Chapter Text
Mint, is the first thing that comes to Max’s mind as he crosses the finish line in Silverstone.
“Simply lovely,” he says instead, not paying attention to Christian’s praise of his race, who is probably one of the few Brits happy about his win. The crowd is fuming, Max knows that much. Still, he makes sure to wave to them, stood on his car parked in front of the number 1 plate.
Lando, of course, looks absolutely miserable, already pouting on his designated chair as Max enters the cooldown room.
“Great race, mate!”
At least Lewis, still an unfamiliar sight dressed all in red, is in the mood for congratulations. Max heart still skips a beat whenever he sees a Ferrari pull up next to him in parc fermé, only to feel the slightest disappointment hit when he spots the world famous 44 instead of the number 16 he was hoping for.
“Thanks man, you too.”
Highlights of the race start playing on TV, drowning out the uncomfortable silence. The screen shows Lando’s mistake in turn 4 which allowed Max to put himself into position for the win early in the race. Max nods at Liam gaining three positions in the first lap and wonders how Ollie and Esteban made it through the first couple of turns without making contact.
“Whoa!”
Max and Lewis share a quick glance as they look at the replay of Charles’ fight with Oscar. Lap after lap, their positions keep swapping, one move more impressive than the next. In the end, Charles manages to keep the upper hand and secures a P4, Oscar trailing close behind in P5
“I’m surprised she didn’t lose the car there.” Lewis nods at the slow-motion capture of Charles’ Ferrari sliding over the kerb.
Max isn’t.
“I think that might be overtake of the month,” he muses instead.
Austria still stings, but despite what he told Charles, he still considers her one of the few drivers on the grid that are fully on his level.
Besides, he did apologize for insulting her.
Sort of.
Kinda.
Not that he still thinks about Charles moaning his name basically every waking second.
The podium itself is an experience and despite the forced smile and happiness, Max is somewhat relieved when he finally makes his way back to the safe space of his room in the hospitality. He is done with pretending to not hear the boos, happy to be freshly showered and in clothes that don’t cling to his sweaty body.
“Hello Max.”
He nearly drops his freshly opened Red Bull can as he enters his room to a familiar figure lounging on his couch.
“Charles?!”
The door behind him slides shut as he rubs his eyes in disbelief. Still, Charles is sitting right there, feet propped up on the couch and smooth legs on full display. Max wonders if the mark he left behind is still visible on the skin covered by jeans shorts.
“Congratulations on the win.”
Charles’ bright giggles fill the room but she doesn’t get up. Instead, she picks some fluff off her red polo shirt and tosses it onto the floor where she graciously left her sneakers before occupying Max’s couch. For someone that sticks out like a polar bear in the desert, Charles looks surprisingly relaxed.
“Mate, how the fuck did you get in here?”
Charles shrugs in lieu of an answer.
“I would’ve loved to be on the podium with you. But Oscar was really quick today, I had to work hard to keep him behind. I honestly didn’t think McLaren would be this strong here after how they looked in the long runs, but it’s like this.”
“What are you doing here, Charles?”
He needs to have a serious word about security with Christian if a walking Ferrari billboard manages to march right into not only the hospitality, but his personal area as well.
“I work.”
She points at the prancing horse on her chest, the logo that should’ve made it impossible for her to get even close where she is right now.
“Of course.” Only that Charles always got what she wanted, with those sparkling eyes and sweet dimples. “But this is my room, not the race track. So.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She rolls her eyes at him and sighs before getting up and closing the distance between them, only stopping when Max can smell her perfume. Vanilla, something sweet. A smell that invites him to have a taste.
“Are you going to kick me out?”
Charles’ gaze drops to where their chests are almost touching. Bright red and dark blue. If they bled together, the result would have the color of fresh bruises left on fair skin. The ones that fade into black, then green, yellow. The ones that hurt for weeks. Fitting, Max thinks.
“I don’t mind talking to you, of course, but I’d like to relax a little before I leave. Brits are not the best crowd when you are Dutch.”
“Mate.” Charles chuckles. “Everyone out there wants your head.”
Even more concerning that Charles managed to get here without anyone stopping her. Or maybe they did but couldn’t resist her asking to be let in. Not that Max could blame them, of course not.
