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If the 2025 FIA Gala is ever recounted upon in history, Charles wants the record to show that he absolutely, completely, from the depths of his soul, does not want to be here.
He usually likes fancy events where he gets to dress up and ‘peacock in front of cameras’ as Pierre says. But a work-related fancy event? One where he has to sit through others being awarded for their success and pretend that he doesn’t feel even a little bit envious? Yeah, no, Charles isn’t PR-trained enough for that.
The last four years, he somehow managed because it was Max who was being awarded, so Charles at least had the opportunity to celebrate his mate; laugh and drink and fuck the night away in their hotel room later.
But this year, as much as he’s happy for Lando and wishes him all the best, Charles really can’t be bothered.
He wouldn’t have minded it this much had Max been there too like he was supposed to be. But he’s not.
They told everyone that he had the flu. Everyone except Rupert and his doctors of course, who knew the truth already.
Charles had insisted that lying wasn’t necessary. The fans and media overanalyse and speculate about their mating cycles anyway (Max’s heat cycle more so than everyone else’s rut cycles) so just putting out a vague statement about a ‘personal reason’ would’ve been enough. But Max wasn’t having it.
“I of course can’t let everyone know that I was actually stressed about the title fight and that it led to my heat hitting two weeks early!” Max exclaimed, sitting on their bed and cuddling one of Chrales’ hoodies and not Charles himself because he was too busy packing for this stupid gala. “That’s so embarrassing!”
Charles wanted to point out that had it been him in Max’s situation, he would still be throwing up from anxiety. But Max always gets a bit stubborn when his heat is close, so Charles decided to let it be.
The moment Max told him he wouldn’t be able to go because his heat was coming earlier than planned, Charles started drafting an excuse for himself not to go too. But Max had insisted that he go, lecturing Charles on how ‘rejecting a personal invite is not very nice Charles, you might never get invited again’.
Charles whined and protested till the cab taking him to the airport was out by the door, but Max didn’t budge and Charles was forced to leave. Not even his puppy eyes managed to get through to Max this time.
He should really learn to be more persuasive.
A tap on his shoulder jerks Charkes out of his thoughts. He turns to find Oscar staring at him with a frown, hand still raised.
“Earth to Charles, you there mate?” he asks.
“Yes, yes, just… distracted,” Charles says, gesturing vaguely. “What were you saying?”
“We asked if you wanted to meet for lunch tomorrow before flying back,” Lando says from behind Oscar, what Charles thinks is his third glass of alcohol already half-empty in his hand.
“Sorry, I have an early flight,” he grimaces, although he doesn’t feel sorry. He wanted to fly back tonight itself, but the airport closes at ten, so the flight was pushed to the earliest slot available the next morning.
“Need to take care of Max?” Lando asks with a concerned look, and it gives him a flashback to another argument he’d used to try and stay home.
“But chéri, I need to help you with your heat,” Charles said.
“I can of course get through a heat without you, Charles,” Max replied with a smirk. “I used to be an unmated omega. I used to be a single omega. I got through heats on my own before. It’s easier with you of course but I’ll still manage for two days.”
“Wait…” Charles frowned, “you used toys?”
Max rolled his eyes, “Of course I used toys Charles; that’s what they are for.”
Charles stared out the window for a while, his left eye twitching just a bit. Max raised an eyebrow in confusion and the question slipped out before Charles could stop himself, “Were they bigger than mine?”
Max rolled his eyes again and didn’t answer.
“Yeah, I don’t feel good being away from him,” Charles says now with a shrug, “especially when he’s sick.” He feels slightly like a prick for bringing down the mood when it’s supposed to be an award ceremony, but he misses his mate so much and he doesn’t care who gets bothered because of that.
“Must be tough. Hope he gets better soon,” Oscar says with a pat to Charles’ back, trying to cheer him up. It doesn’t work.
Soon, the announcers walk on stage, and everyone falls silent.
