Chapter Text
To: Vausseur, F.; Horner, C.; Sulayem, B.; Wolff, T; Stella, A.; Vowels, J; Komatsu, A.; Meikies, L; Domenicali, S.; Hamilton, L.; Russell, G.; Sainz, C.; Norris, L.; Piastri, O.; Perez, S.; + 495 more recipients.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Urgent: Footage of Ferrari and Red Bull Collusion
Attachment: [LecVer_2024-02-04.avi]
“Phone. Now.”
Max nearly jumps out of his skin when Gemma bursts into his driver room, fire in her eyes, with one of her assistants fluttering in nervously behind her. He had just been getting ready to leave for the media pen, but from the way Gemma firmly shuts the door behind her, he has a feeling she isn’t here to escort him.
“What-”
“Phone, Max. Give it.”
The intensity in her voice makes Max pull it out of his pocket and hand it over to her without another word, with impeccable timing as it turns out. Almost as soon as the phone is in her grasp it begins buzzing incessantly, lighting up as text after text after text begins arriving before the screen is taken over by an incoming phone call. Max stares at it wide-eyed, dread beginning to pool in his stomach.
He’s been playing the game long enough to know that this was a very, very bad sign.
In the time it takes Gemma to silence his phone and hand it off to the assistant, Max is already wracking his brain trying to guess what this could be about. There are so many horrifying possibilities his mind struggles to think of which one is most likely.
In the end, he doesn’t even need to ask. Gemma releases a deep sigh before fixing him with a firm, no nonsense look. “Were you ever going to tell us that you’ve been involved with Charles Leclerc.”
And that…that comment just might be the worst case scenario.
Fuck.
The thing with Charles is complicated. Probably the most complicated thing in Max’s life, which is saying quite a bit.
If you tried to put it simply, one would say that they’re friends with benefits, hookup partners, fuck buddies, co-workers with benefits… something along those lines. Those are the simple titles to describe this arrangement.
Even if none of those labels seem to even marginally do them justice. As if any of them encompass this convoluted, intoxicating mess that Max and Charles have entangled themselves in.
It was so complicated, hiding it from the teams had seemed to be one of the easier aspects, they’d barely worried about being found out after the first few months, too used to being inconspicuous after years of fame.
How terribly fucking naive.
“How-How did you-”
“We’ll get to that in a second, Max,” Gemma says, trying to project an air of calm but Max has known her long enough he can sense the panic. It only makes his own rising terror about a hundred times worse.
Dazedly, he notes that he’s beginning to feel light-headed, so he takes a staggering step backwards to collapse on the room’s small couch. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head hang down as he concentrates on his breathing, trying desperately hard not to think about the connection to Gemma’s revelation and the way his phone had started blowing up.
This was bad, so very, very bad.
Still, he can’t help but ask, “Is Charles all right?”
“I have no idea, right now you’re my only concern. Max-”
“I need you to find out if he’s okay.”
Gemma’s face twists with a hint of frustration, her voice tight and controlled when she responds “Fine, I’ll have someone find out. We’ll need to be in touch with Ferrari soon enough anyway. But before then you need to tell me everything.”
The threat of such an intrusive conversation immediately has Max tensing, which Gemma notices instantly. “I know this will feel like an invasion of privacy,” she says, measured, “But if I’m going to save you from this, I really do need to know everything. So be honest, Max, what is this with Charles? A relationship? Friends with benefits? A one night stand?”
God, he still doesn’t even know how they’ve found out.
Max swallows roughly, trying to clear his dry mouth, “Friends with benefits. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“-It’s complicated.”
The PR assistant fails to muffle his groan, and Gemma shoots him a stern look before turning back to Max, “Fine. We’ll come back to that. How long has this been going on?”
At least that’s easier to answer, “2022.”
Charles Leclerc had always been a bit of a problem for Max. On and off the track.
Just seeing the other man smile at him could send Max’s heart skipping in his chest. And as, he found out in Japan, even worse was seeing Charles smile at him under flashing club lights with his pretty green eyes fucking sparkling, making Max feel a little weak in the knees.
He’d been surprised when Charles had shown up to the club in Suzuka, after a race in which Max had not only beaten him once again, but also officially claimed his second WDC. Gracious as Charles could be, he was a racer to his bones, fiercely competitive and jealous. Max’s victory party should be the last place he’d want to be.
But of course Max didn’t say any of this.
Instead, he’d just smiled and clasped Charles hand in greeting, maybe let his eyes linger a little too obviously when he gave Charles a once over, the alcohol making him careless. It would have been embarrassing, but when he caught himself and quickly pulled his eyes back up to Charles' eyes, he was met with the sight of a pleased little smirk and flush on his rival’s face.
“Max, mate, I wanted to ask you something-”
To this day, Max wonders if the reason Charles approached him to ask if he wanted to “celebrate” was some fucked up form of self-punishment or if Charles was just like him, at his breaking point after a season’s worth (or, if he was being honest, years’ worth) of sexual tension.
