Chapter Text
Charles Leclerc's POV
Since I was little, I was taught that showing emotions was a sign of weakness, and I'm not talking about the structural sexist concept that men shouldn't cry; showing any emotion was a sign of weakness. I couldn't laugh, or frown too much, but I couldn't be too serious either: I had always to wear the same polite smile everywhere, which drove me nuts. My parents and many etiquette teachers made me feel like Monalise - I had to smile, but nobody could tell what I was feeling.
That's why I couldn't, and still can't connect. My parents set me up for arranged dates ever since I turned 13, and I hated it - it's not like our family was influential, and our country was small - the high-society girls I went out with just wanted to date me.
During my youth, up until now, the media loves me - they dig and thirst for anything revolving around my personal life, but I'm not the type to let those slip; I've been dealing with paparazzi everywhere since the start of my pubescent years. And not only the Monaco papers wanted a piece of my name, but international news sources were desperate as well, and all because I'm the "beautiful, polite, down-to-earth prince" - but that's just their idea of me. I'm none of those things, I just tricked everyone into believing I was.
I'm not beautiful, maybe my appearance tricks the masses - but deep down, my soul is rotten, numb - it's ugly.
I'm not polite, I could destroy the idealized version of me with one sentence describing how I truly feel about pesky reporters who don't know how to mind their damn business.
And, I'm not down-to-earth. How could I be? I was born with not silver, but a gold spoon in my mouth. I'll never know how normal people live, never.
I'm depressed. I feel like I have lost my own identity and it seems impossible to rediscover it. I have been repressing my true desires, so they never resurface, and as a result, I have no clue who I am. Well, I do have a clue, but I refuse to acknowledge it: I refuse to accept that I am attracted to men, that I hate my father, and that the dipsomaniac tendencies are getting stronger as I get older, thanks to him.
So, to keep my sanity, once a month I let them roam free. I go to bars, sleep with random dudes, and pay them hefty amounts to keep their mouths shut and drink. A lot. And I've never been caught. Today was one of those nights, I dressed up differently than usual, I did my hair in another way and shaved my beard.
I take my bike and head towards one of the clubs I usually go to, where the owner knows me and knows what I'm doing. I dare say he's my only, true friend - I met Carlos in a club, he helped me hide from paparazzi looking around for me, somebody had tipped them off that I was there. We hid together in the bathroom, and he didn't demand anything out of it, then I realized good people exist. Since then, I have gone to his club and confided in him, as much as he does in me. Getting inside the club was like a thermal shock, the lights and lasers were blinding, bright purple, pink, and blue; people were dancing, grinding on each other, drinking, the temperature was hot and it was so familiar, more familiar than my own father’s arms. I head towards the bar, as usual. I sit down on one of the stools while smiling warmly at Carlos, signaling him to bring me the usual, I look around me and notice a man hunched on the bar, and my jaw drops. He was the most attractive person I had ever seen, and I had seen a lot of famous people, but they didn’t compare to the man beside me. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck as he turns to stare at me with his piercing blue eyes, and my heart starts beating faster.
Britney was one of my favorite artists, but I couldn’t give a shit about the song of hers they were playing right now. I just wanted to reach out and touch the man before me. I swallow dryly as his gaze doesn’t back away from me, and I smile, embarrassed. He smiles back, and I genuinely feel butterflies in my stomach as his eyes wrinkle on the sides and his smile lines show. I thought falling in love at first sight was a myth.
He opens his mouth to say something and I feel my breath hitch in my throat:
— Hey, I'm Max. What's your name, beautiful? — he screams, and my stomach does a flip as I hear his name: Max? Suits him. My cheeks blush a crimson red as I hear him calling me “beautiful” and I reply:
— Hi, I'm Charles — I scream back as the chorus to "Toxic" started and everyone and their mothers start singing it. I normally would’ve started singing along, but I only wanted to take Max’s mouth into mine
— Nice to meet you, Max — I came close and gave him two kisses on each cheek. I 100% did this to get him aroused, I lingered a moment too long, breathing into his ear. I then saw his eyes darken with desire as he took my hand and kissed it, and I felt myself melt under his touch - and my cock twitching.
He then backed away and said:
— Nice to meet you too. How come the most beautiful person here is all alone?
I start to blush profusely as I take the sight of his blonde hair against the purple lights and his mischievous smile, and even more mischievous words, in; before saying:
— Well, I'm here because of that, I'm looking for company.
Still holding on to my hand, he said with that smile of his that already had me drawn in:
— Mind if I help you with that? Let's go to the dancefloor — he got up and dragged me along, and everyone around us seemed to disappear, I didn’t care for my special drink Carlos was preparing, or if anyone was going to recognize me, it was as if only us existed here.
I smiled brightly and followed along towards the dance floor, our fingers intertwined.
“Crazy in Love” by Beyoncé and Jay-Z started playing, and I managed to stifle a laugh. We meddled through the crowd of people on the dancefloor and landed a solid spot for both of us. I start lip-synching the song and singing it to him, jokingly and lightheartedly.
His hand flew to my hips, and I let out a genuine gasp. I was going to be mortified before he managed to pull me closer, our faces inches apart. I smiled giddily, tilted my head, and let my hips sway side to side under his touch. I witnessed Max biting his lower lip, and I started to feel flustered. No man had ever affected me like this, but he managed to make me feel like a schoolgirl.
I turn around, his hand still on my hip as I sway on his bulge. On purpose, of course, I had to get this man in bed.
He quietly groaned into my ear and squeezed the piece of my covered skin he was holding onto, and I let out a low chuckle, I turned around again and whispered into his ear:
— Max, we should go to your place…