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In a world where one could identify their mates via scent, young Charles Leclerc was hopeful, excited, captivated to meet his mate so early... but... the same can't be said about Max Verstappen.
- Language:
- English
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- 59,237
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- 18/18
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Bookmarked by tp1tp2tp3
16 Jun 2026
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“Oh,” Max breathes, “look at you losing control. Want to do it right here, huh?” He steps closer, daring, taunting.
Through the haze of bloodlust, Charles knows he’s clamping too tightly to Max’s arms, fingers digging in with inhuman strength. His fangs are out, too. He should leave before he loses what’s left of his mind. Instead, he tightens his grip, eyes flickering red, nails sharpening to prick holes in Max’s ugly Red Bull polo.
Despite all that, Max doesn’t flinch back or make a hurt sound. If anything, he pushes into the touch. Charles inhales greedily, intoxicated by the signature of his blood.
Max smells like temptation. Like home. Like he belongs to Charles.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,344
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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Bookmarked by tp1tp2tp3
10 Jun 2026
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He doesn’t blame Max, not really.
If he could have Charles for one night, he would never let him go either.
Maybe he isn’t the one who is losing; Max is also playing a losing game.
You can’t open yourself to Charles and try to exist in his charmed life without becoming irrevocably enamoured.
When Max let Charles walk into his motorhome, when he let Charles slip into his existence, Max didn’t know it then but the battle was already lost.
Series
- Part 1 of this is our place, we make the rules
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,439
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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- 157
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Bookmarked by tp1tp2tp3
10 Jun 2026
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“You here to congratulate me?” he says, voice bright, cheeks flushed from the win, from the noise, from the ego. He tilts his head, all pretty elegance.
Max doesn’t answer. Just stalks forward until he’s toe-to-toe with him, until the smell of Charles’ sweat and champagne and heat floods his nose. “Congratulations?” Max growls, voice low and poisonous. “For what? Ruining my race? Driving like a fucking brat?”
Charles’ smile sharpens, a playful glint lighting his eyes. “I got P2,” he says simply, voice almost lighthearted, as if that explains everything. “Don’t be sore just because you couldn’t keep up.”
Max’s hand snaps out, grabs the back of Charles’ neck, fingers curling tight into the sweaty curls at his nape. He leans in, breath hot against Charles’ ear. “You’ve got no idea how close I came to running you off the track. Lucky for you, all I want is to fuck you so hard you forget everything else —especially how to drive.”
OR: Charles clips Max at the race, so Max punishes his bratty omega by making him remember his true purpose. [UPDATED 8/28/25]
Bookmarked by tp1tp2tp3
10 Jun 2026
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Summary
Charles draws his sword.
Max stares at him. "Here? Now?"
"Don't tell me you're scared to lose again," Charles mocks.
And, well, that just pisses Max right off.
Rival knights Max and Charles are set to compete in the most prestigious tournament in the kingdom. Fucking and fighting, as it turns out, are kind of the same thing.
Bookmarked by tp1tp2tp3
07 Jun 2026