He supposes it’s doesn’t really matter- either truth still had the night ending the same way, with Max staring down in stunned awe at Charles spread out in his hotel sheets, unable to comprehend the fact that this was actually happening, that someone could actually be that beautiful, that his lifelong rival had chosen to be here with him, that he was allowing Max to fuck his cock into the tight heat of him, even gasping for more.
It was a bit like a dream, the best dream he’d ever had.
“2022,” Gemma doesn’t quite hide the way she blanches, “You’ve been involved with him since 2022?”
“Yes. Since I won the championship.”
“Okay,” she takes another deep breath, seeming to gather her thoughts. “I need to ask you a very important question, one you’ll be hearing quite a lot I’m afraid. Did you ever, at any point in these last two years, disclose anything to him that is considered confidential about the team, anything that would violate your contract or your NDA? Anything.”
Max gut twists unpleasantly. He raises his head and looks her straight in the eye, “No.”
Her tense posture eases, ever so slightly, as she nods at him, “Good, I trusted that you wouldn’t but I had to ask. Now please tell me-”
“Have you found out about Charles,” Max cuts her off, shifting his focus to the nervy assistant. The young man jumps, gaze darting from his phone to Max to Gemma and back again, stuttering instead of answering the question.
“He’ll get to that, Max, but we need to finish this,” Gemma is firm. “You say this ‘complicated friends with benefits’ situation has been going on for two years. That’s…a long time. Is this a casual arrangement or something more serious?”
Max feels like flames are creeping up his neck and onto his face, “That’s-”
“Personal, I’m aware, but necessary for me to know at this point. Tell me, please.”
“Well,” Max averts his eyes again, fiddling with his watch, “Define casual.”
You could probably call it casual, at the beginning.
In Japan, they had parted ways that same night, with a ‘thank you, that was fun’ and then Charles was gone. Well, admittedly there had also been a goodbye kiss; one that both of them may have leaned in for at the same time, but one that still probably broke the rules of a typical one night stand, especially considering how long it lingered.
Max had lain awake for a long time afterwards, staring at the ceiling with a dazed smile on his face, reflecting on a day that included not only a world championship, but also some of the best sex of his life. He reminded himself he was so lucky, and tried to ignore the hunger settling in his chest.
He’d attempted, unsuccessfully, not to think about it too much.
But then it was Austin and they podiumed together, again. On their way to the press conference, Max just couldn’t resist whispering to him that he hoped the celebrations tonight were just as good as the ones in Suzuka. Charles caught his meaning immediately, and, much to Max’s elation, laughed shyly and asked him for his hotel information.
It was all so unexpectedly easy. Max kept thinking things would get awkward since they weren’t half drunk this time around, but instead the sex had been fun, light and happy. He’d gotten to witness the unreal sight of Charles bouncing on top of him, watched the beautiful way he gasped helplessly when Max stroked his cock to the same rhythm Charles was riding him, and delighted in discovering that Charles liked the way Max couldn’t stop running his mouth as they fucked. They giggled, joked, and kissed their way through it, drawing it out as long as they could before they brought one another to a climax that was just as mind blowing as the first time.
Charles left after they were done, but not before Max pulled him in for a long, slow kiss goodbye, one that was probably a little too sweet for a hookup, but one that made Charles give him a dazed, punch-drunk smile before he left.
Again, Max tried not to overthink it.
Until Mexico rolled around and Max won yet again while Charles settled for P6, which agitated Max for reasons he’d like to claim he didn’t understand. It made him approach Charles in the paddock afterwards, in theory for one of the debriefs that he’d become rather fond of. But only a few minutes into their chat he couldn’t stop himself from asking if Charles was possibly interested in heading back to the hotel for a celebratory drink.
“Not much to celebrate for me, mate,” Charles said with a small frown, even as a pretty pink blush rose in his cheeks, even as he drifted closer to Max anyways.
“I know but… maybe you could let me make you feel better?” Max still can’t believe he let those words escape his mouth, but he didn’t backtrack, his hunger for Charles too insistent.
His comments made Charles’ eyes widen, but, after a brief hesitation, he nodded.
They ended up in Charles’ room this time, and Max made good on his promise to make him feel better, really taking his time, working him over with his hands, mouth, and fingers until he had Charles quivering and whimpering into the sheets as Max’s fucked into him hard from behind. The sound of Charles crying out his name when he comes, clenching and pulsing hard around Max’s cock as he does so, is a moment that is seared into Max’s memory.
Afterwards, as they laid next to each other to catch their breath, they finally talked about it. Kind of.
“We probably should not make this too much of a thing,” Charles had murmured. He had still been laying on his front, head pillowed in his arms as he eyed Max carefully, “It could-you know. It could be bad.”
It wasn’t anything Max hadn’t thought about himself, but the comment still twisted his insides unpleasantly.
“No we should not,” he acquiesced, “But what if it was a thing until the end of the season? It’s been fun, yes?”
