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Singapore is a race often viewed as a trial by fire, but Carlos has always been one who is up for the challenge.
And this year he even steps into the stifling heat and humidity with a smile and a shine in his eyes, an excited energy about him.
Who could blame him? He’s coming to this next race fresh off a shocking podium, riding a wave of praise from the press and social media, and still savoring a certain, sweet vindication.
But despite all of that, the race is not the main thing that’s making him look forward to this weekend.
It’s Charles.
Funny, sweet, pretty Charles Leclerc.
Just the thought of him has Carlos trying to suppress a giddy, private smile as he loads himself into the rental car.
Things between the two of them have been… exceptional lately.
Their relationship had improved drastically ever since he’d joined Williams, now that they no longer had to deal with the unavoidable tension that came with being teammates. It was one of the few things Carlos was grateful for this season, and the new ease had led to some truly nice moments between the two of them..
Most notably, of course, their bizarre, unplanned road trip through Italy after the last race. It had been a night to remember, to say the least. Just hours filled with nothing but laughter, sleep deprivation, and a will to get home.
Carlos had been thinking about the little adventure much more than he’d been expecting- reminiscing about it in quiet moments, recalling how Charles had looked in the passenger seat next to him… his dimples, the bright look in his eye, the way his giggles had sounded…
And no one could really blame him for constantly having it on his mind. The world had gone crazy over the story after Charles had posted it fucking everywhere… like he’d wanted to be sure that everyone knew… like he wanted everyone to see them together… like he’d wanted Carlos’ attention…
Suffice to say, the road trip was not the only thing he’d been thinking about.
Carlos is not an idiot, and he tries not to lie to himself when he can help it- He’s always been aware that Charles is attractive. Even during their lowest moments he’d sometimes find his eyes lingering on the other driver in ways a straight man’s probably shouldn’t. And he’d maybe entertained the occasional fantasy of the interesting ways he could work out his frustration with his teammates on his teammate-
It would have been acceptable if that was all it was… but, lately, things had been changing
As the season stretched on, as he found himself growing closer and gentler with Charles, Carlos’ realized his fantasies had begun to shift… and also become more frequent. He’d spent more than a few nights with his hand around his cock, unable to stop thinking about certain scenarios-
…Charles licking at his dick, his green eyes shining up at him when he wrapped those pretty pink lips around the head, his soft tongue playing with him…
…Giggles falling from Charles' mouth while he bounced in Carlos’ lap, his head tilted back as he took his dick again and again, guided by hands tight on his slim waist…
…Bending him over in the private jet’s small bathroom, watching Charles pant in the mirror as Carlos’ hips slapped off that pert, tight ass…
He has to shift in his seat as the rental car speeds off to the hotel, realizing he’s a little too lost in his fantasies even as his entourage’s conversations flow around him.
Fuck, Charles has done such a number on him.
It’s just… maybe he’s crazy… but Carlos thinks Charles might be open to it. He’s been so sweet lately, almost like he’s flirting, and it’s driving Carlos mad enough to consider doing something he never thought he would-
Perhaps if he just invited him back to his apartment when they get off the plane after this race…he could say it’s just for a ‘drink’... maybe they could sit close together on his lounge…maybe they could see what happens...
He lays back against the seat’s headrest, watching the cityscape go by with a dreamy smile, trying not to get too carried away with thoughts of Charles.
“Day dreaming, mate?”
Carlos has just checked into the hotel lobby when he hears the familiar rasp of Max Verstappen’s voice. Turning, he sees the Red Bull driver grinning at him, standing next to his own luggage. Their teams are staying in the same hotel this weekend.
Carlos laughs, trying to mask his embarrassment at begin caught out with his dreamy expression. Max isn’t even the first person to have pointed it out today.
The two of them chat for a moment, before Max asks if he’d like to grab dinner together at one of the hotel’s restaurants. Despite the lateness of the hour, Carlos agrees easily- Max is always good company, especially when Carlos is still feeling a touch nostalgic for their rookie year after the shared podium last week.
“Great,” Max shoots him a quick smile before turning to the elevator, “You can tell me all about your little road trip.”
* * *
The restaurant they settle in is nice enough, though sparsely populated considering how close it is to midnight. Carlos and Max mostly have the place to themselves as they sit down to eat their salads and sip beers they really shouldn’t be having, but Max insists on-
“It’s only Wednesday,” he rolled his eyes, “What is the worst that could happen.”
As usual, their conversation flows smooth and easy- Max tells him all about Nurburgring, they talk about Red Bull’s turn around, speculate on the race, take bets on which driver will have the roughest time and who is going to look strong-
“Not Ferrari,” Carlos notes, a touch of mean satisfaction in his voice.
“No, probably not,” Max smirks back at him, “Their season’s turning into quite the shit show, yes? Sure you heard all about it after Baku…”
He trails off with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look that Carlos deciphers quite easily.
With a laugh, he launches into the story of the impromptu road trip yet again- recounting the storm, Charles’ nerves, the fiasco at the rental agency, the argument over who drove, and the long way back to Monaco. A familiar giddiness fills him as he speaks, one he does his best to hide so he is not embarrassed in front of Max.
“He told me it was a five star ride,” he finishes, still chuckling at the memories. “Quite the night.”
Max just smiles, taking a long pull from his beer, “Yes. Sounds like it.”
Things go quiet for a moment, Carlos chewing on his salad and trying not to get lost in any more daydreams about Charles, despite how secretly pleased he is that their escapade had caused enough of a stir even other drivers like Max were asking him-
“He’s cute, yeah?”
The question, coming out of nowhere, nearly makes Carlos choke on a mouthful of lettuce.
He can feel his eyes bulge as they dart over to Max, leaning back casually in his seat, beer bottle still in his hands. The Dutchman raises an eyebrow, another smirk pulling up his lips.
Max can’t be… He wouldn’t be talking about…
Chewing slowly, Carlos finally manages to swallow down the salad, despite his dry throat. “What?”
“Come on, mate. We can admit it, right? Charles is cute.”
“What the hell, Max,” Carlos attempts to laugh, though it comes out as more of a choked wheeze. Slightly panicked thoughts creep along the edges of his mind, wondering if he knows-
This feels suspiciously like a trap.
Max’s smile has sharped as he leans forward in his chair, “Come on, Carlos. Admit it.”
“You are crazy.”
“Why so nervous?”
Carlos can feel the back of his neck heating up, his hands turning sweaty, “I am not.”
“What if I say it first,” Max asks, teasing but a surprising genuine note in his voice. “Charles is cute… adorable…fucking hot. I saw the videos from that night, mate, you had to be thinking the same thing.”
Mouth dropping, Carlos can only look back at Max a little dumbstruck.
A part of him had always suspected his rookie teammate might harbor some rather interesting feelings towards Charles himself. God knows Max never seemed to be able to act normally around him, always so eager for even a second of his attention. But to just say it like that? Right in the middle of a Singapore restaurant during dinner?
Carlos had no fucking idea how to proceede, still gaping at him like a fish.
“Aaaadmiiit iiiiitt,” Max drawls, looking way too amused about the situation. “I told you I saw the videos, you were smiling at him like you wanted to eat him.”
“Max, what the fuck,” he tries to laugh again, but it still comes out sounding wrong.
“There’s no judgement, mate. I already told you what I think. Just admit it.”
And well… that was true, wasn’t it?
Max had already disclosed his own attraction, as insane as it might be, and it was obvious he was not going to be dropping this. As worrying as it was that he seemed to be able to see through Carlos’ own secrets… if he really wasn’t going to judge…
“Fine,” Carlos says, his mouth speaking before his mind is fully onboard, “Sure. He is cute. Very… very pretty, yes?”
His face heats up as soon as the words leave him.
But Max looks satisfied, tipping his beer towards Carlos with another smile before taking another pull. Carlos reaches for his own, taking his own eager sip to ease his nerves, and distantly pondering the strange sense of lightness that’s overcome him now that he’s actually admitted it.