Not after everything that happened in Austria and how willingly he let her pleasure become his only priority.
“Which is of course nothing new.”
“Absolutely not.”
The green of her eyes is sparkling like the Côte d’Azur on a sunny morning after a storm, Charles’ dimples on full display. She looks so sweet, but Max has known her for long enough to never trust the innocent face of an angel. A glint in her eyes might look sweet, but Max knows she is out for blood.
“But it was never that hot before.”
“It’s colder than in Abu Dhabi, so.”
Max’s attempt to hide his embarrassment behind the Red Bull can is stopped mid movement by slender fingers that wrap around the can, brushing against his own and sending sparks flying through his body.
“Hmm.”
Charles hums as she takes the drink from Max’s grasp without meeting any resistance, bringing it to her lips and making sure to stare at Max as she drops her head back. Her throat is exposed for little more than a second, yet Max watches mesmerized how the muscles and skin move as she swallows.
Next time, he swears to himself, should Charles bless him with a next time, he is going to make sure to kiss his way along her neck, nibble on the sensitive skin until Charles is writhing.
“Good,” is her verdict as she licks her lips.
If he kissed her now, she’d taste just like him, Max muses as he watches breathlessly how her tongue laps up the gloss the drink has left behind.
She’d taste like Red Bull, like adrenaline, like speed.
The only difference between them is that kissing Charles would taste like sunshine as well.
And the longer she just stands there, holding eye contact with Max, the harder it becomes to not close the distance between them. To not find out how sunshine and rain mix together.
It’s when his eyes flicker to her lips once more that she drops to the floor, now staring up at him.
“Charles, what the fuck are you doing here?”
She blinks at him, once, and sets the Red Bull can on the floor instead of answering. A sudden movement that throws her off balance and before Max can fully process what is happening, Charles has steadied herself by holding onto his legs.
“Take your pants off.” She tugs on the fabric and Max feels like he is burning alive. “Come on.”
“Charles.”
“Teach me how to suck your dick, Max.”
If Max wasn’t half-hard in his pants before, he most certainly is now. Charles is looking at him expectantly, a smile tugging on her pink lips.
Lips she wants on him, apparently.
Which, in an ideal world in which Max isn’t currently overthinking every interaction that has led them to this point, is a no-brainer. Refusing a blowjob from the most beautiful woman to have ever walked the planet would easily earn Max the title of stupidest man alive. Especially since Charles seems hell bent on the idea of sucking him off, now happily nuzzling his thigh and kissing him through the fabric.
At the same time, this is still Charles, his Charles. Someone who deserves so much more than a cheap driver room floor and roughly thirty minutes before someone comes banging on the door.
Besides, if the media and whispers are correct, should he really be greedy and take all her firsts when at the end of the day, he is just someone Charles races a little over twenty weekends a year?
“Can we talk ab-?”
“Non.”
Charles is frowning as he finds himself face to face with her again, the palm of her hand now pressed against his mouth. Max refuses the urge to lick it.
“Are you sure?“ he asks when Charles drops her hand again.
Curtesy demands it, even though he knows it’s not necessary. He knows the fire burning within Charles all too well, knows how far she is willing to go if she has set her eyes on a target. If there is one thing they are both unable to do, it is backing down from getting what they want.
“I was the one who came to you, no?”
And really, who is Max to argue with that logic when Charles is pushing him towards the couch? He goes willingly, a laugh escaping his chest as his legs hit the soft cushion. Unlike last time, Charles is smiling right back at him, shoulders relaxed and laughing right along with him. Unlike last time, Sunshine is flooding his room today, making it impossible to miss even the tiniest reaction on Charles’ face.
One second, she is laughing, the next she seems lost, a speck of red misplaced in a sea of blue. A small flicker of insecurity, like in Austria.
The media is right, Max’s brain whispers immediately.
“Unless you don’t want me.”
Charles has wrapped one arm around herself and is chewing on her thumb, now avoiding any eye contact with Max.
It’s honestly endearing how Charles still thinks he isn’t completely obsessed with her, that she isn’t haunting his wildest dreams and all he could think of every time he wrapped his hand around himself ever since he'd gotten a taste of her.
