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Max sighs as he stands in front of the mirror, looking at his outfit.
He looks different. He runs his hand through his hair. He looks good, yeah, but he never wears outfits like this to the paddock or anywhere else. He only wears outfits like this when he models for his sponsors.
This outfit was from his TAG Heuer photoshoot they said he had to wear it to the paddock once since it suits the watch.
He checks himself one last time in the mirror before grabbing his backpack, locking the hotel door, and rushing out, already running late for the media day.
~
As Max walks through the paddock toward the Red Bull motorhome, suddenly, everyone starts taking photos of him. It's nothing new-people always take pictures-but today, he's getting more attention than usual, which feels a bit strange.
Max starts walking faster when he runs into Lando.
They shake hands, both of them walking together when Lando asks, "What's the occasion, mate?"
"Nothing," Max says, glancing around. It just feels weird,everyone is watching him. He hasn't done anything wrong... or does he have something on his face? If he did, Lando would've told him by now. He doesn't understand.
"Oh, Max, who are you fooling? Come on, tell me what's with the sudden change in your outfit? I've never seen you walk around the paddock in anything other than Red Bull merch!" Lando says, throwing his arm around Max's shoulder.
"Sponsors, they told me to wear this. That's it," Max says, shrugging it off.
"I see! Okay then. I have to go, but hey, you look good today! Try wearing stuff like this every day, mate!" Lando says, waving as he walks into the McLaren motorhome.
Max chuckles, shaking his head before walking past the Ferrari motorhome. He looks inside, hoping to spot a particular someone, but no luck.
That someone was Charles-his boyfriend.
Max wanted to see Charles before heading to media day. He doesn't like media days at all, and after the last race, the car was so messed up that he barely managed to finish in P6. His team hasn't been listening to him properly, and it's been frustrating for the past few races.
The only time he feels calm these days is when he's with Charles, cuddling in the bed while some random show plays on the TV. They eat their favorite snacks and talk about anything-anything but racing.
Max also wanted to show Charles the outfit. He knew Charles would like it since he always encourages Max to wear different outfits, but Max being too stubborn ends up wearing whatever he wants.
Max finally reaches the Red Bull motorhome, where he changes into his Red Bull shirt before heading to media day. He knows he'll end up saying the same things he always says-"we're trying, and the car is fcked up."
This time, the media asks him about the McLaren rear wing issue. Max saw the pics and videos of it on Twitter, and to be honest, he wanted to straight-up say it was illegal, but that probably wouldn't look good, would it?
The media always twists his words,no matter what he says.
~
It was a boring, and frustrating day for Max. He wasn't able to see Charles today even once,since Charles had gotten up early for a meeting.
Ferrari and their endless meetings-they still manage to mess up their race strategies.
Max sits on the couch in his driver room, scrolling through his phone. He sees people freaking out over photos of him from the paddock earlier. He shakes his head and throws his phone onto the table. People are ridiculous-just because he wore something different, they're losing their minds over nothing.
As he gets ready for the meeting with the team about car issues before free practice tomorrow.
~
The meeting ends, leaving Max frustrated, as they still haven't fixed the problems.
Everything comes crashing down into Max's mood.
In the morning, people looked at him like he was an animal on display at a zoo,and the stupid media questions. The team won't listen to him, and the car is still messed up.He didn't even get to see Charles today.
Max packs his things quickly so he can get out of there.
As he walks through the paddock, he calls Charles, only for the phone call to go directly to voicemail. Max mutters a "f*ck" under his breath, sulking about how his day has been.
Just when he thought this day couldn't get any worse, Max realizes he forgot his car keys in his room. Standing in front of his car, he kicks the tires.
~
After retrieving the keys, Max makes his way back toward the car when
"Max!"
He stops, turning around to see Charles jogging toward him. Max exhales, waiting as Charles closes the distance between them.
"What are you doing here? I mean, this late?" Charles asks, slightly breathless as he stops beside him.
"Fixing my fucking car. By myself," Max snaps, his frustration bleeding into his tone.
Charles flinches just a little but recovers quickly. "Okay... understood. So, what happened?" he asks, his voice softer now as his hand finds Max's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Max instinctively relaxes under the touch but still mutters, "Nothing."
Charles raises a brow. "Nope. Something had to happen for you to be this grumpy." Without waiting for a protest, he takes Max's hand and starts leading him toward the car.
