was Monaco.
Charles cursed quietly, looking down at his ratty appearance before reminding himself... it didn’t matter.
This was Max, for fuck’s sake.
He wasn’t trying to impress him.
Still, he took a few moments to run his fingers through his damp fringe before opening the door. Max smiled softly at him when their eyes met, and Charles tried very hard not to be weird about it.
“Hello, Max.”
Max beamed at him.
“Hi,” he said and then went to hand him one of the paper cups in his hand. “Coffee?”
“You’re a lifesaver, mate,” Charles joked, accepting the cup and opening the door wider. And then, because he was polite, he asked, “Do you want to come in?”
“Sure,” Max said, stepping inside Charles’ house and shutting the door behind him. Charles watched as Max toed his shoes off, and for a split second, Charles almost did the unthinkable. Like leaning up to press a kiss into his mouth.
But he didn’t do that.
He couldn’t do that.
He wouldn’t do that.
That would be insane.
Just because they drunkenly hooked up last night doesn’t mean he gets to go around kissing Max Verstappen.
Pull yourself together, Charles.
Charles cleared his throat and then pointedly turned away from him. He took a sip of the coffee as he walked back into the living room, Max trailing quietly behind him. Charles sat down on the couch, folding his legs like a pretzel, and took another sip before finally looking over at Max.
It was weird to see him standing in his living room.
It was even weirder to see him dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, and not some Red Bull-branded shirt. Charles swore it was the only thing he owned.
Then again, he hadn’t been wearing Red Bull gear last night, either.
And, right. Charles wouldn’t let himself think about that. Not right now, at least.
He cleared his throat again and hoped his voice sounded normal when he said, “So? What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Max said casually. Charles watched as Max sat down on the other end of the couch and leaned back, crossing one ankle over the other. He took a sip of his coffee and smiled over at Charles.
Charles blinked at him.
He opened his mouth to say something but found himself at a loss for words. He chuckled awkwardly, looking away from Max as he drank his coffee, relishing in the sweet flavor for a moment. Finally, he had to say something, or the silence would kill him.
“This is good,” Charles commented dumbly, nodding at his cup. “Where’s it from?”
“Marcella’s Bakery,” Max answered easily. “It’s a few blocks over by the water. Have you been there?”
“No.” Charles shook his head, unfamiliar with the shop.
“It’s my favorite coffee in Monaco.”
And then-- silence.
Charles blinked at the cup in his hands for a long time before finally looking over. Max’s eyes looked around the room at all the things on his walls, and his fingers were picking at the cardboard sleeve on his coffee cup.
Still, neither of them said anything.
Charles was going to lose his mind.
“How was your training?”
“It was okay. I didn’t feel much like running this morning,” Max joked, and just the idea of why he didn’t feel like running made Charles blush down his chest. He hoped his hoodie covered it up. “Brad has no sympathy for the hungover, though. I thought I was going to puke at one point.”
Charles forced a laugh out of his throat. “I wouldn’t have gotten up at all,” Charles said, hoping his voice was steady. “I would have just turned my phone off and locked my door. So, you’re stronger than me, mate.”
Max laughed, his head tipping back and his eyes lighting up.
Charles forced himself to look away.
“What were you watching?” Max asked, nodding towards the Netflix home screen on the TV.
“I hadn’t decided,” Charles said, still avoiding Max’s eyes. “Any suggestions?”
“I’ve been planning to start Breaking Bad over.”
“Oh?” Charles asked and then added, “I never watched that one.”
“Mate,” Max said, gaping at him. “You have to. It’s so good. It’s one of my favorite shows.” And, like, Charles didn’t need to know that. Because he didn’t need to know Max’s favorite anything. Because... they don’t do things like sit next to each other on his couch and talk about what shows they watch.
Because they weren’t friends.
“Max...” Charles trailed off, looking over at him. He considered him for a moment, their eyes locked before he finally asked, “Why are you here?”
Instead of being offended by his question, Max smiled at him and quietly said, “Because I thought you might enjoy a coffee.”
And that was such an honest, simple answer that Charles had no idea what to do with it.
“That was nice of you,” Charles choked out.
Max shrugged an easy shoulder and said, “I’m a nice guy.” He clearly meant it as a joke, grinning at him afterward, but it did something funny to Charles’ brain.
Because... huh. What an interesting concept.
Honestly? Charles had never even considered it. But now that he thought about it, Max was right.
He was a nice guy.
He was a nice guy with a bad reputation for not being nice.
And... why?
Because many years ago, he was an angsty teenager with a snappy attitude? Because there was controversy around his first championship? Because he wasn’t afraid to tell someone what he was thinking? Because he refused to sit pretty for Netflix and let them spread lies about him?
Because he knew what he wanted and had the balls to follow through with it?
It was such a simple thing to realize, really. But Charles spent his whole life avoiding it.
Because it was easier to be strangers.
It was easier to be rivals.
It was easier to lose a championship to somebody you didn’t consider a friend.
But... Charles was also a nice guy. He was outgoing, friendly, and polite. He didn’t like to see people uncomfortable or left out of something. There was no reason that couldn’t apply to his relationship with Max. There was no reason they couldn’t sit next to each other and talk about their favorite TV shows.
It wasn’t a life-changing realization, but it sure was interesting.
“Do you want to watch it with me?” he suddenly found himself asking.
“Of course I would,” Max responded earnestly.
And that was how Charles, somehow, found himself spending an afternoon with Max Verstappen. He kept shoving all his thoughts and feelings down from the night before because he refused to be weird about this.
At least not while Max was still in his apartment.
He would maybe call Pierre later and have a meltdown about it.
But... maybe not?
Maybe Charles could be friends with Max without having a meltdown about it.
(Maybe.)
At some point in the afternoon, when the sun was shining warmly through the windows, Charles grabbed the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head. He straightened his black t-shirt and leaned into the couch cushions. He focused intently on where Walter White was making a nice batch of meth on the TV, but he couldn’t help but feel Max’s eyes on him.
He finally looked over at him, and Max looked away sheepishly like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Charles blinked at the side of his face for a second before turning back to the TV, wondering why the hell Max had been staring at him.
It wasn’t until he got up to pee in-between episodes and saw his reflection that he put two and two together. There, at the base of his neck, completely visible now that his hoodie was gone, was a big, fat, Max’s-mouth-shaped bruise.
His eyes widened at the realization, and a wave of heat shot up his spine.
Charles couldn’t help but wonder what Max had been thinking while staring at it.
It made his cock ache.
He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the sink, breathing deeply through his nose until he felt like all the blood had returned to his brain. He finally flicked the light off and left the bathroom. He avoided Max’s eyes as he returned to the living room, took his spot on the couch, and brought his thumbnail to his mouth to chew on.
He couldn’t help but look over at Max once the show was playing again. Max wasn’t looking at him this time, but Charles was officially distracted. And, despite how much he tried to think of literally anything else in the world, he was getting hard in his joggers.
Because he had no self-control, apparently.
None at all.
Just one quick glimpse at a bruise (on his own neck!!!) and suddenly, he was gagging for it.
Charles grabbed the throw pillow next to him and, in what he hoped was a casual move, gently placed it on his lap and crossed his hands on top of it. He chewed hard on the inside of his cheek and tried desperately to focus on the show, but he kept getting glimpses from the night before.
The way Max had called him baby. How he made him beg. How he smacked his ass. God, and don’t even get him started on his big cock. Charles’ ass still had a dull ache that he was reminded of every time he shifted on the couch.
Charles squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before blinking back at the TV, his hand subtly pressing down on the pillow in his lap.
Charles had more flashes from the night before. The way Max had gripped his hips hard but touched him gently afterward. The way he had pushed Charles up against the door and sucked his cock. Charles’ eyes flicked over to the front door, suppressing a shiver at the memory.
His thoughts were seriously going to get him in trouble today.
Charles glanced over at Max to confirm he was still not looking at him and then fixed his eyes on the TV. He should be paying attention to what was happening since this was the first time he had seen this show, and he knew he was missing essential plot pieces.
But. He was hard.
And Max was sitting right there.
He looked over at him again and almost gasped when Max was already looking back at him. Charles whimpered and pointedly looked back at the TV, squeezing his hands together and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.
Max chuckled next to him and said, “Are you okay, mate?”
“Mhmm,” he hummed, blinking at the show.
God, he was suddenly so hard it hurt.
He needed friction on his cock, or he’d do something foolish, like beg Max to fuck him again. He bit down harder on his lip and very subtly pressed down against the pillow in his lap, not hard enough to draw any attention to it but just enough to get the sweet whispers of relief on his aching cock.
“Charles.” Max’s voice was stern, making Charles suck in a surprised breath. He snapped his head over to look at him, feeling caught out. Max’s eyes were fixed on the pillow in his lap, but he flashed them up to meet Charles’ gaze instead. Then, the bastard grinned at him and said, “Are you hard?”
“Fuck off,” Charles groaned, flushing from head to toe. “Watch the show.”
Maybe this is why they shouldn’t hang out together.
Maybe Charles needed to go to therapy.
“Why are you hard?”
“You’re missing the show, mate!” Charles said a bit too hysterically.
“I’ve seen this show before.”
Charles brought his hands up to his face, squeezing his eyes shut and trying desperately to teleport himself out of this situation. He scrubbed his hands down his cheeks and blinked dumbly at the TV for a second before looking over at Max.
But that was definitely the wrong thing to do because Max was still looking at him, and Charles couldn’t help but notice the way his big cock was straining against his jeans now.
It was so... obvious.
Charles wanted to sob.
He also knew they shouldn’t be doing this.
This can’t be a thing they do.
He was not going to be... whatever this was with Max! He wasn’t looking for any friends-with-benefits relationship. Especially when they hadn’t even figured out the friends portion of their relationship!
Last night was just an incident.
“I-- I want to watch the show,” Charles said, tearing his eyes away from Max to blink back at the TV. If he were being honest, he had no clue what was happening on screen. He had stopped paying attention when all the blood rushed to his dick. He grabbed the remote from between them and started rewinding the episode.
He could still feel Max’s eyes on him.
He hit play and then finally looked back over at Max. “Okay?” He asked, pleading with his eyes not to make a big deal out of this.
Max smiled softly at him and said, “Of course, Charles. Whatever you want to do.”
Charles did not whimper at that.
He didn’t.
Nobody could prove it.
He simply had something stuck in his throat.
Thankfully, Breaking Bad was the least sexy show he had ever seen, and it didn’t take long before Charles could calm down and act like a civilized member of society again. He pointedly didn’t look at Max for at least half an episode, and by then, Max was no longer tenting his jeans.
Not that Charles was looking.
No, he was very much watching the show.
They ended up watching too many episodes in a row. They were still sitting on opposite ends of the couch with reasonable space between them. But as the afternoon went on, they slouched closer toward each other. It was the only logical thing to do, so they didn’t have to... you know. Yell over the dialog or anything.
Because.
Sound.
...
But now, the sun was starting to dip in the sky, and the living room was mostly dark. Somehow Max had spent the entire afternoon here. It was like they both came out of their trance simultaneously and realized how dark it had gotten in the room. Charles watched as Max picked his phone up from the coffee table and glanced at it.
“Shit, I have to go,” Max said, looking over at Charles and frowning at him. “I was supposed to meet my sister for dinner thirty minutes ago.”
Charles snorted. “You’re a bad brother.”
“I really am.” Max sighed, but he smiled at Charles all the same. Charles sat up and stretched his arms above his head. He hadn’t moved off the couch in hours, and the muscles in his back felt tight. He looked over when he realized Max was staring.
Max flushed and looked away, back down at his phone.
They stood up from the couch, and Charles followed Max to the front door. He watched as he silently slid his feet into his shoes, hopping on one foot as he tied the laces instead of just bending down like a normal person.
Charles tried very hard not to find it cute.
Max slid his phone into his back pocket before turning to look at Charles.
“Thanks for hanging out with me today,” he said, smiling softly at Charles.
And-- it almost made Charles want to cry.
Max was so honest and upfront with his feelings. He could just say things that Charles would be too embarrassed to say. Charles would have never drawn attention to the fact they were hanging out and instead just pretended nothing was weird. But Max didn’t seem to shy away from anything.
And it was just. A lot.
“Of course,” Charles said, and it sounded stupid to his ears.
“Don’t watch any more episodes without me,” he said, his tone and eyes serious.
Charles blinked at him. “But... you’ve seen it before.”
“I know,” Max said and smiled at him, his serious face disappearing. “But I like to see your reactions.” And there he goes again, just saying whatever the fuck comes to his mind. Regardless of the implications.
“Why?” Charles asked because he couldn’t help it.
Max huffed an amused breath. He stared at him for a moment, considering, before that cocky smile from the night before slowly appeared on his face. “Because you sound pretty when you gasp.”
Charles laughed frantically, his eyes wide. “Okay! Get the hell out of my house now, Max!” His tone was hysterical as he let out another shrill laugh, pushing at Max’s shoulders to try and get him out the door. Max stumbled back but let out a loud, wheezing laugh as he did so.
Charles wanted to die.
And also, he was getting hard again.
“Goodbye, Max!” he said, eyes still comically wide and his tone on the wrong side of crazy.
Max giggled (he giggled!!!!) and then he finally opened the door to the hallway.
He looked up and met Charles’ wide eyes, giving him a knowing smirk as he said, “Bye, baby.”
Charles didn’t hesitate to slam the door in his face.
***
The next morning Charles met up with Arthur at an indoor tennis court nearby. They came to this place often, usually with Lorenzo or their trainers, because it was a fun, relaxing way to get some cardio in. It was also a nice way to spend time together since most of the year was filled with racing obligations.
They had just finished their second game of the morning and were taking a break to rehydrate. Arthur had recently learned that he was getting bumped up to F2, and they had spent most of the morning discussing the logistics of that in-between sets.
Arthur had a foot propped up on the bleachers they were standing next to, leaning heavily against his knee as he took a sip of his water bottle. Arthur was mid-sentence, and Charles was totally listening because he was a very polite brother when his eyes got sidetracked by movement over Arthur’s shoulder.
He watched in somewhat of a daze as Max and his physio Brad walked through the front door of the building. Charles had been coming to this sports complex for years and had never once run into Max.
Why did the world hate him so much now?
He was just trying to be a good brother!
“Tu m'écoutes même pas,” (“You’re not even listening to me,”) Arthur quipped, jolting Charles back into the conversation just in time to get a dramatic eye roll from him. Charles cursed, quickly apologizing for his rudeness. Arthur chuckled, unbothered, as he glanced over his shoulder, wondering what had distracted him.
Arthur was blissfully unaware of the last few days of Charles' life, so he must not have found it strange (or devastating) to see Max here. Which is why he turned back to him with no further questions. On the other hand, Charles was starting to sweat, and it had nothing to do with the game they had just finished.
Arthur went back into whatever story he was telling before. And, like, Charles tried very hard to listen.
He really did.
He looked into Arthur’s eyes and nodded at what he hoped was the appropriate time, but none of the words made it to his ears. Because in his peripheral vision, he could see Max and Brad getting closer to them.
And that was very distracting to him.
Suddenly, Arthur groaned and snapped his fingers in Charles’ face. “Fucking hell, Charles. Tu n'écoutes toujours pas. Pourquoi regardes-tu Verstappen?” (“You're still not listening. Why are you staring at Verstappen?”)
“Merde,” Charles cursed, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something else, maybe to apologize for being such a shit conversationalist, but then Max was standing right in front of them.
He wore stretchy black shorts and a white Alpha Tauri shirt, an outfit that Charles had seen him in many times before. For some reason, today, it seemed particularly devastating.
Charles swore he could see his nipples through his shirt.
Charles needed to stop looking at Max Verstappen’s nipples.
“Hey,” Max said casually, his eyes flicking between them.
Arthur looked at Charles for a moment too long, his expression hard to read, before turning to look at Max. He gave him a friendly smile as he said, “Hey, Max. How’s it going, mate?” Charles watched with unmoving, wide eyes as Arthur and Max slapped their hands together in a friendly shake.
Charles wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not.
“Congrats on your F2 seat. That’s exciting news,” Max said, smiling brightly at his brother. It wasn’t the first time he had ever seen them interact since Arthur was always around during the season, either racing in F3 or supporting Charles, but it was still-- weird.
Because...
Because it was!
Charles tried not to whine out loud about it.
“Thanks, mate,” Arthur said genuinely, then turned to glare at Charles. “At least somebody cares about my seat.”
Charles gasped and let his jaw drop. “I do care about your seat!”
“Whatever,” Arthur said, with no real heat behind it as he turned back towards Max. “This one has his head in the clouds today. I hope you’re not looking for any real conversation with him,” Arthur joked, nodding his head in Charles’s direction.
Charles let his jaw drop again at his audacity.
Max laughed loudly at that, and Charles tried hard not to enjoy the sound of it.
Especially since he had been the butt of Athur’s joke.
If anything, he should be offended that they were laughing at his expense. But there was something about the way Max’s eyes got bright when he laughed that Charles struggled to hold a grudge against.
“How did your post-season testing go?” Arthur asked because, unlike Charles, he was good at making conversation today.
“Checo did all the post-season testing, but I’ve heard it went really well. We got a lot of good data from it.” And then, Max was-- he was Maxsplaining to his little brother! Right in front of him! And he wasn’t even looking over at Charles as he spoke!
Charles blinked dumbly at the two of them and watched them quickly get wrapped up in a conversation about racing. Charles looked over at Brad, needing someone else to witness what was happening in front of him, but he was busy texting someone on his phone.
Charles turned his attention back to the conversation, watching as Max used his hands to describe something about the aerodynamics of the car. Charles stared at his hands for too long before he had to shake himself out of it. He suddenly had the urge to wave his hands around and say hello!!!! Pay attention to me!!!!!
But, you know. He wouldn’t. Because that would be crazy.
So he didn’t.
Charles suddenly snapped back into the present when Max asked, “Were you guys finished for the day? Or did you want to play doubles with us?”
Charles turned to look at Arthur, giving him a look that only a fellow Leclerc brother could understand. He didn’t need to use his words. It was obvious that he was telling him: we are absolutely not going to play tennis with Max Verstappen.
Arthur tilted his head at him, his eyes locked on Charles before he gave him a slight nod.
Because he totally understood.
It was so nice to have such a solid, strong bond with his brother.
Leclercs were basically psychic!
“We’d love to play doubles,” Arthur said, turning back towards Max and Brad.
Charles wished he was an only child.
Max and Brad went off to the other side of the court to stretch, and Charles helplessly watched them go. Why the hell did god hate him so much? He was already distracted just being in the same room as Max. He definitely didn’t need to be playing tennis against him.
Charles would be perfectly glad to never see Max work up a sweat ever again!
It might be better for his overall mental health.
Suddenly, Arthur was rounding on him, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Qu’est-ce qui se passe entre vous deux?” (“What the hell is going on between you two?”)
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat. Now was not the right time to tell Arthur he had sex with Max Verstappen. Actually, now that he thought about it, he would never tell Arthur about it. Because he would never hear the end of it if he did.
Having brothers was a sick, cruel joke if you asked him.
“Quoi? Rien,” (“What? Nothing,”) Charles said innocently, waving it off and hoping his voice sounded as casual as he intended. But Arthur knew better. So he stopped him with a hand on his arm when he tried to walk away from him and looked him dead in the eyes.
They didn’t speak for a second but didn’t need to. Charles knew it was written all over his face.
“Come on,” Charles said in English, trying to bring them back to the current situation. “We’re better than them. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
Because, right.
They had tennis to play.
With Max, apparently.
Charles’ life was getting weirder every single day.
***
Charles was right.
He definitely didn’t need to see what Max looked like playing tennis. It was downright pornographic. Charles swore that he was doing it on purpose. He was surprised that Max didn’t rip off his shirt halfway through and recreate the volleyball scene from Top Gun.
Okay, Charles was exaggerating a bit. But he was allowed to be dramatic when forced to do cardio with Max.
It was the longest hour of his life!
This was all Arthur’s fault, really.
Thankfully, after they had played a few rounds, Arthur had to pack up because he had plans for the afternoon. And Charles couldn’t play doubles without a teammate, so it was the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Max Verstappen.
Win, win.
They all met in the middle of the court to shake hands, like good athletes, and when Charles went to shake Max’s hand, he felt caught out by the look he was giving him. Max was staring at him with that stupid, devastating cocky smile that made his knees shake.
Charles blinked at him, his eyes subconsciously flashing down to Max’s mouth before looking back into his dumb, blue eyes that did not remind Charles of the blue water of the marina or anything.
“Good game,” Charles choked out, extending his very still, totally stable, not at all trembling hand out towards him.
Max smirked at him some more before wrapping his big hand around Charles’ palm. “Good game,” he repeated, squeezing his hand tightly.
Charles laughed a bit manically before pulling away from him. “See you later?”
“Yeah, see you later,” Max said, his eyes still staring him down.
Charles forced himself to turn around and follow Arthur to the bleachers where their stuff was. He accepted the bottle he handed him and took a sip of the cold water before twisting the cap back on. He looked over his shoulder and watched Max’s back walk away, hands gesturing as he Maxsplained something to Brad on their way out.
Charles shook his head because he was insane and sat down on the bleachers next to Arthur to change his shoes. He bent his knee onto the bench to untie his shoe when he saw his phone light up. He reached down to grab it, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he saw it was a text from a number not saved to his phone.
He swiped open the phone and then nearly dropped it when he read it.
-
You look hot when you’re all sweaty.
“What the fuck,” Charles said out loud, causing Arthur to look over at him.
Arthur raised his eyebrows at him, silently asking him what the problem was, but Charles was too distracted to answer him. He looked up then, and his eyes locked on Max, standing on the other side of the glass as Brad talked to someone at the front desk.
He was staring right back at him.
Charles flushed, quickly looking back down at his phone. He blinked at the text a few times, heat rushing through his body as he reread the words. He cleared his throat and tapped out a response.
-
How the hell did you get my number???
Charles looked up and watched as Max read the text, his head tilting back as he laughed. He couldn’t hear it because there was glass between them, but it was the reaction he was going for, which was satisfying. Charles bit down on his lip as his eyes darted to his phone.
-
I have my sources.
-
Who, Lando?
-
Close. Alex.
Charles glared at his phone. Alex Albon would have to pay for this.
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and went to type out a reply when Arthur suddenly stood up from the spot next to him. Charles quickly locked his phone, looking up at his brother and hoping his cheeks weren’t flushed.
Thankfully, Arthur must not have noticed.
“Tu viens?” (“Are you coming?”) he asked, slinging his gym bag over his chest and looking at Charles expectantly.
Charles shook his head. “Non, vas-y.” (“No, you go ahead.”)
Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and Charles was expecting some kind of interrogation. But thankfully, Arthur just sighed and said, “Je te verrai demain?” (“I’ll see you tomorrow?”) Charles nodded and said goodbye to his brother.