And when has he ever given a single fuck about what some sensation seeking asshole or beau that withers without attention had to say about anything?
“Charles, you have no idea just how much I want you.”
Besides, most of these people didn’t even know Charles existed back when she first pushed him off track.
“Perfect, let’s go!” And within a heartbeat, Charles whole face lights up again. It takes her less than two steps to close the distance to Max and shove him onto the couch with a force that is entirely unnecessary.
After all, she can send him spiraling with just one look.
“Here.” Charles wearily looks at the pillow Max is handing her. “For your knees.”
“Thank you!”
The polite tone, the one reserved for the most pretentious of journalists, forces another laugh out of Max’s chest as Charles gets herself comfortable between his legs. In a way she reminds him of his cats, wiggling on the pillow until she is satisfied with her position and acting like Max doesn’t exist for a moment.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Max’s voice, rougher than he remembers it to be, seems to get him Charles’ attention back, as she extends her hands towards him, of course stopping a mere fraction of a second before she reaches the zipper of his pants and touches him where he desperately wants her to.
“Oh come on! Why do you need to wear these?”
“I can of course not walk around naked.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Her hands grip onto his thighs, unsuccessfully attempting to pull the fabric away from his skin. And while Charles means to tease him, the way she is involuntarily pinching his skin, the way how small her beautiful hands look against his thighs is rapidly reducing Max’s ability to think straight.
And yeah, his dick is definitely interested in exploring how Charles’ rings feel against it.
“How am I supposed to take them off?”
“Want me to help?”
“Mhm.” He waits for the blush to fully taint Charles’ cheeks pink before he moves, slowly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, all while Charles stares at his crotch like she can dissolve the piece of cloth just by staring.
And who is Max to keep a lady from getting what she wants?
Although, maybe Charles is right.
The pants are somewhat inconvenient to take off.
“Happy now?” He gets his answer the second he sits back down, only in boxers that do little to hide how excited he is to see Charles on her knees, as she latches onto the skin of his thigh and starts humming happily.
If someone had told Max ten minutes ago that his day would end with Charles kissing and licking her way up his legs, he would’ve declared them as crazy. Yet here she is, eyes closed and sucking a bruise onto his skin. Perhaps a payback for the one he left, perhaps she too hopes he will look at it for days to come and remember the exact feelings of wet lips against dry skin.
“Charles, I really think we should talk.”
“’m busy.”
Her voice is muffled as she doesn’t care to take her lips off his skin for even a moment. Straightforward has never been their thing. Their paths have always crossed in the most peculiar of places, the ones most people dread, the ones the two of them long for.
Max lets his head roll back with a groan, one he doesn’t know whether to attribute to arousal or frustration. Usually, Charles’ competitiveness turns him on. This time, it feels like it might be entirely misplaced.
“I just don’t want you to think you have to repay me for Austria or anything.”
“Mate.” A frustrated noise from Charles, and soft nibbles on his skin turn into sharp pain.
“Fuck, Charles, what was that for?!”
“Wanted to do that for ages.” She grins at him, canines looking sharper than ever before she contently licks over the bite mark left behind. Max’s brain goes offline. “So pretty.”
“OW!” Another bite, another jolt sent through his body and straight to his dick. “Why are you trying to eat me?!”
“You like it.”
Charles states with a wink, the kind that scrunches her whole face up for a second and looks more like a grimace gone wrong than anything else. It’s a gesture that Max has only ever received when both of them had ended up on the podium and he seriously hopes he doesn’t have some weird response next time she winks at him in front of a dozen cameras.
Especially since Charles’ next move has her palming him through his boxers, barely doing more than briefly resting her hand against the fabric, but still enough for Max to draw in a sharp breath.
“If you bite my dick as well, I will throw you out.”
“Oh, come on, why would I do that?”
There she sits, arms crossed, gaze flicking between Max’s face and dick.
In a way the situation reminds Max of FP1. A lot of talk, some fighting. No real results.
“You are currently chewing on my legs, so.”
“Mate, you have no idea how hot your thighs are. I’m surprised no one caught me staring yet.”