Charles sinks back into his seat and tries to filter out most of what he hears. All the while, his mind keeps wandering back to Max. His scent is divine on a normal day but during heat, it’s the most intoxicating thing Charles has ever smelt. Nothing like the weird mix of expensive perfumes in the room right now. He also laughs so sweetly and moans so beautifully when Charles tickles and fucks him in that order and…
And he’s probably in their bed right now. And Sassy’s probably in her cat tree and Jimmy’s probably asleep somewhere and Leo’s probably running around without anyone to play with, and Charles is here listening to Mohammed Ben Sulayem talk bullshit.
This year really has had it out for him.
It’s halfway through the ceremony when his phone pings with a notification. He put it on Do Not Disturb when he entered the auditorium so the only person who can still contact him is…
Charles almost elbows the person next to him in his haste to grab his phone. When he looks at the screen, the little notification bubble confirms his suspicion.
Chéri ❤️
[image]
He and Max have a habit of sending each other random pictures of their day when they are apart. Charles assumed Max wouldn’t have the time to do so today, given his heat, so he curiously unlocks his phone and goes to their chat.
It takes about four seconds for the image to load and when it does, Charles chokes on his own tongue.
At first, he thinks it’s a picture of their bed, the white sheets rumpled and messy. But then he sees the skin. Max’s skin. It’s a shot of his hips, showing from mid-thigh to just below his navel. An expanse of creamy skin that Charles knows in his bones is soft like silk to the touch.
But what gets Charles isn’t the skin showing; it’s the skin that’s not showing. Because the only thing Max is wearing in the picture is a thong. A black lace thong. No no no, not just any black lace thong. It’s the black lace thong; the one Max wore while he waited for Charles on their hotel bed after Charles won Monza. The one Charles had touched more reverently than the trophy.
Another image comes through and Charles knows what it is before he opens it. But even if he guessed it, seeing it punches all the air out of his lungs.
This one is taken from the side. Max is on his stomach and Chales can see the sinful curve of his ass and the thick, soft muscles at the back his thighs. The lace is stretched beautifully over his asscheeks and, just below the top hem, stitched in with small, golden, metallic letters are the words ‘Property of Charles Leclerc’.
Charles almost forgets to breathe, the same way he did when he first saw it that night in Italy.
A text soon follows the two pictures.
Chéri ❤️
The toys are manageable but nothing like you of course.
Love you, schat!
Don’t stare too much!
Chrales wants to scream. He wants to shake Max by the shoulders and demand what he means with ‘don’t stare too much’. How is Charles supposed to do anything but stare?
Upon looking at the pictures again, he realizes that Max’s thighs are coated in slick. It’s on the sheets and soaking through the lace of the underwear. It’s probably all over the toys too. If he closes his eyes, Charles can almost smell it, can almost feel the heavenly taste on his tongue.
He’s glad he’s wearing scent patches because he must smell like he’s in rut right now. And he’s also glad about the privacy screen protector his team urged him to get and also for the dim lights in the room because he can feel his dick hardening with each second.
Charles
Mon amour, are you torturing me?
How can I sit here with you looking like that.
Cheri ❤️
<3
Charles knows then that what will eventually kill him isn’t speed or sickness but Max Verstappen and his scandalously soft thighs.
Charles
I’m tempted to leave right now.
It’s still 9.30. I can still catch a last-minute flight.
Chéri ❤️
Charles I already told you!
You were personally invited and it’s rude to reject.
Ruder to leave mid-way.
I just sent the picture to give you company of course.
Although maybe I should’ve sent a normal one?
As much as it feels like the sweetest torture, Charles can’t help the surge of adoration that takes over his heart at reading those words. He thinks of Max, going through his heat without his alpha around to take care of him but still managing to think about how Charles might be lonely.
Sometimes, he doesn’t know how or why he deserves Max.
Charles
No this photo is just art mon cœur!
It’s the most beautiful thing I have seen!
I promise to get back as soon as possible and take good care of you!
Chéri ❤️
I’ll be waiting!
As much as Charles wants to be with his omega and get his hands all over his sweet skin, he’s also desperate to just go back and take care of Max. Before he left, he made all of Max’s favourite meals and put them in the freezer so that Max only needs to reheat them. He also moved the minifridge near Max’s sim rig to their bedroom and filled it with chocolates, energy bars and Red Bulls. He stocked the closet with fresh towels and sheets so that Max doesn’t run out of them and scented almost half his wardrobe for Max to use in his nest.