It falls quiet again, though, strangely enough, it’s not necessarily awkward.
When Carlos sneaks a peek at Max he catches him already looking back. As soon as they make eye contact they both burst into laughter.
The lightness inside him spreads, morphing into something relieved and giddy. He’d just admitted that he found Charles pretty and Max hadn’t judged him, instead they’re sitting here giggling about it like idiots.
Surprisingly… it feels rather great.
“He’s a bit more than pretty, though,” Max sighs, still catching his breath through his laughter. “God… he’s so fucking hot.”
He sounds almost wistful, and Carlos finds himself nodding easily, now feeling much less trapped and ready, almost eager, to be open, “You can say that again, cabrón.”
It still feels a little surreal to be talking about this with Max, but Carlos is a little infatuated with the thrill of it, so he boldly continues, pushing things even further “He is pretty enough to make a straight guy… imagine things.”
Mierda.
A strange sensation of excitement and anxiety stirs around in his gut at his own recklessness, but across from him, Max’s smile turns into something closer to a leer, “Saying that from personal experience, mate?”
“Maybe,” Carlos shrugs, faux casual, as if his heartbeat didn’t spike a bit at both the insinuation and the shadows of the fantasies of Charles that continuously tempt him.
“Hoping your little road trip ended a bit differently, hmm? I wouldn’t blame you.”
His heart rate jumps again, the question more than a little stunning in its accuracy and its gall, but Max is still grinning.
Carlos takes a breath, decides it’s safe to keep playing along, the competitive side of him rising to take the bait.
“Maybe… I would not have, you know, minded if he invited me up to his apartment to thank me for getting him home safely,” he takes another sip of his beer, gathering his courage for his next words, “I could probably think of a few things he could do for me…”
Fuck.
Carlos honestly cannot believe he said that- about a man, about Charles. What the fuck is he thinking?
Yet the giddiness inside him only grows.
He’s enjoying this. It’s strange and exhilarating to talk about a fellow driver like he’s the latest Instagram model hanging around the paddock, just another pretty face and a warm hole the drivers are looking to fill- Carlos never would have expected it to be so fun to talk about his co-worker, his friend, in such a manner, but he finds himself eager to continue.
Especially when Max has burst into more delighted laughter at what he said.
“I’m impressed, mate. Always thought you were too good of a Catholic boy to admit to all this,” Max jokes, shoving his plate away and leaning forward with a dirty grin.
Carlos laughs in turn, reaching for his beer again, “I cannot help it. Have you noticed his ass lately?”
“Oh, I’ve noticed… I’ve noticed a lot of things.”
The way Max says this makes Carlos pause, beer bottle raised halfway to his mouth.
Glancing over at his table companion, he sees Max pulling out his phone, something sly on his face. Carlos has known him long enough to recognize the look- he’s up to something.
A trickle of concern starts to filter through Carlos’ previous happiness.
Max starts looking around, as if double checking no one is close enough to overhear. He doesn’t have to worry, at this point they’re the only customers left in the hotel restaurant, the hour so late the wait staff is beginning to clean up, though still giving them a wide berth in order so as to not disturb their famous patrons.
Satisfied, Max turns back to Carlos, a new excitment about him, with a sharp sort of glint in his eye. “Can I show you something? I think you’ll appreciate it.”
Raising an eyebrow, Carlos nods slowly. A strange sense of unease descends over the table as Max taps around on his phone, smirking when he finds whatever he’s looking for. He lays it on the table and slides it across for Carlos to see.
Carlos’ eyes drop down… and promptly feels his stomach crawl up his throat.
“He looks so good like that, yeah?”
On the phone screen is a picture of Charles.
He’s naked.
It’s a mirror picture, taken in some bathroom or other. Charles' back is to the mirror, but he’s twisted around to look over his shoulder and snap the photo, staring down at the phone in his hand with a sultry look.
The position is amazing for showing off his ass.
Carlos’s eyes latch onto the perk cheeks even as his mind goes fuzzy, struggling to fully comprehend what he’s staring at.
How the fuck did Max have this?
“Joder, how- how did you-”
“He sent it to me,” Max says, smugness seeping through his tone.
Carlos' eyes fly back up to him, his shock obvious. Max just raises his eyebrow in a cheeky little gesture.
“He… he just sent it to you?
¿Qué mierda?
His mind is racing a million miles a second, thoughts flying before he can pin them down- did Max actually dare to ask for it? Did Charles actually send it unprompted? Do the two of them trade pictures often? …Would- WOuld Charles send Carlos something like this if he asked for it?
“Yeah, of course. Here, I’ve got a better one.” Max is swiping before Carlos can beg for clarification.
The next photo is forward facing. Charles is staring down at where he’s probably placed the camera on the bathroom counter, another seductive expression on his face… and one hand cupping his hard, pink cock…
God, of course Charles would have a big, pretty cock.
“Shit, Max,” Carlos has to swallow, unable to tear his eyes away from the obscene image. Heat begins to pool in his belly, his own dick stirring in interest as he stares down at Charles.
“You like it?” Max sounds so fucking satisfied.
Swallowing again, Carlos tries to get his mind to slow down, to think of how to respond, to understand what the fuck is happening- How the hell did they go from admitting to finding Charles attractive to Max whipping out his fucking nudes?
More than slightly panicked, he decides to play along, not to let Max see him sweat-
“I- eh, yeah. God, he looks….” Carlos still can’t seem to get his brain to work even as he tries to answer Max’s previous question. “He looks… fuck, he looks amazing…You guys- you send these pictures a lot?”
“Sometimes. If I'm lucky, " Max shrugs, casual as anything, as if he hasn't just completely rocked Carlos' world. "Want to see more?”
“You have more-” but Max is already swiping on his phone.
The next photo is one of Charles taken from above.
He's clearly laying on a bed, one with rumpled sheets and pillows askew. He stares up into the camera, eyes dazed and half lidded, lips parted, with mussed hair and a naked chest.
He’s never looked more like a slut.
The sight is undeniably enchanting. At the first sight, Carlos feels his cock truly begin to fill out, chubbing up quickly in his shorts. But then he notices… he realizes...
Charles' arms are tossed carelessly above his head, resting against the pillows- He had no free hands.
Someone else had to have snapped this picture, perched above him, staring down at Charles while Charles stared back up, laying there looking like that-
And that is not the only thing Carlos notices, his eyes drifting down from that sultry expression to take a closer look at Charles' bare chest.
There are… there, are the fucking love bites all over him.
Red and angry looking, they’re scattered on his collarbone, shoulders, and chest, places where a shirt or his fireproofs would be able to hide them from the cameras.
Charles looks like he’s been fucking mauled, the marks fierce and possessive, with one particularly angry one on his pec. There, Carlos swears he can almost see teethmarks next to a dusky nipple, puffy and teased ... As if whoever had bitten him had also taken the time to pay attention to those tight little buds on his chest as well.
Carlos feels a dawning realization in the back of his mind, his eyes darting up to Max across the table.
Did he...?
“Max…You took this?”
“He looks so good all fucked out like that, doesn’t he?" Max sounds almost wistful, easily ignoring Carlos' shocked question.
“Max,” Carlos tries to push, his throat going dry, “You- You two…,” he trails off, unable to find a way to ask.
But Max lazily meets his gaze across the table, “You want to know if we hooked up?”
Carlos nearly flinches when Max bluntly puts his incredulous thoughts to words. The Dutchman is looking back at him now, relaxed and loose, an easy grin spreading across his face, all teeth, as he answers, “... You could say that, yeah.”
Joder.
Rocking back in his chair, Carlos has to clench his hand around his beer bottle, as though it’s the one thing keeping him tethered to the table. He is absolutely stunned, struggling to possibly wrap his mind around the thought of the fucking world champion and his former teammate hooking up…
He knew they had history, everyone knew, and he was aware how much they respected one another, but he never- he never would have thought-
Max gives him time to gather himself, still smiling, smugness in every corner of his face.
