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Charles is an adult. That much is true. He keeps a calendar of birthdays because it’s polite as well as nice to know when to send best wishes. He knows where the fuse box is in his apartment and how to get into it. He can locate spare keys in under ten seconds, has an organised folder of his customer info for the water, electricity, gas and wifi companies, and an emergency contact sheet for his doctors, lawyer, and therapist. Objectively, he has his shit as together as it can be within the lifestyle he leads.
However, the downside of all this is that his preparedness for things to go south results in him not being easily panicked, and somehow, people around him started to mislabel his unfazed for doesn’t mind anything.
Which, Charles muses as he sits at yet another dinner table full of important people, is really fucking wrong.
Because yeah, he’s an adult. He can take care of stuff. He can suffer through some unpleasantness, like the weirdly sour dessert he’s currently poking at, and he can do it with a polite expression.
But why would he knowingly put himself through things he knows he won’t enjoy, if all he has to do to not feel bad is just, well - to not do the thing?
—:—
“This would look so good, honey,” Pascale says, holding up exactly the pair of slacks Charles has been searching for for weeks. Light-weight, dark, great for early summer.
That’s why he still shops with his mother sometimes. She has a wonderful eye for these things.
“Yes, perfect,” Charles tells her, taking them for a closer inspection. “They’re my size?”
“Of course they are,” Pascale snips in the mock-offended tone she reserves for Charles questioning her mother’s knowledge, and Charles leans over to kiss her cheek in apology.
“Good,” Pascale carries on, sufficiently mollified. “Let’s bring a shirt with this. Ah, this one, I think. It would be great with your eyes.”
And she’s right, of course. The teal colour would go perfectly.
“Lovely,” Charles says, taking the shirt as well.
“Let’s go try it,” his mother trills, ushering him to the changing rooms, and Charles slips behind the curtains and into the outfit.
“Ah, no,” Charles mumbles to himself, tugging at the wrap detailing of the shirt where it hugs his waist.
“Is it okay, honey?”
“No,” Charles repeats a little more loudly. “It’s just a bit- off.”
“Let’s see- oh, you look wonderful!” Pascale runs her hands excitedly over Charles’ shoulders, smoothing the fabric. “Perfect colour. Great match.”
“No, see, here?” Charles says, turning to the mirror so they can both follow his fingertip along the folds on the left side. “It doesn’t line up with the other side, just here.”
“Where- oh, yes.” Pascale furrows her brows for a moment. ”But it’s such a nice piece, and it goes so well with the trousers.”
“Yes, but- it’s not straight. It looks wrong.”
“It’s a very small thing, no one will even notice.”
“I will notice it,” Charles quips, fidgeting.
He will notice it. Every time he sees himself in the mirror, not to mention that he knows now that the sides are uneven, and he will be aware of it whenever he wears it.
“Yes to the pants,” he announces resolutely before Pascale finds another argument. “No to the shirt.”
It’s honestly not worth the discomfort.
“Okay, honey,” Pascale says quietly, squeezing his arm. “Shall we pay and get some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Charles exhales, relaxing.
It really would be nice if people didn’t try to convince him every time he says no.
—:—
Charles knows it drives Max insane sometimes.
“You never try anything new,” Max points out just as Charles huddles down into an extremely soft blanket, dressed in Max’s extremely soft hoodie, tea and snacks on the table, Wednesday queued up on the TV for the fourth time.
“Sure I do,” Charles says, eyeing Max’s sports attire with great appreciation, the t-shirt stretching over his chest just so deliciously. “I tried that new curry with you yesterday.”
“Yeah, sure,” Max concedes, his gaze stuck on Charles’ - Max’s - hoodie before he shakes it. ”But you could also try bouldering with me?”
“No, thank you,” Charles tells him, tucking his blanket in. Bouldering would hurt his hands, not to mention that he doesn’t fancy hanging off ropes while dressed in thin layers. It’s not that he minds the ropes or the danger, not at all. Ice climbing, with picks and winter clothes, is perfectly acceptable.
“See, baby,” Max sighs, coming over to press a slightly exasperated kiss to Charles’ hair for the hundredth time in the last half a year. Like a cat, Charles stretches up into the affection. “Come try a new thing with me. Maybe you’ll have fun.”