He knows that spending a heat alone is painful in itself but more so for mated omegas who have an instinctive connection to their alpha.
He feels restless as he sits there, doing nothing but he promised Max he would attend the ceremony, so he reluctantly puts his phone away.
He turns his attention back to the room only to see Zak Brown getting up to collect the Constructor’s trophy to a scattering of applause.
At least it serves as a major turn off.
Charles calms down enough to stop his leg from bouncing and his hand no longer shakes as he holds a glass. The image of Max still flashes through his mind like a tattoo behind his eyelids, but he thinks he’s found enough footing to at least make it through the night.
That is, of course, till they play the video Max sent in place of his absence. The video Charles saw him take in their living room.
Max is blushing beautifully the way he always is in preheat and Charles wonders how flushed he is now. Everyone else will most likely assume it’s the ‘flu’, further solidifying their lie. But Charles was there when the video was taken and he remembers how Max smelt; like vanilla and coffee and the emerging whispers of need. He remembers kissing Max before the video. After the video. Twice during recording and thus, ruining the take.
If Max flipped the camera, everyone would see Charles and Leo sitting on the couch, staring at him. Leo because Max was playing with him before and he wants Max to come play with him again and Charles because he’s a love-sick idiot.
“I really wish he were here,” he hears Lando trying and failing to whisper to Oscar. “I miss him. Charles must feel pretty shit too.”
You have no idea, Charles thinks miserably.
Thankfully, Charles survives the night without killing anyone or banging on the doors of the airport demanding that they let him through. He tries to get as much sleep as possible because he doesn’t plan to even wink his eyes when he gets home. Every passing second will be spent fucking Max, feeding Max or just cuddling with Max.
He wakes up at four in the morning and packs his bags, only to get a call from a member of Max’s flight crew saying that Max informed them not to take off till at least seven because ‘then Charles will have enough time to eat at the hotel buffet. He won’t eat on the plane because he’s too anxious.’
And Charles falls more in love with him in that moment, he really does, but fuck.
He eats as Max wants him to, his sour mood keeping anyone from approaching his table despite them looking over at him from time to time.
The moment the bill is paid, and he hands over his room key, Charles rushes to the cab and doesn’t stop fidgeting till the plane is in the sky.
It’s eight hours of absolute torture and Charlies tries to be productive. He tries to answer a few emails, but when he reads the same line for the fifth time without understanding it, he gives up. He then tries to check in a bit with his passion projects but none of them ignite the same excitement in that moment so he turns that off too.
Eventually, he goes on social media and goes through some fan posts about the event. There are tons of people gushing over how good he looks in the suit but reading the comments reminds him of how Max had looked at him when he first tried on the custom-made piece in their bedroom two days ago.
Charles let him take the suit off him afterwards, not even caring if it got damaged in the process. It didn’t but he still hadn’t cared.
But Charles’ hopes that his restless anxiety would’ve gone unnoticed come crashing down when he sees a few more posts focused on him.
There’s a picture of his staring at him phone, face flushed and eyes wide. He’s probably just received Max’s first sexy pic. Under it is the caption ‘What did Charles receive on his phone? Wrong answer only.’
He opens the comment sections and finds various theories, some of them almost making him smile.
megsss
It’s a picture of the SF-25
scrwderiaaa
diabolical he just got rid of that shit
Itzliz
No way! He’s clearly looking at something he likes.
tyrewhisperer
must be the water
zuzan
guys I think it’s the banana in fortnite
While most of them are objectively funny, he eventually finds a comment that’s right on the money.
1633weddinginvitation
bet max sexted him
serasversion
omg I think this is what actually happened
bittersunshine
lol max has the flu so he wouldn’t be sexting. Get a grip.
f1posting
Who needs a wdc when you’ve got Max Verstappen sexting you?
dorkdiariesirl
the money I would pay to see what he sent. Charles leclerc you are god’s favourite
briancopper
yeah cause that’s the only thing that slut knows how to do
f1alphasport
Poor Charles. Stuck in a relationship with a useless, ugly ass omega. Hope he breaks the bond soon. I really worry for him.