Then he unlocked his phone and almost choked on his air when he read his texts.
-
You were very distracting to play against.
But I bet you already knew that.
With your tiny shorts and your sex noises.
He snapped his head up to look at Max. He was in the middle of a conversation with Brad, still gesturing wildly with his hands and chuckling at something he had said. Their eyes met over his shoulder, and Max fucking-- he fucking winked at him.
Charles was going to find himself a nice cliff to jump off.
-
I’m going to kill you.
Charles could feel Max’s eyes on him, but he refused to look back up. He chewed his bottom lip into his mouth, watching as the typing bubble appeared in the thread.
-
Did Arthur notice the giant hickey on your neck?
-
He didn’t say anything about it.
But it would have been your fault if he did.
-
True.
Because I put it there.
Charles sucked in a surprised breath as he read Max’s message, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral. He locked his phone and shoved it into the side of his gym bag, officially done with this conversation.
He was not going to get hard in a public sports arena.
What the fuck was happening to his life?
He stood up and grabbed his bag, pulling the strap over his shoulders and walking towards the exit. He glared at Max when they made eye contact because, of course, Max and Brad were having their conversation by the front door.
“See you later, Charles!” Max called out, smirking at him.
Charles totally did not trip over his own feet.
No, that would have been embarrassing.
***
The next night, when the sky was dark and Charles was half asleep on the couch watching a movie, his phone buzzed on the cushion next to him. He looked over at it and saw it was a text from Max, and without even reading it, he groaned out loud toward the emptiness of his living room.
It didn’t matter what it said; Charles knew it would make him want to throw his phone off the balcony.
Charles watched a few more seconds of his movie, pretending he wouldn’t instantly read the text, before finally sighing and unlocking his phone. He pulled up his text messages and took a deep breath before clicking on Max’s name.
It was a picture of a drink on a bar top. A familiar bar top. Charles squinted at it for a moment before seeing the bright red hair of Miles in the background. Realization hit him all at once, and his eyes went a bit wide with it.
Before he could respond to it, Max sent a follow-up message.
-
Not as fun as the last time I was here.
Yep, his phone was going off the balcony now.
-
Ha ha, I’m going to block you.
-
Don’t do that.
-
Why the hell not?
-
Because then I’ll be forced to do something crazy.
Like... show up at your doorstep 😉
Charles made a pathetic sound, bringing his hands up to run through his messy hair. He needed to track Alex Albon down so he could smack the life out of him for giving Max his number.
-
Enjoy your hangover, mate.
There. Conversation done. Charles could go back to his movie now, in peace, and not think about Max Verstappen for the rest of the night. Maybe even the rest of his life! He wasn’t even sure what was happening on the screen now, but it didn’t matter as long as Max wasn’t involved!!!!
But then, his phone buzzed again. And he was helpless to look down at it.
-
What are you doing?
He could just. Not respond. He didn’t owe Max anything.
He reminded himself of that as he started responding anyway.
-
Long division math problems and curing cancer.
Obviously
-
Mate. You just made me choke on my drink.
Charles bit down on his smirk, pleased that he had made Max laugh. His movie still played in the background, but he wasn’t paying any attention to it. He pulled his legs up onto the couch and stared at his phone as Max typed.
-
What are you actually doing?
-
Not that it’s any of your business, but I was watching a movie.
Until you interrupted me.
-
Are you alone?
Charles paused, chewing on his cheek as he stared at the text. It seemed like a loaded question that could lead to Max showing up at his doorstep.
And... Charles didn’t want that. (Right?)
Because... they shouldn’t do that again. (...Right?)
Because... friends with benefits always got complicated. (... Or so he’s heard.)
And also because...
Nope, that was it. Charles was out of reasons.
Charles sighed as he stared at their text thread and considered not answering at all. Because he was losing his self-control and was always one breath away from begging Max to fuck him whenever they interacted.
It was the same reason he had come home from tennis the day before and immediately jerked off in the shower.
He was pathetic, really.
-
Yes.
Charles wasn’t expecting an immediate response since it had taken him forever to answer his question. And because Max was drinking at a club and probably surrounded by friends. But his response came quickly, and it was only one word.
-
Interesting.
Charles whimpered. Nothing was interesting about it.
He needed to deflect the conversation and take it somewhere wholly neutral. He should ask Max a racing-related question. He could talk about DRS zones, or break balance, or... literally anything in the world that couldn’t possibly be seen as sexual!
Instead, he said:
-
Are you about to ask me what I’m wearing?
Charles never claimed to be smart.
-
Would you tell me if I asked???
In fact, Charles was stupid.
-
Maybe.
So, so stupid.
-
What are you wearing, Charles?
Actually... don’t answer that.
-
You don’t want to know?
-
No, no. I desperately want to know.
But I don’t want to get hard at the bar.
Charles groaned at the text, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath through his nose. He was being absolutely ridiculous. And his cock was starting to stir at just the idea of Max getting turned on by a little bit of texting. He definitely needed to end this conversation before it went any further.
-
Hm. Your loss.
-
Don’t tell me that!!!!
You’re a tease.
-
I’m going back to my movie now.
-
Why don’t you come have a drink with me instead?
Charles’ jaw ticked open, his eyes widening at the invitation. Fuck. His mind started running at a million miles an hour, considering the possibility of getting up and getting dressed to meet Max at the club.
Except... he knew exactly where that would lead.
Because he was goddamn shameless.
And now, he was hard in his joggers at just the idea.
Charles needed to get control of himself and end the conversation once and for all.
-
I don’t feel like leaving the house.
-
Hmm... you’re right. This place sucks.
I could come over there instead.
Charles sucked in a surprised breath. His pulse quickened, and he was definitely fully hard now. Because he really was that easy for it. He should tell Max no, and remind him they’re just friends.
But instead:
-
Okay.
-
Yeah?
-
Hurry up.
-
I’ll be there in 20.
Don’t touch yourself.
Charles whimpered, removing the hand he had been palming at himself with.
This was definitely the worst idea he ever had.
***
By the time his doorbell rang, he had worked himself up into a right state. He had changed his clothes, which was ridiculous because he didn’t plan to stay in them very long, but he thought jeans would be more presentable than joggers and a ratty old t-shirt.
Under Max's instructions, he hadn’t touched himself again, and his dick felt like it would fall off if he didn’t get some friction on it soon. His erection hadn’t flagged the entire time it took Max to get there, even though he had tried to distract himself by changing his clothes and brushing his teeth.
Seeing him now, standing in his doorway, was like a splash of cold water to his system.
It almost made him want to cry a little bit.
“Hi,” Charles said dumbly.
“Hi,” Max said, with a grin so wide he thought it must hurt.
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Come in,” he said, opening the door wider and watching as Max ducked inside, Max’s scent suddenly overwhelming his senses. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. It wasn’t an overpowering scent of cologne or body wash; it was just-- Max.
Great, now Charles was going to start writing poems about how the man smelled.
This was getting out of hand, really.
Charles closed the door, and they looked at each other for a long moment, neither of them moving or saying anything. The anticipation of Max getting there may have made Charles lose his mind. Maybe he forgot how to speak altogether.
Charles cleared his throat and said, “Would you like a drink?”
There was another brief silence before Max breathed an amused breath and said, “Sure.”
Still, neither of them moved, and they kept staring at each other in Charles’ hallway like a bunch of idiots. Charles could feel his pulse thrumming in his veins, and the back of his neck was already on fire.
Finally, Charles nodded and scooted around Max.
He could feel his eyes boring into the back of his head as he led the way into the kitchen. Charles opened a cabinet with deft fingers, picked up two highball glasses, and set them on the counter. He glanced over at Max, standing in the middle of his kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest, silently watching Charles’ every move.
Max was wearing faded denim jeans and a crisp white button-down shirt that hugged his biceps, and-- Charles had to look away, or he’d say something incredibly embarrassing.
Charles opened the freezer and stared at the ice bin for entirely too long.
His brain couldn’t seem to remember how to make his limbs move.
Charles cleared his throat again and then filled the glasses with ice. The silence seemed to grow and grow as he stepped over to the pantry to grab the bottle of vodka. Suddenly, Max’s fingers wrapped gently around his wrist, stopping his movement.
“Charles,” he said, his tone quiet. Charles swallowed and looked over at him. “I don’t want a drink.”
“Thank god,” Charles mumbled and then finally kissed him.
Max’s hands instantly went to Charles' waist, his strong hands digging into the sensitive skin as he stepped them backward. Charles felt like the breath was knocked out of him when his back touched the cabinets, and Max’s tongue entered his mouth.
Max was lifting him then, grabbing him around his thighs and hoisting him onto the countertop. Max squeezed hungrily at his thighs and his ass, gripping him tightly around his lower back and pulling him roughly against him.
Charles moaned and wrapped his legs around Max’s waist, their mouths never separating.
“Fuck, baby, I’ve been dying to get my mouth back on you,” Max said, squeezing his ass again as he licked down his neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop thinking about the pretty noises you make, fuck.” It’s not that Charles forgot how Max was when he was turned on, but somehow it still had him gasping for air, feeling like he was drowning in his words.
“Max, please,” Charles moaned when he sucked at the base of his neck.
“Just as pretty as I remember,” Max groaned, reaching down and slipping his fingers under the hem of Charles’ shirt. He pulled back just enough to tug the shirt over his head and then latched his mouth on Charles’ skin. Charles’ head tipped back, knocking painfully into the cabinet behind him, but he didn’t even care.
The last time they hooked up, he had been reasonably drunk. This time he was completely sober.
And it was... a lot.
“Max, I want--” Charles cut himself off, tugging at Max’s hair to pull his head away from his throat. He didn’t need another bruise when the first one was still fading. He can’t be walking around with hickeys on his neck like a horny adolescent. People would definitely start asking questions.
“What do you want, baby?” Max pressed when Charles didn’t finish his sentence.
Charles’ flushed down his chest but found his words anyway. “Can I suck your cock?”
“Can you suck my cock?” Max asked sarcastically with a huff of laughter, his eyes wide. “Baby, I’m going to insist on it,” he said, shaking his head at Charles like he was unbelievable.
Charles wanted to set himself on fire again.
He felt like his whole body must be flushed a bright red now.
He’d probably match his car if you sat them next to each other.
Max squeezed at his ass again with both hands, pressing up between his thighs and making Charles want to sob.
“I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night dreaming about your mouth around me,” Max said hotly in his ear, eagerly pressing their mouths together again in a sloppy kiss. “Have to keep getting myself off before I can go back to sleep.”
“Max,” Charles moaned. He’d give anything in the world to see that.
“Bet my hand doesn’t feel anywhere near as good as your mouth does,” Max added, pulling Charles off the counter and turning him in the direction of the hallway. “God, I can’t wait to find out,” Max continued because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up until Charles stopped breathing altogether.
Charles tugged at Max’s stupid button-up shirt as they stumbled down the hallway, his fingers trying and failing to undo the buttons on them. It made him groan in frustration, which made Max laugh.
Charles glared at him and said, “I’ll fucking rip it if you keep laughing at me.”
“Here, baby, I got it,” Max placated, sliding his fingers over Charles’ and taking over. Charles watched as the shirt finally left Max’s shoulders, replaced with the sight of smooth skin and tight muscles. “You’re drooling,” Max quipped.
Charles squawked and snapped his mouth shut. “I am not.”
Max let out a loud, wheezing laugh as he sat down on the end of the bed and pulled at Charles’ hips until he was standing in between his legs. Charles steadied himself with his hands on Max’s shoulders, still huffing about his totally untrue comment.
He opened his mouth to protest some more, but.
“Get on your knees, Charles,” Max said, and the laughter was gone from his voice. It wasn’t that Charles hesitated; he was just sort of... short-circuiting. His brain was not functioning correctly due to the rush of arousal that went through him. Max tilted his head, looking at him directly, almost as if he were challenging him to protest. “Don’t make me ask you again.”
And then Charles slowly dropped to his knees, placing his palms on Max’s solid thighs for balance. Max smiled at him, pleased, before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “You remember the rules, right?” he asked, his eyes flicking up to meet his. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much? If I do or say something you don’t like?”
“Yes, Max,” he said, nodding his head.
“Good boy.” Max smirked, then leaned back on his elbows, gesturing with his hands as if to say go on. Charles’ brain misfired again before he finally got his wits about him and reached forward to undo Max’s belt. Max raised his hips so Charles could slip his jeans and boxers off in one go, and then Charles sucked in a deep breath at the sight of Max fully hard in front of him.
It’s almost like his memory didn’t do his size justice.
Max suddenly laughed, and Charles looked up, realizing he had said it out loud. Fuck, his brain was definitely melting out of his ears. He swore at one point he knew what he was doing and wasn’t a mumbling mess.
But something about Max made him forget how to think clearly.
Charles wrapped his hand around the base of Max’s cock, and the only way Max showed that he was affected by it was the sharp intake of breath through his nose.
It sent another shiver down Charles’ spine.
“Come on, baby,” Max said, sitting back up and wrapping a hand around Charles’ head. He used his other hand to cover the tops of Charles’ fingers and guide his cock to his mouth. “Suck my cock,” he said, and, really, who was Charles to deny him that?
Charles wrapped his lips around the head, running his tongue along the underside with his fingers still tucked around the base. “Fuck me,” Max groaned, falling back on his elbows again when Charles flashed his eyes up to him. “God, it’s even better than I thought.”
Charles whimpered around him, pulling back to swipe his tongue around his slit and relishing in the moan it pulled from Max’s mouth. He pulled off and spit into his hand, making Max’s breath falter again. He looked back at Max as he wrapped his now wet hand around him, smirking before taking him in his mouth again.
“Fuck, you’re the devil, baby,” Max groaned, pushing his hips into Charles’ mouth and making him choke. Max didn’t even apologize, which made Charles feel like he was burning from the inside out. He was pretty sure he could come like this, with just Max’s cock in his mouth and not even a hand around himself.
Charles took him in his mouth as far as he could, barely reaching where his fingers were wrapped around him before he started to choke again. He hurriedly pulled off, gasping for air, and looked up at Max with apologetic eyes. But Max didn’t look annoyed. He was staring down at Charles with a look of admiration. His jaw ticked open as he reached a hand out to cup Charles’ cheek.
“Your mouth was made to suck my cock, baby.”
Charles whined, stroking over him with his fist and ignoring the ache in his jaw as he took him back in his mouth. Max threaded his hand in Charles’ hair, his mouth running a thousand miles an hour now that the floodgates had opened.
“I knew your mouth would be the best thing I’ve ever felt. I fucking knew it. God, baby, your mouth was made just for me, wasn’t it?” Charles moaned around him, his head fuzzy at Max’s words, trying to breathe through his nose to take more of Max in his mouth. “That’s right, only me,” Max answered his own question.
Charles was definitely going to come in his pants.
Charles bobbed his head, able to take more of him now that his body was getting used to the intrusion. His lips were touching his fist now every time he sunk down, and it was drawing all sorts of noises out of Max’s mouth that were going straight to his cock.
“Fuck, I want to keep you full of my cock all the time.” Max was babbling the closer he got to the edge, driving Charles insane. He wanted something inside of him but didn’t even know if he’d need it because he was already so close. “Fucking come in your ass and plug you up, make you walk around with me inside you all day.”
Charles choked as Max started coming in thick spurts with no warning. Or maybe he had warned him, but his brain was still too fuzzy and slow to pick up on it. His come instantly flooded his mouth, and he had to pull off, the last bit shooting across his jaw instead.
Charles swallowed as he looked up at Max, gasping for air as Max continued rambling: “Oh, my god. Fuck, fuck, baby.”
Charles had tears streaming down his face, but it was definitely from choking on Max’s cock and for absolutely no other reason. He brought his clean hand up to wipe hastily at his eyes before resting his forehead against Max’s thighs, breathing wetly against him.
Max stroked his hair, his hips twitching every few seconds as they caught their breath.
Charles finally looked up at him, and Max bit back on his smile. He reached forward and used his thumb to gently wipe at Charles’ jaw, at his come, making Charles shiver. Max wiped his hand off on the sheets, and Charles made an indignant noise at the sight of it.
“Hey!” he whined, frowning at him.
Max laughed, tilting his head back. “I’ll change the sheets before I leave, baby.”
Charles glared at him.
Max smiled at him fondly, reaching down to gently stroke his fingers along Charles’ jawline again. They looked at each other for a moment before Max huffed a breathy laugh and said, “I... did not mean to come that fast.”
Charles snorted and said, “Well, I didn’t mean to come in my pants, but here we are.”
Max's fingers on his jaw stopped moving, his eyes going wide.
“You what?” Max asked, fingers tightening around his jaw.
It made Charles whimper.
Max was suddenly sitting up, his big hand palming at the wet spot on Charles’ jeans, making him groan and shiver at the oversensitivity.
“Holy shit, baby,” Max said in astonishment, his eyes flicking over Charles’ features before smashing their lips together in a desperate kiss. When he finally pulled away, he said, “That’s so fucking hot.”
“Shut up,” Charles mumbled, flushing down his chest and avoiding Max’s eyes.
“You came in your pants just from sucking my cock?” Max asked breathlessly. Charles made a protesting noise and refused to answer. Max pressed another heated kiss onto his mouth before pulling back and smiling brightly at him. “Just so desperate for it you couldn’t wait, huh? Couldn’t stop yourself from coming when my cock was in you?”
“Shut up, Max,” Charles groaned, trying to hide his face in Max’s thighs. It made Max laugh fondly again.
“Come up here,” Max said, pulling at Charles’ arms to get him to stand up. His knees were sore, and his legs were aching when he finally stood up, the wet patch on the front of his jeans cold and sticky. Max didn’t seem to care, though, as he pulled Charles into his lap, moving Charles’ legs around his waist as if he weighed nothing.
Max ran his hands up Charles’ back, causing more goosebumps to form over the bare skin, and Charles shivered into it, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck. He was still avoiding his eyes because he was embarrassed, but Max seemed to sense that he wasn’t in the mood to be teased about it anymore.
“Hey,” Max whispered, bumping Charles’ jaw with his nose. Charles hummed an acknowledgement but didn’t say anything. “Look at me,” Max said gently, his warm palms running soothingly up and down Charles’ back, making him want to sob a little.
Charles took a deep breath before finally looking down at Max.
Max smiled at him, his eyes soft and fond.
“You did so well. You were so perfect for me,” Max whispered, nudging at his jaw again with his nose and mouth. He trailed one of his palms around Charles’ hip to pet the side of his thigh. “Never had my cock sucked like that before in my life, baby. Nobody has ever been able to take all of me. God, you’ve ruined me.”
“Stop talking,” Charles grumbled, looking away from him.
“I came here with every intention of fucking you, you know. But then you made me come embarrassingly fast with your perfect little mouth,” Max said, squeezing his thighs with both hands, nosing at his jaw and his ear, and making Charles quiver again.
“Do you ever stop talking?” Charles groaned, his cheeks on fire as he listened to Max’s words.
“No. Not usually.” Max huffed, trailing his lips across Charles’ jaw and down into the divot of his neck. “It’s even worse when I’m around you. I want to sing your praises all day. Tell everybody in the world how fucking amazing you are. Go climb the highest mountain just to scream about your perfect mouth from the top.”
Charles covered Max’s mouth with his hand, incapable of listening to him say another goddamn word. He pulled back and glared down at him. Max said something muffled into Charles’ palm, making him huff and finally let go of his mouth. “What?”
“I said, I’m not gonna shut up until you get better at taking compliments.”
Charles rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “I can take a compliment just fine.”
Max chuckled, still smiling at him like he was the best thing he had ever seen. It made Charles’ head hurt. Charles didn’t hook up with his friends often (or, like, ever) but he swore this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
There weren’t supposed to be feelings involved.
There weren’t supposed to be mountain-top exclamations.
Wasn’t hooking up with a friend supposed to be the total opposite of having feelings?!
Wasn’t that the whole point of friends with benefits?!
Max must not have gotten the memo because he just sat there looking at him like he was the sun. It made Charles want to run away and hide from Max’s eyes for the foreseeable future.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Charles mumbled, looking over Max’s shoulder to avoid his gaze. Max squeezed his thighs, but Charles refused to look down at him.
“Like what?” Max asked, hands soft as they stroked his hips.
“Like I’m...” but he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. So instead, he just shut his mouth and kept looking at the wall behind Max’s head.
“Like you’re what?” Max pressed because he was annoying.
Charles sighed loudly and finally looked down at him. He looked at him for a long moment, considering, before he said quietly, “Like you care.”
Max frowned at his words, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he asked, “What does that mean?” But Charles didn’t have anything else to add, especially in English. Max frowned some more, rubbing his hips and thighs before he wrapped his arms low around Charles’ back. His voice was quiet when he said, “Of course, I care.”
Charles blinked at him. “Why?”
Max opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. After a few seconds, he finally closed it and looked at Charles for a long time, his mouth downturned in another frown. It almost made Charles wish he had never said anything at all.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Max shrugged slightly and said, “I don’t know. Because I do.”
As if it was that simple.
Charles considered letting him off the hook because he hated awkward conversations and knew he was overly emotional after he came. But. Something about the look in Max’s eyes made him press further.
“We’re not even friends,” Charles pointed out and hoped his voice was steady.
“We’re not?” Max asked, eyebrows scrunching together again in confusion.
“I--” Charles stuttered because... what? What the hell kind of question was that? “We’ve never been friends,” Charles said, looking at Max equally confused. Did Max fall down and bump his head? How could he possibly think any differently?
Silence stretched between them for a few moments as they stared at each other until Max quietly said, “Oh.”
Oh?
That’s what he said?! Oh?! Fucking OH?!?!
Charles made a pathetic squeaking noise instead of forming words because... how the hell was he supposed to respond to that? What the hell did he mean by oh? Why did that one word totally contradict Charles’ entire life?
“What do you mean, oh?” Charles choked out.
“I thought we were friends,” Max said simply as if he was just stating a fact. As if he wasn’t blowing Charles’ mind right now. As if he wasn’t naked under Charles’ ass right now.
Charles blinked dumbly at him. “What?”
“I didn’t realize you didn’t consider us friends,” he said, and there was no heat behind it. He wasn’t accusing Charles of anything and didn’t seem too offended by Charles’ admission.
He was just... Max. He was honest. Blunt. Not scared of his own feelings.
Totally the opposite of Charles.
Max smiled softly at him and flexed his fingers on his back. “I’ve known you my whole life, mate. I thought we’d been friends since... forever. I hardly even remember meeting you because we were so young.”
“But--” Charles said, his mind going completely blank. His heart was pounding in his chest, listening to Max’s words. Nothing about this conversation made any sense to him. “We’ve never even hung out. I didn’t have your phone number until yesterday,” he rambled, his words coming out fast and heavily accented.