“When,” Carlos finally manages to ask, embarrassed by the slight squeak in his voice.
“When was the first time, you mean?”
First time? Another wave of shock washes over him.
“Last season. Vegas,” Max continues, “After I won the championship.”
After Vegas… when Charles was so furious with Carlos he didn’t speak to him for a week.
“He came to my afterparty,” Max explains, that wistful expression returning, “We ended up hanging out, danced a bit, talked a lot. Things were said. I was too drunk to do much of course, but he came back to my room anyway, slept over. And the next morning, when I woke up with him in my bed, well…” Max trails off, with a lecherous wink.
Carlos’ stomach flips.
He wants to ask for more details. He also wants to tell Max to shut the fuck up. He wants to keep looking at the picture. He wants to find out what it’s like to be intimate with Charles Leclerc-
He wants to tell Max it should have been him.
Torn between all these options, he is simply struck dumb, but Max- Max is fucking swiping on his phone again-
Carlos can’t find the words to tell him to stop, before Max is tilting the phone back to show him another picture.
Mierda.
This one is of Charles’s back and shoulders. He’s face down on a bed, and there’s- there’s a hand on the back of his neck, pushing his face into the pillows. Max’s hand.
It’s fucking obvious what is probably happening here and Carlos-
Carlos still can’t fucking believe it.
Something ugly and hot claws at his gut, something that feels suspiciously like jealousy.
“You fucked him,” he asks Max, his voice tight.
With a borderline blissful sigh, Max nods, “Yeah, I did.”
Carlos tries not to wince. Finally, lifting up his beer, he takes a long drink, as if he could drown down what Max has just said.
Tries to ignore that Max has done what Carlos has spent years dreaming of-
But the bastard is not done talking.
“It’s like a religious experience, mate. He feels even better than he looks. He’s fucking unbelievable,” Max pauses, a dopey, love-sick expression melting all over his face, before he continues, “You know, it’s nice to be able to finally talk about this with someone. It’s been hard keeping it a secret, of course, but now that I know you won’t judge…”
Max doesn’t finish the thought, still smiling softly down at his phone.
And Carlos, once again, can’t even think of how to respond.
He still can’t wrap his head around what is going on, what Max is doing- Why did he get Carlos to admit his own attraction? Why is he so excited to show him these photos like Charles is just some common influencer slut instead of their co-worker? What the fuck is even up with the two of them? What are they, they couldn’t be… could they? Why is Max okay with him seeing-
There are so many questions, and Carlos has no idea how to ask them.
Max taps around on his phone again… and Carlos, feeling dumb and pathetic, just watches him.
“Here, you’ll like this one,” Max slides the phone closer to show him, and Carlos should wave him off, shouldn’t look down, but he can’t help it, curiosity and temptation still strong-
What he sees makes his eyes bulge and utter a muffled curse, unable to believe Max is showing him this-
It’s another back angle, and the pose is filthy.
Charles is on another bed, on all fours, his chest down and pert ass high up. Max’s hand is also in the frame again, this time he’s gripping a greedy handful of Charles’ asscheek, spreading him open so that… God… so that his little pink hole was on display.
Carlos’ eyes are locked on that private part of him, his lips parting as he kept staring, his cock definitely growing even more interested-
“Prettiest hole in the world, I swear to God,” Max says, unbearably fond. “He’s gorgeous, right? And you wouldn’t believe how lovely he feels here.”
“How does he-,” Carlos clamps his mouth shut, trying to trap the impulsive question he shouldn’t be asking in the first place.
Too late.
But Max’s face has already lit up, he leans closer, speaking lowly, “God, mate, his hole feels so nice, so fucking soft and tight… It’s like he’s sucking me in whenever I’m inside him- my fingers, my tongue, my cock, he wants everything. He’s a greedy little thing-”
Carlos feels heat rapidly creeping up his neck again, though he’s somehow unsurprised that Max has such a filthy mouth. It’s fitting, but that doesn’t change the fact that what he’s saying is crazy. He’s talking about Charles, his friend… Carlos should tell him to shut the fuck up and not speak about him that way.
But he says nothing, envy prickling under his skin and an uncomfortable, unwanted arousal making his belly hot..
“Look, you can see it here,” Max is still talking, his fingers swipe to the next photo, and Carlos thinks he nearly chokes on his own tongue.
It’s a close up picture. Two of Max’s fingers are tucked up inside Charles' asshole, and even in a still photo he can see how Charles is clenched so nicely around him, his rim tight but stretched around Max’s thick knuckles, taking him deep inside-
“He’s so hot inside,” Max murmurs, staring down at the photo alongside Carlos, “Like a little furnace. I fucking love touching him here-”
Swipes again and Carlos sees the same subject, but from a wider angle… wide enough to show Charles from the front, his thighs spread obscenely wide, hips tilted up for Max’s hand while his spent cock lays on his stomach. White cum is spattered all over his skin while Max still has his fingers deep inside him.
Carlos’ own cock thickens even more as he stares at the dirty picture.
“Very tasteful, right,” Max snickers, nodding down at his phone, “I thought it looked nice. Asked him if I could send it to one of those art museums he’s always visiting but he said no.” Despite the joke, Max’s smile softens a little. “This was one of the times I got him to come just from my fingers. He can do that, you know? He’s got the most sensitive prostate, I swear he squeals like a little kitten if I touch him just right. Sometimes I can even get him to cry… It’s so fucking hot, mate.”
The image in front of him and the ones that Max are putting in his head are doing nothing to ease the heat in his blood, even as his skin crawls at the way Max is talking. As his stomach roils, he realizes it’s no longer fun to listen to Max talk about Charles like this, just another conquest they can brag about to each other over beers-
Not when he knew Max had had him, the person Carlos had secretly been agonizing over for years.
And even still, he cannot bring himself to try to stop Max when he moves to show him more.
But then a fucking video starts playing.
“Oops, forgot that was next” Max laughs.
The video, Christ, the video-
It’s Charles, of course, and he’s settled between Max’s legs, his face framed by two strong thighs. He’s… He’s licking at Max’s cock, Max’s thick cock, dragging his pink tongue up slowly up the length of it, before opening his mouth and taking the tip inside, suckling on Max’s cockhead, his pretty lips stretched wide around it, as he closes his eyes like he’s savoring it-
It looks absolutely filthy. All at once Carlos is completely chubbed up, his dick throbbing between his legs.
Glancing beside him, he’s shocked to see that Max somehow seems completely unbothered that his cock is on full display for his co-worker, merely watching along with the video with a bit of a smug expression.
And despite his own mortification at what is happening, Carlos cannot help but look back down, his eyes unwillingly drawn back to the obscene sight.
The situation is only getting worse as Charles begins moving his head, bobbing up and down, his mouth sliding lower each time, taking Max deeper and deeper-
The sight itself is so stunning it takes Carlos a moment to register the noises- wretched, wet slurping sounds coming through the phone’s speakers as Charles works at Max’s cock like a little whore-
“Max, turn it off,” Carlos’ head whips around, quickly panicked. They are still the only patrons in the restaurant, the wait staff is busy cleaning up the tables on the other side of the dining area, trying to give them a wide berth but slowly working their way closer to them, fuck they might be able to hear-
“Relax, they don’t know who it is,” Max says, smooth and uncaring, as if it’s not completely rude to be playing such pornographic sounds, even if Charles’ identity is safe, “Here, watch the end. Look how well he does.”
And despite the gall, Carlos still can’t resist looking right back at the phone.
On the screen, Charles has slid down almost all the way to the base of Max’s cock, managing to swallow down more and more through the short, choked noises he’s making. He’s looking up at the camera with wide, watery eyes as he takes the cock in his mouth, his mouth red and stretched. Then, Max’s hand suddenly comes into the frame, reaching down to pet at Charles’ hair-
“Such a good boy for me.”