Whatever response he’d been hoping for, it certainly wasn’t Charles openly admitting to ogling him at every chance she got. Next time he’s stepping into the paddock, he knows what she is thinking about when she lets her eyes wander lower. Next time he can’t hide behind blissful ignorance but will be forced to think about how Charles looked sucking red marks onto the thighs she apparently considers hot.
Max desperately tries to hide his burning cheeks behind his hands, Charles back to peppering his skin with kisses.
“Don’t hide, baby.”
Her voice sounds sweet, syrupy, engulfing Max and sticking to him. Charles has him under her spell, and she needed barely more than a couple touches and a little talk of sweet nonsense. Would it be anyone else kneeling between his legs, he’d probably be embarrassed about ruining his reputation as a strong and dominant guy like that.
Never with Charles.
Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, committing every sensation to his memory.
“Look at me.”
He allows himself one more moment in darkness, revelling in the feeling of Charles pressing a feather-light kiss against his clothed dick.
“Charles…”
Max barely recognizes his own voice, all rough around the edges. Still, he follows her command and drops his hands to find her smiling at him.
“Good boy.” Max can’t help but wonder how they went from her asking him for what basically sounded like dick sucking lessons to him being a blushing mess, while Charles is now confidently tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
“Can I?”
“All yours.”
His attempt to sound relaxed as he lifts his hips for Charles to pull the boxer shorts down his legs does little to hide how nervous he feels. If his heart started beating any faster, Max is pretty sure it would jump right out of his chest. And if it would, Charles would be right there, finally holding what had been hers all along.
In a desperate attempt to not lose it, he decides to focus solely on the image in front of him for a moment.
The sunlight paints Charles’ hair a color that reminds Max of expensive metal or gems, only for the selected few to touch, an elite crowd is is selfish enough to count himself in. Her hands are once again resting against his thighs, only that this time she doesn’t move.
All Charles does is stare at him with those big eyes that hold whole galaxies inside them and Max has to fight the urge to cover himself up again.
Usually, he was quite happy with how he looked. He may not be as ripped as some of his coworkers, but he still knew he was more athletic than the average person, a positive side effect of the job.
But unlike Charles, he didn’t look like someone the Ancient Greek would turn into statues and worship at the temple, her beauty forever engraved in marble.
“You’re so pretty for me, baby.”
Still, there is something so genuine about the way Charles smiles at him, that Max feels like the weird feeling in his stomach isn’t all due to the fact that the most beautiful woman in the world is about to suck his dick.
“Charles!”
“What?” Her eyes go wide, a moment before Max can tell she is going into full concentration mode, a small frown forming between her thick eyebrows. “I’m going to need some guidance here.”
Which, under normal circumstances Max is more than happy to offer. After all, good communication with his partners is something that he’s always considered useful.
Only that his mind goes blissfully blank when Charles sticks her tongue out and slowly drags it over the tip of his dick, eyes closed, as if she wants to shift her full focus to how he feels against her. She repeats the movement before leaning back, looking at Max with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes and smacking her lips, as if to sample the taste.
There is something so endearing about the gesture, Max can’t help but reach out and cup her cheek with one of his hands, feel how her muscles work beneath his touch as she leans in to lick him again, fully focused on his tip for now.
“You can use your hands,” Max’s brain helpfully decides to provide and Charles sees it as her invite to drag the tip of her fingers along his skin, up his legs and onto his stomach, fingernails catching on sensitive skin where Charles chewed on them.
It’s when she’s pushing his polo shirt further up to trail along the fine line of hair on his lower abdomen, that her hair she carefully tucked behind her ears falls back into her face.
Charles huffs frustrated, thankfully not letting go of Max but at the same time unable to get the strand back out of the way with just one hand.
Maybe she should’ve left it in the French (Monegasque?) braid she’s been wearing at every race ever since she decided to no longer chop her hair down to the boyish pixie that would haunt Max younger self’s nightmares.
Wanting to help her out, Max runs his hands along her scalp, Charles humming happily at the feeling. It’s when his fingers catch on a small knot that he immediately has her staring him down with a death glare.
“Don’t do that!” She swats his hand like it’s a fly sitting on her head. “My hair is sensitive!”
