Work Text:
The music from the main ballroom was a muffled throb, a vague reminder of a world that currently held no importance.
In the quieter, dimly lit hallway lined with abstract art that nobody ever really looked at. It was all centered on the man leaning against the wall, a vision that had short-circuited Max’s higher brain functions the moment he’d followed him out here.
Charles Leclerc was a work of art crafted for sin tonight. His costume was a masterclass in audacious suggestion rather than outright statement. A fitted black jacket, open and hanging off his shoulders, revealed the true spectacle beneath. The garment underneath was not so much a shirt as a framework of delicate black straps and open panels.
It was a design that framed his torso, leaving large portions of his smooth skin completely bare. The central panel, right over his sternum and upper abdomen, was simply missing, creating a wide, tantalizing window. And there, in the very center of that exposed canvas, drawing the eye with an almost magnetic pull, were two silver barbells piercing each of his nipples.
Max’s mouth had gone dry the second he’d seen it. He’d known Charles was planning something daring, had seen the spark of nervous excitement in his green eyes earlier, but this… this was beyond expectation. The cool metal glinted under the hallway’s soft lights, a stark contrast against the vulnerable flesh. Charles’s face, flushed with a mix of party heat and self-conscious daring, was tilted up towards him, those familiar green eyes now holding a challenge and a plea all at once.
“You have been staring for five minutes, chéri,” Charles said, “Do you approve?”
“Approve?” Max echoed, He took a step closer, erasing the last bit of polite distance. “You’re trying to kill me. That’s what this is.”
Charles laughed, “It is just a costume, Max.”
“It’s not,” Max argued, his blue eyes fixed on the silver rings. His fingers itched to touch. He raised a hand, slowly, giving Charles time to pull away. He didn’t. Max’s fingertips, slightly calloused from the grip of a steering wheel, brushed over the cool metal of one piercing, then grazed the swollen nub of Charles’s nipple beneath it.
“See?” Max murmured, “Not just a costume. It’s an invitation.” He rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying a gentle pressure, his touch firm and deliberate around the hard metal. Charles’s breath hitched, a soft whine escaping his throat.
“Maybe,” Charles conceded, his eyelids fluttering. “Is it an invitation you want to accept?”
Max answered by leaning in and capturing his mouth in a consuming kiss. He licked his way inside, tasting the faint sweetness of champagne on Charles’s tongue. Charles melted against him, his hands coming up to clutch at Max’s broad shoulders, his own costume—some kind of generic warrior get-up that felt stupid and pointless now—seeming unbearably bulky in comparison.
When they broke apart for air, Charles was panting, his lips red and wet. “The party…” he started, but it was a weak protest.
“Fuck the party,” Max stated, his hands sliding down to Charles’s slim hips, gripping hard through the fabric of his trousers. He could feel the heat of him even through the layers. “We’re leaving. Now.”
He didn’t wait for agreement. Taking Charles’s hand, he pulled him down the hallway, away from the muffled music, towards a service exit he knew led to a private corridor and the elevators to the hotel’s upper-floor suites. Charles followed without resistance, a willing captive.
Max backed Charles into the mirrored wall, kissing him again, one hand sliding under the open jacket to palm his flat stomach, his thumb stroking over the defined muscles. His other hand went to Charles’s crotch, palming the growing erection there through the expensive fabric. Charles moaned into his mouth, grinding down against the pressure.
“So eager, baby,” Max muttered against his lips. “All this for me? Dressing up like this, putting these on…” He pinched a pierced nipple through the open panel, making Charles cry out and buck against him. “You wanted everyone to look, didn’t you? But you only want me to touch.”
“Yes,” Charles breathed, his head falling back against the mirror with a soft thud. “Only you, Max. Always you.”
The elevator dinged, and Max all but dragged him out, down the plush carpet to their suite door. Fumbling with the key card, he finally got it open and pushed Charles inside.
Their suite was spacious and dark, the city lights providing the only illumination through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Max didn’t bother with more lights. He turned and looked at Charles, who stood in the middle of the living area, looking suddenly more exposed and vulnerable than he had in the crowded hallway. The daring costume now seemed like a layer of wrapping on a gift only Max was allowed to unwrap.