Charles had hummed thoughtfully before agreeing, turning to bury his face into the sheets to try to hide his pleased smile. It had made Max feel all warm inside, just like it did when Charles followed him to the door when he was leaving to give him a soft kiss goodbye.
“Max, please.”
“It started casual… I mean- we just hooked up after races. Just until the end of the season, that’s what we agreed on.”
Gemma perks up, “So it ended in 2022 as well?”
“Well… no.”
The problem, of course, is that there were only two races in the season left for them to enjoy each other. And while they had definitely made the most of their time together, by the time Charles stealthily left his hotel room after the final race, Max was feeling rather glum about the little affair ending.
Much too glum for a casual hookup, so he tried to convince himself that it was for the best it was over. He couldn’t afford to get attached to the competition.
But then the gala happened.
During the festivities, Charles sidled up next to him for what appeared to be a friendly catch up, until he subtly slipped Max a key card, accompanied by one of his horrible winks, “Season’s not over until tonight, no?”
Max didn’t even bothering to try and hide the grin on his face as he nodded his agreement
That night was heady, intense, both of them probably mindful that this was supposed to (really) be the last time. They’d rolled together in the sheets, making an absolute mess of the bed and managing to knock over one of the lamps on the nightstand in their eagerness to feel and taste each other as much as possible, trading sloppy kisses and sucking marks onto discreet places, murmuring filthy praises as they rocked together.
They’d done it twice that night, trying to make the most of everything. During the recuperation period, they had laid together, shoulders touching, as they reminisced about the season and made each other laugh. It was nice… very nice. So nice it made Max climb back on top of Charles as he stamped open-mouthed kisses all over his chest, trying to distract himself from the way his heart kind of hurt when he heard Charles’ giggle.
But everything must come to an end, and eventually Max reluctantly got up to get dressed, wincing when he saw how late he had stayed.
“This was fun,” he said as he shrugged his suit jacket back on. He had hoped Charles understood that he not only meant that night, but the whole whirlwind they’d been on thus far.
Max hoped he understood how much he’ll miss it.
Charles, still lounging on the bed, had just looked at him with unbearably fond eyes, only responding with a gentle nod to what Max said. He’d looked so angelic that Max couldn’t help but go and sit next to him, leaning in for a final kiss. It began soft, but turned deep and rough, with plenty of teeth and tongue, the type of kiss you remembered. When Max drew back with a final nip to Charles' lower lip, he was pleased to see he’d left him with hazy eyes and a swollen mouth.
He was so fucking beautiful.
“Have a good break, Max,” Charles told him, voice raspy and wistful.
“So it ended after the gala?”
“No. Hey,” Max called to the assistant, “Have you heard back from Ferrari about Charles?”
The young man, who had been furiously taking notes and tapping away at his phone, gives a nervous shake of his head.
“Max, focus,” Gemma says sternly, “I need to build a timeline here. It didn’t end at the gala? What about your agreement?”
“I mean- we saw each other at the club over the break you see-”
They’d lasted a week.
It was an accident really. Ever since the gala, Max had been doing his best to unwind and relax before going to be with family for the holidays. It mostly consisted of sleeping in, eating whatever he felt like, FIFA, sim racing, playing with the cats, and doing his best to think about anything besides Charles.
He was trying to forget and move on.
But exactly a week after the gala, he was invited out to the club with a group of friends, and while the night started out pleasant enough, things took a turn when he happened to glance around and noticed Charles was also in attendance with his own group.
Seeing him in Monaco was nothing unusual, but Max realized he was in trouble when he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking glances over at the Monegasque every few minutes. The sight of him in the club lights kept bringing back memories of that first night Charles approached him in in Suzuka, and those memories invited more flashbacks- of Charles in bed with him, the way his collarbone tasted underneath his tongue, how he sounded when he mewled in Max’s ear, the way he felt when Max pushed inside-
He had tried, panicked, to get a hold of himself, kept giving himself the stinging reminder that they had agreed to stop whatever it was between them, but the issue only got worse when he caught Charles looking back.
They tried to play it off, raising their drinks to each other across the club in a friendly salute, but their smiles had an edge to them and their eyes were a little too heated to just be greeting a colleague.
Pathetically, the glances continued, a weight to them that one could feel as they began to allow their eyes to linger shamelessly. A heavy tension settled between them, the air of the club suddenly seemed thick and heady.
… Fuck it, one more bad decision wouldn’t kill him.
Ten minutes later, Max is pressing Charles up against the walls of a bathroom stall, trading desperate, hungry kisses.
(Somewhere in the back of his mind, Max notes to himself that they seem to kiss a concerning amount for two people who are just casually hooking up, but he quickly buries that thought just like he tries to bury his tongue down Charles throat.)
Eventually, Charles pushed him off, pressing Max against the other side of the stall and meeting his eyes with a challenging look as he dropped down to his knees.