Max chuckled softly, tightening his arms around Charles’ back because he was still sitting in his lap what the fuck. “Yeah, but... we spend most of the year together. I’ve never needed your number because I see you most weekends. And we talk all the time in the paddock, so--”
“You talk all the time,” Charles corrected, cutting him off and looking at him directly. “You-- you Maxsplain.”
Max rolled his eyes, huffing an amused breath as he said, “I fucking hate that term.”
Charles frowned at him, trying to make sense of everything he had just learned. Had he really been blind to their friendship this whole time? Now was not the time or place for it, but he was suddenly re-evaluating his whole life. His mind flashed through the multiple faces he sees in the paddock every weekend, wondering if any of them thought they were friends too.
Was he really that oblivious?
Had he been that self-centered all this time?
Charles had always thought of himself as this nice, polite guy who was friendly to everyone... but he suddenly realized that he had been a jerk to Max for years.
Max hadn’t been bothering him after every race to Maxsplain to him.
He just-- he thought they were friends.
Jesus Christ.
Charles wanted to bury himself alive.
“Wow,” Charles finally choked out, his eyes searching Max’s. But Max was still smiling at him, still had his arms wrapped comfortingly around his back, and was still letting him sit in his lap. Fuck, why hadn’t he thrown him off his lap and left Charles’ apartment in a huff? “I’m-- I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.”
That made Max frown again. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because-- I’ve-- you’ve.” And, right, those weren’t sentences. Charles hated the idea that he had been rude or unfriendly to Max, especially knowing that Max had looked at their relationship differently all along. So many times, Charles had been short with him or looked at him like he was crazy for talking to him.
It made Charles want to die.
“I’ve been an asshole to you for years,” Charles whispered, ashamed of himself. Max’s fingers were soft as they squeezed his back. Max nosed at his jaw again, making Charles whine because he didn’t deserve to be treated nicely. Charles finally looked down to meet Max’s eyes.
“No, you haven’t,” Max whispered his disagreement, shaking his head and smiling softly, his eyes doing that thing where they went all crinkly. It made Charles whimper sadly.
“I have.”
Max huffed an amused breath, pressing his lips to Charles’ jaw. “No, you haven’t. I wouldn’t be here if you were,” he said, his hands scratching gently at his back and making Charles want to cry.
He was being so sweet to him, and it was making Charles’ head spin. He didn’t deserve his kindness.
Charles tipped Max’s head up to look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you.”
“It’s not your fault,” Max said easily, smiling fondly at him. “You didn’t know we were friends.”
Charles groaned, tipping his head forward and resting his forehead against Max’s. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Max chuckled, sliding his big palms up Charles’ back and then wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. “Because I like you. And I don’t like seeing you upset with yourself.” Max said it so easily, in the same way he said everything.
Because he wasn’t scared of his emotions.
He didn’t second guess everything that came out of his mouth.
He felt things with his whole heart and just... went after them.
Charles pulled back and frowned at him. He brought his hands up to Max’s cheeks, their eyes locking for a moment before he kissed him again. Max made a pleased sound into the kiss, touching his back, hips, and thighs; anywhere he could get his hands on.
Charles kissed him as if his life depended on it, like it was the only form of communication he knew how to do. Max’s hands dropped to his waist, fumbling with the button and zip of his jeans before tugging at them. It would be easier to get them down his legs if Charles actually stood up, but neither of them seemed too eager to let that happen.
Finally, after some awkward shifting back and forth, the jeans were gone, and Charles gasped into his mouth when Max’s cock rubbed up against his ass. Max’s hands squeezed at Charles’ bare ass, rutting his cock into him as their tongues slid together in his mouth.
Max pulled away just far enough to ask, “Are you still sore?” Charles quickly shook his head no, sucking on Max’s neck and threading his fingers into the back of his hair. Max moaned, rubbing a dry finger over Charles’ hole and making him gasp again. “Can I fuck you?”
“Yes, of course.” Charles quickly nodded. Max groaned, suddenly standing up, holding Charles up with two strong hands on his ass. He took a few steps to the head of the bed and kneed his way back on the mattress, gently laying Charles down properly and crawling on top of his body.
“Like this, this time, okay?” Max whispered, lying heavily on top of him, grinding their cocks together. “I want to look at you.” Charles made a pained noise, squeezing his eyes shut and sealing their lips together again. “I always want to look at you. You’re so pretty, and sweet, and perfect.” And there Max goes again, babbling senselessly at him and making Charles want to self-combust.
Charles sobbed a pathetic noise, blindly reaching into the drawer next to his bed to find the lube. Max shushed him and gently grabbed his outstretched hand, bringing it back to the bed so he could lean over and do it himself.
Charles kissed his neck, sneaking a hand down to wrap around Max’s cock.
“Fuck,” Max groaned, finally coming back with the lube. “You make me feel a bit crazy, baby,” Max said, breath faltering as he fucked into Charles’ grip. Charles whined, grabbing at Max’s jaw to bring their lips together again in a heated kiss.
Max pulled away and shifted to lie next to Charles instead of on top of him. Charles instantly missed the weight on him, but the protest died on his tongue as he watched Max lube up his fingers.
Max grinned at him, tossing the bottle of lube aside before rubbing his fingers around Charles’ hole, leaning down to attach his greedy mouth onto Charles’ abdomen. When he used his teeth, Charles cried out, but it quickly turned into a moan when Max pressed a wet finger inside him.
Max pulled off his stomach and then looked down at where his finger was inside Charles. Max moaned at the sight of it and then looked a bit shocked by it, like he didn’t mean for the sound to escape his mouth.
Charles had to squeeze his eyes shut and look away.
Max slid his finger out and pressed back in with two, causing Charles to moan loudly. Max attached his mouth back onto Charles’ body, on his pec this time, and it did nothing to stop the moans from escaping Charles’ mouth. He was so keyed up on Max’s actions and words that it made him feel lightheaded.
Max pressed in deep with his fingers, but his pace was slow, his fingers barely rocking in and out while he licked over Charles’ nipple. It was doing that fuzzy thing to Charles’ brain again.
“You don’t have to be-- gentle,” Charles choked out. “I-- I liked it. Before. How it was before.”
Max chuckled at that, sucking another bruise next to Charles’ nipple. “Trust me, baby. I know I don’t have to be gentle with you. You should hear the noises you make every time I slap your ass,” he teased, his eyes flashing up to him.
Charles’ jaw fell open.
Max bit back a smirk, twisting his fingers and brushing up against Charles’ prostate. “But sometimes I like to be gentle too,” he mused, pressing his two fingers so deep it made Charles see stars. “If that’s okay with you?”
Charles whimpered but nodded his head, a bit jerky since Max was pressed against his prostate. Max grinned at him, shifting so that he was kneeling between Charles’ thighs. He leaned down and licked a long stripe up Charles’ cock as he pressed in with three fingers.
“Max,” Charles cried out. Max wrapped his fingers around Charles’ cock to guide it to his mouth, taking him in and licking and sucking his way down until his nose tucked up against Charles’ stomach. “Ta bouche est si bonne. N’arrête pas... s'te plaît, n'arrête jamais.” (“Your mouth feels so good. Don't stop... please don't ever stop.”)
“Fuck, you’re so hot, baby,” Max moaned, pulling off his cock and stroking him, fucking him roughly with his fingers. Max pinned Charles’ thigh back to his chest, the obscene sound of his fingers fucking in and out of him echoing loudly in the room. “You’re taking my fingers so well.”
“S'te plaît,” (“Please,”) Charles cried, reaching a hand down to wrap around the base of his cock, gripping himself tightly to try and hold off his orgasm. “S'te plaît, je jouis,” (“Please, I’m going to come,”) he moaned loudly, squeezing himself tighter. Max hit his prostate again, and Charles gasped, finally finding his English again in a final warning. “I’m going to come!”
Max suddenly pulled his fingers out of Charles and quickly sat back, no longer touching any part of him. Charles gasped at the loss, kicking his foot out and squeezing his eyes shut. He felt like he had been shoved off a cliff, then snapped back with a bungee cord with how close he had been to coming.
“Max, please,” Charles cried, letting go of his cock and covering his face with his hands.
“Shh, you’re okay, baby,” Max soothed, trailing a gentle palm over Charles’ shaking thighs. “I just didn’t want you to come yet. You can wait, can’t you?” But Charles just kept whining instead of responding. Max’s mouth was on him then, on his thighs, his stomach, his chest. He wrapped his fingers around Charles’ hand and pulled it away from his face. “You still with me?” he asked gently.
Charles blinked at him. “Please fuck me.”
Max grinned at him. “I’m going to fuck you, baby, I promise.”
“Fuck me now,” Charles begged, reaching for Max’s cock.
Max chuckled again, batting Charles’ hand away from his cock and pinning it to the bed next to him. Max kissed him, and Charles pushed up into it, whining desperately and wrapping his legs around Max’s back. He didn’t even care how needy he looked. He just needed Max to finally put his cock back in him.
Max kissed him one last time before sitting back up on his knees. He grabbed a condom and ripped it open, sliding it down his cock and drizzling lube over himself. Charles reached forward, wrapping his hand around him before Max could, looking up at him as he spread the lube over Max’s cock for him.
“Fuck, baby,” Max moaned, letting Charles jerk him off a few times before he finally swatted his hand away. “You just can’t wait, can you?” Max teased, pushing Charles flat on his back and nudging up between his thighs.
“Shut up and fuck me,” Charles said, wiping his hand off on the already-ruined sheets.
“Yes, baby,” Max said with a pleased huff.
He rubbed the head of his cock over Charles a few times, spreading the lube around and sending a shiver of pleasure up Charles’ spine. He finally pushed the head of his cock inside, and they both gasped at the feeling of it.
“Jesus, fuck,” Max breathed, lips trailing all over Charles’ body as he gave him a moment to adjust.
“Come on,” Charles choked out. “Fuck me.”
Max slapped his ass roughly, which made Charles cry out at the unexpected shock of it. “I am fucking you, Charles. Don’t be so goddamn greedy.” Charles gasped at his words, his cock kicking and drooling out precome onto his stomach. Max finally moved, pushing his hips forward and letting his cock sink further into Charles.
Charles was so full he felt like he’d black out from it.
He felt more full than last time, and he didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t drunk or because he had forced Max to rush through the prep. But either way, he felt like Max was splitting him in two, and every time he opened his mouth, the only noise that came out was a pathetic squeak.
Max pulled out until just the tip was inside and slowly sank back in, going deeper before pulling back. Charles was whining and moaning now at the feeling of it. Max groaned as he pushed back in, fucking in deeper and deeper until he was finally all the way inside.
He stilled when their hips pressed together, taking a second to breathe through it.
“Fuck, I don’t know how it’s possible that you’re always this fucking tight,” Max moaned, his hands gentle now where they touched Charles. He slid his hands under Charles’ back, gripping behind his shoulders and kissing his way up Charles’ body.
When they finally locked eyes again, Charles wasn’t sure if he was breathing.
Max kissed him, dipping his tongue in his mouth before pulling back. He smirked at him, then snapped his hips forward and made Charles scream. It seemed to be music to Max’s ears, though, as he set a steady rhythm, surrounding Charles completely and filling him up until he couldn’t tell where he stopped and Max began.
“Max, fuck,” Charles moaned, hand scrambling for purchase on Max’s back as he thrust into him, moving them further up the bed with the power behind it.
“You feel so fucking good, baby. Always feel so fucking good around my cock,” Max said against his mouth, their lips moving carelessly together in what could hardly be considered kissing. “Want to keep you on my cock all the time. Every morning. Every night. Bend you over every surface in this house.” Max accentuated his words with a sharp thrust.
Charles was so close. He reached down to touch himself and expected Max to swat his hand away, but Max nodded and said, “That’s right, baby. Touch yourself for me. Make yourself feel good.”
“Max,” Charles moaned. Max pushed one of his knees back up to his chest, grabbing his ass as he fucked in roughly.
“Are you gonna come?” Max asked, fucking against his prostate on his next thrust and making Charles cry again. Charles nodded frantically, having no words left in him. “Fuck, come on, baby. Come for me. I want to see you come,” Max rambled, fucking in deeper and deeper. “I’m so close. God, baby, I want to fuck you bare. Want to stuff you full of my come. Make you take load after load until it’s spilling out of you.”
“Max,” Charles gasped as his orgasm hit him hard, shooting messily between their stomachs. Max fucked in a few more times, chasing his high, more words flying out of his mouth at top speed before he finally fucked in deep one last time and stilled, his hips twitching and cock pumping come deep into the condom.
It took a few minutes before Charles’ thoughts made any sense to him.
Max was lying heavily on top of him, breathing warmly at the base of his neck as he came down from his high. Charles finally moved his hands, placing them low on Max’s back and squeezing.
It made Max twitch against him again, still buried deep inside of him.
Max pushed himself up a bit, just far enough to slide out of Charles, and his eyes flashed up to meet his gaze. Charles smiled tiredly at him, reaching forward and pushing Max’s hair back where it had flopped over his forehead. Max leaned into the touch, even as Charles ran his fingers down his stubbly chin.
“Your hair is getting long,” Charles commented quietly, smirking at him.
Max laughed at the unexpected comment, letting his forehead drop down onto Charles’ chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Charles' neck and breathed deeply for a second before asking, “Bad long?”
“I didn’t say it was bad,” Charles whispered, running his fingers through the wispy strands of Max’s hair. Max made a pleased noise, digging his face further into Charles’ neck and wrapping his arms tightly underneath his back. Charles grinned as he wrapped his arms around Max’s broad shoulders.
Charles wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, with Max breathing deeply into his neck, the apartment quiet around them. But it was long enough for him to realize how much he needed a shower and that he should probably drink some water.
The only problem was that he was pretty sure Max was asleep on top of him.
He swept his hands across Max’s back, which made him hum sleepily into his neck but made absolutely no moves to roll off him. It made Charles chuckle quietly. He dragged his hands gently across Max’s back, up and down, and said, “Max, I have to get up.”
“No,” Max whispered, mushing his face deeper into Charles’ neck and squeezing him.
Charles laughed quietly. “I need to take a shower.”
Max hummed his disagreement and didn't move a single muscle. Charles rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, squeezing Max’s hips for a moment before digging his thumbs into the sensitive, ticklish skin of his love handles. It made Max squawk, curling in on himself before finally pulling his head back and glaring at Charles.
“Why are you being so mean to me after I made you come so hard?” Max pouted, his fat lower lip stuck out in a deep frown.
Charles couldn’t help but find it cute.
“Because I’m gross and need to shower... and I’m pretty sure we’re stuck together now,” Charles said with a laugh, nodding down at where Max was lying on top of him.
“Good. All the more reason to sleep,” Max said, winking at him and letting his head fall heavily back in the crook of Charles’ neck.
“Maaaax,” Charles groaned, pinching at his side again.
Max twitched but stayed on top of him as he mumbled, “Good night.” Charles pinched him again for good measure. Max’s side twitched, and he grumbled at him: “Stop pinching me.”
Charles laughed. “Get off me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re comfortable.”
“I need to take a shower!” Charles protested, slapping half-heartedly at Max’s back.
“Shower in the morning.”
“There is come drying in very inconvenient places right now,” Charles pointed out, tapping on Max’s shoulders with his pointer fingers. “And you need to throw away that condom that I saw you drop on my floor.” Max giggled into Charles’ neck, making him shiver.
Still, Max made no moves.
Charles was hopelessly endeared.
“If you let me get up and shower, I have a surprise for you,” Charles tempted, poking at him with his jabby pointer fingers again. That finally had Max lifting his head to look at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
“What kind of surprise?”
“You won’t know until you let me get up.”
Somehow, Max’s eyes seemed to narrow more. “Will I like it?”
“You will love it.”
“Are you sure? We’re not even friends. I’m not sure you know what I like,” Max said, trying to contain the smirk on his face. Charles' jaw fell open so hard he thought it might have dislocated. Max preened and said, “You’ll catch flies in that thing.”
“How dare you,” Charles said, jaw still hanging wide open. He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice when he said, “It’s too soon to be making that kind of joke!”
Max kissed him, and Charles’ words died in his throat.
When he finally pulled back, Max smiled, bringing a hand up to run over Charles’ jaw. His voice was quiet when he said, “I was just kidding, baby.” And, like, Charles knew he had just been kidding, but hearing the soft way he said it still made his heart hurt a little bit.
Before Charles could get emotional about it, Max suddenly pushed up and rolled off him. “Come on, lazy ass. We need to take a shower,” Max called over his shoulder, inviting himself into Charles’ bathroom like he owned the place. “And no funny business!” he yelled from around the corner.
Charles certainly wasn’t going to get emotional about that either.
***
“So, where’s my surprise?” Max asked after their shower, which definitely had some funny business, despite Max’s earlier exclamation. Charles’ legs felt like jelly after having three orgasms in one night, and he had to sit on the edge of the bed to pull his socks on.
He was getting too old for this.
Charles had pulled back on his comfortable clothes from earlier, no longer embarrassed about Max seeing him in joggers and a ratty t-shirt. Max's jeans were (sadly) back on his legs, but his button-up shirt was wide open, leaving his abs and chest on display.
It made Charles’ head hurt.
But no matter how much Max walked around his tits out, he couldn't get hard again. His dick twitched weakly at the prospect anyway. Charles finally shook himself from his trance, smiling up at Max.
“You can’t tell anybody about it,” Charles instructed seriously. “It has to be a secret.”
Max pretended to zip his lips shut and throw away the key.
Charles laughed, endeared by him despite how hard he tried not to be and waved for him to follow him into the kitchen. He dug around in the freezer for a moment before pulling out the small container of strawberry ice cream he had bought at the grocery store earlier that afternoon.
Max gasped, his eyes lighting up comically wide. “Oh my god, you’re gonna make me hard again,” he joked, making grabby hands for the ice cream container. Charles let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head at Max’s ridiculous comment.
“The spoons are in that last drawer,” Charles said, nodding towards the other side of the kitchen as he pulled the lid off the ice cream.
Max quickly opened the drawer and grabbed a spoon, rounding on Charles like he was on a qualifying lap. Before Charles could even set the ice cream on the counter, Max eagerly dug the spoon inside and made Charles laugh. His laughter died in his throat, though, when he brought it up to Charles’ mouth instead of eating it.
Charles was not going to get emotional over ice cream, okay?!
He wrapped his lips around the spoon, his eyes flashing to Max as he pulled back. Max smirked at him, his eyes locked on his mouth for a moment before digging the spoon back inside the container and eagerly taking a bite for himself.
Charles reached up and wiped the smear of strawberry off the corner of Max’s mouth, then sucked the liquid off his thumb. Max watched him with wide, unmoving eyes. Before Charles’ thumb was fully out of his mouth, Max leaned into his space and pressed their mouths together, moaning softly at the contact.
Charles smiled into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. He looked at Max’s dumb, horrible, life-altering blue eyes for a second before pecking him again and then nodding his head at the spoon. Max laughed, dipping the spoon into the ice cream and bringing it to Charles’ mouth.
Charles watched him take another bite afterward before Max pointed the spoon at him and asked, “Did you know strawberry was my favorite?”
Charles laughed at that. “No, I didn’t.”
“Hmm, well, now you do.”
Charles was starting a catalog of all of Max’s favorite things, despite how hard he tried not to. Charles cleared his throat, forcing something casual to come out of his mouth before he started writing down an actual list of Max’s favorite things. “I’m more of a vanilla man, myself. But this is all they had.”
“Vanilla?” Max gawked, looking at him like he was crazy. “Mate. That’s so boring.”
“It’s not boring. It’s classic.”
“Read: boring.”
Charles’ jaw tipped open, making Max laugh loudly, wheezing a bit with it. Charles glared at him and snatched the spoon out of Max’s hand, making him pout. Charles hopped up on the kitchen counter, happily kicking his feet against the cabinets below as he took a big bite of the ice cream.
Max rested his fingertips on Charles’ knees, smirking at him as he spread his legs and stepped into the space. Charles blinked at him innocently. Max leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Charles’ cheek before pulling back. He made eye contact with him as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
“Are you waiting for something?” Charles teased, unmoving. “You’ll catch flies in that thing,” he repeated Max’s earlier taunt.
Max pouted at him. “Give me a bite.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Charles said happily, spooning out another bite for himself and popping it in his mouth.
Max frowned harder. “Please?”
Charles paused, a wave of something going up his spine. His eyes flickered back and forth over Max’s features as a grin slowly spread.
“Hmm... how the tables have turned,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. He sat back against the cabinets, spreading his legs wider and tilting his head, exposing the vast expanse of his neck. The action wasn’t lost on Max, whose eyes followed his every move. Charles licked his bottom lip before he mimicked, “Come on, baby, you can ask better than that.”
Max gawked at him, his eyes wide with amusement as he was suddenly laughing. “I do not sound like that.”
“Oh, please, you’re so pretty, baby,” Charles mocked, doing his best Dutch accent. “I bet you’re so pretty when you beg, baby.” Max was laughing so hard he thought there might be tears in his eyes. Charles could barely hold it together, his voice coming out wobbly as he said, “Ask nicely, baby. Baby, baby, baby.”
“Okay, I get it!” Max laughed loudly, his head tipping back with it, his fingers squeezing Charles’ thighs. He rolled his eyes and smirked at him as he said, “I’ll stop calling you baby.”
“No, you won’t.” Charles laughed, huffing at him.
“I’ll stop calling you baby if it bothers you that much,” Max amended, and his words were sincere even though he was still chuckling from their banter.
Charles looked at him for a moment before softly shrugging. “I didn’t say it bothered me.”
“Oh?” Max asked, blinking innocently at him. Charles rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “I mean it.. all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll stop calling you baby.”
Charles glared at him, seeing through his innocent act. “Shut up.”
And suddenly, the roles were reversed again as Max ran his hands up Charles’ thigh and said, “Do you like when I call you baby?”
“Shut the hell up, Max,” Charles groaned dramatically but then added quietly, “you know I do.” Charles expected more teasing, maybe for Max to double down and make him beg to keep calling him baby. But instead, Max just smiled his crinkly smile at him and pressed their lips together in another cold, ice-cream-flavored kiss.
“Please, can I have a bite, baby?” Max whispered against his mouth.
And, really, Charles was powerless to fight it.
He smiled at the container in his hands as he scooped up a spoonful, bringing it up to Max’s mouth and watching his lips wrap around it. He kissed him again before he even finished the bite.
They were quiet over the next few minutes, Max’s hands rubbing up and down Charles’ thighs, trading off bites of ice cream in-between kisses, smiling fondly at each other.
Truthfully? It was sickeningly sweet. But Charles couldn’t help but let himself enjoy it.
Finally, after pressing another too-long kiss into his mouth, Max pulled back and smiled at him. His voice was quiet when he said, “It’s getting late.”
“Yeah,” Charles agreed quietly.
“I should go.”
“Yeah,” Charles whispered, but it came out half-heartedly. Max picked up on it, smiling at him and pressing another cold kiss to his mouth.