Charles hand tightens reflexively around his phone, and he puts it down before he does something like throwing it across the cabin. It’s certainly not the first time he’s read or heard comments like that, but it still makes him just as furious as the first time.
When he started courting Max five years ago, there was a reason they didn’t parade their relationship around the paddock. Charles had known about the stories the media liked to spin, about how Max ‘got bigger paycheques and avoided penalties by spreading his legs’. Any interaction he had with an alpha on the paddock was dissected and scrutinised and used to reach non-existent conclusions. So, they both knew what the media would say next if they learnt that he was being courted by another driver.
They didn’t hide their relationship, but they never talked about it unless asked either. For a year and a half, it miraculously flew under everyone’s radar. Then, of course, some paparazzi with ultra-zoom got a picture of them on the same yacht, Max reclining on a deck chair and Charles sitting beside him, playing with his hair.
If Charles had paid attention to the media comments that followed, his pride would’ve been hurt by how many people thought he was a poor, gullible alpha being manipulated and taken advantage of by an omega.
Even today, despite years of being together and Charles talking continuously about how amazing Max is and him now proudly bearing the omega’s teeth marks on his neck, there are still people who think he’s being manipulated or trapped.
And the thing is, Charkes wouldn’t even mind being manipulated into a relationship with Max. He wouldn’t even mind Max locking him in his basement. Charles is just that desperate for him.
He wanted to say just as much to get everyone to stop going after his mate, but his PR team had seemed horrified when he suggested it, so he dropped the idea. Now though, it seems tempting.
He lies around uselessly for the rest of the flight, trying his best to flush out any negativity from his mind because he refuses to go home to Max and be anything but happy.
When the plane lands, Charles almost cries from joy.
He’s sure the crew doesn’t mind his half-assed ‘thank you’s as he almost trips down the stairs onto the tarmac. He counts the seconds of the car ride and then the seconds of the elevator ride and finally, blissfully, after eight fucking hours, he finds himself in front of their door.
The moment he steps in, Charles almost falls to his knees.
It doesn’t matter how many heats he has spent with Max, this scent will always have his inner alpha roaring. He leaves his bags by the door and gives Leo one single scratch with the promise of more later before he almost runs into their bedroom.
He knocks once, out of habit, before he throws the door open.
The sight that greets him could be his one and only ikigai.
Max is lying on his back, feet propped up on the bed, legs spread. He has two fingers buried in his dripping pussy, the slick glistening on his thighs and hand. His moan cuts off halfway and his eyes snap to Charles and putain!
His pupils are blown and he’s looking at Charles with raw, unequivocal need and Charles is across the room in the blink of an eye, most of his clothing already discarded.
“Charles,” Max whines, his back arching off the bed just at the sight of his mate.
“Max, chéri,” Charles whispers, leaning down to kiss him. He tries to ease Max into the kiss, not wanting to overwhelm him, but Max grabs his face and opens his mouth to let Chares’ tongue in. The kiss is hot and messy, and it feels like Max is trying to devour him whole; Charles has never felt better.
He grinds his clothed crotch against Max’s pussy as he kisses him senseless and Max moans into the kiss. He humps back against Charles, the friction providing him with short bursts of pleasure.
“Charles,” Max breathes as he breaks away, panting, “need you now! Please!”
“Anything you want bébé.”
Charles gives him one last chaste kiss on the lips before trailing down to his neck. He lets one of his hands find Max’s clit and rubs it in firm circles, making him jerk and whine beneath him. Charles peppers his neck with kisses, biting and sucking till he knows a mark will be left.
His other hand finds Max’s nipple and starts rolling it between his fingers. It makes Max grab his hair and tug and Charles knows he’s doing the right things then.
He licks the sensitive skin over Max’s mating bite just as he sinks two fingers into Max’s warm, tight cunt and Max throws his head back with a moan.
“Like that darling?” Charles asks with a quirked eyebrow.
“Yes plea– ah! Charles… please…” his voice trails off into moans as Charles curls his fingers inside him, rubbing against his g-spot. He can feel the slick dripping down onto the sheets and he knows exactly what he needs to do next.