Soon, Max had his head thrown back against the wall, biting his fist in his mouth to try to stifle the overwhelmed sounds being pulled from him as Charles managed to take him all the way down his throat, the wet, choked sounds of it absolutely obscene. His hot little mouth was utter perfection, and Max came hard and quick, another groan torn from him when he watched Charles swallow, his green eyes glinting with satisfied pride as he did so.
Max yanked him back to his feet, pulling him into a quick, filthy kiss in which he could taste himself on Charles tongue. It made him dizzy with want, despite just coming, and he quickly fell to his knees to repay the favor. He sucked Charles off with such sloppy enthusiasm he would be embarrassed if he hadn’t gotten to watch the way Charles squirmed and whimpered, his hands gripping Max’s hair like it was the only thing grounding him as he lost himself in the pleasure. It was worth it.
“Maybe- Maybe we can agree to have some fun if we ever run into each other like this,” Charles offered, a little hesitatingly as they stood by the mirrors, fixing their hair and righting their clothes. “You know,” he continued, with a forced casual shrug, “Just until the season starts, of course.”
The offer gives him a delicious shot of excitement, but Max does his best not to show it, instead giving a simple nod to show his agreement.
“Club bathrooms do it for you, Charlie?” he’d asked with a smirk.
“Something like that,” Charles returned easily, leaning up to kiss Max sweetly before unlocking the door and disappearing back into the club.
From the way Gemma’s mouth is twisted, Max can tell she wants to make a sarcastic comment about his self-control, or lack thereof. “So it continued in the offseason and was supposed to end when the season started. Am I correct in guessing that’s not what happened?”
Clearly she’s sensed the theme.
The assistant continues furiously taking notes and tap tap tapping away at his phone.
Max nods sullenly.
They met up several more times throughout the offseason, usually in clubs, or, in the case of one particularly memorable adventure, a restaurant.
Their encounters always end with them taking turns on their knees or with their hands shoved down the other’s pants. Soon, another common feature is the way Max’s fingers always end up inside Charles, stroking over his sweet spot. Max loved watching the way it makes Charles viciously bite his lip to stay quiet as he’s pushed closer and closer to the edge with each touch.
He'd gently teased the Ferrari prince for the way he always came so much harder whenever Max was inside him, but secretly he wanted to ask if Charles missed Max’s cock in his ass as much as Max missed fucking him. He didn’t, of course, fucking in a public restroom would be much too dangerous and he doesn’t want to tempt himself.
Instead he'd take what he could safely get.
And yes, their bad habit of kissing each other goodbye, which was never, ever discussed, continued uninterrupted.
When the 2023 season kicked off with pre-season testing, Max felt like he was losing his fucking mind.
Even as the days went on and it became obvious that Red Bull had delivered him a rocketship for the season, his elation was shaded with boiling frustration.
Charles was right there, so close to him but so untouchable over in the Ferrari garage.
Max was able to put him out of his mind when he was focused on the car, but every time they crossed paths it was pure torment. They couldn’t keep the light flushes off their faces whenever they conversed, overly smiley and laughing much too hard at each little quip, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way they were once again staring at each other and looking away whenever they were caught.
They were acting ridiculous, like teenagers with pitiful crushes. The worst part of it was how much it just made Max want him even more.
Every night he laid in bed, opening up his phone to scroll through social media and find the latest Charles pictures from that day, staring at them and replaying memories of their times together as his hand inevitably drifted inside his boxers. It was pathetic.
He tried thinking about other people, watching porn, even initiating a mortifying attempt at sexting with a former lover- all of it barely managed to get him hard. Briefly, he even considered going out and trying to find someone to take back to his hotel, but just the thought of it made him feel unpleasant.
No, he was absolutely stuck on Charles, which was rather terrifying if he thought about it too much.
Instead of lingering over the reasons for why he couldn’t seem to get past what was supposed to be a casual hookup arrangement, Max resolved to do something about it.
He couldn’t waste what had the potential to be a special season pining like a lovesick puppy for Charles Leclerc.
But maybe he could have him in his bed.
The next day he managed to corner Charles in a quieter corner of the paddock, luring him in for what appeared to just be a friendly talk. As they exchanged pleasantries, Max noticed the way Charles eyes kept drifting down to his lips, the pink that tinged his cheeks, how he subtly leaned closer to him every chance he got.
It gave him the bravery he needed.
“Listen, mate, I’ve been thinking-”
Charles had perked up instantly.
“During testing, I asked if he wanted to restart our arrangement during race weekends,” Max mumbles, still fiddling with his watch, “Since we were both single, and it was convenient. I thought it would work out.”
Gemma purses her lips, lets out another long exhale through her nose, “And did it stay during race weekends?”
“No,” Max responds, frustration finally seeping into his tone, “Do you really need to know all of this?”
“Yes, actually, but let’s finish the timeline with a few questions then. To clarify, is your ‘arrangement’ still going on?”
“Yes.”
“And do you see him outside of race weekends?”
“Yes.”
“How often do you see him?”
“It depends.”
“On average then,” Gemma is impatient.
“Twice a week, usually. Sometimes more.”