“You gonna think about me when you go to sleep tonight?” Max asked against his jaw.
Charles wasn’t sure if he was taking the piss or not.
To be on the safe side, he wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed their mouths together, whispering a quiet “Of course” into the kiss. Max made a pleased sound, wrapping his arms around Charles’ back and hugging him tightly as they traded soft kisses.
He pulled away again after a few moments, his eyes tracing over Charles’ features and smiling at him.
“Bye, baby.”
“Goodnight, Max.”
***
The next morning, Charles met up with his physio Andrea, and they went for a long run around the city. It was getting closer to Christmas, and it would be the last time he and Andrea trained together before the new year. They were both heading off to different places tomorrow.
It was a crisp, sunny day in Monaco, and Charles hoped the chilly morning air would help clear his head. They chatted about different things as they ran; about their upcoming holidays, how rough it would be to get back in the gym come the first of the year, and even about the upcoming season.
What they did not talk about was Max.
And honestly? Charles was going a bit insane over it.
He needed to tell someone because he was driving himself crazy by not talking about it. But every time he looked at Andrea, all the words would suddenly vanish from his brain. How the hell was he supposed to talk about Max when he had no idea what they were doing?
Here’s what he knew: they were friends.
They were... friends with benefits?
Friends with feelings.
Friends who got each other off?
Friends who seemed to kiss a lot for it to be a casual thing...
Fuck, Charles’ head hurt.
Charles had no idea what to call them. He knew the common term for it would be friends with benefits, but calling them that almost minimizes what it was. Because he’s realized over the past few days that he very much enjoys Max Verstappen’s company.
Charles couldn’t stop thinking about Max, actually. He thought about his stupid cock, his stupid dirty mouth, his stupid perfect fingers. But even more surprisingly, Charles couldn’t stop thinking about the other parts of Max too. Like his laugh, his sarcasm, his conversations. Charles was entranced every time Max opened his enormous Dutch mouth.
He wanted to hear every opinion he had.
He wanted to learn what his favorite everything was.
He wanted to bring out some pen and paper and study Max like he was back in school, for fuck’s sake.
Charles hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a very long time. He had been too focused on racing for the past few years to have a crush on anybody. He had no idea how he let this happen.
He was usually so careful about his feelings.
But now, he could officially say it. He was distracted, and it was all Max Verstappen’s fault.
He did not have this on his 2022 bingo card.
Fuck.
Whatever was happening between them was still new, and Max seemed very casual about the whole thing. He fucked Charles hard but then cuddled him afterward. He said filthy things to him, but they also watched Netflix together. They didn’t make any sense.
Charles had no idea what to do with these feelings he was developing.
Nothing about Max ever made any fucking sense! Charles was losing his mind.
So, instead of talking about it with Andrea, he focused on his split times. He made polite conversation and didn’t tell him that he was becoming obsessed with Max. He definitely didn’t tell him that every time he closed his eyes, all he could picture was Max kissing him.
No, no. That would just live rent-free in his head instead.
When they returned to Charles’ neighborhood, sweaty and out of breath, they stood outside his building chatting. They spent most of the year in each other’s pockets, so it was always strange to say goodbye before the holidays. It was getting later in the morning, though, and Andrea had to run to a meeting, so they shared a brief hug and then went in separate directions.
Charles watched Andrea head back to his car and didn’t turn around until he saw the driver’s door open. He didn’t feel like going inside yet, so he walked a few blocks down to the waterfront, where the wind was strong enough to send goosebumps down his legs. The sun was out, and it never got too cold in Monaco, but it was still December, and Charles was in running shorts.
He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and leaned against the sea wall. He stared out at the marina for a while, but it was doing nothing to clear his head. Maybe he needed to go have another wank.
That would help.
He turned around to head home but noticed out of the corner of his eye a small sign in a window that said Marcella’s Bakery. Where had he heard that name before? He racked his brain as he stepped closer, and then realization suddenly hit him.
Max.
Max had told him it was his favorite coffee in Monaco.
Before he could make sense of what he was doing, he opened the door to the shop and stepped inside. The inside had exposed brick and was small enough that there were no tables, just the to-go counter. He was instantly surrounded by the delicious smell of bread and sweets mixed with the strong scent of coffee beans.
He stood in line behind a family in front of him, waiting for his turn at the counter. He readjusted the bandana he had wrapped around his forehead, which was now itchy with sweat from his run with Andrea. When the barista turned to look at him, recognition obvious in her eyes, he wished he was in real clothes, not workout gear.
He just hoped nobody wanted to take a picture with him.
Thankfully, the barista pretended not to know who he was and helped him pick out two specialty coffees. He stood in front of the bakery case while she made the coffee and picked out two ham sandwiches to go with them. He smiled at her and tipped her generously, silently thanking her for her discretion when he looked like a gym rat.
He made his way back up the hill until he was standing in front of Max’s apartment building. He had never been here before. He didn’t even know which floor Max lived on or anything. He stood on the sidewalk for too long, staring at the big building in front of him, until finally, the doorman must have taken pity on him and walked up to him.
“Good morning, sir,” the doorman greeted him. Charles put on his most charming smile and made his eyes as doe-like as possible.
“Good morning,” he greeted politely. The doorman looked him in the eyes for a moment before a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.
“Were you here to see somebody?”
“Yes, actually,” Charles said, readjusting the coffees. “I’m here to see Max Verstappen.”
“Of course, Mr. Leclerc. Please, follow me,” the man said, gesturing for him to come inside the lobby with him. Charles bit back his grin as he followed the man inside and waited for the elevator with him. “Is he expecting you?”
“Yes, of course,” Charles quickly lied, flashing the man another charming smile.
“Wonderful,” he said as the doors to the elevator opened. They both stepped inside, and Charles watched as the man held his key card over the FOB reader and pressed the 7th floor. He stepped back out and smiled at him. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Leclerc. “
“You as well!” Charles called out as the doors closed. Charles chuckled to himself, smirking down at his trainers. Sometimes being recognized wasn’t such a bad thing. Charles was very pleased with himself.
The elevator doors opened to a hallway with only one door at the end of it. If Charles thought about it for too long, he’d start feeling stupid for showing up at Max’s door with sandwiches and coffee unannounced. He had to keep reminding himself that this was fine.
They were friends.
They had sex.
He could totally bring him breakfast and have it not be weird.
...Right?
Charles didn’t let himself think too hard about it and instead transferred everything over into one hand so he could knock on the door. A few moments of silence passed, just long enough for Charles to wonder if Max was even home before suddenly the door opened.
Max was wearing grey sweats and a navy blue Red Bull hoodie (because it was the only thing he owned) and Charles couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed at just the sight of him. Max smiled brightly at him, and it twisted at Charles’ gut.
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he said to him, “Hello, Max.”
“Well, well, well,” Max mused, his smile getting wider. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned casually against the doorframe, tilting his head to the side as he took in Charles’ appearance. “Aren’t you a vision?”
Charles rolled his eyes and said, “Shut up.”
That just made Max grin even more. “What are you doing here?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Charles said with a huff. “Especially if you’re going to be a dick about it.”
Max gasped, bringing a dramatic hand up to his chest, feigning innocence as he said, “Me? A dick? I would never.”
“Okay, sure,” Charles groaned sarcastically.
They looked at each other for a second, Max beaming at him and Charles smiling despite himself until Max seemed to shake himself out of it. He opened the door wider and said, “Well, don’t just stand there all day. Come in.”
Charles stepped inside and toed his shoes off, leaving them in a pile by the front door. Max turned to look at him, his eyes dragging down his front. His eyes seemed to get stuck on his mouth for a moment, making Charles lick his bottom lip instinctively before his gaze landed on his hands.
“Is one of those for me?” Max asked, smirking at him.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Charles said, handing one of the coffees over to him. “And um... I brought sandwiches if you’re hungry.”
“I’m always hungry.” Max chuckled, their fingers touching as he took the coffee from him. Charles wouldn’t feel all tingly about a bit of finger touching; he wouldn’t. He watched as Max went to take a sip of the coffee before pausing, pulling the cup away from his mouth and looking at it for a moment as a slow grin took over his face. “Is this from Marcella’s?”
Charles’ cheeks felt like they were on fire.
Max’s eyes flashed to him. “It is, isn’t it? I recognize the cup.”
“Whatever,” Charles said, avoiding his eyes and staring at a team photo on the wall behind his head.
“You brought me my favorite coffee?” Max asked because he was the most annoying person Charles had ever met. He could have just not mentioned it. Charles cleared his throat and didn’t answer, still avoiding his eyes by looking at the other framed pictures on Max’s wall.
Suddenly Max was in his space, crowding around and smirking at him. Charles couldn’t help but meet his eyes then. “You’re lovely,” Max whispered before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss onto Charles’ cheek. He stepped back, and Charles’ instantly felt the loss.
Get it together, Charles. You’re not dating or anything! He’s just being... Max.
“It’s no big deal,” Charles said, hoping his voice sounded as casual as he intended. He watched as Max bent down and picked up Charles’ shoes, opened the closet next to the door, and set them neatly on the rack inside of it. Charles cleared his throat and found his voice again as he needlessly explained further. “I went for a run with Andrea this morning and then turned around and saw the bakery. So. I went inside.”
“Mhmm.” Max hummed, smiling knowingly at him as he took a sip from the paper cup. “And then walked alllllll the way here just to bring it to me.”
“Okay, I’m leaving,” Charles said with a glare, moving to step around him.
Max let out a sharp laugh, quickly stopping him with a hand flat to his chest. It didn’t make him whimper or anything. That would be embarrassing. But it did make him stop moving and blink at Max instead.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Max said, chuckling at him, hand still pressed to him. Max’s eyes traveled down, focusing on his mouth again before switching to where his hand rested against Charles’ chest. Max breathed in through his nose before letting his hand drop. “How did you get up here, anyway? The elevator’s locked.”
That brought a bright smile to Charles’ face. “I guess you’re not the only person in this town who can charm their way past a doorman, huh?”
Max gawked at him with his jaw wide open before he laughed.
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “So you just waltzed right up to Harry the Doorman and, what? Batted your pretty green eyes at him?” Max teased, still standing in Charles’ space. “I bet he tripped all over himself just looking at you.”
Charles glared at him.
Max let out another sharp laugh, his head tilting back with it. He pointed an excited finger at him and said, “You did, didn’t you!”
“I didn’t bat my eyes at anyone,” Charles grumbled, looking away from him and trying to contain the smirk on his face.
“You so did,” Max said, face lit up with amusement. “It’s fine, really. I don’t blame him. I would have done the same thing.” Charles refused to preen at that. Max was still chuckling, shaking his head in disbelief. Finally, he took a step back, but his eyes were still locked on Charles’ mouth when he said, “Come on. Let’s go eat on the balcony.”
Max looked at him for another long second before he finally turned away, nodding at him to follow him deeper into the apartment. Charles trailed behind helplessly, taking in his surroundings for the first time.
Max’s apartment was much more modern than his, the floorplan wide open with lots of floor-to-ceiling windows to let in natural light. A massive island in the kitchen faced the living room and balcony. Charles took in the different pictures hung on the walls of Max or his team and couldn’t help but smile at the one from the podium when he won his first championship.
Max slowed, letting Charles look at everything as they passed, watching Charles’ reactions the whole time. Max cleared his throat and said, “You’ve never been here before.”
“No, I haven’t,” Charles said, shaking his head. His eyes were drawn to a picture of baby Max, maybe five or six, with his arm around a small, blonde-haired girl he assumed was his sister. “Cute,” Charles said, looking over at him and winking.
“Shut up,” Max said with a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and biting down on his smile.
“You have a nice place,” Charles commented, looking at the large sectional sofa that faced an even larger television mounted on the wall. There were built-in shelves around it that held different trophies and other racing memorabilia. “It’s very... clean.”
Max laughed at that, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah. I get that from my mum.”
“I sort of expected you to be--” messy wasn’t the right word he was looking for, but something about his spotless apartment threw Charles for a loop. He was suddenly reminded of the first night they hooked up and how Max had cleaned up Charles’ clothes that he had left all over the apartment in a dash to get naked. He had folded them up and set them neatly on top of his dresser and everything.
He hadn’t known anything about Max then.
It was only a few days ago, but it seemed like a different life.
“You expected what?” Max prompted when Charles didn’t finish his sentence.
“I don’t know,” Charles said, chuckling quietly. “You’re just... very hard to predict.” Max laughed, his eyes bright, clearly amused by Charles’ dumb explanation. “Whenever I think I know your next move, you do something to surprise me.”
“Hmm.” Max hummed, stepping back into Charles’ space and ghosting his fingers over his hip as he asked, “Is that a bad thing?” They were standing close enough that he could feel Max’s breath on his cheek, and he had the urge to turn and seal their lips together.
It made Charles shiver.
Charles blinked over at him, looked down at his mouth, and then back up to his eyes.
“No. Definitely not a bad thing,” Charles whispered.
They stood there silently for another few moments, standing entirely too close together before finally, Max stepped back. He opened the door to the patio and motioned for Charles to follow him outside. The balcony was spacious but mostly cluttered with workout equipment.
Charles knew from his Instagram that Max used it as his gym most of the time.
Not that he had gone on a deep dive of Max Verstappen’s Instagram or anything... that would be weird and stalkerish.
There was an oversized couch along the back wall looking towards the city, with a short coffee table in front of it. Charles sat on one end of the sofa and tucked his legs up on the cushion, setting the cup down on the table. Max sat down on the other end and faced him, making grabby hands at the sandwiches in his hand.
Charles laughed quietly, opening the brown paper bag and holding out one of the parchment-wrapped sandwiches for him. This time, Max purposely grabbed his fingers instead of the sandwich, causing Charles to look up.
Max smiled fondly at him and said, “Thank you, baby.”
Charles flushed all the way down to his toes.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his words coming out hoarse with all the emotions running through his body. Max let go then, sitting back against the arm of the sofa and unwrapping his sandwich. He stretched his long legs out on the cushion between them, his toes knocking into Charles’ thigh.
Charles wouldn’t cry about it.
They were just some toes.
No need to get Feelings over them.
He focused on unwrapping his own sandwich and taking a bite, looking away from Max and out into the city. They ate in silence for a few moments before Charles turned to look at Max, his words dying in his throat when he realized Max had been watching him this whole time.
“Why are you staring at me?” Charles laughed, looking down at his sandwich.
“Because you’re cute,” Max responded simply.
“Anyway,” Charles said a bit hysterically, changing the subject and looking back at Max. “Are you going away for Christmas?”
“Yes,” Max said, still smirking at Charles’ reaction. Max took a sip of his coffee and set it back on the table before he continued. “I’m going to the Maldives with my mum and my sister’s family. It’s sort of become a tradition with us over the past few years,” he explained, then took another bite of his food. “You?” he asked with a mouthful of sandwich.
Charles refused to find it adorable.
He swallowed his emotions down and nodded. “Yes, we go skiing.”
“Where?”
“Switzerland.”
“I never liked skiing much. I’d rather be hot,” Max said, and Charles had to stop himself from saying something stupid like but you’re already hot. He took another bite of his sandwich instead. “When do you leave for your ski trip?”
Charles finished chewing before he said, “Tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Max said, looking surprised by that. “That’s soon.”
“Yeah,” Charles said quietly.
Max smiled at him. “Are you looking forward to it?”
And... Charles wasn’t sure how to answer that. The obvious answer would be yes. He always looked forward to his family's traditional trip to the alps. They’ve done it every year for as long as he could remember. His dad had started it years ago, and they kept the tradition alive in his memory after he was gone.
He loved his family and never had enough time to spend with them. So, for all intents and purposes, yes. He was looking forward to it. But there was also something in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t put his finger on, and it definitely had to do with Max.
But that would be crazy because this thing between them was casual.
It was just friends.
It was just… benefits.
There was no reason he should feel any sort of way about going on a much-awaited family vacation just because it would take him away from his new friend.
Fuck.
Charles’ head was starting to hurt again.
“Charles?” Max said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Charles said, laughing it off. “Sorry. Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”
Max looked at him for a second, his eyes searching for something Charles wasn’t sure of before he smiled softly at him again. “How long will you be gone for?”
“Until the new year. The second, I think,” Charles said, and for the first time, his family holiday suddenly seemed very long. It wasn’t until he said it out loud that he realized he would be gone for almost three weeks. The more he talked about it, the weirder his stomach felt. He took a long sip of his coffee before turning to Max and asking, “And you?”
“Yeah, until the new year,” Max agreed quietly.
“So...” Charles paused, looking down at his mostly-uneaten sandwich for a moment. “I guess this is the last we’ll see each other for a while.”
“Yeah,” Max said, and his tone was hard for Charles to read. It wasn’t sad, necessarily, but there was something to it. They looked at each other for a moment before Charles turned away, taking another sip of his coffee and staring out towards the city.
“You’ve barely touched your sandwich,” Max commented, causing Charles to look down. There was still more than half his sandwich left, but he was suddenly not very hungry. He set his sandwich on the coffee table, no longer interested in it.
He looked over at Max and shrugged slightly.
Max looked at him for a long moment before setting his down too. He sat back against the arm of the couch, wiggling his toes against Charles’ thigh again before he smiled at him. “Come here, baby,” Max said quietly, holding his arms out. He had barely gotten the words out before Charles crawled across the couch and into his lap.
And suddenly, it was like everything made sense again.
Charles tucked his knees on either side of Max’s hips, wrapping his arms around his neck. He threaded his fingers into Max’s hair, his thumbs on the underside of his jaw. Max looked up at him and smiled softly, then tucked his cold fingers into the front of Charles’ hoodie and tugged, finally bringing their mouths together.
Charles tried very hard not to whimper into the kiss.
He had no idea when he had gotten so addicted to Max’s touch, but now, sitting in his lap, it was like the rest of the world didn’t matter anymore. Who cares if he was leaving on a plane to Switzerland in the morning when he was sitting in Max Verstappen’s lap right now.
Max held on to his waist before switching to his thighs, his big hands squeezing the sore muscles. Charles moaned at the feeling, sliding his tongue into Max’s mouth and gripping the back of his hair tightly in his fist. Max slid his fingers up into the bottom of his loose shorts.
“Max,” Charles gasped, pulling away from his mouth and looking down at him.
“What, baby?” Max asked, voice hoarse just from a little bit of kissing. His fingers kept scratching at his thighs under his shorts, making his brain feel like it would melt right out of his head. Charles whimpered, kissing him again and grinding forward against his abdomen.
Max laughed into the kiss, then tilted his head back and away from him. “What were you going to say?” Max whispered, his eyes hooded and his fingers still tracing maddeningly over his thighs. Charles took a deep breath through his nose, trying to make sense of all his desires.
“I want you to fuck me,” he said quietly.
Max grinned. “Good, because I planned on fucking you.”
Charles whimpered at that. “I want to be on top this time.”
“Yeah?” Max asked, his eyes lighting up before he kissed him again. His fingers crept up higher on his thighs, dangerously close to his cock. He pulled away from their kiss and smiled at him again. “I like when you tell me what you want,” he whispered, thumbs digging into his hips and fingers stretching around to his ass.
Charles wanted to cry.
Max kissed him again, their tongues sliding messily together as Max’s fingers tightened on his ass. Max pulled off his mouth, trailing his lips down Charles’ throat and sucking at the base of his neck. It made Charles’ gut wrench again and made him want to say something stupid like leave marks on me so I can look at them while I’m in Switzerland.
But he couldn’t possibly say that.
So he whined instead, gripping his hair as Max kept licking and biting at his throat. It made Charles think all sorts of things he shouldn’t, none of them making any goddamn sense because he would only be gone for a few weeks.
Max slipped his hands out of Charles’ shorts, grabbing roughly at his waist instead. He finally let go of Charles’ neck, kissing his way back up to his mouth. It wasn’t doing anything to help Charles’ emotional thoughts, that’s for sure.
“Max, please,” Charles whined when they separated.
“You want to ride my cock, baby?” Max asked, gaze flicking from Charles’ mouth to his eyes. Charles bit his bottom lip into his mouth, nodding at him. It made Max grin, his eyes flicking back to where his teeth dug into his lip. “God, you’re so sexy,” Max said, barely getting the words out before pressing another biting kiss into his mouth.
Charles was so hard it hurt.
Charles pulled back from the kiss, his thoughts finally getting the best of him. “I want to feel it,” he blurted out, snapping his mouth shut afterward because what the fuck, Charles. Max tilted his head, trying to make sense of his words. Charles blinked at him for a moment before clarifying. “Tomorrow. When I’m... not here. With you. I want to feel it.”
Max slowly grinned at him, realization hitting him. “You want me to fuck you so hard you’ll be sore on your skiing trip, Charles?”
Charles groaned loudly, tipping his weight forward and hiding his face in Max’s neck. Of course, that’s what he wanted, but he didn’t have to say it like that! Charles whined into Max’s neck, cheeks and neck on fire.
Max would always just be able to say things exactly how they were. He never needed to mix his words or beat around the bush. Usually, it was Charles’ favorite thing about him, but not now.
Right now, it was making Charles want to throw himself off the balcony.
Max rubbed at Charles’ back for a moment before gently easing his head off him so they could lock eyes again. Max’s eyes flickered across his face, smiling gently at him. Charles would definitely throw himself off the balcony if he didn’t say something soon.
Charles cleared his throat and asked, “So... will you?”
“I’d do anything for you, baby,” Max said instead of a simple yes, making Charles’ breath catch in his throat and his heart pound in his chest.
“Maaaxxx,” Charles groaned, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid the way he was looking at him.
“What?” Max chuckled, squeezing Charles’ waist.
“Don’t say things like that,” Charles whined, bringing his hands up to cover his face.
Max huffed an amused breath and said, “What things?”
“Sweet things,” Charles grumbled into his palms.
“Why not?” Max asked with a breathy chuckle, his fingers gently wrapping around Charles’ wrists and pulling them away from his face. Charles didn’t answer and instead just pouted at him. Max grinned and asked, “Why can’t I be sweet to you?”
“Because,” Charles said stupidly and offered nothing more.
That made Max grin even harder. “Because why?”
“Because!”
“That’s still not an answer,” Max said, biting back his smile.
“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” Charles asked, trying to change the subject.
“Of course, I’m going to fuck you,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “And maybe I’ll be really sweet to you the whole time, just to make you squirm,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows at him. It made Charles glare. “Maybe I’ll tell you everything I like about you.”
Charles gawked. “I will punch you.”
Max laughed loudly, his eyes bright as he continued. “I’ll tell you how beautiful you are.”
“I will end your life, mate,” Charles immediately countered, eyebrows scrunched angrily.
“I’ll tell you how charming and cute and funny you are,” Max taunted, eyes wide with amusement.
Charles glared harder at him. “I will cut out your tongue.”