Charles’ eyes flutter closed at the compliment, and Carlos feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach.
Old fantasies flitter across his mind- Carlos whispering praises to him as Charles sucks him off between practice sessions- Calling him pet names while he had him bent over one of his custom Ferraris- Telling Charles how well he was doing while he jerked him off in a Maranello bathroom…
He knew, he fucking knew, Charles had a praise kink.
… He’d just never expected to have it confirmed by watching Charles use his pretty mouth on Max Verstappen.
The clip ends like that, with Charles looking pathetically pleased at Max’s compliment.
“Good, yeah?” Max grins over at him, “He’s a fucking champion at sucking dick, mate. That sweet mouth…” he trails off with a sigh
“You’re crazy, mate,” Carlos finally mumbles, the simple statement all he can really say. He reaches up a hand to rub roughly at his jaw, still processing all he’s seen, hot jealousy and unwelcome arousal fizzing inside him, scattering his thoughts while a hundred questions buzz through his head-
But even still, despite the absolute absurdity of the situation, the thought of appearing weak in front of Max is still too much to bear… the last thing he wants is to make this night worse by letting Max in on the fact how much this is all fucking him up.
So Carlos, clears his throat, forces himself to continue with some bullshit comment. “It looks like he knows what he’s doing.”
He takes yet another drink from his beer, draining the last of the bottle. His head is spinning, more from tonight’s revelations than any alcohol, but perhaps that can be his excuse to escape-
“Oh, he does,” Max answers him quickly, “Let me show you how deep he can take me.”
And Max is fucking scrolling again.
“How many video do you have,” Carlos asks, doing his damndest to act unaffected, but only managing to sound strangled instead.
Max flashes a quick smile at him, “You can’t blame me, you know how busy we are. I don’t get to have him nearly often enough. Wouldn’t you want to have something to look back on…. Like this-”
He holds the phone out again, Carlos grits his teeth, looking down-
Charles is laying down somewhere, only his chest, neck, and chin really visible… because his head is hanging off the edge of the bed and…
Max is fucking his throat.
“Joder,” Carlos breathes, his cock throbbing.
It looks insane. Max is leaning over Charles face, his hips fucking forward, steady and deep into Charles’ offered mouth. Carlos can even, oh mierda, he can fucking see the slight motions of it, Charles throat moving subtly with each fuck of Max’s hips into him. Laying there and just taking it-
It’s fucking mesmerizing, watching Max use him like that.
“There’s nothing like fucking his face like this,” Max murmers to him, suddenly quiet, as though he’s trying to be discreet, like you can’t hear the filthy, wet, guttural noises Max is fucking out of Charles with the roughening thrust of his hips. “He’s so pretty during it, yeah? And it feels so good- getting him all sloppy on my cock, making him open up and take me deep-”
From the phone, Max’s own voice interrupts him, a raspy command breaking through the speakers.
“Gag on it, baby.”
Carlos’s eyes bulge, both at the vulgar order and as he watches Max shove forward, all the way in until he’s totally buried in Charles' throat. And then Max falls still, making Charles hold that big, thick dick inside him, probably unable to even breath around that thing.
But Charles just lays there like a good boy and takes it as Max stays … and stays… and stays… long enough that Carlos watches as Charles begins to twitch slightly.
“Look at you, Charlie, are you shaking for me?” Max’s voice on the video breaks through the tension. Carlos watches him run a gentle thumb down the line of Charles’s stuffed throat, before his hand drifts further down his chest, pinching at one of Charles’ nipples. The cruel actions makes Charles give a wretched, muffled sound around Max’s cock, his chest arching towards the offending hand-
“Love to make him choke on me like that,” Max explains quietly, nearly making Carlos jump. “Feels absolutely insane around my cock.”
“It- He-,” Carlos stutters dumbly, unable to finish the sentence, his own cock still aching as he watches Charles squirming around.
On the screen, Max finally pulls back, withdrawing and leaving Charles coughing weakly, his mouth a wet mess, spit fucking everywhere, smeared all over his face and neck, dripping strands of it strung up between Max’s cock and Charles face-
But despite the rough treatment, Charles fucking wails, tilting his head back to chase after Max’s dick.
“Greedy, baby,” there’s laughter in the video.
“Maaxxxx, more” Charles whines. His tongue slipping out to lap at Max’s balls when he can’t reach his cock, eager and fucking filthy.
The video ends like that, more of Max’s laughter cut off with the clip.
“Nice, yeah,” Max doesn’t give Carlos any time to deal with what he’s just seen, looking at him expectantly, something arrogant scrawled on his face. Feeling his jaw tic from how he clenches it, Carlos forces himself to nod, however reluctantly.
Across from him, the glint in Max’s eyes sharpens slightly. “Good as you imagined?”
And there it is.
The tone is cutting, and it is suddenly clear to him that Max is definitely making a point with these videos-
Perhaps Charles is more than just a conquest to Max after all.
It makes Carlos flinch, caught out, “Ey, Max-”
But Max isn’t interested in whatever he has to say, already looking back down at his phone and scrolling through photos and thumbnails, “It’s fine, mate, really, I get it, obviously. I used to think about it all the time too… Just thought you’d appreciate getting a taste, yeah?” Max shrugs, still trying to pretend like none of this is a big deal, notwithstanding the new tension he’s introduced.
Carlos forces himself not to look down at the pictures Max is flipping through, despite the temptation, instead keeping his eyes on Max. The friction has Carlos even more unsettled, more questions racing through his head at what Max’s angle really is, why he’s exposing both himself and Charles like this.
Carlos is right back to feeling like he’s found him in a trap, hopelessly ensnared in Max’s game.
Max pauses, like he senses Carlos’ anxiety, his eyes flickering up. He watches him for a moment, quiet as he lets Carlos squirm before speaking again-
“Want to see how he fucks?”
God.
Carlos breaks eye contact, pathetically looking away from the challenge Max has presented. Lust and disgust both war inside him, creating a hot, squirming sensation in his gut. He tells himself he doesn’t want to see anymore, doesn’t want anymore of this nasty ache in his chest, or to keep playing whatever fucked up game Max has cooked up...
But his cock disagrees, the way it pulses making it clear that his body disagrees with his mind.
And in the end, Max makes the decision for him, not even waiting for Carlos to respond before ruthlessly pressing play-
Max slides his phone across the table, Carlos’ eyes immediately flying onto the screen.
And this, this-
It looks like the picture Max showed him earlier… possibly even from the same night. Charles is face down on a bed, his ass raised and his legs spread, offering himself up so nicely for Max, even swaying his hips enticingly… like a little slut.
The video shows Max’s hand as he runs it down Charles back, teasing him into an even higher arch that spreads him enough for that pretty pink hole to peek out from between his cheeks, shiny with what must be lube-
Suddenly Max’s hand disappears- before slapping down on Charles’ ass in a quick series sharp, hearty spanks.
The crack of the slaps makes Carlos’ flinch, as does the way Charles’ squeals. He hears Max snicker off to his side.
“Max! Stop teasing- put it back in.”
On the screen, Max’s hand rubs against the mark he left behind on Charles’ cheek, his handprint blooming bright red against his pale skin-
“Yeah? Want me back inside.”
Max’s big, stiff cock comes into the shot, held in his hand as he slaps it down into the cleft of Charles’ ass, the angle showing off his size as he begins to slide up and down between his cheeks-
Dazedly, Carlos notes that he isn’t wearing a condom.
“Max!”
“Ask nicely, baby.”
“S'il te plaît,” Charles whines, so easy for it even if he sounds petulant.
Carlos bites his lip, his eyes fixed on the screen.
“So polite for me,” he hears Max tease as his hand squeezes him, tugging him open even more, displaying Charles’ pretty hole for the camera, moving in closer so his ass fills up the frame.