“Take off the jacket,” Max commanded.
Charles shrugged the black jacket off, letting it pool on the floor. The intricate harness-shirt was even more stunning without it. The straps cut across his collarbones, shoulders, and ribs, emphasizing his build and the beautiful, exposed planes of his chest. The silver piercings were the undeniable focal point.
“Now the rest,” Max said, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He wanted to watch. He needed to see Charles undress for him, see the anticipation build.
With trembling fingers, Charles undid the fastenings of the harness. It fell away, joining the jacket on the floor. He was naked from the waist up now, save for the glinting metal in his nipples. His skin was flawless, a pale canvas that Max had mapped with his mouth and hands a hundred times, yet it looked new and shocking tonight. Charles then toed off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and pushed his trousers and underwear down in one go, stepping out of them.
He stood completely naked before Max, bathed in the silver-blue light from the windows. And there, between his thighs, was the other part of him that Max cherished and craved with a ferocity that sometimes scared him. Charles’s cock, half-hard and flushed, lay against his lower abdomen. And below it, the soft folds of his vulva, already glistening with wetness. Max’s own dick throbbed painfully in his tight trousers at the sight.
“Beautiful,” Max said. He pushed himself off the doorframe and closed the distance between them. “My beautiful, filthy boy. Dressing like a whore just for me.”
Charles whimpered, the crude words sending a visible shiver through him.
Max reached out and traced a finger from one pierced nipple, down the flat plane of his stomach and straight to his wet opening. He didn’t push inside, just circled the swollen lips of Charles’s pussy. “Look at you. So wet already. Just from a little touching and a few words. Your cunt is dripping for me.”
“Max, please,” Charles begged, his hips twitching, trying to seek more contact.
“Please what, darling?” Max asked, continuing to toy with him, spreading the wetness around, brushing over his clit with a feather-light touch that made Charles jump.
“Please touch me. Properly. Please.”
Max hooked two fingers into him, a sudden, deep invasion. Charles cried out, his knees buckling. Max held him up with an arm around his waist, fingers curling inside the hot, tight channel.
“Like this, baby? Is this what you want?” He pumped his fingers slowly.
“Yes! God, yes…” Charles babbled, his head falling onto Max’s shoulder. He was panting, his own hands clawing at Max’s back.
Max scissored his fingers, stretching him, feeling the velvety walls clench and flutter around them. He could feel the distinct, softer spot inside—Charles’s cervix, the entrance to his womb. The thought of pounding against it, breaching it, made a possessive growl rise in Max’s throat.
He withdrew his fingers, slick and gleaming. He brought them to Charles’s mouth. “Taste yourself.”
Without hesitation, Charles opened his mouth and sucked Max’s fingers clean, his green eyes dark and hazy with lust, looking up at Max through his lashes.
The sight was unbelievably erotic. Max groaned, his control fraying.
He crushed their mouths together again in a savage kiss, then broke away, his own hands flying to his clothes. He needed skin on skin. Now.
Soon, he was as naked as Charles, his heavy, thick cock springing free, already leaking pre-come at the tip.
Charles’s eyes dropped to it, and a hungry, wanting look crossed his face. He dropped to his knees on the plush carpet.
The sight of Charles Leclerc on his knees, naked and pierced, looking up at him with those submissive eyes, was one Max knew would be burned into his memory forever. Charles’s hands came up to stroke Max’s thighs, his hips, before wrapping around the base of his cock. He leaned forward and, without any further preamble, took the head into his hot, wet mouth.
Max hissed, his hands automatically tangling in Charles’s soft brown hair. “Fuck, Charles…”
Charles hummed in response, the vibration traveling straight up Max’s spine. He began to bob his head, taking more and more of Max’s length into his throat. His tongue swirled around the crown, licked along the prominent vein on the underside, and his cheeks hollowed as he sucked with a greedy intensity.