“Want my mouth on you, baby?” he asks playfully, giving another small kiss to the mating mark before removing both his fingers, making Max whine at the loss of stimulation.
He grabs Max’s thighs, spreads them lewdly and litters the soft, slick-covered skin with kisses and bites. Max grabs the pillow beneath him and watches Charles with half-lidded eyes, letting out little moans whenever Charles bites just hard enough.
After a few minutes of kissing every patch of skin around his pussy, Charles finally grabs a hold of his hips, keeping his firmly in place. He keeps staring at those blue eyes as he slowly wraps his lips around Max’s clit and sucks.
Max almost screams with how good it feels.
Charles sucks and licks between the flushed folds, the taste of slick just as heavenly as he remembers, and moves onto Max’s entrance. He licks one, long stroke from his fluttering hole to his clit before diving in and pushing his tongue into the warm clench of Max’s cunt.
“Ah, Charles-” Max cuts off into a moan, his eyes closed and body flushed. “Please… more!”
And Charles doesn’t need to be told twice. He fucks his tongue in and out of Max vigorously, slick coating his chin and cheeks and gushing into his mouth. He savours the taste like a starving man.
He alternates between fucking Max with his tongue and sucking on his clit and soon enough, Max is a whimpering mess on the sheets, tears running down his cheeks and pussy dripping obscenely.
The moment Charles pushes a finger in beside his tongue, Max clenches around him and comes with a deep moan. Charles doesn’t slow down until Max is just shivering and twitching on the bed.
Charles removes his mouth from Max’s pussy and catches his breath. He doesn’t know how long Max has been masturbating for or if he’s satisfied for now. Max tends to fluctuate between wanting a rigorous fuck and wanting only cuddles during his heat, so Charles is always careful of what his mate craves at any given moment.
He’s beginning to think that maybe Max is spent when the omega reaches a hand down to Charles hair and pushes his face back into his pussy. Charles can feel himself strain against his boxers at the action.
He eats Max out till his jaw hurts and doesn’t even stop then. He drowns himself in slick until Max is mumbling incoherently, lost to instinctive pleasure.
“Alpha,” Max moans, his vice wrecked and eyes unfocused, “need you inside! Now!”
Charles sucks on his clit one last time before sitting back on his legs. Now that he sees Max’s entire body, he thinks he’s looking at an art piece worthy of a museum. A museum only Charles can see.
His skin is flushed an angry red, a stark contracts against the white bed sheets. His neck is littered with hickeys, his hair’s a mess and he looks like he’s been crying in pleasure for hours. Maybe he has. Charles neither knowns nor cares about what time it is.
“Do you want me to fuck you, baby?” he asks, removing his boxers and stroking his painfully hard dick.
Max nods his head enthusiastically. “Yes… please! Feel so empty… Want you to fill me up, knot me till I can’t think.”
Charles has never heard sweeter words.
He lines his dick against Max’s pussy and rubs the tip through the soft folds a few times, listening as Max moans beautifully each time it rubs against his clit. Then, without much warning, just as Max likes, he sinks all the way in in one go.
Max clenches around him as his eyes roll back his head and his mouth falls open in a silent scream. Charles groans as Max’s walls pulse around him, practically milking his cock. He grabs Max by the hips and starts thrusting, making him arch off the bed.
He fucks Max with unrelenting pace, rubbing circles into his clit with his thumb and leaning down to suck one his nipples into his mouth. The added stimulation makes Max wither under him, hands tightening their grip on the sheets.
He switches his attention from one nipple to another, licking and kissing the rose-coloured nub until Max’s moans are almost screams.
“Yes, Charles, y-yes… feels so huh… good,” he breathes out between moans and pants.
And there’s really nothing more that Charles wants to hear.
“You enjoying yourself chéri?” Charles whispers, eyes locked on Max’s face. The wet squelch of Max’s cunt almost drowns everything else out.
“Yes…” his voice dissolves into a whimper. “Want you to fuck me real good. All day long.”
Charles huffs out a laugh. “You’re going to kill me mon amour.”
“Don’t care,” he mumbles in reply. “Just want you in me. Want you to knock me up one day.”