“Look at that,” comes a quiet murmur from next to him, Max sounds practically reverent. “So pretty… and all for me.”
Carlos' stomach swoops as he watches Max circle the head of his dick against Charles’ rim, taunting him a moment longer, before finally dipping inside.
Swallowing down a groan, he follows the way Max’s cockhead slowly nudges Charles open, making his hole stretch to allow him to pop the head in- from what Max has described, he can just imagine the tight, slippery heat that must be clutching around the tip of his cock-
But Max apparently wasn’t done tormenting Charles.
After dipping into Charles partway, Max quickly withdraws, pulling all the way out and letting the camera observe how Charles’ tiny hole has a brief, needy little gape before tightening right back up.
The sight is obscene.
Lips parting, Carlos is mesmerized as Max repeats the motion again and again, watching how Charles’ hole winks pathetically and listening to the lewd, wet popping sound every time Max tugs his cock out, as if Charles’ body wanted to keep him inside, wanted to keep being filled-
Carlos feels like he’s boiling, so turned on and horrified and jealous all at once he’s practically lightheaded with it-
“He likes to be teased. Pretends like he doesn’t, but he goes crazy for it,” Max whispers next to him, cruel satisfaction in his tone as Charles’ teary words come through the speakers, a garbled mess of English and French. “I like it too, of course, love hearing him beg for me. It everything even hotter-”
“Tell me you like it,” Max’s voice cuts through the tension.
“J'aime ça. J'aime beaucoup!”
“And what do you need?”
“Your cock,” Charles whimpers, shameless. “Need your cock, babe. Need you to fuck me open, make me take it. Need you, need you so bad.”
Carlos feels a bit like he’s just been slapped in the face- the pleas are better than anything he ever imagined, but knowing Charles has been giving this to Max… The ugly feeling in his heart swells, in spite of the rush of lust the words send crashing through him.
Apparently Max was just as affected, because on the screen he’s suddenly pushing back into him, a hand clenched around Charles’ hip to hold him steady as Max stuffs himself back inside, sliding in all the way to the base as Charles cries out ecstatically in the background-
“Feels so…fucking… incredible,” Max says, his voice low and slow, making sure every word lands like a strike straight to Carlos heart.
And despite the ache in his chest, Carlos can’t help but marvel at how good Charles looks when he’s full up like this, taking every bit of Max’s thick dick like he was made for it-
Things in the video get intense after that.
Max starts fucking into Charles almost immediately, and he’s brutal with it. The camera capturing every second of his big cock repeatedly slamming deep inside. Sloppy, squelching sounds come from Charles’ hole every time Max fucks back in, paired with the lewd sounds of his hips slapping off the creamy peach of Charles’ ass, sending his cheeks clapping with each rough thrust-
And then they start talking.
“This what you needed, baby,” Max asks, raspier, a little out of breath, “You happy now? With my dick in this pretty little ass-”
He emphasizes the filthy question with a series of particularly rough fuck of his hips, his free hand slapping down on the same abused cheek once more.
“Oui, oui,” Charles' voice is high and frantic, babbling as he just takes it, “Merci! Merci! Oh, Max, merci.”
Hearing Charles thanking Max for being so savage with him… it steals the breath straight from Carlos’ lungs, his stomach twisting with something unpleasantly thrilling.
“Jesus- Fuck!,” Max at least as the decency to sound overwhelmed on the video, like he knows just how fucking lucky he is-
There is an abrupt blur of movement, and the frame falls still, the clip ended.
Carlos just sits, frozen in his seat, Charles’ high breathy voice still echoing in his ears-
“Got a little preoccupied after that,” Max explains, almost cheerful save for the edge still in his tone, “Blew out his back, of course. But don’t worry, I got the ending. Wouldn’t want you to miss that.”
And with one last stab of cruelty, Max swipes yet again, playing one more video. Carlos does not even try to muster the energy to object, his eyes still locked on the screen-
He is still only marginally prepared.
When the clip plays he can hear panting in the background, both of them seemingly trying to catch their breath. The frame is back to a closeup of Charles’ ass, with Max still hard and buried halfway inside him… the brutal pounding from before is finished and replaced with short, gentle thrusts- the type of movements a man does when he’s savoring the aftermath…
Max has just finished inside Charles.
Carlos can tell because some of his cum is already seeping and frothed out around Charles’ rim, drawn there by Max’s lazy, slow thrusts- his cock making horrible, sloppy sounds every time he rocks back in, noises that are going to crawl inside Carlos’ head and haunt him every time he jerks off.
Off frame, Charles starts to giggle. “So wet, babe.”
“Yeah,” Max still sounds a little breathless, “Let’s see then.”
With that he roughly pulls out, another dirty noise accompanying the movement. Sticky white strings of his own cum cling to his cock as he withdraws, more staying smeared around Charles fucked hole as it tries to tighten back up… but not before another fat drops oozes out of him.
Carlos stares, transfixed at the creamy mess.
The camera draws back, a little shaky. Carlos sees two of Max’s fingers come into the shot, reaching forward to play with Charles’ hole, swirling around the wet he’d left behind, before dipping his fingers in to draw out even more, Charles mewling quietly as he does.
There is more blurry movement, flashes of skin and limbs as Max and Charles seem to shuffle around, until the camera focuses again. Charles is now resting on his back, head placed on a fluffy looking pillow behind him. He’s got that same dazed, fucked out expression on his face from the photo Max had shown him before- the only difference being the dopey, sweet little smile tugging on his lips.
He’s so fucking beautiful.
Carlos watches Max hold up his fingers to Charles face, showing off the shine of his cum. And Charles… Charles drops open his mouth easily, so fucking easily- happily taking Max’s fingers between his lips so he can suck them clean, keeping his eyes locked on the camera as he does so… looking like a-
“My pretty little cum slut… so good for me.”
With those reverent words from Max, the clip finally ends.
They are both quiet.
Carlos sits there, his cock still throbbing, the shock of everything settling into his muscles, making him rigid and quiet. It takes a long moment for him to finally rip his eyes away from the screen, choosing instead to look down at his empty beer bottle, staring at it unseeingly, a static noise in his head-
“Pretty hot, yes,” Max’s voice pierces his ears, that unbearable smugness back in full force.
The sound of Max being so self-satisfied sends a spark of anger through Carlos, just enough to wake him up, to get him moving.
“Yes. Very nice,” he mutters bitterly, gathering up his utensils and napkins on his plate and waving a hand in the air, trying to get the attention of one of the waiters, desperate for the check so he can finally leave the site of this awful bombshell and get the fuck away from Verstappen.
Now that he’s no longer immobilized by Max’s stupid fucking phone, he can see the place is almost completely packed up, besides the wide, awkward berth the staff had given them. The restaurant workers linger in the back, though one is quickly making their way to the table at Carlos’ signal.
He wonders just how much they’d heard.
“I’ll get the check,” Max offers, infuriatingly relaxed and unconcerned, as if nothing out of the ordinary has just happened-
“No. I have it,” Carlos replies, a bite in his voice as he waves a credit card at the waiter to indicate they’re ready to pay, glaring at the poor worker as he scampers off to retrieve the card reader.
Max turns his head, looking at him consideringly, “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he responds curtly, beginning to impatiently jiggling his leg, all while avoiding Max’s gaze.
They are quiet for another moment as the waiter rushes back and Carlos takes care of the bill. He’s itching to jump from his seat and say his bullshit goodbyes the moment everything is wrapped up, but, of course Max is speaking again before he is able-
“No hard feelings, yeah,” Max asks him, condescension dripping from every word, “It’s like I said, I understand. The fantasies and everything, that was me for years. I don’t blame you at all, of course, there’s so many people that want him…” he pauses, his arrogant smirk widening, “But he he hasn’t fucked anyone else ever since we started, he likes taking my cum too much, obviously.”
Max punctuates the vicious jab with a cruel laugh.