Max tilted his head back and laughed, Charles’ eyes tracking the movement despite his better judgment. Max looked at him again, and his smile was so wide it must be hurting his cheeks. That didn’t stop him from saying: “I might even tell you how I can’t stop thinking about you. How I want to spend every goddamn second with you. How you’re all I’ve thought about lately.”
Charles would shatter into a million pieces if Max didn’t shut up. He covered Max’s mouth with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning their foreheads together. Max huffed against Charles’ fingers, sliding his cold hands under Charles’ hoodie to rest on his stomach. It made his abs twitch against the chill.
They really needed to go inside.
Charles finally opened his eyes and leaned back, letting his hands drop from Max’s mouth. They stared at each other for a moment, Max’s hands tracing patterns up Charles’ stomach and to his chest. Charles gasped when he tweaked his nipple, making Max smirk.
“Why do you say things like that?” Charles asked, stomach twitching against Max’s exploring fingers. Max frowned, sliding his hands around his back and rubbing between his shoulder blades. Max looked at him for a long time, his eyes unmoving, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought.
“Because I think you should hear them,” he finally said.
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why?”
Max smiled softly at him, his eyes crinkly as he asked, “Do you promise not to punch me if I tell you?” Charles thought about it for a second before finally nodding. His hesitance made Max chuckle softly. “Because... I think you beat yourself up a lot. You have this habit of not being very nice to yourself, and that makes me sad because I think you’re great and deserve to be told sweet things.”
Charles wasn’t sure if he was breathing.
“I want to be the one to tell you sweet things,” Max amended before Charles could even say anything. Max smiled up at him, his hands gentle on his back. Charles’s throat burned with emotion, tears building in the back of his eyes. Max always said things so easily. “I like making you smile and saying things that make you want to punch me. You’re very cute when you blush.”
Charles was very close to crying.
Silence stretched between them for a moment before Max continued.
“I like making you feel good,” he explained further, barely above a whisper. “Whether that means sucking your dick or telling you you’re beautiful. I just want you to be happy and taken care of,” he said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if he meant every word of it. Charles’ eyes were stinging and blurry. “Honestly, I think more people should say nice things to you. Maybe if you heard it more, you’d start to believe it.”
“Max,” Charles choked out, his emotions getting the best of him. But Max wasn’t done talking.
“I think everyone should be nice to you, but... I want to be the only one telling you how amazing you are like this,” he said, slipping one of his hands out of Charles’ hoodie to gesture between them as if that cleared it up. Charles opened his mouth to say something but slowly shut it instead. Max cursed, shaking his head slightly as he said, “Fuck, sorry. English gets away from me sometimes.”
There was a beat of silence while Max thought about his words. Charles tried desperately to swallow back all his emotions and be patient. Max looked up at him, pressing his now-warm fingers against his cheek, and Charles leaned into the touch subconsciously.
“What I mean is that... I don’t want you sitting in anybody else’s lap while they tell you how sweet you are,” Max whispered. Charles sucked in a surprised breath at his words, his heart pounding in his chest. “I only want you to sit in my lap, and let me tell you how sweet you are,” he said earnestly.
“Max,” Charles whispered, hands shaking as they gripped his shoulders.
“I know that’s all... caveman of me,” Max said, shaking his head and looking disappointed in himself. “I don’t have any right to say that to you. I don’t have ownership over you. I know this thing between us is just, like.” Charles waited with bated breath, dying to know what Max thought they were to each other, but Max never finished that sentence.
Instead, he gently wrapped his fingers around Charles’ jaw and pressed their lips together.
Max pulled away just enough to whisper against his mouth, “I only want you to kiss me.” Then he kissed him again, his fingers still wrapped around Charles’ jaw possessively, making him want to cry. “I only want you to think about me, nobody else,” he said, his eyes flashing to meet Charles’.
Charles whimpered, trying and failing to find the words to tell him he already does.
He did the more straightforward thing and kissed him again.
Max groaned into the kiss, letting his hands fall back to Charles’ waist and gripping him tightly. He kissed over his jaw, pressing his lips right next to Charles’ ear as he said, “I want to be the only one who makes you come.” Charles may be the one sitting in Max’s lap, but he felt like he was being surrounded by him. “I want to be the only one who gets to fuck you.”
Charles squeezed his eyes shut, his hands wrapping around the back of Max’s neck, his fingertips in his hair. Max pulled away, tilting his head back to look at Charles properly. He brought a hand back up to his cheek, running his knuckles softly over Charles’ jaw as his eyes flicked over his face.
“Is it okay that I want that?” he whispered, his blue eyes locked on Charles, looking at him desperately.
Charles shakily nodded his head, not trusting his voice.
Max smiled and whispered, “And it’s okay that I think about you like that?”
Charles nodded again.
“You don’t think I’m a caveman?”
Charles shook his head no, frowning at him.
“You need to tell me if you want me to back off, Charles,” Max whispered seriously, his eyes flicking down to his mouth for a moment. Charles frowned harder, tightening his hold on the back of Max’s neck. He shook his head no again. “Use your words, baby.”
“I--I don’t want you to back off,” Charles said.
“Are you sure?”
Charles swallowed and nodded his head again. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Max smiled softly at him, the wheels still visibly turning in his head. He looked at Charles for a long moment before he said quietly, “I know I can be... intense. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or rush you into something you weren’t looking for. It’s okay if you want to just be friends who get each other off.”
“Max,” Charles whispered, frowning at him again. He wished he had something more eloquent to say, but his words mixed together in different languages in his head. So he kept staring at him, letting Max’s words and intentions wash over him.
“It doesn’t have to be more than this,” Max said, rubbing his hands up Charles’ back. “I can do casual if you want to do casual. But you have to tell me. Otherwise...”
“Otherwise, what?” Charles choked out.
“Otherwise... I’m going to be sweet to you whenever I want,” Max said, chuckling softly at him. He stuck his hands under Charles’ hoodie again, rubbing his palms up his back and looking at him fondly. “And I’m going to tell you how wonderful I think you are whenever I want to, and you’re gonna just have to deal with that.”
Charles whimpered quietly. “I want that.”
“Yeah?” Max asked, trying and failing to contain his smile.
“Yes.”
Max smirked at him, his eyes flicking over his features. “Pretty boy,” he whispered, almost as if testing the waters. Charles made a pleased sound at that before he could stop himself. That only made Max grin even wider at him, warm fingers dancing over his lower back. “I’m going to kiss you whenever I want, too,” Max said, eyes locked on his mouth.
“Okay,” Charles said and hoped his voice was steady.
“You’re okay with that?” Max confirmed, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. Charles quickly nodded his head, unable to say it out loud. Max looked into Charles’ eyes, biting his lip for a moment before asking quietly, “What if I wanted to kiss you in public?”
Charles wasn’t sure if he was breathing, but somehow he managed to say: “Okay.”
Max made a quiet noise at that, his eyes searching Charles’. His tongue licked over his bottom lip before he asked, “What if I wanted to tell the world you were mine?” Charles was definitely not breathing now, but he nodded his head anyway. Max’s tone was a bit hysterical when he said, “Use your words, Charles.”
“Yes,” Charles said, nodding again. “That would be okay.”
“Baby,” Max groaned, fingers digging into Charles’ waist hard enough to bruise. His eyes were difficult for Charles to read when he said, “Don’t just say that because-- because you’re hard. I promise I’ll get you off either way.”
Charles frowned at him, tightening his hold on the back of Max’s neck as he said, “I’m not saying it because I’m hard.” Max squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and his expression appeared disbelieving. Like he didn’t expect Charles to so readily agree with him.
But... that was crazy. Because who the fuck could say no to Max Verstappen?
It made Charles frown harder.
“Max,” Charles whispered, bringing his hands back to either side of his jaw. Max opened his eyes and looked up at him, his fingers gripping his waist hard underneath his hoodie. Charles swallowed the lump in his throat, trying desperately to find the words he wanted to say. “I... I don’t want anyone else sitting in your lap, either.”
“Really?” Max whispered, eyes desperately searching Charles’.
“It makes me sick to think about, actually,” Charles said, huffing an amused breath.
Max groaned at that, pulling Charles’ ass harder against his lap. “I don’t want anybody else in my lap,” he said, his eyes flicking between Charles’ eyes and mouth. Charles looked at him, down to where his thumbs were on either side of Max’s jaw, and then back up into his eyes. Max smiled softly at him and whispered, “Just you, baby.”
Charles whined at his words, crashing their mouths together. Max immediately moaned into the kiss, sliding his palm under the waistband of Charles’ shorts, gripping his ass hard and making him gasp. Max’s tongue slid inside Charles’ mouth, their kiss wet and messy.
Charles’ ground his hips forward against Max’s cock, fingers desperately tugging at his hair. Max kissed his way down his neck, using his other hand to pull Charles’s hoodie aside and suck a bruise into his collarbone. Charles groaned, rutting forward against Max’s abs, trying to get friction on his cock.
Max finally pulled off his neck, panting heavily against him as he asked, “Would you really let me kiss you in public?”
Charles whimpered, his eyes searching Max’s desperate ones. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded his head yes.
“Fuck, baby,” Max moaned, kissing him again and sliding his other palm between Charles’ waistband so he could grip his ass with both hands. He pulled him roughly against his cock, making Charles gasp again. “You’re making me so fucking hard,” Max groaned, sliding his fingers down Charles’ crack and rutting up against him.
“Max, please,” Charles whined, rutting forward against his abdomen.
“Get up, baby,” Max urged, half-heartedly spanking his ass. Before Charles could even move, though, Max was kissing him again, which was very counterproductive. “We need to go inside,” Max groaned as if Charles was the problem.
It made Charles laugh against his mouth.
Max spanked him again, with a little more force behind it, as he grinned and said, “You can’t take my cock out here.”
That finally had Charles moving, pushing off of Max’s shoulders and standing on wobbly legs. He brought his thumbnail to his mouth, chewing on it with his eyes locked on where Max was tenting his sweatpants.
Max stood up, and Charles finally snapped out of it, flicking his eyes to meet Max’s instead. Max’s gaze was full of something that made Charles even weaker in the knees. Max stepped in front of him and wrapped his fingers around his hand, gently pulling it away from his mouth.
Max kissed his thumb, his wrist, then up to his mouth, making Charles sigh heavily against him.
“Come on,” Max whispered, opening the door to the living room and guiding Charles inside, never letting go of his hand. He led Charles through the apartment, down the hall, around the corner, and into the main bedroom. There were more floor-to-ceiling windows, plus a large bed covered in fluffy white blankets.
Max turned them, guiding Charles to sit on the end of the bed.
“I should--” Charles’ words died in his throat as he watched Max reach between his shoulder blades and pull his hoodie off. Charles took a deep breath through his nose, reaching out and grabbing Max’s waist and pulling him in between his legs. Charles nuzzled at his stomach, pressing kisses next to his belly button and up to his abs before flashing his eyes up to meet his.
Max reached out and cupped Charles’ cheek, smiling too fondly at him.
Charles had to shake himself out of it and finish his previous sentence. “I should take a shower before we do anything,” Charles said, fingers still digging into Max’s waist and not wanting to let go. “I’m sweaty from my run,” he said, getting distracted again by Max’s abs in his face.
He should get up and find the closest shower, but instead, he sucked a bruise into Max’s abs.
Because.
They were right there.
“Hmm,” Max hummed as he untied the bandana that doubled as a headband on Charles’ head and let it fall to the ground at their feet. Max ran his fingers through Charles’ messy hair, then down his cheeks before resting on his jaw. “Nah, I like you sweaty,” he said, bending to kiss him.
Charles’ moaned into the kiss, trailing his hands up Max’s thighs and slipping his fingers into his waistband. “Are you sure?” Charles asked, pulling away from him and smirking up at him. “I ran many miles this morning...”
Max laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.
“You’re only making me harder the more you talk about it,” Max joked, then kissed him again. Charles couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss because Max was ridiculous. Max pulled back, looking into his eyes as he said, “Trust me, baby. I like making you sweaty. I certainly don’t mind if you’re one step ahead of me.”
Charles rolled his eyes, then tugged at Max’s sweats. He looked down as he pulled them over his thighs, moaning when Max’s cock sprung free. Charles pulled them off before grinning and looking back up at Max. “No boxers?” he teased, gasping as if he was scandalized. “That’s a bit slutty.”
Max laughed, opening his mouth to respond but sucked in a sharp breath instead when Charles wrapped his mouth around his cock. “Fuck,” he said dumbly, his hands tightening in Charles’ messy hair. Charles’ flashed his eyes up to meet him, wrapping his fingers around the base of Max’s cock and stroking him as he pulled off.
“What was that?” Charles teased, blinking innocently up at him. It was nice to have the upper hand for once.
“Fuck, baby,” Max moaned, fucking his hips up into Charles’ fist. Charles grinned at him, swiping his tongue around the head and jerking him off simultaneously. “I fucking love your mouth so much,” Max groaned, his cock blurting out pre-come and making everything wetter. “Fucking perfect mouth. My favorite mouth. My favorite boy,” Max babbled senselessly.
It made Charles’ head spin a bit.
Charles took him back in entirely, sliding his mouth down to meet his fingers and setting a steady rhythm. It was drawing all sorts of noises out of Max’s throat, and Charles quickly got addicted to them.
Max pulled him off roughly, looking down at him with desperate eyes. “Why are you still dressed?” he asked, pulling and tugging at Charles’ hoodie. Charles smirked at him, reaching behind himself to pull his sweatshirt over his head. “Shorts, too,” Max said, jerking himself off and looking at Charles like he wanted to eat him alive.
Charles stood up, keeping his eyes on Max while he pushed his running shorts down, bending over to pull off his socks. Max’s hands were on him then, grabbing at his ass and waist to pull them roughly together and kiss him. Max pulled away from his mouth, and they breathed against each other for a second before he pushed at Charles’ shoulders, urging him to sit back down.
Charles sat on the end of the bed, looking up at him as Max wrapped his big hand back around his big dick. “Suck my cock again, baby,” Max said, guiding it back to Charles’ mouth. Charles moaned around him, taking him deep into his throat, one hand around the base of Max’s cock and one on his thigh. “Fuck, that’s perfect. God, your mouth is so fucking good, baby.”
Charles squeezed at Max’s thighs, bobbing his head and trying not to choke around him. Max was making more noises that went straight to Charles’ cock, his mouth still running a million miles an hour because he could never shut up when they were like this.
Suddenly, Max was pulling him off his cock and stepping back. Charles blinked up at him in confusion, his jaw still open. Max laughed deliriously, his eyes wild as he ran his hands through his hair.
“Sorry, baby,” he said breathlessly, shaking his head. “I was about to come in your perfect mouth,” he explained, reaching down to wrap his fingers tightly around himself, apparently still teetering on edge.
“You could have,” Charles said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and then wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb. He looked up and couldn’t help but chuckle at Max’s eyes locked on his mouth.
Max gave him that cocky smile he always got when he was hard. “I thought you wanted to ride me,” he said, stroking himself slowly, stepping back into Charles’ space.
“You’re right, I do,” Charles said, winking at him.
Max laughed, shaking his head as he stepped around the bed. Charles tracked the movement with his eyes, watching as Max retrieved the bottle of lube and a condom from his bedside table. Max tossed them onto the mattress before crawling onto the bed and situating himself against the headboard.
He then looked at Charles, smirking and holding out his arms. Charles crawled up the bed into Max’s lap, pinning his knees on either side of Max’s hips. Max slid his hands up his back, smiling at him.
Charles kissed him, wrapping his arms around his neck and grinding his cock into his abs. Max gripped his ass, sliding his dry fingers back over Charles’ hole and making him shiver. Max slapped his ass then, still without any real force behind it, but it made Charles groan all the same.
“Turn around,” Max said, kissing him once before pulling back.
Charles blinked at him. “Like...” he looked over his shoulder, then back at Max, who had that cocky smirk on his face again.
“Yes, baby,” Max said, patronizing. “Let me see that beautiful ass of yours.”
Charles blushed again, turning on Max’s lap to face his legs. Max moaned appreciatively, gripping and squeezing at Charles’ ass, using his grip to spread his cheeks apart. Charles braced himself on Max’s knees, panting already, and Max had barely touched him.
Charles heard the sound of the lube popping open, and it almost made him dizzy. Max pressed between his shoulder blades then, urging him down further.
“Relax, baby. Let me see you,” Max said. Charles whimpered as he arched his back, all but presenting his ass to Max and making his cheeks flush even hotter. “There you go. Fucking gorgeous,” Max said, rubbing his palm over Charles’ back. “You’re so pretty, baby.”
“Max,” Charles whined. “Do something.”
Max spanked him again, hard enough that Charles gasped out, his hips twitching forward as his cock leaked against Max’s thigh. “Fucking love how you sound,” Max groaned, squeezing and kneading at his ass again.
Max finally touched him where he wanted him to, sliding his wet fingers over Charles’ hole and making him cry out. Max pressed in, slipping one of his fingers smoothly into Charles.
“So fucking pretty, baby,” Max said, twisting his wrist and fucking in slowly. “God, I want to get my mouth on you later. Would you let me do that?” Max asked, pushing in with a second finger and making Charles cry. “I bet you’d taste so good. I bet you’d make so many pretty noises,” he continued before Charles could respond.
“Max, please,” Charles moaned. The idea of Max’s tongue anywhere near his ass made him dizzy. He had no idea how he’d be able to survive it.
“I’ve wanted to eat you out forever, baby, fuck,” Max groaned, fucking his two fingers in at a devastatingly slow pace. “Was always so distracted every time we were on the podium together. All I could think about was bending you over and eating your pretty little ass right there on the stage, right where everyone could watch.”
“Merde, Max,” Charles cursed, arching his back higher and panting against Max’s legs. He reached a hand between them to grip tightly around the base of his cock, determined not to come before he had Max’s cock inside of him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”
Max laughed, squeezing his ass with one hand while pressing in deep with his other. Charles pushed back against his hand, needing him to hurry up, or it would all be over too soon.
“Look at you fucking my fingers. Jesus, baby, just can’t get enough, can you?” Max asked, holding his fingers still and letting Charles fuck back against him. Max moaned at the sight of it, spanking him again and making him cry out. “Can you take another?”
“Yes,” Charles cried out, head spinning and desperate to be full.
“Ask me.”
Charles groaned loudly, letting his forehead drop onto Max’s legs beneath him.
“Please give me another finger,” he said against Max’s knees, whining when Max pulled his fingers out instead. “S'te plaît, mon amour, il m’en faut. Je mourrai sans eux.” (“Please, my love, I need them. I’ll die without them.”)
“Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking hot,” Max said breathlessly, drizzling more lube directly over Charles’ hole before slowly pushing in with three. “You asked so nicely. So pretty for me. Such a good boy,” Max said, making Charles whine again, breathing heavily at the pressure from Max’s big fingers.
“Max,” Charles cried out when his fingers pressed deep against his prostate.
“I know, baby,” Max soothed, running a comforting hand over Charles’ back. “You’re doing so well. You’re so good at taking my fingers.” Charles felt like his ears were ringing, his body vibrating with the need to come, with the need to be fucked, with the need for Max to shut the fuck up and never stop talking.
Max wanted to kiss him in public.
He wanted to tell the whole world about them.
Charles was pretty sure he was crying.
When Max pressed in with four fingers, he was positive he was crying.
He was whining against Max’s knees and pushing back desperately against his fingers. Max was still talking to him, telling him how good he was, how pretty he was, but none of the words were making it to his ears.
He just wanted to come.
He just wanted to be fucked.
“Max, please. S'te plaît,” Charles begged, gripping the blanket so tight it was hurting his fingers. Max rubbed at his ass and hips as he gently removed his hand, tapping on his ass to signal him to turn around.
Charles’ legs and arms were shaking, but he somehow found the strength to sit up and turn around to face him.
He reached out to steady himself on Max’s shoulders, his wobbly knees pressing next to Max’s hips again as he settled back into his lap. He felt it had been forever since he had seen Max’s face because he had spent a lifetime fingering him open.
It almost made him want to cry some more, but he kept it together.
Max smiled fondly at him and said, “Hi, baby.”
“Max,” Charles whined, leaning forward and pressing their lips together. “Please fuck me now.”
“Of course,” Max whispered against him, kissing him again as he fumbled his hand around them, looking for the condom wrapper that had gotten lost in the sheets. Charles stopped him, grabbing onto his forearm and looking at him hesitantly. “What’s wrong?” Max asked, looking at him concerned.
“What if we-- I mean. You could-- you know. If you wanted.”
Max blinked at him for a moment, confused, before he said, “Baby... what?”
And, okay. He hadn’t actually said a complete sentence yet.
Charles kissed him, touching the side of his jaw as he pulled away. He looked down at Max, his eyes searching, before he said quietly, “What if you... without. Without a condom.”
Max sucked in a sharp breath, fingers gripping Charles’ waist hard. “Baby...”
“I haven’t been with anybody in a long time,” Charles whispered, cheeks bright red at his admission. “And we always used condoms. I-- I’ve been tested since then. So, I mean, I’m clean. If you wanted to. You know.”
“Baby,” Max repeated, and Charles was pretty sure that was the only thing he had said in the last few minutes. Max tightened his grip on his waist, his mouth open but no words coming out of it.
“You don’t have to,” Charles said, feeling like he needed to backtrack the longer Max stared at him. “I just thought-- you said the other day that you wanted to. But, I mean, I get it if that was just a-- a heat of the moment thing. So, never mind. Just forgot I said anything,” Charles rambled, his words coming out stuttered and choppy.
“Baby,” Max said again, making Charles whine loudly. Why wasn’t he saying anything else? God, this is why Charles should never open his big fucking mouth.
Just because Max said something offhand about fucking him bare while literally inside him doesn’t mean he actually wanted to do it. It was the same way he probably wouldn’t want to eat his ass on the podium while everybody watched, either.
It was just dumb shit you said when you were hard!
Fuck, Charles was so stupid.
“Please say something,” Charles said, avoiding Max’s eyes so he wouldn’t start crying.
“Baby,” Max repeated, and, like. Charles would punch him directly in the face if he didn’t find another word to say. Charles looked back, hoping his cheeks and neck weren’t as red as they felt. He was making such a goddamn fool of himself. “I--” Max started to say, his mouth hanging open afterward, and no more words followed.
“I’m sorry I said anything,” Charles said quietly, shaking his head. “Please, we can just--”
“No,” Max said, finally finding a different word. Charles snapped his mouth shut, and his eyes locked onto Max’s. “Baby... no. Holy shit. I want that so fucking bad that I can’t-- I can’t remember how to speak English, what the fuck. Ik kan niet geloven dat je echt bent. Ik kan niet geloven dat je me dit laat doen.” (“I can’t believe you’re real. I can’t believe you would let me do that.”)
Charles squirmed in his lap and said, “I don’t know what that means.”