“I know I won’t,” Charles hums back. “I’ll try new things with you eventually, you know I will. I tried surfing with you. And Ethiopian food. And I suggested vibrators, remember all that?”
“’Course I remember all that,” Max murmurs into Charles’ neck, pressing his mouth into the crook of it, another below his jaw. “You were very brave out on the water. And very gorgeous in bed.”
“Mhm,” Charles purrs, all wrapped up and kissed, thriving in his own personal piece of heaven. “New things eventually.”
“’Kay,” Max sighs, not really convinced, and pecks Charles one last time before he straightens up. “I’m gonna go conquer the heights.”
“Have fun. I’d say break a leg, but please don’t.”
“Promise,” Max laughs as he leaves, bright and excited.
He’s so cute that Charles almost drags him back. Even though it would probably mean extending that conversation by a good deal, yet again.
—:—
“You are coming out with us, after the race, no?” Carlos asks as they walk through the paddock, the insanity of the weekend really ramping up as the clock ticks down to quali. “We’re doing karaoke.”
Smiling left and right as they pass the stands, VIPs, a hundred thousand cameras and phone lenses pointed their way, Charles privately thinks there is nothing he would like to do less at the end of a triple header.
He’s all talked out. Peopled out. He’s been on what feels like every sports show and podcast in existence, he’s had his picture taken half a million times, he’s been to so many meetings he should probably review everything just to make sure the information didn’t get baked down into a charred mess in his head.
“I don’t think so, no. You guys have fun,” he declines, waving up as someone screams his name. Several someones, actually. He can feel his body stiffening as the attention grows with every step.
“Ay, no, it’ll be so much fun! You should come,” Carlos tries again, gesturing widely as he clicks his tongue.
“It’ll be a quiet night in for me today,” Charles says, breathing in the scent of asphalt and plastic and crowds, so familiar it makes his adrenaline spike, the world sharpening for a moment.
“That is so boring. Karaoke is much better for the evening,” Carlos insists, friendly and concerned like people always are when Charles doesn’t feel like engaging in something that is apparently universally labelled as fun.
An unpleasant feeling starts to pool in Charles’ stomach.
He hates being rude. And lying. Especially to his friends, but it’s hard to keep refusing politely when others act like his honest words didn’t really mean anything.
“I’ve not been feeling that great. Tough few weeks. Sorry,” Charles squeezes out, sticky sweat gathering at the back of his neck, and he really just hopes he’ll be listened to this time.
“Aish. Some other time then, ah?” Carlos says, clapping him on the back.
Charles deflates, relieved.
“Some other time,” he agrees, clapping Carlos right back, and wonders why health is a good reason to say no while simply not wanting to isn’t.
—:—
“You are so weird sometimes,” Max mumbles into Charles’ nape, sweet and sleep-warm where he’s pressed to Charles’ back as Charles picks out his jewellery for the day.
“Why?” he hums, fingertips hovering over his bracelets. “I mean, yes, I know, but why?”
Laughing softly, Max kisses his neck, arms squeezing gently around Charles’ waist.
“They are by colour, aren’t they?” Max murmurs as he rests his chin on Charles’ shoulder, watching Charles trace one bracelet after another after another.
“Yeah?”
“Why not the dark blue one? It would match great, right?”
“Technically, yes,” Charles mumbles, touching the piece in question. “But it catches on the hairs of my arms. I can only wear it with tight long-sleeves.”
“Mhm. And the one above that? Would look nice, no?”
“Very nice,” Charles agrees, picking it out to tilt the solid weight and sparkle of it to the light, making it shine. “It’s quite heavy, though. And I’ll be signing things today.”
“The thin ones, on the bottom?”
“Metal, clinky. They’ll make noise when I sign.”
“The one with the three stones?”
“The big stone is loose. I’d be worrying about losing it all day, I have to get it fixed.”
“See what I mean,” Max tells him, running his palm down to Charles’ wrist and turning it over so that he can raise it to his lips. “You’re so careful with yourself sometimes.”
“And that’s bad?”
“No, baby. Just weird. You do drive in F1 for a living. Not particularly careful of you.”
“I just like to be comfortable,” Charles retorts, squirming in Max’s embrace. “And I know what makes me uncomfortable. Why is that wrong?”