Clenching his jaw, Carlos looks away, his neck burning and his insides withering in embarrassment as he recalls all he’d confessed to Max.
The way the other man had played him… getting him to admit to his attraction… to spill all he’s imagined doing to Charles… sitting there listening to him talk about it like an idiot… all while Max has apparently been fucking the stupid whore for nearly a year… probably planning on showing him that shit as soon as he asked him if he wanted to grab dinner…
It’s all so fucking humiliating.
And here Max is still just lounging in his chair, obviously pleased with himself, “It will be nice to be able to have someone in the paddock to talk to about how good his ass looks. And maybe I’ll even show you what he sends me. He always likes to tease me over a race weekend," he rolls his, almost affectionately, “Charles and his little mind games, right?”
The flippant comment stings, salt in his already bleeding wounds..
Shrugging the pain away, Carlos can manage a vague grunt to acknowledge what Max’s offering. He tries his best to gather his thoughts, to figure out what he can possibly say to save what’s left of his dignity before he leaves-
“You all right,” Max asks, disgustingly mild, like Carlos can’t tell he isn’t enjoying watching him squirm.
“I am fine,” he replies, his own voice too tight to make himself seem unaffected. It only makes him more irritated.
“I thought you’d like seeing them,” Max shrugs, “Sorry if I overstepped mate. I just know he’s been a little unbearable the last couple weeks with his little road trip stunt-”
“Stunt?” The word feels sour in Carlos’ mouth.
Max rolls his eyes again, “Yes. He was pissy after the race. Mad at Lewis. Mad at me for going out with Martijn after… Stupid shit. And you know how he does things… posting someone else to send a message. He used to do it to you last season, yes?” Max tilts his head, staring him down, “I remember at my party in Vegas last year, that first night we hooked up, you remember…he was sitting in my lap when he told me he was going to post Lewis, just so everyone knew how excited he was to have a different teammate after what you pulled in the race… I remember I told him I liked it when he acted like a brat,” another one of those smug fucking smirks quirks Max’s lips. “But don’t worry, we didn’t talk about you after that. We were a little preoccupied with each other.”
The roaring noise in his head grows louder, his stomach clenching with nausea, and Carlos is genuinely worried he’s going to be sick.
“I need to go,” he mumbles, completely abandoning any attempts to possibly save face. He shoves himself up from his seat, willing to run out of here with his tail between his legs as long as it means finally escaping this torrent.
But Max, of course, has other ideas.
“Sure. Thanks for dinner,” he tells Carlos, his tone going almost sugary sweet, a warning sign if there ever was one. “And thank you, also, for getting Charles home safely. I appreciate it… Especially since he came straight to my place after you two got back… Sucked me off on my balcony to congratulate me for my win, you know?”
The comment lands just as Max probably intended- like a punch straight to Carlos’ gut.
That morning after they dropped off the van… after Charles set the entire internet going crazy over the two of them and their road trip… while Carlos was lying in his bed with a hand around his dick and imagining the two of them fucking in the backseat…Charles had been on his knees for Max fucking Verstappen.
Max watches him as it sinks in, derisive satisfaction all over his face as Carlos feels the humiliation curdle deep inside him.
The race weekend passes by in a hot, angry, suffocating blur- a rollercoaster that sees him disqualified from qualifying, to making up 8 places in the race, to finishing P10.
It helps to keep his head down, to focus on work, but Carlos can never completely ignore the rattled feeling that’s been lingering since that godforsaken dinner- his insides feeling scrambled and off-kilter, embarrassment still clinging to him days later. The people around him notice, some even ask if everything is all right- his dull assurances that he’s fine convincing no one.
He avoids looking towards anything Red Bull and Ferrari, unable to stomach the thought of seeing either of them until he absolutely has to.
By the time the race is over, he is dreading the jet ride home, cursing the shared jet sponsorship with a passion. For a few hours, he even considers asking someone to check for an alternate traveling arrangement-
But Charles will wonder what happened, he might even mention it to Max… and Carlos will not give that bastard the glee of knowing just how deeply he has managed to get under his skin.
With a grimace, Carlos steels himself and heads to the airport.
Even still, he is not prepared for how it feels when he speaks to Charles.
His ex-teammate seeks him out at the hangar as their entourages wait for their jet. Glancing at him, Carlos sees him coming, his eyes fixed on Carlos as he walks up to him, that coquettish little smile on his face that used to send a fluttery feeling in his belly-
It would be a lie to say that the pretty face doesn’t still give him butterflies… it’s just that they’re now being poisoned with brutal envy, falling as soon as they take flight.
Carlos quickly looks away, his heart hardening and aching in his chest.
“I did not see you much this weekend,” Charles says a moment later, standing next to him after they had exchanged greetings- Charles’ warm and friendly, Carlos’ stilted and short.
“No,” is all he says back, keeping his face blank as he stares off into the distance.
Charles’ surprise at his indifference is palpable, but Carlos won’t waver.
“You raced well,” Charles tries again.
He only gets a shrug in response.
“Everything okay,” Carlos can practically hear the way Charles’ brows have furrowed, incredulous at Carlos’ rudeness, so unlike most of their interactions this season, the soft, easy energy between them suddenly vanished, the one Carlos had so stupidly thought might be leading to something else-
“All good,” he keeps his words clipped, his face blank, still refusing to even glance at Charles’ face.
How could he bear to- when images of Charles sucking on Max’s cum covered fingers keep flashing behind his eyes? When he keeps remembering the way Charles had looked after he’d been pounded into the bed? When he now knows exactly what Charles’ hole looks like as it’s being stretched open around Max’s cock?
No, he doesn’t want to look at the stupid whore..
Charles walks off not long after, huffing a bit as he goes. Bitterly, Carlos thinks that he must be upset his fun is ruined now that Carlos is unwilling to be strung along by a little bit of flirting.
But he could go cry to Max about it if he was so upset. Maybe Max would take pity on him and fuck him until he felt better…
The thoughts are vicious and nasty, but Carlos can’t bring himself to care.
He’s angry, so fucking angry at the both of them. Furious with Max for embarrassing him in the restaurant, for giving such a disgusting display of possession and ego, and for yet again getting everything and anything Carlos seems to want- the Red Bull seat, the wins, the championship, and now even Charles.
And he’s livid with Charles for toying with him, for making him think there was actually something building between them, for flirting so much Carlos was actually considering making a move when he was really only being used so Leclerc could get petty revenge on his teammate and his… his whatever the fuck Max was to him.
The injustice festers inside him, his bad mood not improving the slightest once they all board and are on their way back to Monaco, especially when it becomes clear Charles is now pointedly ignoring him, sitting with his back to Carlos and never glancing his way.
It only makes Carlos more infuriated.
How can he act like doesn’t deserve Carlos cold shoulder, like he’s entitled to his attention? Like he thinks he can just flash his dimples at Carlos, use him to drive the internet to a frenzy, and then go home to let Max fucking Verstappen use him like a little slut and no one has to know.
The injustice makes his teeth ache, and by the time the flight lands he makes a reckless decision.
As everyone else is de-boarding Carlos hangs back, “Charles, I need to talk to you.”
The statement makes Charles throw him an irritated, but curious glance. He makes his way back to where Carlos stands waiting for him, a pissy look still on his face, obviously still miffed at their earlier exchange-
Carlos just looks at him while he waits for everyone else to get off the plane- not speaking, just staring, until Charles starts to fidget underneath his gaze.
Joder, he really is beautiful. Despite everything…Carlos still wants him…
If only he didn’t know that Charles would rather give himself to Max than to him.
“Well, what is it,” Charles’ annoyed question snaps him out of his bitter thoughts.
They’re alone on the plane now, no risk of anyone overhearing. Carlos gathers up his courage and his resentment, twisting it into a weapon as takes a deep breath before he speaks-
“In Singapore… I had dinner with Max one night,” Carlos tells him, his hand squeezing around his bag strap.