Max laughed frantically, bringing his clean hand to Charles’ cheek and running his knuckles over it. They stared at each other for a few moments, Max’s expression hard for Charles to read. “I’ve never fucked anyone bare before,” Max admitted quietly, eyes flicking over Charles’ face.
Charles swallowed the lump in his throat. “I trust you.”
Max whined at his words, squeezing his hip and flicking his eyes to Charles’ mouth. “I get tested a few times a year as part of my medical release,” Max said quietly, his words shaky. “I-- I haven’t been with anyone since my last test. Since a little before that, actually. I haven’t been interested in anybody else for a long time. Just you. So... I’m clean too.”
Charles swallowed again, trying to push down all his emotions. He wouldn’t start crying about the idea of Max coming inside of him. That would be so fucking embarrassing. But Max was the one who made it a sweet thing, so it was actually his fault if Charles’ eyes were getting a little blurry.
Which they weren’t.
Because, again, embarrassing.
“Max,” Charles whispered, their eyes locked together. Charles leaned forward and kissed him because it was easier than words. Max kissed him back, squeezing at his hip and sliding their tongues together. They were both panting again by the time they pulled away.
Max returned his hand to Charles’ cheek, their eyes still locked on each other. “You’re so amazing, baby,” Max whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. Charles whined, the back of his neck on fire. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Well, that’s a first,” Charles choked out.
That startled a laugh out of Max’s lungs, his eyes wide with amusement.
“Shut up.” He chuckled, quickly bringing their mouths together again in a dirty, wet kiss.
Charles was getting impatient. The more he thought about Max fucking him, the more he needed it to happen.
Charles rutted forward against Max’s stomach, then back against his cock. He finally broke away from the kiss, reaching between them to wrap around him. Max sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, his eyes darting down to Charles’ hand.
Charles stroked him a few times before reaching over to grab the bottle of lube.
“Baby,” Max whined, watching as Charles sat back on his lap to drizzle lube over Max’s cock. He stroked him again, tossing the lube aside and looking up to meet his eyes. Max was chewing on his bottom lip, watching his every move.
“Do you trust me?” Charles asked, jerking him off slowly.
“Yes,” Max said quickly, eyes flashing to meet his gaze. “Yes, of course, I trust you.”
Charles smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss him once more before sitting up on his knees. All the air in the room seemed to disappear when Charles rubbed the head of Max’s cock against him.
“Oh god, oh fuck,” Max whined, making Charles pause and look up at him. “Baby, I am so close to coming at just the idea of fucking you bare. Oh, my god, this is going to be so embarrassing.”
“Hey,” Charles said, smiling sweetly at him when they finally locked eyes. He leaned forward again to kiss him, breathing him in for a second before pulling back. “I don’t care how long you last, mon amour. I’m going to come as soon as this big cock is inside me anyway,” he said, winking at him.
That startled another laugh out of Max’s lungs. “I just-- I just want it to be good for you.”
Charles groaned, kissing him again. He let go of Max’s cock, shifting up higher on his knees and leaning further into Max’s space. “It will be, I promise,” he whispered, pressing another biting kiss onto his mouth. He wrapped his hand around the back of Max’s neck, smirking as he said, “Now, come on. Fuck me, baby.”
That finally had Max moving.
He reached between them and wrapped a hand around his dick, using his other hand to squeeze and pull at Charles’ ass. They locked eyes again as he pressed against him, Charles nodding at him to go on.
Finally, Max pressed inside, and they both gasped at the feeling.
Charles didn’t think it’d be much different on his end, but he was very fucking wrong.
“Oh, my god.” Charles gasped, steadying himself on Max’s shoulders, breathing deeply as his body tried desperately to adjust to his size. No matter how often they did this now, it was always a shock to his system when he first pushed in.
“Baby,” Max said, hands squeezing his waist and ass. Charles’ looked up at Max’s face, but his eyes were locked on where Charles was slowly sinking down him.
“Oh, my god,” Charles repeated, mind going numb as Max overwhelmed his senses. He gripped Max’s shoulder hard, pressing his other hand onto Max’s stomach to hold him still, his legs shaking as he tried to take him all in. He raised back up, pulling almost all the way off before sinking down, causing a loud moan to rip from Max’s lungs.
“Holy fucking shit, baby,” Max groaned, eyes still locked on where they were connected. “You feel-- incredible. So fucking good. I’ve never felt anything like it, holy shit. Holy shit.”
Charles laughed frantically, his head fuzzy and limbs heavy, everything around him fading away except where Max was fucking him open. It was doing something crazy to Charles’ brain, knowing that Max was in him with nothing between them and that he would come inside of him.
He had never let himself think about it before, with any of his previous partners, because he had never trusted anyone enough to consider it. Now suddenly, it was all he wanted.
“Max, baby, chéri, tesoro,” Charles muttered, his brain blending all of his languages in a string of incoherent nicknames. Usually, Max was the one to babble aimlessly at him, but Charles felt like his brain was slowly turning to mush.
He pushed back up on his knees, took a deep breath, and sank down until his hips connected with Max’s. They both moaned, breathing heavily against each other. Charles looked up at Max, his eyes finally meeting him again. Charles leaned forward and kissed him, jostling his cock inside of him and making them both gasp again.
Max kissed him deeply, squeezing at his ass and thighs and then rubbing soothingly over his hip.
“God, you feel so fucking amazing, baby,” Max said against his mouth. “So hot and tight around me. Letting me fuck you without a condom. Going to let me come in you,” he said, his mouth starting to run now that Charles was fully on his cock. “You’re fucking unreal, baby. There’s nobody else like you.”
“Max,” Charles whined, starting to rock his hips.
“Nobody could ever feel this good around me,” Max said, gripping his ass with both hands and pulling him apart before fucking his hips up. Charles moaned loudly, his brain going even fuzzier as Max started fucking up into him. “I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you bare, Jesus Christ. You’re so fucking good, baby. Prettiest boy in the world.”
“Max, please,” Charles whined, holding on to Max’s shoulders as he fucked up roughly into him. Max planted his feet on the bed, holding onto Charles’ hip to steady him as he started chasing his high. “Harder, please. Fuck me harder.”
Max groaned, using his grip on Charles’ hip to pull him down to meet each thrust. The wet sound of their bodies connecting in the room was obscene, but it was not nearly as loud as the whining and moaning coming out of Charles’ mouth.
He barely recognized the noise as his own.
“Harder,” he begged, wanting to feel every inch of Max for the next three weeks.
Max suddenly flipped them, moving Charles as if he weighed nothing. It shocked another ragged gasp out of Charles’ mouth as his back suddenly hit the pillows. Max pushed back inside, pulling one of Charles’ legs up over his shoulder and sharply fucking in.
“Oh god, right there,” Charles cried, hand fumbling to grab onto any part of Max he could reach. “Don’t stop. Holy shit that feels so good,” Charles whined when Max fucked up against his prostate on every thrust.
“God, baby,” Max panted, fucking him so hard that he had to brace a hand on the headboard behind him. “Feel like heaven around my cock, baby. I’m so close. I’m going to come so fucking hard. Going to fill you up with my come.”
“Please,” Charles cried, the twist in his gut getting stronger and stronger as he got closer to the edge. “Please, Max.”
“Do you want me to come inside you, baby?”
“Yes! Please! Fuck!” Charles sobbed.
Max readjusted, pinning Charles’ legs back to his chest so he was practically bent in half. Charles moaned loudly as Max fucked back in. His thrusts became wild and unsteady the closer he got to coming.
Charles reached a hand between them, jerking himself off even though he barely needed it. He was seconds away from coming, no matter what he did.
“Come on, baby,” Max moaned. “Come for me.”
“Max,” Charles cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as he was suddenly shooting between them, his whole body jolting as he gasped out a desperate breath. Max moaned above him, fucking in harder and faster, the wet sounds they were making getting louder.
“I’m going to come, baby,” Max said, his hands digging into Charles’ thighs where he pinned them to his stomach. “Fuck, I’m going to come inside you, schatje.”
“Max, please. I need it.”
“Fuck, fuck,” Max cursed as his hips fucked in a few more times before he finally stilled, his cock pulsing and hips twitching as he came. “Fuck,” Max groaned again, pulling back just barely before shoving deep inside as he filled Charles up.
Charles wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to catch his breath again.
Charles half-expected Max to collapse on top of him, but Max was pushing himself up instead, grabbing onto the base of his cock and gently pulling out of Charles. Charles whined at the feeling, at the loss, and leaned up on his elbows to look at Max.
He watched as Max bit his lower lip into his mouth, eyes locked on Charles’ ass.
Max’s eyes flicked up to meet his before gently pushing his thigh back again, spreading his ass with his other hand. Charles could feel the come starting to ooze out of him, and he made a pathetic squeak, his whole body turning bright red as he covered his face with his arms.
He wanted to kick Max away and tell him to stop looking at his ass, but he also wanted to pull him closer.
“Baby,” Max whispered in awe. Charles twitched when Max’s fingers gently slid over his rim, where he was wet and open. Charles let his arms drop from his face, leaning up on his elbows and watching Max’s expression as he slowly fucked one of his fingers back inside Charles.
“Max,” Charles said pathetically, his heart hammering in his chest. Max’s eyes flashed to meet his, taking in Charles’ expression before looking down at his ass. Max sucked his lip in his mouth as he gently pushed in a second finger, fucking his come back inside of Charles and making him want to cry.
“Max, please,” Charles sobbed, his head falling back on the pillows and bringing his hands up to cover his face.
“Are you too sore?”
“I-- I don’t know,” Charles said honestly, overwhelmed and feeling too many emotions. He forced himself back up to look at Max because he had to see it. He had to see Max’s face. He had to burn it into his brain so he would never forget.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy, baby,” Max whispered, eyes locked on his ass and where his fingers were pushing his come back inside. “I’ve never seen anything prettier in my whole fucking life. So full of me. I can’t believe you’re real,” Max said, suddenly leaning forward and swiping his tongue over his fingers, over Charles’ ass, over his come.
“Max!” Charles cried, his cock twitching against his abs, desperately trying to get hard again. Max pressed in deep with his fingers, kissing and sucking around them. “Oh, my god, Max!” Charles gasped, and Max moaned against him, tonguing over his wet hole.
Charles’ heart was racing, and his ears were ringing so loud he could barely hear the noises coming from deep inside him. He was going to absolutely fucking die. Max’s fingers grazed his prostate, making Charles sob even louder.
Max pressed his tongue in deep between his fingers, and Charles felt like his heart was about to stop. His whole body tensed, and his cock ached. He gasped again when Max’s fingers massaged his prostate, suddenly too overwhelmed to let him keep going.
“Max, please, please! It’s too much-- I can’t.”
Max instantly pulled back, breathing wetly against his thigh and stilling his fingers inside of him. He kissed his thighs, one after the other, breathing against him for another moment before gently sliding his fingers out of him.
Max’s hands ran over his legs and thighs as Charles hid his face in his arms.
Charles finally let his arms drop back to the bed and sucked in cool air from the room, blinking deliriously up at the ceiling as his heart pounded in his chest. He took another deep breath before looking down at Max, kneeling between his legs, catching his breath.
Max was looking down at Charles’ ass but looked up when he felt his eyes on him. They locked eyes, and Max sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck. You’re-- you’re crying. Fuck, I’m sorry. I should have asked before I did that. I--”
“Max, no,” Charles quickly said, shaking his head. “It’s not what you think. Please-- I-- just come here,” he said, gesturing with his hands for Max to come closer. Max whimpered, crawling up Charles’ body and laying heavily on top of him. Charles wrapped his arms around his shoulders, petting his hair and urging his head down against his chest. “They’re good tears, I promise.”
Max quickly jerked his head back up, frowning at Charles as he said, “Are you sure? Because I--”
“Max,” Charles said, smiling at him and petting his hair more. “That was... fucking incredible. You made me feel so good. Too good, merde. I just need to breathe for a second.” Max’s eyes flicked over Charles’ face, his eyes searching as if to ensure he was telling the truth. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him, though, because he slowly smiled at him and let his head thump back down onto his chest.
“Holy shit,” Max mumbled into his chest. That made Charles laugh, tightening his arms around Max’s shoulders. “I have never come that hard in my whole fucking life,” Max said, rubbing his face into Charles’ neck, pushing his hands under Charles’ back to hug him tightly. “I didn’t know it was possible to come that hard. God, baby, you’re so fucking lovely.”
Charles closed his eyes, letting his words wash over him.
They breathed in silence for a few moments, and the apartment was quiet around them except for the low hum of the ceiling fan. Max was heavy on top of him, pressing him down into the bed like his own personal weighted blanket. He ran his fingers through Max’s hair, his other arm wrapped tightly around his back.
Charles cleared his throat and finally found his words again as he said, “I’m going to be getting off to that for the rest of my fucking life.”
Max laughed heavily against him, his body shaking with it. He lifted his head, his eyes soft as they traced over Charles’ face. He finally looked into his eyes again as he grinned and said quietly, “Me too.”
“Seriously,” Charles said with a breathy laugh. “That was really fucking hot.”
Max laughed some more, his eyes bright and full of... something. Something that Charles wouldn’t let himself consider. Max rested his head back in the dip of Charles' neck, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin.
“I got a little carried away at the end. I’m sorry if I should have-- that I didn’t ask you first,” Max said quietly, words muffled against his neck.
“Max,” Charles said, smiling tiredly at the ceiling and tugging gently at his hair. “I am very serious... I’m going to be getting off to that for the rest of my fucking life,” he repeated, wrapping both arms around Max’s back. “Please don’t apologize for it. Nobody has ever, ever made me feel like that. Fuck, your mouth should be illegal. You should be illegal. You were so perfect.”
“Okay, shut up.” Max laughed into his neck, rubbing his face against him and squeezing his arms around his back.
“I need like... thirty minutes and an extremely hot shower. Then I’m going to want you to do that again,” Charles said, drumming his fingers against Max’s shoulders. Max laughed, finally pulling his head back to meet Charles’ gaze.
“Yeah?” Max whispered, slowly smirking at him.
Charles looked at him for a moment before his eyes went comically wide as he remembered: “You said you wanted to eat my ass on the podium!”
That startled a sharp laugh out of Max’s lungs, his eyes squeezing shut as he thumped his forehead on Charles’ chest, embarrassed. Charles laughed loudly, his fingers tracing over Max’s broad shoulders.
“You’re not gonna forget I said that, are you?” Max asked, his words muffled against his neck.
Charles grinned and said, “Nope. No way.”
“My dick does all my talking, I swear. You can feel free to forget about that one,” Max said, still hiding his face in Charles’ neck. It only made Charles laugh harder. He was never going to forget that one. “And, besides, it’s your fault. You’re the one walking around with that ass.”
Charles laughed loudly, his stomach hurting with it.
Max finally lifted his head, smiling softly at Charles, looking from his mouth to his eyes. Max took a deep breath through his nose and let it out. “Thirty minutes and a shower?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Charles.
Charles laughed, running his knuckles over Max’s jaw. “Thirty minutes and a shower,” he confirmed.
“Can we also find time to eat the rest of those sandwiches before I fuck you again?” Max asked, smirking at him. That shocked another laugh out of Charles, his eyes going wide with amusement. “Seriously, I’m starving,” Max added, eyes fond and pleased with Charles’ reaction.
“Yesss, mon chou.” Charles chuckled, running his fingers over Max’s cheeks. “Shower, sandwiches, and then you can fuck me again.”
“Careful, baby, or you’ll make me hard right now,” Max joked, winking at him. Charles rolled his eyes at him, huffing an amused breath. “Come on, then. Let’s go,” Max said, pushing himself up and rolling off him. He watched as Max sat on the edge of the bed, stretching his arms above his head and then his neck from side to side.
Charles may be a little distracted by his back muscles flexing, but he wouldn’t mention it.
Max looked over his shoulder at him and smirked. “I’m gonna brush my teeth so I can kiss you in the shower.”
And there he goes again, just saying whatever the fuck came to his mind, with absolutely no shame.
It was still Charles’ favorite part about him.
***
The rest of the day went by all too quickly.
They took a very long shower together, made even longer because they kept getting distracted by each other's mouths. When they shut the water off, everything in the room was covered in steam. Max handed him a fluffy white towel, and Charles tried not to get distracted by the droplets of water running down Max’s chest.
“Can I borrow some clothes?” Charles asked, forcing himself to look away from Max’s chest.
Max paused, mid-wrapping a towel around his waist, and looked over at him. He seemed to shake himself out of it as he knotted the towel and rested his hands on his wet hips.
He slowly started to smirk and asked, “You want to wear my clothes?”
Charles groaned loudly, dramatically rolling his eyes because of course Max would make this into a thing.
He gave Max a pointed look and said, “Well, I don’t exactly want to put my sweaty gym clothes back on. So yes, Max, I do.”
“What if I wanted to keep you naked all day instead?” Max taunted.
Charles glared at him. “I’m not going to sit around your house naked, mate.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Max said, barely able to contain his giggle.
His smile was so bright Charles needed sunglasses to look at him.
Charles refused to find it cute.
“Wait here,” Max said excitedly, holding up a finger before darting out of the bathroom. Charles laughed, bracing himself because he knew Max was up to something. He wrapped his towel tighter around his waist, using another to wipe the steam off the mirror.
He looked at his reflection and the bruises forming on his collarbone. He couldn’t help but press his fingertips into them, making himself shiver. He was pleased to have a physical reminder of Max and wouldn’t let himself think too hard about the implications.
He turned around when he heard Max’s footsteps. Max had gotten himself dressed while he was gone, and Charles frowned, already missing seeing him naked. Max handed him a pair of boxers and joggers but still held something behind his back. Charles narrowed his eyes at him, suspiciously taking the bottoms from him and setting them on the counter.
“Okay. Out with it, Verstappen,” he said, exasperated. Max smiled brightly at him with all his teeth showing before pulling the shirt from behind his back and shaking it out.
It was an obnoxious neon orange Red Bull shirt with 33 in the middle. The numbers were huge and colored like the Dutch flag. Charles’ jaw slowly dropped, but Max wasn’t done. Max giggled and turned the shirt around to show the back, where another 33 was present, along with Verstappen in big, blue letters.
“I am not wearing that,” Charles deadpanned.
Max let out a loud cackle, his head tipping back, obviously delighted with himself.
“Yes, you are,” he said, trying to hand Charles the shirt, but Charles made no moves to take it from him. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and shook his head.
Max frowned.
Charles laughed hysterically, and his eyes widened as he insisted, “I’m not fucking wearing that!”
“Why not?” Max asked, sticking his big lower lip out in the most ridiculous pout Charles had ever seen. But it would take much more than a cute pout to get Charles to lose his dignity.
“Do you know what would happen to me if I was seen wearing a Red Bull shirt?” Charles asked, his eyes big and crazy. “I would be dragged through the streets of Italy!” he exclaimed before Max could answer, gesturing wildly with his hands. “They would throw things at me!”
“Come on, baby. You’ll look so good in orange.” Max laughed, wheezing at his own ugly shirt.
Charles glared. “No. Try again.”
“But I want you to wear this,” he said, pouting at him again.
“You don’t even wear that,” Charles pointed out. That made Max laugh even louder. “I have never seen you wear that monstrosity before. Where did you even get that?” But Max was laughing too hard to answer his question. Charles rolled his eyes and went to step past him, “I’ll find something to wear myself.”
“No!” Max laughed loudly, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “No, baby. I’ll find you something. Hold on,” he said, disappearing back out of the room. Charles sighed loudly, pulling on the boxers and sweats Max had given him.
Max returned a moment later, but he was grinning again.
“Oh no,” Charles groaned. “What have you done now?”
Max didn’t say anything, just wordlessly handed over a folded t-shirt to him and stepped back, blinking innocently at him. Charles took a deep breath through his nose before shaking out the shirt, his eyes rolling so hard when he realized it was a blue and gold Max Verstappen 2021-2022 World Champion shirt.
“Max!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Max said, laughing loudly and snatching the shirt from him. “Here you go, schat,” he said quietly, handing him a plain white t-shirt and a soft black hoodie from behind his back.
Charles looked at the hoodie, which had no words or numbers, only a faded checkered flag embroidered on the front. It had clearly been worn and washed many times before. There was a small hole in the neck and another by the wrist cuff. Charles looked up, only to find Max chewing on his bottom lip.
“Don’t lose it. It’s my favorite hoodie,” he said quietly, smiling softly at him.
“Max,” Charles whispered, looking at him fondly. “You don’t have to let me borrow your favorite hoodie. Just... not a Red Bull one.”
Max chuckled, stepping into Charles’ space and gently grabbing his hips. “I know,” he said, pressing a kiss to Charles’ mouth. “But I want you to wear it because it’s my favorite,” he whispered after pulling away. Charles breathed in deeply, his heart kicking against his chest because Max was just so...
Charles had no words for what Max was.
Max had so many big feelings that he casually dropped into conversations, never afraid of how somebody would react. The more Charles thought about it, the more he admired that quality in a person.
It made him want to be more upfront about his own feelings.
Charles kissed him, wrapping his arms around his back afterward and leaning his head against his shoulder. Charles had that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach again when he remembered he was leaving for three weeks the next morning.
He still wasn’t sure what to make of those feelings.
Max scratched gently at his back as they hugged before he finally pulled away. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
“Okay,” Charles agreed, kissing him once more before stepping back. He pulled on the shirt and hoodie and could feel Max’s eyes on him the whole time. He turned around to meet his gaze, holding his arms out as he said, “Well?”
“Fucking beautiful,” Max breathed, and it didn’t even come out as a joke. It made Charles’ gut twist even more. Max leaned in and kissed him again, pressing their foreheads together for a quiet moment. “I might actually die if you don’t feed me soon,” he whispered.
“Come on, hungry boy. Let’s go.” Charles laughed, pushing at Max’s shoulders to get him moving.
They returned to the balcony, stopping in the kitchen to get two large glasses of water. Max didn’t even bother sitting at the other end of the couch this time and all but sat in Charles’ lap as they ate and made each other laugh.
Afterward, Max made good on his promise to eat Charles’ ass again. He had spread him out on the bed and spent so long between his legs, fingering and licking him back open. He made Charles cry and come all over himself before Max even fucked him again.
By the time the afternoon had rolled around, Charles was sore from head to toe. He wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere comfortable and be taken care of for the rest of the day.
Max happily obliged.
They pulled back on their comfortable clothes and spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped around each other on the couch, watching episode after episode of Breaking Bad. They had both fallen asleep at one point, warm and cozy under a blanket, and when they woke up, they had to go back two episodes to see what they had missed.
They ordered dinner and ate it on the couch, legs still tangled together and looking at each other too fondly whenever their eyes met over slices of pizza.
It was getting late in the evening, and Charles knew he needed to head home. He was exhausted, and the longer he stayed, the less likely he was to leave. He had a plane to catch in the morning and hadn’t packed anything yet. So when the credits rolled the next time, Charles hit pause on the remote and turned his head to Max.