“It’s not, baby,” Max placates, letting Charles go so that he can turn and put them face to face. Charles huffs then, a little petulant, and Max brushes up his chest to cup his face. “It’s just- aren’t you worried you’re locking yourself in, though? When you steer clear of all discomforts.”
“It’s not that I steer clear of all of them,” Charles says, and it hurts a little in his chest. “I can’t. I don’t want to, I like discovering things, just at my own pace and in my own ways. And when I can be comfortable, why wouldn’t I want to be?”
He looks over his shoulder to the jewellery box.
”I know that if I wear the heavy one today, or the jingly one, or the loose one,” he carries on quietly, ”it will be throwing me off all day. I know it the same way I know that I can’t join the dinner today because I would hate every second of meeting those people. And instead, I can come home, and watch the new documentary, and try the drink Pierre brought us from Peru, and cuddle you all evening in those very fancy new blankets. I’m not stuck. Stop trying to make it look like I am.”
Max’s breath hitches, and Charles watches an embarrassed flush appear and spread over his cheeks. When he leans in to kiss Charles, his mouth is soft, his hands gentle.
“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs into Charles’ lips, one palm warm and steady on the small of his back.
“I’m not trapped in my comfort zone. I just know what I do and don’t want,” Charles whispers, his voice catching in his throat. “And I just wish people would stop trying to force me into things I explicitly say I don’t want, especially if me not doing them doesn’t hurt anybody.”
“I know, baby. I guess we just sometimes think we know better.”
“About what I’ll enjoy?”
“Yeah. Or what’s good for you.” Max pulls further off, carding through Charles’ unstyled hair. “Everyone who cares about you wants you to be happy.”
“I know,” Charles acknowledges quietly, slipping his own hands under Max’s t-shirt to get at his soft skin, the bit of plush around his hips. “It would just be nice if I had more say in it. I don’t need to be won over.”
“That’s fair,” Max says, letting out a pleased hum when Charles scritches up his spine. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too,” Charles murmurs, brushing their noses together. Max’s hand slips up and to the back of his head, tangling in his hair.
Humming, Max pulls him in, carefully pressing his mouth to Charles’ before kissing him firmly, slick lips sliding together. Charles gasps into it as he brings Max closer, deepening the kiss until the morning disappears in a haze.
“You’ll really skip dinner to come cuddle with me?” Max mumbles a moment later, trailing his mouth down Charles’ cheek and to his neck, leaving wet kisses that make Charles shiver.
“Yeah,” Charles sighs, tilting his head, Max’s hair brushing the edge of his jaw.
“Gonna make you feel so good and cosy, baby,” Max rumbles, nipping possessively where Charles’ neck meets his shoulder before leaving one last kiss on his mouth. “Choose your bracelets, you’re gonna be late.”
Charles groans loudly, and not for fun reasons.
“Would you… choose one for me?” he offers hesitantly. Max’s breath hitches, and then he smiles like the sun.
“Really?” he double-checks, pushing at Charles to have him plastered to his side. “Let me see. I kinda feel like I’m gonna fuck this up for you. But maybe- hm. This?”
It’s dark brown woven leather, with small beads in different shades of blue. It will be comfortable to write while wearing it, and it won’t snag on Charles’ hairs or clothes. And it matches.
“Does it pass inspection?” Max asks, half joking and half nervous.
“Yes, it does,” Charles confirms, smiling, and sticks out his arm.
—:—
Charles feels unusually warm the entire day, the gentle weight of the bracelet reminding him of the person who put it on him that morning. There’s an unexpected joy to that, having something of Max’s - well, not quite Max’s, but in a sense - on him for the whole time they are apart, skin tingling with the ghost of Max’s touch. Whenever people get snappy at each other in meetings, in ways that make Charles uncomfortable, he twists the small beads around their leather strings. When he zones out, his fingers automatically rub over the textures, keeping busy. If something makes him happy as he talks, he gestures, and the beads catch light, making him even happier. It’s a win on every front.
So when Charles does, in fact, excuse himself from the dinner and goes straight home to snuggle up to Max’s back on their couch, a very fancy, very new blanket pulled over them, he tells him.
“Max?” he tries quietly, just in case Max is falling asleep. Deep-sea creatures are twinkling prettily on the TV screen, and the bracelet is still on even though he usually takes his accessories off the moment he gets home.