Max looked down, watching his cock disappear between those perfect, pink lips. He tightened his grip in Charles’s hair, “That’s it, baby. Such a good mouth. You love sucking my cock, don’t you? Love the taste of me.”
Charles made a affirmative sound around his mouthful, his eyes sliding shut in bliss. One of his hands left Max’s hip and traveled up his own body, his fingers finding one of his silver nipple piercings. He pinched and pulled on it, his breath stuttering through his nose, his sucking becoming sloppier, more urgent.
“Playing with your pretty tits while you suck me off,” Max observed, his voice rough with arousal. “You’re a dream, Charles. A perfect, dirty dream.”
He felt the tension coiling in his balls, the familiar, tightening pull. He didn’t want to come yet, not like this, not before he’d had him in every other way he craved. But the sight, the sensation, the sheer debauchery of it was too much.
“I’m going to come, darling,” he warned, his hips giving a small, involuntary thrust.
Charles’s eyes flew open, meeting his. He took Max’s cock as deep as he could, relaxing his throat, inviting it. That silent permission shattered the last of Max’s restraint.
With a guttural groan, he came, pulses of hot semen jetting down Charles’s throat. Charles swallowed diligently, his throat working around Max’s shaft, taking every drop. He didn’t pull away until Max was completely spent, softening in his mouth. Then, with a final, gentle suck, he released him, leaning back on his heels. A single, white trickle escaped the corner of his mouth. He caught it with a finger and brought it to his lips, licking it clean, his gaze never leaving Max’s.
“Jesus Christ,” Max breathed, hauling Charles up from his knees and kissing him deeply, tasting himself on Charles’s tongue. “You’re incredible.”
Charles smiled against his lips, his body pliant and warm. “I want more, chéri. I am not nearly finished.”
Max’s cock, miraculously, twitched with renewed interest against Charles’s thigh “Insatiable. Come on.”
He led Charles to the large bed. He pushed him down onto his back, Charles went willingly, spreading his legs in a wanton invitation. His pussy was a glistening, pink mess, his folds swollen and wet, his clit a hard, needy bud.
Max knelt between his thighs, his eyes drinking in the sight. He leaned down and, without warning, licked a broad stripe from his perineum all the way up to his clit.
Charles screamed, his back arching off the bed. “Max!”
Max ignored him, feasting on him. He ate Charles’s pussy with the same focused intensity he drove a car—all-consuming, relentless, seeking perfection. He lapped at his entrance, drinking the sweet, musky wetness. He sucked his outer lips into his mouth, nipping gently. He circled his clit with the tip of his tongue, then flicked it rapidly.
Charles was a writhing, begging mess beneath him. His hands fisted in the sheets, then in Max’s blond hair, pulling and pushing in equal measure. “There, right there! Oh god, please, please…”
Max pushed two fingers back inside him, crooking them upwards, and redoubled his efforts on Charles’s clit. He could feel the walls around his fingers beginning to flutter and spasm.
“Come for me, baby,” Max ordered, his voice muffled against Charles’s soaking cunt. “Come on my tongue. Let me taste it.”
Charles obeyed. His body convulsed, his hips bucking off the bed as a gush of fluid soaked Max’s chin and the sheets beneath them. Max rode it out, licking and sucking him through the intense waves, drawing out every last pulse until Charles was a oversensitive heap.
Max crawled up his body, kissing his stomach, his chest. He took one of the silver barbells between his teeth and tugged gently, then soothed the sting with his tongue. Charles mewled, his oversensitivity from his orgasm mingling with the sharp pleasure-pain from his nipples.
Max settled his weight on top of him, his renewed erection, hard and heavy, nestling against Charles’s wet thigh. He kissed him, letting Charles taste himself on his lips.
“You came so much,” Max murmured, nuzzling his neck. “Drenched me. Your pussy is a fountain, darling. My personal fountain.”
Charles blushed, a beautiful pink spreading across his cheeks and chest. “Only for you.”
“I know,” Max said, He reached between them, guiding his cock to Charles’s slick, stretched entrance. The head nudged against him, spreading the swollen lips. “And now I’m going to fill you up. Every inch of you.”
