A/N: The Canadian GP has been my favorite of the year by far! It had everything, and Max had me on edge the whole way through! Ferrari's struggles hurt, though, especially Charles's.
When Max opens his eyes, the unfamiliar bedroom takes him off guard at first. Blinking warily, he tries to recall last night at Jimmy's. A hazy mess of drinks, chatting with friends, and Charles kissing him drunkily in a bathroom stall flash through his mind, but he can't tell in which order. One thing is very clear, though. The man snoring next to him is Charles Leclerc. And it fills Max's heart with joy.
Deciding to let the Monaco Grand Prix winner sleep a little longer, Max gets up and tiptoes toward the kitchen. On the way over, he grabs his shirt and pants off the floor. A whiff of alcohol reaches his nose, causing his stomach to turn. Thinking the better of it, Max throws the shirt in the corner of the room before grabbing the first thing he can find and putting it on.
Max is munching down on his final piece of egg when Charles walks into the kitchen. He can't hold back a chuckle when he sees the Monegasque's hair standing up straight in all possible directions. Still half asleep, Charles walks over, pressing a lazy kiss on the top of Max's head before taking a seat next to him at the table.
"Sleep well?" Max asks, amused. Charles had more than enough to drink last night, and it's clear as day on his face.
"Kind of. You?" Rubbing his eyes with the palms of both hands, Charles looks adorable, and Max's heart swells with love. He still can't believe he can call this beautiful man his.
"Good, good. You snore."
"I do not!" Charles exclaims, pointing a finger in Max's direction. "You-"
Charles suddenly freezes, looking at Max with a face he's never seen before. The Dutchman looks behind him to see what's shocked Charles this much, but sees nothing but a white wall.
"Charlie?"
"That's my jersey," the brunet states, causing Max to look down at the shirt he grabbed earlier. It's indeed a Ferrari jersey, with the number 16 on it.
"It is," Max says, looking back up at Charles, who's still frozen in place. "I'll take it off if you don't like it."
That shakes him out of his reverie. Charles jumps up, bridging the gap between them. "No! No, I love it. Ferrari red looks... good on you. Really good."
Max puts his hands around Charles's waist, pulling him between his legs. "Not as good as it does on you."
Charles, in turn, grabs Max's neck, licking his lips as he glances down at the blond. "Fuck, you're hot."
As Charles leans in, he pulls Max up by his cheek, lips colliding and teeth clashing. The heat immediately forms in Max's belly, one that he's gotten all too familiar with, with Charles by his side. The Monegasque loves fighting for dominance, and Max isn't ashamed to admit it turns him on. He lets him this time, though, enjoying as Charles roams his mouth with his tongue, sucking and biting wherever he finds the skin to do so.
As they part for air, Charles takes a step back. Max misses him instantly.
"Fuck, Max," Charles moans, going with a hand over his face. "You make me go insane."
The Red Bull driver stands up, reaching out toward Charles. Eyes are filled with lust as blue and green collide. "Says the one with a boner when getting out of the car."
A chuckle escapes Charles, who lets his head hang in slight shame. Max feels a smile creep onto his lips as he lifts his chin up again. "It was very hot."
"The whole world noticed," Charles says, laughing now.
Max can't help but join in. "They'll forget it in Canada."
YOU ARE READING
If Clarity's in Death, Then Why Won't This Die?
Romance"Max doesn't know what to say. His eyes draw over every inch of Charles's face. His green eyes with brown specks, the sweat dripping down his face, his lips curled in a small smile... "If only you saw yourself the way all of us do. The way I do." Ma...