“ Twice a- ….and it’s just friends with benefits? Are you seeing anyone else or are you two exclusive?”
“Gemma, I don’t-”
“This is important Max!”
Max clenches his jaw, swallowing down his frustration, “It’s a long-term, exclusive, friends with benefits arrangement. I told you it was fucking complicated.”
“...Are you sure you two aren’t more-”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve told you everything you could possibly need to know, the details are really no one’s fucking business” Max finally snaps, his chest feeling tight. He hated himself for being rude to Gemma, but he couldn’t deal with that line of questioning.
On a good day he could barely stand to think about the complexity of his feelings for Charles, so being forced to talk about it when he was also focusing on trying to contain his panic that they had somehow been discovered- that would be a recipe for disaster.
Gemma takes his impatience resolutely, staring Max down. “Let’s recap then- You admit that you and Charles Leclerc have been involved in a sexual relationship for the past two years. One you describe as a ‘long-term, exclusive, friends with benefits’ arrangement, in which you estimate you usually sleep with him at least twice a week. Oh, and in your own words, it’s 'complicated'. Does that cover everything you want to tell me Max?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake- yes, Gemma, that’s everything. Now will you please tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“I will, but I have one last question” she takes another deep breath, as though bracing herself. Her assistant eyes her nervously.
There is a silent moment, the heavy tension suffocating as they wait for Gemma to continue. Max’s stares at her, his jaw clenched. He feels like he’s about to be sick, torn between wanting to know what mess he’s found himself in and wanting to stay ignorant just a little bit longer. He steels himself, but nothing could have quite prepared him-
“When did you and Charles film the sex tape?”
Autosport.com
Alleged video leaked to paddock claiming collusion between drivers, may contain sensitive material
Developing story: The Formula 1 paddock has reportedly been sent reeling this morning after an anonymous email sent over 500 Formula 1 personnel a video that claimed to show collusion between two drivers.
There has been no official comment from the FIA or any teams, and media obligations have been canceled for the day in the wake of the developing scandal.
Sources in the paddock have alleged that the video does not feature the type of collusion that would indicate teams working together on the racetrack, but instead something of a much more sensitive nature.
Story will be updated as it develops.
Notes:
author lore: yesterday we drove to nevada for a weed run, which meant stopping at a casino for penny slots. i told myself if i won anything, i wouldn't make myself edit this chapter on the drive back home like i was planning to and could wait until monday instead... i then proceeded to lose $15. don't gamble kids.
thanks for reading! please drop a kudos or comment to let me know if you liked it. even if you just leave a 🔥 or ❤️ i will still be thrilled.
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Chapter 2: for a fortnight there, we were forever
Summary:
Drivers group chat goes off, Max receives a phone call, and more reflections on where everything went wrong.
Notes:
cannot tell you how much i loved all the chappell roan comments on the last chapter.
here’s the next part. enjoy :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Emergency GPDA Group Chat
George Russell
Morning all. I’ve created this emergency GPDA group chat as a place for you to express any concerns or pose any questions in light of today’s controversy. Max and Charles have not been included to respect their privacy.
Franco Colapinto
Yes, I have a question- did everyone know they are together and forgot to tell me???
Pierre Gasly
No one knew, mate. I had no idea, and I’m one of Charles’ best friends.
Esteban Ocon
That is embarrassing for you then. I didn’t *know*, but I had my suspicions. They are always making heart eyes at each other.
Yuki Tsunodo
Sorry Pierre, but same for me. They are very obvious.
Zhou Guanyu
ARE they together? Like boyfriends?
Oscar Piastri
Seems obvious that they’re *something*. I’m more surprised that they would film themselves, to be honest. They don’t seem the type.
Pierre Gasly
That part is not so surprising to me. Charles is a bit of a freak.
Alex Albon
And how do you know that, Mr.Gasly???
Pierre Gasly
Don’t be weird. He tells me all sorts of things when he’s been drinking, even things I would rather not know.
Esteban Ocon
He tells you all sorts of things except that he’s sleeping with Max.
Nico Hulkenberg
Do we know who is behind the email? It must be someone in the paddock.
Fernando Alonso
¿Checo, Carlos? ¿Hay noticias?
….
George Russell
They may not be at liberty to say anything while the teams are handling things.
Lewis Hamilton
I want to encourage all of you to report anything you might know about the leak so this person will be held accountable. I can’t imagine how violating this must feel, and Max and Charles deserve justice. They’ll need our support.
Alex Albon
Agreed, Lewis. Also, am I the only one shocked that the video hasn’t leaked to the media yet?
Liam Lawson
From what I’ve seen, they don’t even realize it’s an actual sex tape.
Lewis Hamilton
It’s a matter of time, FIA can’t contain this forever. Media is already sniffing around, and over 500 people have access to it.
Someone will crack and send it soon if they’re promised a payout.
Oscar Piastri
Yikes
George Russell
And when that happens everyone should have their media statements prepared, hopefully with messages of support, as Lewis said.