He pushed in, in one slow, inexorable thrust.
They both groaned in unison. The feeling was always staggering—the incredible, hot tightness, the way Charles’s body yielded and then gripped him like a vise. Max buried himself to the hilt, their hips flush, his pubic bone grinding against Charles’s sensitive clit.
“Oh god… Max… so full…” Charles gasped, his legs wrapping around Max’s waist, his heels digging into Max’s lower back, pulling him even deeper.
“You feel that, baby?” Max gritted out, holding himself perfectly still, savoring the feel of being fully sheathed. “That’s me. All of me. In your pretty little cunt.”
He began to move. Slow, deep, punishing strokes that dragged against every nerve ending Charles possessed. Each thrust was aimed deliberately, the broad head of his cock massaging that tender spot deep inside, bumping against the entrance to Charles’s womb with relentless pressure.
Charles was sobbing within minutes, nonsensical words in a mix of English and French and Italian tumbling from his lips. His nails scored down Max’s back. Max captured his mouth, swallowing his cries, fucking his tongue with the same rhythm as his hips.
He shifted then, pulling Charles’s legs higher over his shoulders, bending him almost in half. The angle was brutal, deeper, more direct. Charles wailed, his eyes rolling back.
“There?” Max demanded, hammering into that same spot. “Is that where you need it, sweetheart? You want me in your womb? You want me to fuck a baby into you?”
The impossible words drove Charles wild. “Yes! Please, Max, yes! Fuck my womb, chéri, please! I want it, I want it!”
Max’s thrusts became harder, faster, a frantic, driving pace that shook the bedframe. One of Max’s hands slid between their sweat-slicked bodies, his thumb finding Charles’s clit again. He rubbed it in tight circles, perfectly in time with his penetrating thrusts.
“Come again,” Max ordered, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. “Come on my cock, Charles. Now.”
It was an order Charles’s body couldn’t disobey. Another orgasm, even more intense than the first, ripped through him. His pussy clenched and spasmed around Max’s invading length, a fresh flood of slick warmth gushing between them. He screamed, his body taut as a bowstring before collapsing, boneless and shuddering.
Max fucked him through it, his own climax a tsunami building at the base of his spine. The rhythmic milking of Charles’s inner muscles was too much. With a final, brutal thrust, so deep he felt Charles’s cervix yield a fraction under the assault, he came. He emptied himself inside Charles with a roar, pulse after hot pulse flooding his depths, claiming him, marking him from the inside.
He collapsed on top of him, crushing him into the mattress, both of them slick with sweat and come and the evidence of Charles’s multiple releases. He was heavy, but Charles’s arms came around him, holding him close, his face buried in Max’s neck.
They lay like that for long minutes, until their heartbeats slowed from a gallop to a steady trot.
Max finally rolled off, pulling Charles with him so they lay on their sides, facing each other. He was still mostly hard, still buried inside Charles’s tight, wet heat. Charles’s eyes were glazed, his beautiful face slack with satiation.
Max began to move again, slowly, a gentle rocking of his hips.
“Again?” Charles whispered, his voice hoarse.
“Again,” Max confirmed, kissing him softly. “And again. All night. I’m not done with you.” He slid a hand down to Charles’s ass, giving the firm cheek a sharp, stinging slap. Charles yelped, then moaned, his inner muscles fluttering around Max’s cock, which was rapidly regaining its hardened state.
Max flipped him onto his stomach, pulling his hips up so he was on his knees, his head and shoulders pressed into the mattress. The position presented Charles’s ass and his used, dripping pussy perfectly.
“Such a good boy,” Max murmured, lining himself up and sinking back into that welcoming heat with a deep, satisfied groan. “Taking everything I give you.”
He set a new pace, One hand gripped Charles’s hip hard enough to bruise, the other reached around to play with his clit, to tease his pierced nipples, to stroke his leaking cock. He bent over Charles’s back, his mouth near his ear.