Charles had his legs in Max’s lap, his head sleepily leaning against the back cushion. He smiled at him, reaching out to run his fingers over Max’s messy hair. “I need to go home,” he whispered, smiling tiredly.
“You could just stay here tonight,” Max said, frowning and squeezing Charles’ legs in his lap. “I’ll even drive you to the airport in the morning, so you don’t have to call a car.”
Charles’ heart twisted painfully in his chest.
“I’m not packed,” Charles whispered, smiling sadly at him.
It only made Max frown some more. “I promise I don’t snore or anything.”
“You do snore, actually.” Charles laughed.
“I do not,” he said as his jaw dropped open, scandalized at the accusation. Charles laughed harder, curling in on himself as Max squeezed at his thighs. Charles tried very hard not to find it cute.
“You do, mate. You were snoring on me earlier,” Charles pointed out. “I could barely hear the show. I had to turn the captions on,” he said, quickly becoming obsessed with the affronted look on Max’s face.
“That’s a lie, and you know it!” Max exclaimed, narrowing his eyes and squeezing Charles’ calves. He tried to keep his eyes narrowed, but his lip kept twitching as a smile tried to break through, completely giving him away.
Charles was so goddamn captivated by it.
“You would look so pretty waking up in my bed,” Max mused quietly, his eyes flicking over Charles’ face.
It made something turn in Charles’ stomach, and he suddenly didn’t want to leave at all. He would much rather listen to Max snore all night than go home to his empty apartment. Why did he need to pack anyway? He could just buy new clothes once he got there!
Charles was being ridiculous.
He reached out, tugging gently at Max’s shoulder.
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
Max smiled at him, pushing into his space and sealing their lips together. Max pushed him onto his back, laying heavily on top of him as they kissed. Eventually, they had to come up for air, and Charles missed his mouth immediately.
Max mushed his face deep into Charles’ neck, breathing him in deeply before mumbling, “You smell good.”
Charles laughed sharply, wrapping his arms around Max’s back. “I smell like you.”
Max lifted his head from his neck, smiling that cocky little smile at him as he said, “I know. I like it.”
Charles rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the way it made his heart flutter in his chest.
He really needed to get a handle on his emotions.
“Are you gonna miss me?” Max whispered, smiling fondly at him and running his fingers over Charles’ cheeks.
Charles tried very hard not to get choked up at the question.
“Yes,” he said, squeezing at Max’s hips and hoping he realized how true it was. “I will miss you very much,” he whispered, and it was worth seeing the soft smile on Max’s face. He kissed him again, closing his eyes and wishing he didn’t have to leave.
When Max pulled back the next time, Charles didn’t let him go very far, sliding his hand up his back and into his hair. Max made a pleased sound at that, smiling fondly down at Charles.
“Will you text me?” Max asked quietly.
Charles huffed an amused breath. “Yes. Will you text me back?”
“Of course,” Max said, nuzzling his face into Charles’ neck for a moment. He pressed his lips right next to Charles’ ear as he whispered, “Will you send me dirty pictures?”
That startled a laugh out of Charles. “I could probably be talked into it.”
“That is lovely news,” Max said, leaning up to kiss him again. He pulled back, and they looked at each other for a long moment. “Three weeks, mate. That’s a long holiday, even for the Leclercs.”
Charles laughed, nodding his head. “Yeah, it is.”
Max looked at him for another long moment, his eyes flicking over his features. “Don’t go forgetting about me in Switzerland,” he whispered, reaching up to touch Charles’ jaw before making eye contact again.
“I could never,” Charles said, smiling softly at him and trying not to be emotional about it.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
***
The first week in Switzerland went by quickly.
Despite his hesitance to leave, the moment his family surrounded him, his sadness was replaced with the pure joy of spending time with his favorite people. Charles loved his lifestyle and getting to travel all over the world, but he was very close with his family and always missed them when he was away.
They had a family cabin outside Zermatt, surrounded by tall trees and freshly fallen snow. His aunts, uncles, and cousins from both sides of his family would all come out to spend Christmas with them. The long driveway quickly filled up with cars, and many skis leaned against the wooden porch railing.
It made for the perfect postcard backdrop for the holiday season.
The days were spent outside with his brothers and cousins, chatting aimlessly to each other on ski lifts and then racing each other down the mountain. His mum would stay back at the cabin during the day with the kids, playing games and cooking for them.
The evenings were spent around the dinner table, laughing and drinking, telling stories from childhood or memories of his father. They would all pile around the fireplace in the living room, watching old movies or shows and sharing thick blankets that smelled like home.
It was hard to be anything but happy when surrounded by his family.
It wouldn’t be until the cabin was quiet and everyone else was asleep that he’d let himself miss Max.
They texted each other occasionally during the day, with little snapshots of what they were doing or funny things that happened to them. Charles sent him pictures from the slopes, and Max sent him pictures from his balcony.
Halfway through the week, Max met up with his family in the Maldives, and their texts slowed down a bit more as they both got wrapped up in their own worlds. But Charles enjoyed the selfies of Max with his nephews a bit more than the balcony pictures, so he wouldn’t let himself be sad about fewer interactions during the day.
No matter how much they were distracted during the day, every night ended the same. They would spend some time before bed each night texting back and forth, recapping their days to each other, and sending pictures they took of different things. They were in different time zones, with Max four hours ahead of him, but Charles looked forward to it every night.
Because of the time difference, Charles would usually be finishing dinner with his family when the texts started coming in. Meanwhile, Max was far away in a different climate, texting him from his bed, his phone lighting up his face in a dark room. Charles liked to think he could hear the ocean from whenever he’d lay, texting Charles about something his nephew had learned how to do.
It was slowly becoming the highlight of Charles’ day.
A few days before Christmas, Charles and a few others from his family decided to go climbing instead of skiing. It was just starting to snow when they reached the bottom of the pitch they wanted to climb. Charles pulled on his climbing harness and clicked his boots into spikes, staring up at the snowy rocks above him.
He spent the next hour climbing with his brothers and cousins. They took a break halfway up, spikes and axes digging into the side of the mountain to keep them stable, and Charles took the opportunity to pull his phone out.
He recorded a short video of his view, then turned the camera around and smirked at the lens, eyes wide with amusement. He stopped recording and pulled up his text thread with Max, shooting off the video with no context.
He was still drinking water and catching his breath a moment later when his phone started vibrating in his pocket as Max rapid-fire responded to his video.
-
Um
Why the fuck are you climbing a mountain
I thought this was a ski trip
This looks dangerous as fuck???
CHARLES, WHO ALLOWED YOU TO DO THIS?
Charles chuckled, passing the water back over to his cousin and taking his gloves off so he could tap out a response.
-
We do both. Skiing and climbing.
-
Okay??? Not my biggest concern???
Charles couldn’t help but laugh, his heart aching and his stomach clenching at Max’s protectiveness. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, suddenly missing Max so much it took his breath away.
-
You’re cute when you’re worried.
-
You’re going to get yourself killed!!!
Charles rolled his eyes, and before he could respond, more texts came through.
-
Please don’t die
I would miss you too much ☹️
Charles refused to get emotional about a text message on the side of a mountain, so he did the smart thing and locked his phone and shoved it inside his zippered pocket.
He would deal with his emotions later.
When they returned from climbing, he took a long, hot shower and pulled on the comfiest clothes he had with him. He had been too tired to drink any wine with dinner, but his mum had made lots of hot, delicious soup, and he indulged in many bowls.
Now though, the cabin was quiet, and he was finally in his bed, snow tapping on the window next to him. His muscles were sore from his climb earlier, and he knew he'd be out like a light as soon as he closed his eyes. He couldn’t help but lay there missing Max, mentally counting the days until they’d see each other again.
He opened his Instagram and posted the climbing video to his stories. He almost did something stupid, like tagging Max in it, before he reminded himself that nobody knew who that video was originally for.
He was pretty sure Max was already asleep since it was so late where he was, but he pulled up their text thread anyway. He opened the camera and took a tired selfie before sending it off to him with the message:
-
the mountain kicked my ass, but I didn’t die 🙃
Charles locked his phone and set it on his nightstand, expecting a response in the morning. He turned the light off and went to roll over when his phone lit up the room. He grabbed it and smiled when he saw it was from Max.
-
is that my hoodie
Charles smiled harder, chewing on the inside of his cheek, subconsciously rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie between his fingers. Of course, he would recognize the hoodie, even though the selfie had been blurry and barely showed any of it. Charles chuckled quietly, sitting up against his pillows and responding.
-
Yes.
it’s been keeping me warm all week
it’s very cozy
-
you brought my hoodie with you to the alps?
-
Obviously.
it smells like you
He was suddenly staring at his reflection as the screen turned into an incoming FaceTime call from Max. Charles sat straight, reached over to turn the light back on, and stared at his reflection as the call tried to load.
Finally, it connected, and Charles was met with a sleepy-looking Max lying on his side.
It was dark in whatever room he was in, but his phone lit up his face enough for Charles to see. He smiled brightly at him, his eyes flicking across the screen as they took each other in. They hadn’t talked on the phone or video chatted since Charles left Monaco. Seeing him now, lying in a bed thousands of miles away from him, almost hurt Charles' heart.
“Hi, baby,” Max said, his voice deep and sleep-ridden.
“Hi,” Charles whispered, smiling fondly at him. “I thought you would be sleeping.”
“I was,” Max said, chuckling.
“Oh.” Charles frowned and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I thought your sound would be off.”
Max smiled softly at him, shrugging a bit. “It usually is, but. I hadn’t heard from you tonight.”
“So you left your sound on for me?” Charles asked, biting down on his grin.
Max kept smiling at him. “Maybe.”
Silence washed over them as they looked at each other, smiling like a bunch of idiots at each other. Max was sunburned because he fell asleep on a lounger yesterday. He had sent pictures of his sunburned face over to Charles (who did not laugh at him) but it looked even redder today.
Charles wondered if he was hot to the touch.
“How was your day?” Charles asked quietly, so he wouldn’t ask him something stupid like are you hot to the touch? Because what the fuck, Charles.
“It was good,” Max said, smiling softly at him as he went into a long-winded story about everything he did that day from the moment he woke up. He told him about riding jet skis with his sister and making lunch for his nephews and how they refused to eat it until he cut the crusts off the sandwiches.
It did something very strange to Charles’ heart, and he almost got choked up about it.
Which was ridiculous, really.
Charles told him about his day afterward, how the climb went, how bad his thighs were aching. He told him about the soup his mum made and how he had somehow consumed four and a half bowls before he was finally full.
“I can’t believe you climbed a fucking mountain today.” Max laughed, sitting up in bed and smiling at Charles, more awake than he had been at the beginning of their call. “An ice-covered mountain. You’re crazy, you know that? That’s so dangerous. Does Ferrari know?”
“No, they do not.” Charles laughed loudly, “But I posted that video I sent you to my Instagram, so Silvia is probably typing a furious email as we speak.”
Max laughed, and it was like music to Charles’ ears. There was a beat of silence before Max said, “I’d rub your thighs for you if I were there.”
Charles groaned, his cock twitching at just the thought of it. “Stop it. Don’t make me hard.”
Max laughed louder, his eyes squinting with how much he was smiling. “Why not? I happen to like it when you’re hard.”
“Yeah, but you’re not here to do anything about it.”
Max chuckled and said, “You could touch yourself.”
“Max,” Charles whispered, laughing at him. “My baby cousins are sleeping in the room right next door to me.”
Max laughed, looking at him fondly. “So put your AirPods in and be quiet. I’ll talk you through it.”
Charles rolled his eyes, ignoring the ache in his cock. “Go back to sleep, horny boy.”
Max grinned at him and said, “Fine. I’ll just go jerk off by myself, I guess.”
Charles groaned, reaching down to palm himself. “Good. Send me pictures.”
Max laughed, and silence washed over them for a few moments as they grinned at each other.
Finally, Max whispered, “I miss you, baby.”
Charles' heart hurt so fucking bad. “I miss you, too, chéri.”
Max took a deep breath through his nose and held it before letting it out. He smiled tiredly at him, his eyes flicking across the screen. “I’m going to sleep now.”
“Me too,” Charles whispered.
Max smiled at him but didn’t hang up.
Instead, he whispered, “I wish you were here.” Charles' heart was going to break into a million pieces. Charles whined quietly, frowning at him. “You would be so pretty here, all sunkissed and covered in sand,” Max continued, quiet and fond.
Charles wouldn’t cry about it.
He wouldn’t.
They sat there in silence for a few more moments, even though they had both said they were going to sleep. It was starting to feel very no; you hang up first, so Charles finally took a deep breath and said, “Goodnight, mon cœur”
“Goodnight, baby.”
***
On Christmas Eve, he was sitting around the dinner table, sipping wine and sharing stories with his family with empty plates all around the table. It was still early in the evening, so he was surprised when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled his phone out and looked down at it under the table.
He couldn’t help but smile when it was an incoming FaceTime call from Max.
They had switched to nightly FaceTime calls instead of texting, but it usually wasn’t until later in the evening. Charles quietly excused himself, setting his napkin down and scooting his chair back. He grabbed his wine glass before quickly heading toward his room.
He accepted the call, shutting his bedroom door and turning the lock. The call finally connected, and Max’s blurry face filled his screen. He was on the move, the phone jostling around as he walked somewhere, but he came to a sudden halt when he could see Charles. He stopped under a porch light and smiled brightly at him, his eyes squinting with how hard he was smiling.
“Hi baby,” he said, and before Charles could say anything, he added: “my schatje, liefje, snoepje,” and about ten other Dutch endearments that Charles had never heard before, one after another. The words came out fast and excited, slurring together the faster he spoke.
Charles laughed, his heart aching at all the different names. Charles suddenly missed him so much that he couldn’t breathe.
“Are you drunk?” Charles asked, biting down on his smile.
“Yes, I am,” he easily admitted, tilting his head back with the force of his laugh. Then he was moving again, stepping back into the darkness. Charles could barely see what he was doing, but he didn’t care; he was just happy to hear from him. “Hold on. I’m almost there.”
“Almost where?” Charles mused, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
“Almost to where I’m going, of course,” Max said as if that cleared up any confusion.
“Oh, obviously,” Charles said sarcastically, ignoring how his heart was beating faster just by having a poorly connected FaceTime call with Max. “Will I be able to see you wherever you’re going?” he asked so that he wouldn’t say something stupid like, can we never hang up ever again?
“Yes, baby,” Max teased as if the question had been stupid, even though the screen was dark and Charles couldn’t see anything. It made Charles laugh, and his heart twisted again in his chest. “Obviously, there’s a lamp,” Max mocked his word, and Charles could hear the smile in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it.
“Perfect.” Charles chuckled, still working on containing his fondness.
Finally, Max stopped moving around and sat down outside somewhere.
True to his word, there was a light above him, and Charles was happy to see his face. Max’s hair was sticking in many directions, and his cheeks were flushed red. Charles wasn’t sure if it was from being in the sun all day or the alcohol, but he found it cute either way.
“Let me show you where I am,” Max said, turning the camera around to a bunch of darkness.
Charles laughed quietly and said, “I can’t see anything, mon amour.”
Max frowned when he turned the camera back around. “It would be easier if you were here. Then you could see it for yourself.”
Charles’ stomach twisted painfully, wanting that so bad it hurt. He cleared his throat and hoped he didn’t sound as love-struck as he felt when he said, “Describe it to me.”
“There’s like a-- it’s one of those-- fuck, I can’t think of the English word for it. It’s a fucking aanlegsteiger. It’s next to the house, and the boats stop there. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“A dock?” Charles chuckled, amused because, typically, Max was much better at English than he was.
“Yes! A dock. God, you’re so smart, baby,” Max said, eyes wide and earnest. “Anyway, I’m sitting on a dock, and there’s water and, and, and... fish probably, but I can’t see them because it’s dark. And it’s Christmas Eve, so they’re probably like. Home with their families or something,” he explained nonsensically.
Charles found it way cuter than he should, considering it was just a bunch of drunk rambling.
“It sounds lovely, chou,” he said, his words coming out soft. “Please don’t fall in.”
That made Max snort, his eyes going wide with amusement. “I won’t, but Victoria might.”
“Oh?” Charles laughed. “What the hell are you two drinking?”
“The owners of the house we’re staying at gave us this big, fancy bottle of tequila for Christmas... and Victoria and I may have drank the whole thing tonight.”
“Max,” Charles groaned, smacking a palm to his forehead. “You’re going to be so hungover in the morning,” he said with a loud laugh, letting his hand fall back down to his side and smiling brightly at him. “Please drink some water.”
“Victoria is drunker than I am!” Max said defensively, laughing so hard that it mostly came out as a wheeze. “My mum had to put the boys to sleep for her because Victoria would have dropped them!”
Charles couldn’t help but feel giddy with him, even though he hadn’t finished his first glass of wine. Max’s enthusiasm and drunken humor were a bit contagious. Charles laughed as he asked, “But you wouldn’t have dropped them?”
“No! I would never,” Max said with a serious expression. Charles smirked at him, and they spent a few moments just looking at each other, happy to be spending time with each other, even if it was from different parts of the world. Max’s eyes flicked across the screen for a second before he said, “I miss you, schatje.”
“I miss you too,” Charles said, watching a big smile spread across Max’s face.
“No, like... I really miss you.”
“Oh?” Charles asked, eyes bright. “How much?”
He may be taking advantage of drunken Max, who had even less of a filter than usual, but he wanted to hear it. He wanted to listen to every sappy thing Max was willing to say to him. He wanted to take every word, bottle it up, and save it for a rainy day.
“Like so much. Like this much,” Max said and set his phone down in his lap as he spread his arms out as wide as they would go. The angle was terrible, and Charles could barely see anything, but it made his eyes suddenly prickle and his nose sting.
“Wow,” Charles choked out, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s a lot.”
Max picked up his phone again, smiling at him with crinkly eyes. “I told you,” he said, shrugging a smug shoulder and smiling some more. There was another beat of silence before Max said, “I wish you were here with me.”
“Me too,” Charles said quietly, still oddly choked up about it.
“Ik kan niet stoppen met aan je denken,” (“I can’t stop thinking about you,”) Max said, and it made Charles whimper, even though he didn’t understand the words. “Ik wil gewoon zoenen en knuffelen en van je houden en ik wil je gewoon nooit meer loslaten.” (“I want to hold you and love you and kiss you and never let you go.”)
“What does that mean?” he asked quietly.
Max smiled softly at him. “It means... we should never spend three weeks apart ever again.”
“Max,” Charles whispered, trying hard not to start crying. He picked up his wine and downed the rest in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before setting it down on his dresser. Max watched his every move with drunk, glassy eyes.
“I’m sick of the beach,” Max said, pouting at him.
“No, you’re not. You love the beach.” Charles chuckled, sniffling his nose and sitting on the edge of his bed.
Max rolled his eyes dramatically.
“No, I’m sick of it. I just want to be home,” he whined, then added quietly: “I just want to be with you.” Max pouted more, sticking out his big bottom lip, making Charles’ heart flutter. He didn’t know if it was the tequila talking or if Max really missed him that much, but it was still playing with his emotions either way.
“Yeah?” Charles asked quietly, unable to find any other word.
“Yes,” Max confirmed with a stern nod of his head. “I want to hold you... and hug you... aaaanddd... kiss you!” He brought his hand up and started counting off on his fingers, and Charles felt like his heart would explode with how fond he was. “I want to wake up next to you and make you breakfast,” he continued, then frowned when he realized he was out of fingers.
“You’re going to make me cry if you don’t stop talking,” Charles warned quietly, looking at Max like he was the best thing he had ever seen. That made Max smile softly at him. Max opened his mouth to respond but then seemed to remember something more urgent, his eyes wide as he quickly changed topics.
“Wait! I have to tell you something,” he blurted out.
Charles was honestly a bit relieved because he had been very close to crying.
“Okay.” Charles chuckled, “What is it?”
“Don’t be mad,” Max said, eyebrows scrunching together in a serious expression.
“Oh no, what did you do?” Charles groaned. That made Max pout harder, his lip jutting out and his eyebrows mashing together. It made Charles laugh before he reigned himself in and said seriously, “Okay, baby. I won’t be mad. Just tell me.”
Max preened at the nickname and seemed to get a bit distracted by it.
Finally, he said, “I... told my mum about you.”
Charles took a deep breath through his nose, processing his words. His heart was beating much faster when he finally found his voice again. “Oh? What did you tell her?” he asked.
Max looked embarrassed, which must be alcohol induced because he was usually shameless. “Chaarrlleess,” he whined, dragging his name out, which made Charles’ eyes light up with amusement.
“Are you blushing?” Charles asked, jaw slowly dropping.
“I’m not blushing... I’m sunburned.”
“Mhmm.” Charles hummed, disbelieving, as he chuckled. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and he had no idea what to make of Max’s words. His voice was barely above a whisper when he repeated, “What did you tell your mum, baby?”
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me hard if you keep calling me that,” Max said, laughing frantically, his glassy eyes wide open. He still hadn’t answered the question, though, and it was slowly driving Charles crazy.
“Max, please,” Charles said with a pout. “I want to know.”
There was a moment of silence between them before Max finally took a deep breath and said quietly, “I told her how lovely you are.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Charles whispered, heart clenching in his chest.
“I told her that you’re all I can think about and that you’re the only person I want to spend time with. And I told her that it was you that I keep sneaking off to talk to every night,” he continued, his eyes getting smaller the harder he smiled. “I told her how happy you make me and how I’m slowly losing my mind every day I spend on this fucking beach, far away from you.”
“Max,” Charles whispered, tears blurring his eyes.
“I told her how sweet and funny you are,” Max said, his eyes locked on Charles through the pixelated connection. “And then, I told her that I...” Max hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek as the silence stretched between them.
“That you what?” Charles choked out, his voice shaky.
“That I’m in love with you.”
Max may have been drunk, but his words came out steady. Confident. He didn’t think he was in love with Charles... he was sure of it. Charles’ eyes filled with more tears, and he sucked in a ragged breath, unsure how to stop himself from full-on crying this time.
“Max,” he said, making a pathetic sobbing noise. “You’re never scared to say anything, are you?”
“Nope,” Max said quickly, shrugging his shoulder and grinning. They looked at each other for a long moment. Max didn’t look like he was expecting anything in return and wasn’t waiting for Charles to say anything back to him. Max didn’t say things so people would respond to them; he just had a lot of important feelings that he couldn’t keep inside.
“What did your mum say to all of that?” Charles asked, somehow finding his voice.
“Oh, she cried,” Max said, chuckling.
“What?” Charles asked breathlessly, not expecting that.
“She cries a lot, though. She’s like you.”
Charles’ jaw dropped, and he let out an affronted squeak. It made Max laugh loudly.