Charles raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Okay?”
“We talked… about you.”
Even as his pulse races, it is slightly gratifying to watch Charles go from irritated to confused to a sudden and obvious nervousness, no doubt wondering what they had talked about, if Max would dare-
“He showed me the pictures… and the videos.”
Charles has always been so expressive when he’s shocked, and this time is no exception. His lips part in a surprised little o, his eyebrows shooting up, eyes going wide, a pretty flush rising in his cheeks.
“You are very good at taking a cock, cabrón,” Carlos continues, quiet but harsh, “But you always did have a lot of practice bending over for Max, no?”
The insult lands.
Immediately, Charles goes from shocked to angry, a furious spark in his eyes and his blush bleeding to red, “Oh, fuck off, Carlos. I do not give a shit what you think. Worry about yourself, dickhead, it is what you are best at.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but Charles only throws him a withering glare and turns on his heel, stalking off the plane without another glance.
Carlos watches him go, wishing it gave him more satisfaction.
He’s left on the plane, alone, still drowning in sour, bitter jealousy.
* * *
Max is playing a game of FIFA when he hears the ferocious knocking on his apartment door, so loud and obnoxious it sends the cats scrambling and Nino barking up a storm.
But the sound only makes Max smile, his heart skipping an excited beat.
Pausing the game, he takes a deep breath, forces himself to slow down and takes his time walking to the door, letting the harsh knocking continue as he corrals Nino behind his gate and furtively checks his hair in the hallway mirror.
“Open the door, I know you are in there!”
A nonsensical warmth fills Max at the sound of Charles’ angry voice. He can’t be blamed, he’s missed his baby, it’s been almost two weeks since they were able to be together-
And he’s had plenty of time to think of how he’s going to answer for what he’s done… what he’s going to say to Charles… what he might even confess…
Max reminds himself that he’s not the type of man to get nervous- doggedly ignoring the whisper in his head that tells him that’s bullshit.
When he finally opens up the door, Max is unsurprised to be met with Charles' enraged glare.
He’s doing his best to look menacing, his brow furrowed, a scowl pulling down his pretty lips, arms crossed over his chest- Unfortunately, he only really succeeds in looking like an angry kitten. Max barely resists cooing over him.
A besotted smile twitches his lips, which only makes Charles more furious.
“What the fuck is so funny,” he snaps, shoving his way inside past Max. The way their bodies brush together gives Max goosebumps, and Charles’ anger only sends an exhilarated little shiver down his spine-
Fuck, he loves battling Charles, on track and off.
“Nice to see you, baby,” he greets as he shuts the door, no longer trying to suppress his grin when he turns to face him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”
Charles has only made it a few steps down the entry hallway when he whirls around again, his hands now clenched down at his sides while he glowers-
“What,” he starts through gritted teeth, “the hell did you show Carlos?”
“Oh, he told you about our dinner, did he,” Max asks casually, most of his nerves now hidden behind the thrill of the fight. He makes his voice casual, light, enjoying the way it only makes Charles angrier.
“He told me you showed him pictures,” Charles grits out, taking a step forward, “and videos. He told me I was good at taking your cock.”
“Well, no lie there,” Max smirks, letting his eyes trail down Charles' body, barely even acting anymore considering the heat that starts to fill him when his gaze lingers on that slim waist. “You’re amazing at taking my cock, baby.”
God, Max always wants him so bad.
Charles squawks, stomping up to Max to fist in hands in his shirt and shake him “Connard! Why the hell would you show him that? How could you be so-“
Unable to resist, Max’s hands clamp down on Charles, fitting to that tempting little waist and cradling him in his palms. Charles squirms in his grasp but doesn’t do anything that shows he seriously wants to break away.
It feels so good to hold him again.
“Was he rude to you,” Max asks Charles, genuinely curious as he tries to pull him closer. “When he talked to you about our dinner, I mean? Or was he seriously complimenting-”
“Why do you care,” Charles snarls, locking his arms and using his grip on Max’s shirt to keep a bit of distance between them, “Obviously you are not caring about how he treated me if you are showing him these things. I cannot believe you would be stupid.”
Oh, that would not do.
Max twists them suddenly, his quick movement surprising Charles enough that Max manages to crowd him up against the entryway wall. Pressing close, he watches Charles’ anger melt just a little as their bodies brush together.
The sight makes Max’s heart clench a bit, adoration pumping through him. Eagerly, he leans forward to nuzzle their faces together, ignoring the way Charles still looks like an angry little kitten who is about to hiss and spit at him. “Of course, I care, Charles. I will make him regret it if he was rude to you.”
Charles scoffs, but does not make any moves to pull away as Max leans in to brush soft kisses over his cheeks, his forehead, his nose…
“I missed you, schat,” Max whispers before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, his hands squeezing him tight- so tight he can feel the shiver that passes through him.
“Stop,” Charles tries, acid still in his voice even as he lays still under Max’s attentions, his own hands gripping onto his shoulders. “You will not make this better with your stupid kisses, Max.”
“Aw, are you mad I ruined your fun,” Max teases, drawing back slightly to focus on Charles’ face, “Did Carlos not want you to flirt with him anymore, is that it? One of your little playthings gone?”
His expression twisting into a scowl, Charles hisses back, “Maybe I am mad you violated me.”
Max only snorts, “That excuse might work if I didn’t know you so well. But I do know you… Don’t pretend like you don’t like showing off, you love when people want you-”
“That does not mean I want them to see me getting fucked,” Charles snaps.
Max has to bite his lip so he doesn’t do something suicidal like giggle. Charles is just so cute when he’s angry like this.
“No,” he tilts his head closer, nuzzling against Charles’ face again. His baby lets him, even if he huffs in irritation, “I don’t believe that either… I know all about your little exhibition kink, of course. Or are you forgetting about that time you asked me to fuck you in the bathroom at Jimmyz while there were people outside…,” Max smiles at the memory, beginning to lay more soft kisses on Charles’ cheek, even as he continues to murmur, “Or maybe you don’t remember that I know very well just how many nudes you take of yourself… Or how about when you asked me if I thought you could get away with an anonymous OnlyFans?”
Max trails his mouth over to Charles’ ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth as his hands slip down to squeeze at his ass, delighting in the way he makes Charles arch in his arms, pressing them even closer.
“Th- That is different,” Charles retorts breathily, still trying to sound angry even as Max can feel that way he quivers as his ear is kissed.
“Is it,” Max asks gently, drawing back to look at that beautiful, annoyed face once more, “Then I guess I apologize, Charlie. I just thought it would be better for Carlos to know the full picture if he was going to keep panting after you like that. It was only fair that he knows what he’s up against.”
“What is that meaning,” Charles narrows his eyes, trying to jerk back.
But Max keeps a hold of him, now leveling Charles with a stern look, “Do not play dumb. He wants to fuck you, it’s obvious. Been that way ever since you were teammates but especially now. And you’ve been encouraging it, especially with that stupid road trip-”
“Ah, so you are jealous,” Charles accuses, and Max does not miss the flash of triumph on his face, “Or are you now going to be the one pretending-
“I was,” Max admits, bluntly interrupting Charles' tirade before it can start.
His heart begins to race as he watches Charles’ face smooth out in surprise.
Max has been thinking about this moment for weeks. In the hours he was stewing with rage between the last two races as he watched the internet obsess over the roadtrip, everyone and their fucking mother making jokes about his man getting railed by Carlos in a van on the side of some godforsaken Italian road.
The jealousy had festered inside him, hot and brutal.
It had twisted him up, so much so that Max had decided to take action, to end this with something extreme. Showing Carlos proof of who Charles belonged to had only been the first phase of the plan. Now he was on to the second phase… the much more terrifying part.
It was time to be honest.
Charles is blinking up at him, his surprise still quite obvious, “Y-you admit it?”