Max sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's just-" He exhales sharply before continuing. "Today was exhausting. The stupid media questions you know how much I hate media days. Then the meeting with Red Bull, where they refuse to listen to anything I say. It's frustrating. I forgot my damn car keys, had to walk back, and you wouldn't pick up your phone. I didn't even get to see you at all today. And to top it off, I wore this stupid outfit, and everyone was staring at me like I was some kind of circus animal. Ugh,it was just so much."
By the time he finishes, his lips are unconsciously pulled into a pout.
Charles hums, squeezing Max's hand in his own. "Oh, chéri, I'm sorry your day was so rough." His voice is warm, laced with genuine sympathy. "My phone died, that's why I wasn't picking up. About Redbull, well, you could just say 'yes' once, and I would go and give all of them a good shout and tell them to listen to my mon petit. And..." He tilts his head slightly, a teasing smile forming. "I'm sorry for saying this, but chéri, you look so good tonight. No wonder everyone was staring."
Max grumbles under his breath, but a telltale smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
Charles notices, of course. Chuckling, he lifts Max's hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles. "Tellement beau," he murmurs.
Max rolls his eyes, but he doesn't pull away.
"You look adorable when you pout," Charles says, his voice lower now, amusement mixing with something softer. Before Max can retort, Charles leans in, brushing a kiss against his lips just enough to smooth the pout away.
And just like that, the weight of the day feels a little lighter.
Charles leans in for a kiss Max sighs against Charles' lips, melting just a little, but he doesn't let himself sink too far. He's still annoyed at Red Bull, at the media, at the whole damn day but Charles' presence, his touch, his voice, is slowly dulling the edge of his frustration.
"You're so annoying," Max mumbles, but his hands are gripping Charles' jacket now, keeping him close.
Charles chuckles, his breath warm against Max's lips. "Am I?" he whispers, his nose brushing against Max's. His fingers slide down Max's arms, slow and deliberate, until they reach his waist. "Because I think you like it when I do this." His grip tightens as he tugs Max flush against him.
Max swallows, his frustration morphing into something else
something heated, something needy.
"I had a long day," Max murmurs, his voice softer now.
Charles hums, tilting his head slightly. "Let me make it better, then."
He doesn't wait for a response. Instead, he leans in again, kissing Max properly this time deep, slow, his lips pressing against Max's like he has all the time in the world. His hands slide lower, fingers dipping beneath the hem of Max's shirt, brushing against bare skin.
Max shivers. "We're outside," he mutters, but he doesn't move away.
Charles smirks against his lips. "And?"
Max groans, but it's not in frustration anymore. It's in surrender. "You're impossible."
Charles chuckles again, then pulls back just enough to look at Max properly. His pupils are blown, his breathing uneven. "Get in the car," he says, voice lower now, rougher.
Max stares at him for a beat, then exhales sharply before stepping back, opening the door, and sliding into the passenger seat. Charles follows, slipping into the driver's seat, and the second the door closes, the air between them thickens.
It's dark, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of the streetlights, but Charles can still see the way Max's chest rises and falls unevenly.
Max is watching him, his lips slightly parted, his hands resting on his thighs like he's trying to keep himself in check.
The tension in the air is palpable as Max and Charles make their way to the hotel. Charles can't help but steal glances at Max, admiring how the black leather jacket and t-shirt hug his frame perfectly. The outfit exudes a confident and edgy vibe that Charles finds incredibly attractive.
~
As they enter the hotel room, Charles closes the door behind them, his eyes never leaving Max. "You know, I meant what I said earlier," Charles murmurs, his voice low and husky. "You look incredibly hot in that outfit. The leather jacket, the way it fits you... it's driving me crazy."
Max turns to face Charles, a mix of frustration and desire in his eyes. "Yeah? Well, it's been driving me crazy all day too."
Charles steps closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup Max's cheek. "I know it's been tough, chéri. But right now, it's just you and me. Let me help you forget about all that."
Max's breath hitches as Charles leans in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The tension in Max's body begins to melt away as he responds, his hands gripping Charles' jacket to pull him closer. The kiss is intense, filled with all the pent-up frustration and desire from the day.
Charles' hands roam over Max's body, tracing the lines of the leather jacket before slipping underneath to feel the soft fabric of the t-shirt. "You have no idea how much I want you right now," Charles whispers against Max's lips, his voice rough with need.
Max's eyes darken with lust as he looks into Charles' eyes. "Then show me," he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper.