Lando Norris
So is anyone going to admit that they watched it?
…
Lando Norris
Seriously?…
Lando Norris
Your silences speak very loudly!
Two hours after Gemma first told him that his sex tape had been leaked to the entire paddock, Max is finally walking away from the Red Bull meeting room, exhausted and furious.
He’d had separate meetings with his personal team, Horner and Helmut, Red Bull legal counsel, and just finished up with the FIA officials. In all of the meetings he’d told his side of the story, with varying degrees of details but the same basic facts-
- Yes, he was engaged in a sexual arrangement with Charles Leclerc.
- Yes, they had filmed themselves having sex last February.
- No, he had no idea how the video had been compromised.
- No, he had no idea who leaked it or what their motives were.
- No, he had never told Charles Leclerc anything that would violate Formula 1’s code of conduct, security violations, confidentiality agreements, or anything in any contract.
Everyone seemed especially hung up on that last point, just like Gemma had warned him.
All parties seem to be enraged with him for a number of reasons, but at least, the FIA officials just seemed to be looking for confirmation that nothing illegal had happened, seemingly eager to wash their hands of this and declare it a team and driver matter, though they did threaten a more thorough investigation if any issues were raised.
Currently, they were much more concerned with trying to keep news of the video and the video itself contained, but everyone, including Max, knew that was a losing battle.
It was only a matter of time before it was leaked to the public…before Max and Charles were outed to the whole world… before countless people would watch them at their most intimate.
The knowledge of this made Max nauseous, so he did his best to put it out of his mind.
Not that Red Bull had helped any with that. The team was in full blown crisis mode, with many people, including Horner and Helmut, on the verge of actual panic. Max had been grilled more intensely than he ever had in his career, fighting off hundreds of insanely invasive questions and enduring some of the worst tongue lashings of his adult life.
Now after, two hours of torture, he was finally permitted to leave and return to his driver room while the PR department finished up their strategy pitch.
He left the meeting room feeling not only tired and angry, but also fucking humiliated considering how many people directly or indirectly told him they had watched the damn tape.
It made his skin crawl, it also made something hot and molten fill his chest. He hated it.
Slamming his way into his driver's room, Max threw himself back down onto the same couch he’d been sitting in when he first heard the news that his life might be ruined.
Covering his face with his hands, he once again tried to focus on his breathing to calm himself, but his mind just continued racing, cycling through thoughts so fast he could barely keep up, yet returning to the same thing time and time again.
Charles.
Max had finally received word that Charles was, according to Ferrari, “as well as can be expected”.
Apparently he was in the same position as Max, locked away in the Ferrari side of the paddock and dealing with meetings upon meetings as his team scrambled and schemed with Red Bull on how to approach this.
They had not been permitted to speak to each other yet.
Normally Max would completely disregard this directive, but even he could recognize it would be a disaster if he was spotted trying to enter Ferrari hospitality. And with his phone and laptop still confiscated there was no way to even attempt to contact him. All he could do for now was think about Charles and fret.
He must be so scared.
Charles had always cared so much more about his perception, burdened by the legacy of his team and the pressures he put on himself to achieve, feeling like he had to present himself as the perfect prince worthy of all that he had accomplished and all that he hoped to accomplish. The fact that Ferrari personnel knew about the tape (had likely even watched it), would already be devastating for him, let alone the certainty of the video leaking to the whole world sooner rather than later.
He was probably trying to keep on a brave mask for his team, but there wasn’t a doubt in Max’s mind that Charles was paralyzed with terror as the inevitability of his ruin hung over him like a death sentence- waiting for the news that the media found out what exactly was on this mysterious video…and which two drivers were featured.
It crosses Max’s mind that he should find this all darkly ironic considering the sex tape had been Charles’ idea in the first place, but he can’t bring himself to go down that path.
Instead he just wishes he could hold him.
A knock on the door interrupts Max’s brooding, and Rupert pokes his head in. His trainer shoots a weak smile at Max’s dead eyed stare and holds up a phone.
“Call for you.”
This is surprising enough to crack Max’s stony front, he raises his eyebrows, “Who?”
“Daniel.”
Ah, that explains it. Max had been kept isolated from nearly everyone non-Red Bull adjacent, but of course Danny would be approved. Red Bull probably hoped their former driver could provide some sort of friendship therapy; keep Max from burning the paddock to the ground when the video leaked or something like that.
Still- he eyed the phone in Rupert’s hand, considered turning him away.
But the lure of talking to someone on the outside, someone who’s main concern wasn’t going to be what Max’s sex life had done to Red Bull or his personal brand, was surprisingly strong. Maybe someone who could even make him feel marginally better about the way his life was about to implode.
He takes the phone. Rupert nods and steps outside to give him privacy.
“Hello.”
“Maxy!” Daniel’s voice came through with exaggerated exuberance- he’s nervous, “You’re a difficult man to get a hold of. Just called to have a yarn. Anything exciting going on these days?”