Charles chokes on his inhale and his hips stutter in their movements. Max whines and looks at him angrily and Charles starts moving again but his mind is still reeling, the words still hard to process even if he knows exactly what they mean.
“Wha- What?” he asks, now looking at Max who doesn’t seem to find anything amiss.
“Said I want you to- to give me a pup…” he breathes heavily, “maybe more than one pup.”
They never talked about pups. Max has always been on birth control, and it never crossed Charles’ mind to suggest otherwise. Max loves racing and wouldn’t do anything that would minimise his chances at it but of course, Max won’t race forever. They will have a life after racing and… And Charles is suddenly assaulted with a mental image of his mate carrying their pup.
Max’s stomach protruding with a small baby bump that will grow bigger as the months pass. His breasts, already so delectable to Charles, growing fuller and beginning to lactate. His scent growing sweeter the way all pregnant omegas’ do.
Max. Pregnant. With his pup.
The thought sends Charles over the edge and his knot swells, locking them together as he slams into Max a final time with a groan. The fullness and the feeling of cum filling him pushes Max to orgasm as well and he lets out the prettiest moan Charles has ever heard as he squirts all over the sheets. Charles keeps rubbing his clit through the orgasm, making his cunt clench and unclench so sinfully, massaging Charles’ dick.
They both lay still through the aftershocks and Charles waits till his knot has receded before gently pulling out of Max. The omega doesn’t say anything as Charles goes to bring a washcloth and some water. He takes small sips from the bottle as Charles tenderly wipes him down, making sure not to overstimulate his clit as he cleans Max’s slick and his own cum.
He slowly extracts the sheets while Max rolls around the bed to let him. He goes to put them in the laundry basket when, in the corner of the room, he sees them. The toys. Some shinning with slick and some not. But all of them smaller than Charles. His alpha rumbles with pride.
He brings new sheets and manages to lay them while Max still rolls around, reminding him of how Jimmy does the exact same thing.
Once everything is sorted, he brings them both clean clothes and Max grabs the shorts and throws away both the t-shirts.
“No tops,” he mumbles, burying himself under the blanket. “Want to feel your abs.”
Charles is really grateful that Max doesn’t mince his words when in heat.
He brings some of his scented hoodies and tries his best to make a nest around them both. He’s still not as good as Max but he’s been learning and the progress must show because Max hums appreciatively at the arrangement of soft garments.
Charles is still not tired and he’s pretty sure Sassy will demand food in another twenty minutes, as is routine, so he grabs his phone from his pants on the floor and joins Max in the nest. The moment he’s close enough, Max wraps his arms around him and buries his face in Charles’ neck. Charles strokes a hand through his soft blond hair, scratching his scalp the way he knows Max likes.
He drops small kisses onto Max’s head, mumbling sweet nothings until he feels Max’s breathing even out. This is the cuddly phase of the heat and Charles loves this part just as much. He hugs Max tightly as he sleeps and continues to kiss every patch of skin he can reach without disturbing him.
When he’s certain that Max is out cold, he grabs his phone with his free hand, only to find that it’s still displaying that post from earlier. The words glare back at him from the screen, an anger creeping into his veins like toxins.
Poor Charles… Stuck in a relationship… Breaks the bond…
Suddenly, an idea pops into his head. It’s an idea that will probably get him yelled at by his PR team and maybe also by Max, but he’s pissed of his PR team for less and Max, well, he can never stay angry for long. Specially not when Charles brings out the big guns: his puppy eyes.
So, he concludes, with Max snoring lightly in his arms, that the idea is worth it.
He snaps a quick selfie of the two of them; Max fully covered under the blanket save for his mop of blond hair and Charles pressing a small kiss to his temple.
Once he’s certain that neither Max nor his PR team will be upset with the photo specifically, he quotes the reply which pissed him off and attaches the image.
charlesleclerc replying to f1alphasport
No need to worry about me. I’m exactly where I want to be!
[image]
He presses ‘post’ and turns his phone off before tossing it away.
Max mumbles something in his sleep and Charles tries his best to decipher what he says. He hears random words along the line of ‘cat’ and ‘sim’ and ‘schatje’ and… yeah, Charles is finally back where he belongs.