“Yeah?” Max mumbles, shifting in front of Charles.
“Would you get something for me?”
“Now?” Max whines, twisting onto his back so that he can see Charles’ face. His left cheek has pillow creases on it, his hair all rumpled. All in all, he looks-
“Adorable,” Charles grins, smoothing down the birds’ nest, rubbing away the lines. “No, not now.”
“Thank fuck,” Max sighs, preening under Charles’ attention. “What is it, then?”
“Would you get a piece of jewellery for me?”
“Charles Leclerc, are you asking for a ring?” Max lifts an eyebrow, playfully suspicious. “It’s a little early, no?”
“Not a ring, you dumbass,” Charles defends himself, but then stops. “Actually, a ring would work. Or a necklace. Or something like this,” he finishes, lifting his arm to show off the bracelet on his wrist.
Max takes it, thumbing over the leather and Charles’ sensitive skin.
“You want something of mine to wear?” he asks quietly, a tiny, pleased smile lighting up his face.
“Yeah.” Swallowing, Charles presses himself a little tighter to Max’s side. “It’s been really nice today. To remember you all the time, that you put it on me.”
Max stops inspecting the bracelet, rests both their hands over his stomach and looks up at Charles.
“Yeah?” he whispers, gorgeous in his shy delight. “I chose well?”
“You did,” Charles whispers back, squeezing Max’s hand. Max pets over his palm and then leaves him be in favour of tangling his fingers firmly into Charles’ hair and dragging him down for a kiss.
“Max,” Charles gasps into his mouth, swiping over Max’s stomach to grip his hip before he pulls himself above Max to kiss him better.
Humming, Max holds him by the nape, tongue teasing over his as they kiss, light and playful and easy. Max always makes things seem so easy.
“I’m going to find you the prettiest, most comfortable piece of metal you’ve ever seen,” Max mumbles against Charles’ lips, freeing his other hand to wrap it around Charles’ waist. “Or leather or something, I don’t know. Pretty. Comfy. You’re going to love it, and I’m going to love you in it.”
A small moan rips out of Charles’ throat, unexpected heat pooling in his stomach, and he squeezes Max’s hip tight.
“Like that idea, baby?” Max teases, pleased. “That I’m going to get you something new and exciting, something that will make you feel mine?”
“You’re making it sound so filthy,” Charles complains, breathless and melting against Max, half-hard cock damningly pushing into his thigh. “I swear it wasn’t like that.”
“I know.” Gripping Charles’ hair harder, Max tilts his head so that he can trail wet kisses down Charles’ neck. “But it is a little like that now, isn’t it? You’ll wear it and you’ll remember me, in all the sappy and dirty ways available.”
Charles keens, head swimming at the prospect, and admits, firstly to himself, that yeah, it surprisingly really is a little like that now. Want is burning low in his belly, the bracelet around his wrist a heated reminder already, making him feel Max’s in a way he hasn’t felt before, unless Max’s hands or mouth or cock were literally claiming him in that moment.
“Yeah,” he admits, secondly, to Max. “Want to feel a little more yours.”
Max groans into his collarbone, loud and unashamed, and pushes Charles down onto his back.
“I’m going to suck you off so hard you’ll scream my name,” he growls, possessive enough that it raises the hairs on Charles’ arms, and pushes Charles’ legs apart to make space for himself. “Fuck, baby, are you hearing yourself? You’re driving me crazy.”
Charles gasps as Max tugs off his pyjama pants and boxers, hips jerking up just once before Max grips him tight and licks a fat stripe up his cock.
“Max!” Charles cries out, surprise and pleasure twining in a heady mix, his arm shooting down where he wants to hold onto Max’s hair, but Max tsks, making him freeze.
“No,” he rasps out, blue eyes intense as they stare up at Charles, and he’s so tantalisingly close to Charles’ cock, Charles can feel his every word. “You are going to put your arms up for me, right where I can see that shiny little thing on your wrist, and you’re going to close your eyes and feel every single thing I want you to feel, do you understand?”
“Christ,” Charles whines, arousal shooting through him, and fuck, this is new, very new, and it burns.
“Okay,” he adds, trembling, and pulls his arms back to rest his crossed wrists just above his hairline, bracelet on top for Max to see.