Max feels a scowl forming on his face, “Do you actually want to be having this conversation or did Christian put you up to this?”
“Are you accusing me of spying, Maxy? I’m appalled-”
“Daniel.”
“C’mon, mate,” he hears Daniel chuckle, but it’s softer now, “I called to check on you, of course. Christian just had to approve it.”
“Right.”
“Look it’s not every day that I have to figure out how to start a conversation with a friend that’s just had a scandalous video sent out to the entire paddock, you know? These are delicate social situations I’m rather unprepared for.”
He’s still being silly, but the actual sincerity in his tone does make a small smile appear on Max’s face, the first one in hours. “Understandable.”
“So,” Daniel continues, “I’m sure I can guess what your answer is gonna be, but I’ll still ask- how are you holding up?”
“Like shit.”
“Figured.”
“Wait, how did you find out,” Max asks, curious if Red Bull did reach out or if Daniel heard through someone from the paddock. He’s not sure which option is more irritating.
“Er, well, it was, uh, it was sent to me too.”
Nevermind, the third option was actually the most irritating.
“Jesus, that’s great. Even retired drivers got a copy I guess” Max said with a dead, humorless laugh.
“Ouch, mate” Daniel commented, voice mild, but the faintest hint of bitterness there, “If it makes you feel better, I believe me and Saregeant were the only “retired” drivers that were blessed with your sex tape. Whoever sent it must have figured we’d still want to be in the loop even if we were sacked midseason.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t really make me feel better.”
“Well, may I offer my congratulations then?”
“Congratu- what the fuck,” Max is actually dumbfounded enough he takes the phone away from his ear to stare down at it incredulously.
“Yes, congratulations! I know this has got to be terrible, end-of-the-world feeling type of shit, but if we look on the bright side… nice, mate. You bagged Charles Leclerc. That’s legendary.”
Max is speechless for a long moment, before a startled but genuine laugh bursts out of him, “What the fuck, Danny.”
“I’m serious,” he can hear the grin in Daniel’s voice, “That is one beautiful man, and a damn good driver as well. You should be proud.”
Max groans, but he also can’t help the breathy little giggle that still escapes him, so deeply embarrassing that he has to lift up a hand to hide his face.
Despite the terrible situation, it actually feels sort of nice to have someone acknowledge the fact that Max has been involved with the most desired person in the paddock, planting a dangerous kernel of pride in his chest.
Daniel lets him gather himself for a moment before continuing, gentle, “You never told me.”
“I barely told anyone.”
“You mean people actually knew? I’m hurt.”
“Only a few,” Max rubs the back of his neck, “Rupert, and Brad before him. Charles’ trainer as well, we’re just around them too much for them not to figure it out Besides them, I’ve told Vic and Stan a little bit, and Charles told his best friend and Arthur. That’s it. We knew to keep it quiet, of course.”
“So only trainers, best friends, and siblings were in the circle of trust. In that case, I suppose I’ll let it slide this time,” Daniel concedes, “None of them seem like the type to leak it, though. Any ideas there?”
Max is back to scowling at the empty room again, “No. It’s not like there’s a short list of people who hate me, it could be anyone. We don’t even know how they got the video in the first place, nevermind who sent it to the entire fucking paddock.”
Daniel hums thoughtfully, before changing the subject “Have to say, you managed to surprise me, son. Neither you or Charlie boy ever really seemed the type to film yourselves doing the deed.”
“It was Charles' idea,” Max grumbled, “We were going to be apart for a couple weeks and… I don’t know, I wasn’t really against it. It didn’t seem like a terrible idea at the time.”
“Ah, makes sense,” Daniel hummed again, pausing for a beat before asking the last question Max wants to hear, “So, like, what are you two, then?”
He heaves a long suffering sigh, and then launches into the explanation for the fifth time that day, clarifying the arrangement, listening to Daniel squawk in disbelief when he found out how long they had carried on for, and begrudgingly accepting the light teasing Daniel dishes out when he recounts the stories of them hooking up at the gala and the clubs. To reward himself for his honesty, Max seizes the opportunity to vent his frustrations with the various shit he’s had to deal with all day, to which Daniel listens sympathetically for a good long while.
Max would never admit it to anyone, but it does begin to make him feel better.
That is, until he’s in the middle of saying, “Everyone keeps asking me if I’m “sure” we’re not in an actual relationship. You would not believe the amount of times I’ve had to tell them we’re not, and then they just come back and ask again if I’m sure he’s not my boyfriend-”
“Sorry to break it to you Maxy, but I don’t know if I blame them,” Daniel is laughing on the other side of the call, “Anyone who watched that video would think you two were together.”
Max feels himself fall still, his eyes narrowing, “What?”
“I said I don’t blame them. I mean, the stuff you said to each other-”
“You watched it?”
Even thousands of miles away, Max can clock the exact moment Daniel realizes his fuck up, “Oh. Oh shit, Max I-”
“You fucking watched it.” The betrayal stings, sharp and vicious.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel immediately apologizes, “I’m so sorry, mate. I swear I only watched because I didn’t realize what it was until I clicked on the link, and then I just sort of…froze.”