“Sorry, sorry!” He moves to grip the couch instead, knuckles turning white as he presses his fingers into the fabric when Charles presses kisses against his stomach.
“Why did you stop touching me?”
Max blinks at her.
“I thought you wanted me to stop, so.”
“Absolutely not.” She laughs, for a reason Max is lacking the blood supply in his brain to decipher. “Just don’t pull on it.”
A quick command and she is back to the task at hand, wrapping her lips around his dick and moving her tongue against it experimentally. The small frown on her forehead returns and this time she doesn’t let go of Max as he combs his fingers though her hair and lets them rest against the back of her head.
Charles’ hands are once again resting against his thighs, almost as if she is not yet ready to multi-task, not that Max minds, with her wet and warm mouth wrapped around him.
“Wait.”
Charles sits back, and Max wishes he could frame the image in front of him, Charles’ pink lips wet with spit and a beautiful blush adorning her face.
“Not planning to lea-“
Whatever dumb joke he’d been trying to make gets lost in silence when Charles pulls her Polo over her head and Max finds himself downright staring at her.
“Can’t get it dirty,” she explains with a shrug before licking along his entire length, leaving a wet trail behind. “I still have to see the team later.”
“You’re so beautiful.”
Unlike last time, she definitely came here with a plan judging by the bright red lace adorning her breasts. Max has seen Charles in various states of undress before, from her wearing crop tops that leave little to the imagination to pictures of her working out and showing off her muscular body to the camera. Still, he is fascinated how someone can look so strong and yet so delicate at the same time.
Between his legs, Charles is humming happily at the praise, sending a jolt through Max’s body as she tries to take just the tiniest bit more of him.
“Less teeth,” Max chokes out, one eye pinched shut. “Please.”
“Got it.”
Charles shoots him an apologetic glance before going at it again, this time without causing any pain to Max.
“That’s it, good job.”
Realistically speaking, he’s always known Charles likes hearing how well she is doing. He’s seen her push her car to the limits of what was possible and beyond countless times, has seen how well she holds up during races with words of encouragement.
But to experience firsthand how praise mixes with confidence is something else entirely, Max losing himself in the tight, wet heat surrounding his dick.
Only that Charles also has a history of pushing limits a little too hard.
One second, she tries to take just a little more of him, the next she is spluttering and coughing.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
She gives him a quick thumbs up and coughs again, giving herself only a moment of recovery before she wets her lips and takes Max in her mouth again.
Realistically speaking, this is far from the best blowjob he’s ever gotten. Some of his previous partners could easily swallow his whole length or had tricks up their sleeves that had him seeing stars. Charles can hardly keep a rhythm and uses her hands for little more than steadying herself and holding his dick in place.
Still, he wishes they could do this all the time, just experimenting with drawing pleasure from one another’s bodies.
“You’re doing so good.”
He could do this all the time too, praising Charles and marveling the way she starts beaming at his words. It’s a little bit like adding fuel to an already raging fire, as Charles pulls off, tilts her head sideways to kiss and lick her way along his dick, positively drooling in the process of doing so.
And oh.
She’s definitely a quick learner as slender finger now fully wrap around his dick and start moving experimentally.
“A little more pressure.”
There are a lot of times where people doubt Max’s judgement, even though he knows he is right. This time, he’s convinced everyone would agree that Charles’ rings are the cherry on top of her jerking him off.
“Just like- Fuck!”
Max is pretty sure someone must’ve heard that, with how paper-thin the walls tend to be. So what. This is Formula 1, it’s about time they have a big scandal again. Fine him for swearing or whatever, he really couldn’t care less.
Maybe he should ask for walls made of glass next time, showing the whole world with how much enthusiasm none other than Charles Leclerc is on her knees for him, eyes closed and looking content as she bops her head and flicks his wrist in a way that has him seeing stars.
“Charles.”
He lets his head roll back and bites down on his lips, trying to suppress the moan bubbling up in his chest.
“No!” Charles’ protest follows in an instant and without stopping the movement of her hand. “Let me hear you baby.”
“Fuck.”
Usually, Max wouldn’t consider himself the vocal type in bed. Action first, talk later.