Max hums, soft fingertips sweeping over Charles’ stomach to make him shudder.
“Close your eyes, baby,” he coaxes, and the last thing Charles sees is the glittering of his dark eyes and the pink of his cheeks.
The world disappears, and Max must sigh because Charles can feel a brush of air on the damp head of his cock.
There is a purring sound, and then Max’s warm, wet tongue traces a line up Charles’ cock, stopping at the head to kitten-lick away his precome.
“God,” Charles keens, fighting to keep his hips still.
They’ve never done something like this before; Max has never been so firm, so heated. Charles can’t see a single thing, and that makes everything more intense.
Soft lips wrap around the sensitive tip of his cock, sealing tight, and Max suckles like he intends to tease the orgasm out of Charles through gentle torture alone.
“Max,” he breathes out, fingers closing over his own wrist, searching for the soothing texture of the bracelet.
The pleasure disappears all at once, and Charles whimpers embarrassingly high.
“Show it to me, baby,” Max says, satiny soft and a little dangerous. Charles’ muscles follow the order before he can think, shaking. “Good. Leave it there for me.”
Charles makes a strangled noise, air sticking in his throat.
“Max, what-” Charles breaks off, swallowing hard as blood pumps through his veins so rapidly he can hear it. It suddenly hurts a little. “What are we doing?”
“I’m making you feel good,” Max murmurs, kissing Charles’ cock. The unexpectedness makes Charles jump. “Does it not feel good?”
“I can’t-” Charles gulps, the novelty of his position leaving him quivering and uncertain. ”Will you be mad if I open my eyes?”
Max freezes.
“Of course not, baby,” he says, very gently. “Look at me.”
Charles looks, and a weight he didn’t really notice disappears from his stomach. He relaxes into the couch.
“You okay there?” Max asks as he sits up, thumbs petting over Charles’ hipbones, sending shivers up his spine. “Too much too quick?”
“A little,” Charles confesses, rubbing his face into his soft underarm. He just needs a second to catch up. He doesn’t really have a script for this.
“You can put your hands down too, if it doesn’t feel good,” Max carries on. “It should feel good, and if it doesn’t-.”
“It does,” Charles jumps in, shaking his head. “I just can’t- I don’t like not seeing you. Don’t like the surprise. But this is good,” he adds, flexing his arms, arching his spine.
“Yeah, baby?” Max smiles slowly, a little less domineering, a little less intense. “You like showing off for me?”
“Maybe,” Charles quips, blushing as he grins back, ducking his chin.
“So shy all of a sudden.” Shifting back, Max strokes down Charles’ thigh. “Can I carry on, baby?”
“Yes, please.”
“I still want to hear my name, you know,” Max says conversationally as he leans back down, pulling Charles’ leg over his shoulder. He sucks a mark into the inside of that thigh, dragging a gasp out of Charles.
“Doesn’t have to be screaming,” he continues, small bite after small bite as he dips lower. ”But I still want you to know you’re mine.”
“Max,” Charles breathes out, stomach tensing in anticipation.
“Just like that, baby,” Max hums appreciatively and swallows him down.
The warm, wet heat of him closes tight around Charles’ cock, fitting as perfectly as it always does, but something is different; something burns a little brighter than Charles was prepared for, and he can’t help the string of moans that pour out of him.
“Max, Max,” he whimpers, chest suddenly heaving as he watches his boyfriend hollow his cheeks and pull up, slick lips gliding smoothly and feeling so good it’s a little unholy.
“Yeah,” Max rasps, flushed bright. “Can you hold your cock, baby? Can you do that for me? No, no,” he clarifies when Charles reaches down, eyes darkening. “No, baby. The other hand.”
Whimpering loudly, Charles switches to his left, the one with the bracelet, and wraps his fingers around his spit-slick cock.
“Perfect,” Max rumbles, satisfaction spreading over his face. “Would you suck on my fingers for me if I asked?”
A breath punches out of Charles, chest jumping.
“Yeah,” he admits quietly, cheeks on fire.
“Thank you,” Max coos, petting down his side. “Just wanted to check. For future reference.”
“God,” Charles groans, squeezing around his cock, and Max gives him a grin before he leans back down and closes his lips around him.