“I do not cry a lot,” Charles said, narrowing his watery eyes at him.
“You’re literally crying right now, mate.”
“How dare you,” Charles said, trying to contain his smirk. “Also, shut up,” he added, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes. It made Max laugh harder, his head tilting back and his eyes wide.
Charles hated how obsessed he was with making Max laugh, even at his own expense.
Max was in love with him.
Fuck.
“After she got done crying, she hugged me a lot and told me how happy she was for me,” Max added quietly, smiling softly at him. “I don’t ever talk about that stuff with her because... I’ve never had anybody worth telling her about.”
“But you wanted to tell her about me,” Charles whispered, wiping at his eyes again.
“Of course,” Max said simply.
Charles tried very hard not to whine at that. Instead, he said, “I told somebody about you, too.”
Max gasped quietly, “You did?”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” Charles said with a laugh. “You told your mum.”
“Yeah, but... I can’t shut up about you. I want to tell the whole goddamn world about you,” Max said, and he was making fun of himself, but his words twisted Charles’ heart even more. It wasn’t the first time Max said he wanted to tell the whole world about him, about them, and it took his breath away each time.
“I really enjoy that about you,” Charles admitted quietly.
“You do?” Max asked, trying to contain his grin.
“It’s nice to be wanted,” Charles said, his eyes watching Max’s expression. “It’s nice to have someone who isn’t ashamed of you, you know?”
Max breathed in deeply, running his fingers through his hair. He smiled at Charles and said, “Yeah, I know.”
“Hey,” Charles said, ensuring he had Max’s attention, even though his glassy eyes hadn’t wandered since their call started. “I feel that way about you, too,” he said, speaking slowly to ensure his words were clear. “I’m not good with talking about my feelings like you are, but... I feel the same way. I’m not ashamed of you or what you mean to me. I would be... very proud for the whole world to know how much I love you.”
“Baaaabbby,” Max whined, smiling so hard it must be hurting his face. “Fuck, are you trying to make me cry? Shit.”
Charles laughed quietly. “Maybe.”
Silence stretched between them for a few moments as they smiled at each other. Finally, Max seemed to shake himself out of it and asked, “So... who’d you tell?”
“My older brother, Lorenzo.”
There was a beat of silence before Max gestured with his hand and said, “Annnnnd?”
“And... he wasn’t very shocked,” Charles said, letting an amused puff of air out of his nose.
“What? What does that mean?” Max asked, laughing at him.
“Apparently, he’s thought for a while now that we would make a good match,” Charles said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He said it was a classic trope. Enemies to lovers. A tale as old as time,” he said, using air quotes around Lorenzo’s words at the end.
Max looked like his jaw was going to hit the floor. “Oh... my god.”
“I know. I wasn’t expecting that.” Charles laughed.
Max was suddenly frowning at him. “But... we were never enemies.”
“I know, mon amour. He was just teasing,” Charles said, watching as Max preened at the sweet nickname. “The point is... he was very supportive, and he was very happy for us.”
“What exactly did you tell him? Give me the play-by-play,” Max said, smirking at him. Charles looked at him for a moment before choosing to stay silent instead. That only made Max smile even harder. “Baby... what did you tell your brother?”
“I told him the truth,” Charles said quietly, his eyes flicking across Max’s features.
“Which is?” Max pressed.
“I told him you were mine,” he whispered, using the same word Max had used on the balcony two weeks ago.
“Fuck,” Max whined, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, why am I so fucking far away from you?” he groaned, bringing a hand up to tug at his hair. Charles couldn’t stop smiling at him. Max looked up at him then, shaking his head a bit as he whispered, “You’re so fucking lovely.”
“Max,” Charles whimpered, wishing more than anything they weren’t having this conversation over a shitty FaceTime call.
“Seriously, baby. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Max said, causing tears to return to Charles’ eyes.
Maybe he did cry a lot.
Maybe he could bond with Max’s mum about that.
“Are we moving too fast? Do you think we’re crazy?” Charles asked quietly, which caused a sharp laugh to burst out of Max’s lungs.
“No,” Max said, shaking his head. “What’s crazy is me looking up flights to Switzerland every night before I go to bed.”
That startled a sharp laugh out of Charles. “You what?”
“My recent Google searches are very embarrassing,” Max added, trying to hide his obnoxiously bright smile. “The little FBI man in my phone is probably so confused about why I want to go to Switzerland so bad.”
“Max,” Charles groaned, bringing his hand up to cover his warm cheek. He took a deep breath in before looking back at his phone. “Your family would miss you if you left.”
“Nah,” Max said, smirking at him. “I see them all the time. They’d be fine.”
That made Charles whimper again. “You wouldn’t-- you wouldn’t have any fun here. My family speaks French to each other... you’d have no idea what was going on.”
“I wouldn’t be coming to see your family, baby,” Max said, still smirking at him.
“Max,” Charles whined, bringing his thumbnail up to his mouth and chewing on it. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”
“Do you want me to send you my Google history?” Max asked with a loud laugh. “You have to promise to ignore all the Charles Leclerc topless photo searches and just look at the flights.”
Charles’ gaped at him, his cheeks bright red. “I’m going to kill you.”
“No, you won’t,” Max said, grinning ear-to-ear at him. “Oh, that reminds me. I will have to send Ferrari a gift basket to thank them for all the thirst traps they post of you. It’s really made this trip go by much faster.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Charles repeated, voice hysterical, all the blood rushing to his cock.
That only made Max laugh even harder.
They talked for another hour, teasing each other about this or that, telling each other stories they hadn’t sent over text messages, and being over-the-top sweet to each in between those things.
It was getting too late in the Maldives, and Max was starting to fall asleep outside on the dock.
“I’m not hanging up until you’re safely in bed,” Charles told him with strict eyes.
Max rolled his tired eyes at him, but it made him smile.
“Okay, baby,” he said as he hauled himself up from the dock and stumbled back towards the house. He got quiet once inside, stopping at the fridge to pour himself a large glass of cold water.
“Drink the whole thing,” Charles said when Max had only taken a sip.
“You know, this bossy side of you is really doing it for me,” Max whispered in the darkness of the kitchen. “Usually, I like to be in charge, but damn, baby.”
“Shut up and drink your water, Max,” Charles said, ignoring the heat that zipped down his spine.
“Yes, schatje,” Max said, grinning at him for a second before standing next to the kitchen sink and drinking the entire glass. He waved the empty glass around in front of the camera, making sure Charles saw it.
“Good boy,” Charles teased, winking at him.
Max gaped at him and said, “You’re making me hard.”
Charles laughed, smiling fondly at him as he watched Max tiptoe down the hallway to his bedroom. He set the phone down on the bathroom counter, giving Charles a nice view of the ceiling while he peed and brushed his teeth. Charles refused to be endeared by the whole situation. Finally, Max picked the phone up again, and Charles’ eyes widened when he realized Max was shirtless.
“Are you naked?” Charles asked, grinning at him.
“It’s hot here,” Max reasoned, trying to hide his smirk.
“Yeah, it is,” Charles said, staring at the dip of Max’s neck. He must have been very obvious, though, because Max laughed loudly at him. Max crawled into his bed and pulled the sheet up around his chin. He rolled on his side and propped his phone against the pillow next to him so he wouldn’t have to hold it.
“I wish you were lying next to me and not just on the phone.” Max pouted, rubbing his face into the pillow.
“Me too, mon amour,” Charles whispered, suddenly choked up again with how much he wanted that. “Would you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”
Max snorted quietly, his eyes flicking tiredly back and forth as he thought. “Normally, I’d say the big spoon. But right now, I could really go for some little spoon action.”
“Hmm, little spoon it is,” Charles said fondly, smiling softly at him. “Only another week, and then I will little spoon the hell out of you, okay?”
“Promise?” Max asked, eyes half closed and heavy.
“I promise, mon chou.”
“Mmm,” Max hummed, eyes barely open at all. It did something to Charles’ heart. Charles tapped on his phone, looking at the time, and realized it was well past midnight in the Maldives.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” Charles whispered, but Max was already asleep.
***
On Boxing Day, Charles had a slow morning. He had a slight hangover from all the wine he consumed on Christmas Day, and he didn’t have any plans, so he let himself sleep in. It was nearly 10 AM when he finally woke up, which was much later than he usually slept.
He rolled over and grabbed his phone, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he opened a picture Max had sent him two hours ago. Charles blinked at it, his mind tired and fuzzy until realization suddenly hit him. He quickly sat up and backed out of the picture, mashing the FaceTime button instead.
He didn’t even try and tame his bedhead as the call connected. Max’s face finally filled his screen, his eyes bright and his smile wide.
“Well, well. Look who finally woke up,” Max mused.
“Are you in Monaco?” Charles asked, his voice hoarse and deep.
“Yes,” Max said easily, biting down on his smirk. “Good morning to you, too, by the way.”
Charles laughed, just a bit too hysterical to hide his surprise. “Sorry. Good morning.”
“So you must have gotten my picture,” Max said, wiggling his eyebrows. The picture he had sent was a selfie taken from Max’s living room, his apartment purposely visible in the background. Charles opened his mouth to say something but snapped his mouth shut when no words came out. Max laughed and said, “Your hair looks cute, schatje.”
“Shut up,” Charles grumbled, still not bothering to fix it. “What are you doing there? Why are you home? When did you get home?” he asked, his questions coming out rapid-fire and heavily accented.
“I got home a few hours ago,” Max said, ignoring his other questions. “I took a redeye last night.”
Charles whined and said, “Max.”
“Yesss, baby?” Max asked his tone light and teasing.
Charles frowned at him. “Why are you home? You weren’t supposed to be home until after the new year.”
“I know,” Max said, then shrugged slightly. “I told you I was sick of the beach.”
Charles whimpered and was just about to respond when there was a light knock on his door, and then it cracked open. His mum stuck her head around the corner, smiling at him when they made eye contact. “Oh, bien, tu es réveillé. Peux tu m'aider dans la cuisine?” (“Oh, good, you’re awake. Can you help me in the kitchen?”)
Charles nodded and said, “Oui, maman.”
His mum looked at him for a second before a slow grin took over her face. “À qui tu parles?” (“Who are you talking to?”)
Charles looked down at his phone. Max was sitting on his couch, smirking at him even though he had no idea what they were talking about. Charles cleared his throat and looked back at his mother before saying, “Personne.” (“Nobody.”)
“Personne?” she teased, opening the door further and giving him a knowing look. “So you are not talking to Max Verstappen?” she asked, suddenly switching to English, making Charles’ jaw drop. Max couldn’t contain his laughter then, and it rang out clearly into the quiet room.
Charles groaned, slapping his forehead with his palm as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Maman!”
“Hi, Max!” she called out, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorway.
“Hello, Mrs. Leclerc,” Max said with a laugh, smiling brightly with crinkly eyes. Charles’ eyes widened as his mum moved further into the room, taking a few steps over to the bed and sitting next to him. She leaned against his shoulder to see his phone and waved at Max.
Charles was going to have a heart attack.
“Did you have a nice Christmas?” she asked, completely ignoring Charles and only talking to Max.
“Yes, it was lovely. I just got back home this morning.”
“Oh? Where were you?”
“With my family in the Maldives. It was a big house right on the water. It was gorgeous. I could give you the listing if you ever want to go on holiday there,” Max said, easily conversing with his mother and making Charles want to cry.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you had a good time,” she said, pinching Charles’ side and making him yelp. She smiled at the phone and asked, “How is your mother?”
Charles’ jaw dropped again as he looked between his mum and his phone. “I’m sorry. Do you two want me to leave?”
“Sure. Can you start peeling the potatoes for me, chouchou?” she asked and then grabbed the phone from his hand. Charles watched it go, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. He made no moves to get up and go anywhere, though, as she asked Max again, “How is Sophie? I haven’t seen her in so long.”
“She’s doing really well. She’s been busy with my nephews. She helps my sister out a lot with them,” Max said, perfectly fine with having an impromptu conversation with his mother.
Charles was going to die.
“Oh, I bet. Being a grandmother must be so much fun. I wouldn’t know,” she said, turning and glaring at Charles.
“Maman!” Charles squeaked, trying to grab his phone back from her and blushing bright red when Max laughed loudly. She laughed, too, holding the phone out of Charles’ reach and knowing he wouldn’t fight her too hard over it. “This is bullshit,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning at her.
“Watch your language,” she scolded, then smiled back at the phone. “I’ll let you two kids get back to your conversation. Tell your mother I said hello. Hopefully, we can get together at a race this year.”
“I’ll tell her,” Max assured her, smiling softly.
“It was good to speak to you finally,” his mum added. “Charles has been keeping you all to himself this trip. He can be very selfish sometimes, non?”
“Maman!” Charles groaned, bringing his hands back up to his face.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” she said, laughing as she handed the phone back to him. She leaned over and kissed Charles’ flushed cheek before finally standing and leaving the room, pulling the door shut on her way out.
“I’m so sorry,” Charles said with a nervous laugh. “She doesn’t have a filter, I swear.”
Max laughed, smiling fondly at him. “Don’t apologize, schat. Your mother is very sweet,” he said, chuckling still. He chewed on his lip for a second before he said, “I didn’t know she knew about us.”
“I didn’t either!” Charles said hysterically.
That only made Max laugh harder.
“Go help her with those potatoes,” Max said quietly, grinning at him. “They’re not going to peel themselves.”
Charles whimpered, bringing his hand up to one of his warm cheeks. “Okay.”
“Call me later?” Max asked, eyes hopeful.
“Of course,” Charles said, nodding quickly.
“Okay,” Max said, smiling softly at him. “Bye, baby.”
“Bye,” he whispered, forcing himself to end the call. He locked his phone and let it drop in his lap as he brought his hands back to his face.
What the fuck just happened?
***
Charles didn’t end up calling him later, though.
No, that would have been the rational thing to do.
Instead, he watched through the windows of the hired car as they pulled up outside Max’s apartment building. It was getting late in the evening, and the streets were empty and quiet. Charles hadn’t even gone home first, so he had to pull his big suitcase out of the trunk and pull his backpack straps over his shoulder.
Charles was being crazy.
And impulsive.
And presumptuous!
And it was all his mother’s fault.
When he had dragged himself into the kitchen that morning, he sat down at the table next to his mother and accepted the potato she silently handed him, along with an old metal peeler. He blinked at it for a few moments before taking a deep breath and peeling the cold potato in his hand.
“Tu veux en parler?” (“Do you want to talk about it?”) she asked, looking at him expectantly.
“Maman,” Charles whined quietly. His cheeks and neck were hot under her knowing eyes. She reached over and placed her hand on his wrist, stopping his work on the potato and making him look up at her.
“Tu sais que je t'aime, Charles. Toujours. Quoi qu'il arrive.” (“You know I love you, Charles. Always. No matter what.”)
Charles suddenly had tears back in his eyes because... he did know that. He knew that no matter what he did or who he chose to love, his mother would always stand behind him. She had never given him any reason to doubt that. She had never been anything other than supportive of him.
There was no reason to keep something this big from her.
So he took a deep breath and told her the whole story from the beginning while they deftly peeled an entire sack of potatoes together. He told her how open Max was with his feelings, how he was never afraid to say anything and was never embarrassed about how he felt for Charles.
He told her about their long conversation on Christmas Eve and that Max had said he loved him.
“Bien sûr qu'il t'aime,” (“Of course, he loves you,”) she said simply, handing him another potato. “Pourquoi ne le ferait-il pas?” (“Why wouldn’t he?”)
“Maman,” Charles whined, wiping at his eyes and staring down at the table.
“Tu l'aime?” (“Do you love him?”) she asked, finally setting down her peeler and turning to face him. Charles sniffled and wiped at his eyes. He looked over at her, at the soft smile she had on her face, and finally nodded his head.
“Oui,” he whispered. “De tout mon coeur.” (“With all my heart.”)
“Alors pourquoi tu es encore là?” (“So what are you still doing here?”) she asked, reaching over and gently taking the potato and peeler out of Charles’ hands. She smiled softly at him and said, “Allez. Être avec lui.” (“Go. Be with him.”)
And that was how Charles found himself in his current situation, standing on the sidewalk outside of Max’s building, staring up at it again as he had two weeks before. Except for this time, he had way too much stuff with him, it was after 9 PM, and he was in love with Max Verstappen.
Fuck.
Charles’ eyes caught movement as the doorman, Harry, pushed open the lobby door and smiled at him. “Good evening, Mr. Leclerc.”
“Hello, how are you?” Charles greeted politely, reaching out to shake his hand.
“Very well, thank you, sir. Are you here to see Mr. Verstappen?”
“Yes... yes, I am.” Charles laughed a bit hysterically.
Harry gave him a funny look but held the lobby door open all the same. “Would you like some help with your luggage, sir?”
“No, I’ve got it. Thank you,” Charles said, grabbing the handle of his suitcase and following Harry inside the lobby. They made polite conversation as Harry swiped his keycard in the elevator for him and then wished each other a good evening. Charles watched the doors to the elevator close and took a deep, steadying breath in through his nose.
Max was in love with him.
He was in love with Max.
It really could be that simple.
He laughed again as the doors finally opened because no matter how simple it was, he still felt like his knees would give out at any moment. He stepped out of the elevator, his big suitcase rolling behind him, and stepped up to Max’s door. He took another deep breath in and then finally knocked.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, tugging at the straps of his backpack for something to do with his hands. A few moments passed before Charles heard the lock turn, and then the door opened.
And suddenly, it was like all the air was shoved out of his body. It was like the heavens opened up and rained down on him after the longest, driest drought in the world.
It was like everything in his life finally clicked into place.
“Fuck, I was hoping that was you,” Max said breathlessly before surging forward and kissing Charles. “I wanted that to be you so bad,” Max said, emotions heavy in his voice as he kissed Charles again, pulling and tugging at his arms.
Charles had tears in his eyes when they finally pulled back.
“Hello, mon amour,” Charles whispered, reaching up to touch Max’s cheek. It made Max whine, pushing into the touch.
“Welcome home, baby.”
***
The start of a new season was always Charles’ favorite part of the year. Winter break was always a great way to recharge, but there was nothing quite like showing up to the racetrack for the opening race of the season. All the pre-season testing had been done, Thursday media obligations had passed, and it was finally the first Friday on the calendar.
It was always Charles’ favorite day. This year was no different.
Except... it was. It was totally different.
This year he had a boyfriend.
He had been with Max for three months and never wanted to be away from him again. He hadn’t realized what he was missing until Max came along. They had spent the last three months falling so deeply in love with each other that it was honestly a bit embarrassing.
They had told their families immediately because they didn’t want to keep secrets from them, but they hadn’t taken the relationship public yet. It was nice to spend three uninterrupted months together without the media inserting themself into their relationship like the world’s most unrequested thrupple.
But now it was the start of a new season, and they didn’t want to have to pretend they weren’t madly in love with each other. Charles wasn’t even sure he’d be able to keep the act up, even if they tried. His brothers always pointed out his dumb, love-struck expression he got whenever he looked at Max.
There’s no way the fans wouldn’t pick up on it, either.
So two weeks before the season, they sat in a conference room somewhere between Milton Keynes and Maranello and told their team bosses and PR managers that they would make their relationship public at the start of the season.
They weren’t looking for their permission; they were just telling them the facts.
They hadn’t known what to expect but anticipated at least a little bit of pushback. But instead, they were met with open arms and smiling faces. Both teams highly accepted it and promised they’d do everything possible to ensure the situation was handled correctly.
Fred and Christian were going to put out a statement at the same time as Max and Charles’ scheduled Instagram posts, publicly backing their drivers and letting everyone know where they stood in this situation.
Meaning: yes, their drivers were in a relationship.
Yes, they’d still be fighting each other for the championship.
And, no, they wouldn’t tolerate abuse towards them under any circumstances.
Charles had cried on the way back to their hotel and swore he saw a tear in Max’s eye too.
Now, everyone was in Bahrain for the start of the season. It was a hot, sunny day in Bahrain, even though it was barely past 10 am. The sun was shining in his eyes, and the air was thick, but nothing would bring Charles down today.
Any minute now, their teams would publish all the pre-scheduled and pre-approved statements and social media posts, letting the world know that Charles and Max were together and happily in love. It made his heart pound every time he thought about it, but not because he was second-guessing anything.
Max was the only thing in this life he was ever sure about.
They arrived at the track together and pulled themselves out of the black SUV and onto the dirt parking lot. From the corner of Charles’ eye, he saw a bleached blonde Alex Albon getting out of another car with his physio.
Charles blinked at him as a wide grin slowly took over his face.
He hadn’t seen Alex since the end of last year.
He turned to Max and said, “Give me a second, yeah?”
“Of course, baby,” Max said, smiling softly at him. He took Charles’ backpack from him and watched as Charles jogged off across the parking lot, heading directly towards Alex’s car.
He swore he heard Max laughing at him once he realized where he was going.
He finally rounded the car and said, “Hey, Albon!”
Alex turned around, smiling with all his teeth showing when they locked eyes.
“Hello, Charlie,” he said, but barely got the words out before Charles tackled him back against the car in a tight hug. Alex laughed, awkwardly patting Charles’ back, but Charles refused to let go. “Um... I missed you too, mate,” Alex joked, patting his shoulder more.
Charles finally pulled himself back, staring up at Alex and shaking his head.
“What the hell was that for?” Alex laughed.
“I never thanked you,” Charles said a bit breathlessly.
“For what?”
“For giving Max my number,” he said, smiling hard enough that he knew he looked crazy. Alex’s eyes darted over his shoulder and must have finally locked on Max, standing there with Charles’ bright red Ferrari backpack in his hands. Realization slowly spread across Alex’s face, his eyes wide and bright.
“Are you two...?” Alex trailed off, the wheels still turning in his head as he put two and two together.
Charles didn’t answer him.
Instead, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him in a more civilized, less painful, but still heartfelt hug. They stood there for a few moments, awkwardly hugging for too long before Charles finally pulled back.
He readjusted the cap on his head and smiled brightly up at Alex. “Thanks again, Albono.”
Alex laughed loudly and said, “You’re welcome... I guess.”
Charles punched his shoulder without any force behind it before winking and turning back towards Max. They started walking toward the paddock entrance together, knowing the media would be waiting for them. Netflix was following Red Bull for the opening day since they were the reigning champs, so they knew there’d be a group of cameramen waiting for them on the other side of the turnstiles.
They stopped just on the other side, hidden from view behind a blue fence. Max turned to him, gently handing his backpack over. “Are you ready, schat?”
“Of course. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, mon amour.”
Max smiled at him and reached down to grab his hand, tucking their fingers tightly together and squeezing. Charles had no plans on letting go of his hand. Charles wanted the cameras to see them.
He wanted the whole fucking world to see them.
Fuck, he loved Max so much.
Max looked over at him one more time and smiled at him.
“Come on then, baby. Let’s fully send it.”