“Just like that.”
But with Charles absorbing every moan and ragged breath that falls from his lips like it’s the best thing the has ever heard, Max finds that there is no need to keep anything to himself.
“Doing so good.”
Besides, she seems hell-bent on drawing all those sounds from him, doubling her efforts as she lets her free hand circle between his thighs and balls.
“Such a quick learner.”
And maybe, Max can’t help but wonder, she isn’t doing any of this for him. Maybe this is just a scheme to hear him praise her, soak her panties with every word of worship that he is offering to her.
“My pretty, talented Charles”
And Max is addicted to it, to knowing how he can turn her on with nothing but words.
He can feel Charles hum contently more than hear it, the sound covered by obscene noises, a combination that pulls the tension steadily building in his stomach even tighter.
“’m close.”
A warning Charles happily seems to ignore, doubling her effort as Max weakly tries to pull her away. Instead, she makes sure to look up at him, eyes glossy.
One wink is all it takes for her to push Max over the edge.
“Fuck, Charles!”
He fells her swallow around him, movement of her hand slowly coming to a halt as she starts cleaning him up, ending how she started, with small licks on his tip that send Max whining.
“You are so beautiful, so perfect for me.”
Max knows his babbling doesn’t make much sense, but it’s all his brain can think of right now. Charles, Charles, Charles, it seems to chant without a break, not caring for the world outside their little bubble. The only thing that matters is Charles, who is currently looking like a mess. A mess that he himself created, hair tangled, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide.
His gaze stops at her lips, her beautiful, pink lips she’d put to such good use. They are still shining wet, a mixture of her spit and his cum coating them in a glossy finish. Max nearly stops her from wiping her mouth on his shirt, only to enjoy the view a little longer.
“Did you like it?”
He blinks at Charles, trying to process what she just asked him.
“Did I- Fuck, of course, yes.”
“Yessss” She jumps up, joy not stopped by her sore knees. “Let’s goooo, baby!”
Now what Max wasn’t going to do was analyze why Charles was celebrate successfully getting him off like she would with a race win, fist balled in front of her chest and dimples on full display.
“Charles, do you want me to-”
The question hangs heavy between them, Max’s hand reaching out for her but not quite touching her body. As seconds tick by in silence, a million different scenario seem to play out behind Charles eyes, flicking between Max and the world outside his window.
Five more minutes is all Max needs with her, he is pretty sure of that. Judging by the way Charles had reacted last time and how worked-up she looks now, sneakily pressing her legs together and thinking Max doesn’t notice, he’d have her coming before anyone at Ferrari would notice her absence.
“I don’t want you to think you have to repay me for anything.”
The words sound oddly familiar as Charles pulls her team polo back on, flattening out any wrinkles. By the time she’s brushed her hair with her fingers, the blush has almost entirely disappeared from her cheeks.
“Charles, please.”
He might need this more than her, Max realizes. It’s the selfish part of his brain taking over control, the one that wants to hear Charles moan his name again, wants to pride itself for being the only one that can provide her with this level of pleasure.
It’s the part of him that wants to see how she is just as affected by him as he is by her just a little longer.
“I need to go.” The corners of her lips tilt upwards, but he can’t seem to find the sparkle in her eyes that was there mere moments ago anymore. “Andrea is looking for me by now for sure.”
“Cha-“
“Oh!” Charles eyes go wide as she first lifts her hand to stop Max from talking and then bends down next to the couch. “I came here to give you this.”
By the time Max is done staring at the umbrella placed on his lap, Charles is gone.
Max finds his image in the mirror on his closet door, trying his very best not to think too much about how he looks worse than he did when he crawled out of the car, sitting here half naked and spent, the marks Charles left behind standing out against his pale skin.
Realistically, he should get up, get changed and chase after her, finally have the conversation he’d been meaning to have before she got close to his dick.
He should’ve asked about her sudden interest in him.
Their mutual desire should’ve been enough.
He should’ve asked about Charles previous experiences.
It shouldn’t matter.
He should’ve explained that this changes nothing about their on-track battles.
It’s given.
“What the fuck are you doing, Max?” he asks into the silence, but his reflection doesn’t have an answer either.