“You’re mine, Charles,” he grunted, each thrust punctuating a word. “This. Pussy. Is. Mine. These. Pretty. Tits. Are. Mine.” He pinched a nipple, barbell and all, making Charles jerk and cry out. “You come when I say. You scream when I want. You wear my marks. You swallow my come. Mine.”
“Yours!” Charles sobbed into the sheets, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “All yours, Max! Always!”
It went on for hours. Max took him in every way he could imagine. He fucked him on his back, legs over his shoulders, so he could watch his own cock disappear into that slick, stretched hole. He fucked him on his side, one of Charles’s legs hooked over his arm, the angle allowing him to grind relentlessly against his clit with every stroke, until Charles came with a broken scream, his pussy squirting a startling amount of fluid all over Max’s thighs and the sheets—a true, gushing squirt that left them both stunned and panting.
He pulled Charles onto his lap, making him ride his cock, his own hands busy torturing Charles’s nipples, twisting the barbells, pulling on them until Charles was a sobbing, pleading wreck, bouncing frantically up and down on Max’s shaft, impaling himself over and over. He bent Charles over the arm of the sofa, spanking his reddened ass until it was hot to the touch, then soothing the sting with his tongue before plunging back into his dripping wetness.
He lost count of Charles’s orgasms. They blurred together, one sustained scream of pleasure. His own release came twice more, each time deep inside Charles, filling him up until come was leaking out around his cock with every thrust, making an even bigger mess of them both.
Finally, as the first grey light of dawn began to dilute the darkness outside the windows, Max found himself on his back, utterly spent. Charles lay half on top of him, He was covered in marks—love bites on his neck and shoulders, red handprints on his ass and thighs, his nipples red and swollen around the silver rings, his pussy swollen and glistening with a mixture of their fluids.
Max’s cock, finally soft and spent, slipped out of him with a wet, soft sound. A trickle of come followed, pooling on Max’s thigh. Neither moved to clean it.
Max traced idle patterns on Charles’s sweat-damp back. Charles made a soft, contented sound and nuzzled closer.
After a long silence, Charles spoke, his voice raspy and almost gone. “The party… they will wonder where we went.”
Max let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Let them wonder.” He tilted Charles’s chin up so he could look into his dazed, happy green eyes. He brushed a thumb over his kiss-swollen lips. “You were the best thing at that party anyway. And this,” he gestured vaguely at the wrecked bed, at their tangled, sticky bodies, “this was the only after-party I wanted.”
Charles smiled, “Me too.” He hesitated, a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “You… you liked it? The… the piercings?”
Max’s gaze dropped to the silver barbells, glinting in the dawn light. He leaned down and took one gently between his lips, sucking the tender nub into his mouth for a moment before releasing it with a soft pop. “I loved them. I love everything that’s you. But,” he added, a possessive edge returning to his voice, “they’re for my eyes only from now on. No more costumes like that in public.”
Charles’s smile turned into a grin. “Or what?”
Max’s hand slid down to squeeze his sore ass, making him yelp. “Or I’ll have to remind you who you belong to. Even more thoroughly than I just did.”
Charles laughed, wincing a little at the movement. He rested his head back on Max’s chest. “I think I need a few hours to recover first.”
“You have all day,” Max said, his arms tightening around him. “We’re not moving from this bed until we have to.”
They lay in comfortable silence for a while. The room was a disaster zone of discarded clothes and tangled sheets. Their bodies were a map of the night’s passions. Max had never felt more content.
Charles’s fingers were tracing the scratches on Max’s shoulders. “Max?”
“Hmm?”
“Next time,” Charles said, his voice sleepy but with a hint of his old mischief, “you wear the costume.”
Max snorted, pressing a kiss into his brown hair. “Not a chance, lieverd. But I have a few other ideas.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm. Something involving those rings… and some clamps… and maybe a vibrator while I fuck you from behind.”
Charles shivered against him, a fresh pulse of wetness seeping onto Max’s thigh. Max smiled against his hair.
“See?” he whispered. “Insatiable.”
Charles just hummed, already halfway to sleep, a satisfied smile on his face.
Max held his world in his arms, closed his eyes, and didn't sleep. He just breathed him in.