“Fuck,” Charles swears, a whiny sort of noise pushing out of his throat as Max runs his tongue over the head. “Max, feels so - ah! - so good, so fucking good, please-”
Humming, Max sucks hard enough to hurt a little, first dragging a whimper from Charles, then a deep groan as he squeezes gently at Charles’ balls.
“Go-od, Max, Max-”
It’s so good, Max feels so good, speeding and slowing and getting Charles so wet, his spit is sliding over Charles’ fingers, and then he pulls off to lick over Charles’ wrist too, soaking the leather, and Charles keens.
“Christ, Max, you love this so much, don’t you,” he heaves, voice scratchy with pleasure and use. “Love that I want to wear you on me, that I want to show I’m yours.”
“Of course I love it,” Max rasps, biting gently over the bracelet and into Charles’ skin before he lifts himself up to run a careful fingertip along Charles’ lower lip.
Charles stares at him, barely breathing, and lets adrenaline flood him whole.
“Of course I find it hot,” Max carries on, pushing the lip down to dip inside Charles’ mouth, ”when my gorgeous boyfriend wants me to get him something shiny just so that he can remember me and feel mine. It’s the single hottest thing you’ve ever told me about, including the vibrators. Suck.”
Lids falling shut for a moment as arousal barrels over him, Charles whimpers and sucks.
“Thank you, baby,” Max murmurs, eyes heated when Charles looks at him again, tongue laving at the ridges of his knuckles. “Nice and wet, I’m going to put it right inside you.”
Charles groans loudly around the finger, gazing up at Max.
This is all so new. He never imagined they would stumble into a place like this, but he’s so very happy he was honest with Max, at the start and at every moment after. He strains up a bit, taking Max deeper, and Max follows his lead, beginning to slowly fuck his finger in and out.
“You’re going to actually kill me,” Max rasps, rutting down into Charles’ hipbone, a hint of desperation finally showing on his face. “Would you take two for me?”
Giving a small nod, Charles opens his mouth and lets Max push in.
“Perfect,” Max croons, looking very in love as he softly thrusts between Charles’ lips, and Charles squeezes his eyes shut to make his half-aborted whines in peace.
“That’s good,” Max whispers eventually, withdrawing. “Thank you, baby. I’m going to get my mouth on you, and you’re going to put your hand in my hair instead, yes?”
“Yeah,” Charles croaks, his own mouth vaguely empty without Max in it. Max, who is settling back and leaning forward to wrap his lips around Charles again, making him gasp. He’s been hard for so long that it feels like he’s on the very edge.
“Max,” he moans, taking his hand off, dried spit and precome and all, and slides his fingers into Max’s strands to hold on. Max shoulders his legs further apart, still keeping one of Charles’ thighs up, and drops all the way down his cock.
“MaxMaxMaxgodfuckah-”
Humming softly, Max wipes one wet finger around Charles’ hole and pushes the other inside with the skill of someone who’s been spending many nights and days in Charles’ bed. Charles clenches on him, words and noises ripping out of his throat without permission as Max swallows around him, and then Max crooks his finger just right and Charles is done for.
“Max!” he shouts, jerking up into Max’s mouth and down into his hand, Max pressing firmly into his prostate as Charles comes hard enough for his mind to white out.
“Max, christ, a-ah, god, yes,” Charles babbles, panting. Max pulls up to suckle at the head, and shivers wrack through Charles’ body, making him feel like he’s coming all over again. “Fuckfuckfuckstop-”
Max withdraws with a gentle pop, leaving off Charles’ prostate as well, and grins so wide Charles can barely take it.
“Ugh,” he groans, batting his weak hands at him, fingers twitching as he starts to calm. “Shut up. Come here.”
Max comes, slotting their legs in between each other before he plasters himself along Charles’ front, looking exceedingly smug.
“You liked it,” he announces, forearms resting on either side of Charles’ face and eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe you let me do that. Why did you let me do that? You never try things without prior approval.”
“I guess…” Charles trails off, breath still coming quick and brain barely online. He chews on his lip, blinking away the daze.
“You guess?” Max prompts, nosing along Charles’ cheek. He’s all giddy with excitement, Charles can feel it in the way his body trembles above his. It’s very sweet.
“I guess I just trusted you,” Charles says quietly, swallowing before he carries on. “To stop, if I needed you to. Or to change things, if I said no. Like with the eyes.”