“It’s what you wanted, yes? To make me jealous. Well, it worked, and I decided to do something about it. Carlos can dream about fucking you all he wants…but now he knows,” Max pauses for split second, taking a slightly shaky breath as he gathers his courage-
They never talk openly about this situation, never acknowledge the unspoken feelings that lay between them. But it’s time, maybe it’s past time, to start being honest. So with another breath, Max full sends it- “Now he knows who you belong to. He knows you’re mine.”
Charles' lips part, his eyes going wide, “Max…”
“You wanted my attention, schat,” Max murmers, arms tightening around Charles, wondering if his lover can tell how nervous he is. “But you always have it you know. You are the only one I see. I always want you, all the time. Only you.”
A small, stunned sound rises from Charles' throat.
They are so close Max can see something blooming in his eyes, a certain glimmer that’s usually there during soft moments between them- like when Charles watches Max play with Leo… or when they’re cuddled up together after spending the night, talking softly… or when Charles runs his fingers through Max’s hair just the way he likes, smiling gently down at him-
It makes hope blossom in Max, unsticking his words as he leans in closer yet again, nose gently nudging against Charles’ as he rests their foreheads together.
“I’m not letting anyone else have you, baby,” he whispers, “Not until you tell me I have to let you go-”
“Non!” Charles cuts him off, voice almost frantic as he twists his hands in Max’s collar to pull him even closer, “No, no, I will not ask that- I- Max. I want- I want… It is the same for me, I swear.”
Oh.
It’s a scrambled confession, but it makes perfect sense to Max. He’s hit with such a wave of relief, hope and infatuation that he’s almost dizzy with it.
There’s more they need to say, much more, but for now… it’s enough. It’s a start, a lovely, lovely start.
Max grins at Charles, who smiles shyly back. Feeling light and silly, his own flush heating his cheeks, he ducks in for a kiss, soft and sweet, silently marveling at the fact he gets to have this-
Until Charles, brat that he is, begins nipping at his top lip, deepening the kiss, making it clear he wants more.
The feeling of Charles' teeth against him sends heat pooling into his belly, and Max’s hands grope roughly at the round ass still filling his palms.
Still, he can’t resist just a bit more teasing-
“So do you forgive me for showing, Carlos? Or are we still pretending you’re angry.”
Charles pulls back slightly to scrunch his nose at him, “You are very lucky you’re cute Max Emilian,” he nips Max’s lip again, “And that it is hot when you are being possessive.”
Snickering, Max swoops back in for another brief, but filthy kiss, “Oh you like that?”
“Maybe.”
“Want me to show you exactly how possessive I am,” he gives one tight cheek a firm squeeze.
Charles answers with a sloppy kiss, shoving Max backward towards his own bedroom.
* * *
Max stares down at where he’s got Charles folded up underneath. He’s yanked his baby to the edge of the bed, where Max still stands on his feet so he has the most leverage to pound into that sweet hole, so he can see everything.
A part of him hates the fact that he had shown this to Carlos, even if it was necessary. But even though the selfish side of him wants to keep this version of Charles all for himself, the louder, possessive monster in his chest roars with satisfaction at the thought that now Sainz knows exactly who actually gets to have Charles in his bed, internet jokes be damned. Fuck, maybe Max even wishes everyone knew-
Looking down at Charles, Max feels his breath catching in his lungs.
Charles’ cheeks and lips are blushing bright red, his hair tousled and sweaty, eyes hazy as he stares right back up at Max above him, a needy, soft sparkle in his gaze-
He’s holding his own legs up and spread open, presenting himself so nicely for Max, hips tilted up to eagerly receive each rough thrust, his pretty cock hard and weeping against his tight stomach, leaving a pool of shiny precum on his flexing stomach, his hole so wet and tight for him…
God, Max fucking loves him, and he suddenly knows in his bones he’s going to tell Charles that some day… some day very soon.
“You’re so perfect for me, baby,” Max pants, his hips picking up their pace as his mouth starts to run, “You belong right here, yes? Belong underneath me, just like I belong inside you.”
“Oui, oui,” Charles answers, gasping adorably just like he always does when he’s speared on Max’s cock.
“All mine,” Max insists, his heavy balls slapping against the peach of Charles’ ass, “You’re all mine, baby.”
The claim makes Charles’ head tip back with a sharp cry, the hot, velvety clutch of him tightening up around Max suddenly, dragging a hungry groan from his chest. He watches as Charles lets go of one of his legs to frantically grip the base of his cock, like he needs to stave off his climax-
“A-attendez,” he moans, twisting against the sheets, “Wait… slow down…”
Groaning, Max bites his lip and manages to do what Charles asked, placating himself by only stilling when he’s already deep inside, savoring the feeling of Charles’ tight body still squeezing around his cock-
“All good,” he asks, trying to regulate his breath as he waits.
Charles bites his lip, his hungry eyes locked on Max’s heaving, sweaty chest. Max feels as his baby’s greedy, tight rim flutters around his dick, obviously eager to get back to what they were doing.
“Grab my phone,” Charles finally orders, voice firm, “I want you to film this.”
Max raises his eyebrows, “Baby, you know I love having videos of you, but I really don’t want to pull out right now. You feel too good,” he punctuates the statement with a deep grind of his hips, making sure Charles feels every inch of where he’s tucked up so deep inside him. From the way Charles eyes flutter as he lets out a soft little mewl, Max knows he does.
“Max, get my phone,” Charles demands once again, after he regains his composure, “We are making a video to send to Carlos.”
And, oh, that is interesting.
“Are we,” Max asks slowly, still unable to resist circling his hips for some more of that delicious, warm feeling as he tries to decide if he likes this idea or not. “Why? You like him watching you that much?”
“No,” Charles frowns, reaching up to sweep his sweaty hair out his eyes, so Max can better see the determined set of his face, “Earlier you asked if he was rude when he spoke to me. He was.”
Things quickly slot into place, and Max feels another burst of affection for the man underneath him. Fuck, he loves when Charles is a savage brat.
“Need a little revenge, baby?”
Charles smiles up at him, something sharp in the corners, “Want to make sure he knows you are the only one I want, chéri. The only one who ever makes me feel this good. Let’s rub it in a little, yes? I am thinking he deserves it.”
Fuck.
The explanation is both vicious and sweet, and it sends Max’s head spinning.
Moments later, after bravely pulling away for a brief minute to hunt through the mess of their discarded clothes, Max is once again rocking into Charles with slow, thorough thrusts aimed to drag over his sweet spot. With one hand he grips the meat of Charles’ thigh to keep him settled, the other hand trembling slightly as he fumbles with Charles’ phone, opening up the camera app, excitement and arousal making him clumsy.
He knows what he’s doing- in no time at all he’s got Charles framed perfectly, showing off the way he’s spread out, already writhing and whimpering beneath him as Max ruthlessly pushes into his prostate. The sight of his baby, the feel of him… it’s fucking ecstacy.
Max starts rutting into him harder, chasing after the tight heat even as he presses record.
“Say hello to Carlos, baby.”
Carlos slowly blinks awake, finding himself still on the lounge in the exact same exhausted position he’d collapsed into as soon as he walked into his apartment.
Mierda.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he tries to drag himself out of the disorientation from his unintended nap. It’s dark outside, and he has no idea what time it is.
Patting around for his phone, he has the vague, but satisfying thought that he finally feels a little better- the deep sleep finally providing a bit of relief from the emotional turmoil he’d been drowning in for the past five days.
It didn’t fix everything, but it was a start.
Finally locating his phone, he opens it and groans when he sees the hour, only for the disgruntled sound to choke off when he notices his top notification.
A message from Charles.
Thoughts and possibilities rush through his head- it could be an angry rant… it could be an apology… it could be a confession… a request to meet up to set things right…
Shaking slightly with apprehension, Carlos opens up the messages… only to stare down at the screen in confusion.
Charles hasn’t said anything, merely sent some sort of link.
With a frown, Carlos taps the screen to open it.