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Summary
“I’m very sorry to even be asking you this,” Charles starts, looking uncomfortable but determined. He reaches out for Oscar’s hand again, almost unthinkingly. Oscar holds it out to him in turn without considering a single alternative.
What is he supposed to do? Not give Charles Leclerc his hand when he gestures for it? Likely fuckin’ story, that.
Once he steps close, Charles lets him go, hands folded demurely in his lap while looking up at him with his cartoonishly sparkling big green eyes.
“But you are very sweet and kind and you smell very good and you are here—I know you have a girlfriend and you are both cute and in love, but do you think she would mind if you fucked me, just for tonight?”
*
Or, Charles gets drugged at the bar and goes into an unexpected pre-heat. Oscar helps.