“I’ll always stop if you say no,” Max says, frowning. “I’m not going to pressure you into something you won’t enjoy.”
Slowly, Charles tilts his head.
“Oh,” Max realises.
There is a moment, a moment where Max looks like his heart is breaking a little. Charles reaches out to cup his face, thumb petting over his cheek, and gives him a tiny smile.
“Love you,” he quips; reassures.
“Love you too,” Max returns, raspier than usual as he hesitantly smiles back.
“It’s okay,” Charles says gently, wrapping his arms around Max’s back to push at the bottom of his spine.
Max rolls his hips on instinct, his still-hard cock rubbing into Charles’ thigh, and groans.
“This alright?” Charles asks as the tense stillness breaks, and Max’s desperation suddenly, very visibly, overtakes everything.
“Yeah,” Max croaks, cheeks flushed the most gorgeous pink, and he’s hanging onto Charles like he never wants to let him go. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“Yeah,” Charles nods, smiling, and guides Max into him again, his head falling forward in pleasure for a second before he picks it back up to find Charles’ gaze.
“Kiss me?” he whispers, as much Charles’ as Charles is his.
Grinning, Charles puts a palm on Max’s nape, brings him down, and kisses the taste of himself out of his mouth until Max comes groaning into Charles’.
—:—
“You should really join next Wednesday,” Pierre says again, his arm around Kika as Charles struggles with his jacket, Max tying his shoes next to him. “It’ll be fun.”
“Really can’t,” Charles tells him for the third time that evening, squirming and unable to find his second jacket sleeve.
“My sister might be coming,” Max unexpectedly lies through his teeth, gentle hands helping Charles before he slides one to the small of his back, warm and comforting. Charles tries to pretend he’s not surprised at all. “She’s trying to switch flights, so we’re keeping the day open.”
“I see,” Pierre sighs, shrugging. “If it doesn’t work out, do come, we’d love to have you.”
“Of course,” Charles reassures him, leaning in to hug him goodbye and kiss Kika on the cheeks, then stepping away to give Max space for the same. “We’ll let you know.”
“Thanks,” Pierre smiles as he opens the door for them.
“It was lovely to have you,” Kika follows, giving them a little wave.
“Next time at ours,” Max tells them both, steering a still bewildered Charles into the hallway. “Thank you!”
“Bye, thank you!”
“Bye!”
And then it’s done. Charles slumps into Max’s side, thoroughly peopled out.
“I love them both,” he grumbles, pushing the elevator call button, “but I’m very happy we’re going home.”
“I can tell, baby,” Max murmurs, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Could see you playing with it ever since they invited us the second time.”
Charles grins, lifting his arm to show off his wrist. There, for the first time’s sake, sits a thin platinum bracelet dotted with little stones, all white except one baby blue and one deep navy.
“Very useful,” he hums contentedly, turning his wrist this way and that until Max catches it.
“Very pretty,” Max pitches in, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “Mine. And I’m sorry for having done what they were doing today. Or your mum, yesterday. I never realised how often people press when you say no.”
“It’s okay,” Charles says, holding onto Max’s hand as they step into the parking lot, only letting go when they have to sit down. “You’ve gotten better.”
“I’d hope so.”
“You have,” Charles emphasises, leaning over to kiss his cheek before he starts the engine and pulls out. “Thanks for the save.”
“Any time, baby.” With a sigh, Max settles into his seat and watches Charles drive. “Do you want to do something on Wednesday, since we have it free?”
“Dunno. You’ve got suggestions?”
“Do you want to try hot yoga with me?”
Charles blinks several times at the road, then chances a look at Max.
Max is comfortably leaning back, eyes closed.
“What?”
“Hot yoga,” he repeats. ”Victoria started last spring, apparently it’s pretty cool. Well, not temperature cool, but, you know. Could be fun.”
It’s not exactly at the top of Charles’ bucket list, but it also doesn’t sound like the most terrible thing in existence. And, more importantly, Charles is certain that if he said no, Max would just give him a hum and let it be.
It’s quite nice, and still very novel, to know he would not have to argue for himself.
“Okay,” Charles agrees quietly, content. “Why not.”
“Okay,” Max says, a smile audible in his voice, and nestles deeper into his seat. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”