That's all the encouragement Charles needs. He pushes Max gently against the wall, his hands eagerly exploring every inch of Max's body. The leather jacket creaks under his touch, adding an extra layer of sensory overload. Max moans softly as Charles' lips trail down his neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake.
"Charles..." Max breathes out, his voice filled with need.
Charles smiles against Max's skin, his hands moving to unzip the leather jacket. "Patience, chéri. I want to savor this. You look so fucking good in this outfit, and I want to take my time appreciating every inch of you."
Max's breath comes in short gasps as Charles slowly peels off the jacket, revealing the fitted t-shirt underneath. Charles' eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of Max, his chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation.
"You're so beautiful, Max," Charles murmurs, his voice filled with awe. "I can't get enough of you."
Max's cheeks flush at the compliment, but he doesn't have time to respond before Charles' lips are on his again, hungry and demanding. The room fills with the sound of their heavy breathing and the rustle of clothing as they shed their layers, desperate to feel each other's skin.
Charles' hands roam over Max's body, tracing the muscles of his chest and abs before dipping lower to tease the waistband of his pants. Max's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.
"Please, Charles," Max begs, his voice filled with desperation.
Charles smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Please what, chéri? Tell me what you want."
Max's eyes flash with determination as he grabs Charles' hand and guides it lower, pressing it firmly against his growing erection. "I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now."
Charles' breath hitches at the bold demand, but he doesn't hesitate. He spins Max around, pressing him against the wall as he grinds his own hardness against Max's ass. "Is this what you want, Max? You want me to take you right here, like this?"
Max nods eagerly, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, please. I need you, Charles."
Charles' hands move to Max's hips, holding him firmly in place as he grinds against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of them. "You're so fucking sexy, Max. I can't get enough of you."
Max's moans fill the room as Charles continues to tease him, his hands and lips exploring every inch of Max's body. The tension builds between them, the air thick with desire and anticipation.
Finally, Charles can't take it anymore. He quickly sheds the rest of his clothes, his eyes never leaving Max's body. "Get on the bed, chéri. I want to see you spread out for me."
Max complies eagerly, crawling onto the bed and positioning himself on his hands and knees, presenting himself to Charles. The sight of Max, so willing and eager, sends a surge of lust through Charles.
"Fuck, Max. You're so perfect," Charles growls as he climbs onto the bed behind him, his hands gripping Max's hips firmly.
Max looks over his shoulder, his eyes filled with desire. "Please, Charles. I need you inside me."
Charles doesn't need any more encouragement. He quickly prepares Max, his fingers slick and gentle as he stretches him open. Max's moans fill the room, his body trembling with anticipation.
Finally, Charles positions himself at Max's entrance, his cock throbbing with need. "Ready, chéri?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.
Max nods eagerly, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, please. Fuck me, Charles."
Charles pushes in slowly, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock disappearing into Max's body. The sensation is overwhelming, the tight heat of Max's body enveloping him completely.
"Fuck, Max. You feel so good," Charles groans as he begins to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm.
Max's moans fill the room as he meets Charles' thrusts, their bodies moving in perfect sync. The sound of their skin slapping together fills the air, the scent of their arousal thick and heady.
"Harder, Charles. Please," Max begs, his voice filled with desperation.
Charles complies, his grip on Max's hips tightening as he increases the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful. The bed creaks beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful movement.
Max's body trembles as he nears the edge, his moans becoming louder and more urgent. "Charles, I'm close. Please don't stop."
Charles' own orgasm is building, the sensation of Max's body clenching around him pushing him closer to the brink. "Come for me, Max. Let me feel you," he growls, his voice rough with need.
Max's body tenses as he reaches the peak, his orgasm crashing over him in waves of pleasure. His cries fill the room as he comes undone, his body convulsing with the force of his release.
The sight and sound of Max's orgasm push Charles over the edge. He thrusts deep into Max one last time, his own release exploding through him with a force that leaves him breathless.
As they both come down from their high, Charles collapses onto the bed next to Max, pulling him into his arms. Their bodies are slick with sweat, their breathing ragged as they hold each other tightly.
"That was... incredible," Max murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction.
Charles smiles, pressing a soft kiss to Max's forehead. "You're incredible, chéri. And you look fucking amazing in that outfit. I think you should wear outfits like that more often."
Max chuckles, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. "Only if you promise to fuck me like that every time I do."
Charles' eyes gleam with mischief as he grins. "Deal."