Max doesn’t know if he buys that excuse in the slightest. But despite the anger and hurt thrumming in his veins at the revelation that one of his best friends watched him have sex without his permission, he’s even more bothered by what Daniel had been saying before.
“What did you mean that people would think we were together?”
“We don’t need to talk about-”
“No, don’t give me that shit. Tell me.”
“Okay, okay,” Daniel placates, and Max can practically see him wincing, “Just that, I dunno, you two seemed awful close, Max. Even though the whole thing was dirty as hell, it was… intimate, I guess. More than what you’d expect from fuck buddies.”
“My cock was inside him, of course it was fucking intimate,” Max snapped back, trying to ignore the way his heart has started racing in response to Daniel’s words.
“Yeah, but, the way you two talked to each other…and looked at each other…and how you, er, how much you guys kissed and stuff…Not trying to get weird, I swear, I’m just saying it looked like something more- like feelings and shit.”
Max’s palms have gone sweaty, and his eyes dart around the room, as though looking for an escape when all he really needs to do is hang up the phone. He doesn’t, but he does fall silent for a long moment.
“Max?”
“It’s just” he tries, but it gets trapped in his throat on the first try. His voice has gone hoarse, frail. “It’s just complicated, okay?”
“Yeah, I‘m sure. ” Daniel says, speaking as kindly as he’s ever heard him, “Sorry, Max, I really hope I didn’t make you feel even worse… But you know, even if it’s complicated, that’s okay, right? That’s for you and Charles, it’s no one else's business.”
“Can you really see it? Does it really seem,” Max needs to swallow roughly, “like I- like we-”
Daniel is quiet for several heart beats, “It does, mate.”
PlanetF1.com
Zak Brown confirms driver collusion video, raises concerns
McLaren boss Zak Brown breaks the media silence today to confirm the existence of a “very alarming video” that shows drivers engaged in activities that he claims should raise concerns about cross team cooperation.
Brown refused to comment on the nature of the video, which has been heavily speculated to possibly contain sensitive material. Instead, Brown insists he’s only looking for answers from F1 and FIA in regards to the collusion that the email alleged.
“I think teams deserve to know if there’s any merit to this accusation.”
Read more
Still shut away in his driver’s room, conversation with Daniel long finished, Max is back to brooding again.
He lays on the massage table, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling as he agonizes over the mess he’s found himself in.
And it is not the video leak that he’s thinking about.
Daniel’s words, his team’s, Gemma’s, Christian’s, fucking everyone’s insinuation that there must be something more between him and Charles will not leave him the hell alone.
Thinking too much about this thing between them has always been a dangerous endeavor, one that has been known to send Max into spirals of near panic, but with everything around him already soaked in disaster, he suddenly finds himself not only willing, but almost desperate to ruminate on it- on how it’s come to this.
His chest already hurting in a familiar, tender type of way, Max finally lets himself reflect on him and Charles. It comes in waves.
It had only taken them a couple months to begin pushing the boundaries of their arrangement.
Trouble first began in the spring of 2023, between Miami and Monaco when they found themselves at home for the longest stretch of time since the season began, since they had started sleeping together again.
It should have been a nice break, a respite from the intensity of the start of the season.
Max just hadn’t predicted just how addicting it would be to have Charles back in his bed, nor how frustrating the withdrawals could be.
He’d felt himself getting restless as the days dragged on, itching to reach out to Charles despite the unspoken rule the arraignment was only in place during race weekends. He told himself to be smart, to just wait it out-
But two long weeks into the break was all it took for Max give in, pushing away his worry and sending Charles a text asking if he wanted to come over to fuck.
Charles had never even been to his apartment before. Thirty minutes later, he was complimenting Max on the view as he was led back to the bedroom.
And that was the first line crossed.
The affair began to bleed into their personal time, away from the chaos of work or the haze of the clubs. Whenever the mood struck, it was so terribly easy to just ask Charles to meet up, or to say yes when Charles would reach out with the same question,
As it turned out, they wanted to see each other often, it quickly became a weekly thing.
Things became a bit more sticky one lovely evening in the early summer, when Max was at a pleasant get together with friends, surrounded by good company, good food, and good drinks.
Yet all he could seem to think about was a certain Ferrari driver.
He’d been scrolling Twitter on the ride over when he stumbled across a picture of Charles, shirtless and tan. Max’s eyes had lingered a little too long on his pecs, the dip of his waist, before catching himself and quickly scrolling past it.
The picture hadn’t been on his screen for more than a second or two, but now his mind wouldn’t fucking let it go.
Here he was, surrounded by his friends having fun, but he couldn’t stop the flashes of savory little memories the picture had inspired- like what Charles looked like straddled over his lap, head tipped back towards the ceiling or how he sounded when Max would touch him just right… that high-pitched little mewl as he fucked himself down on Max’s cock.
Frowning, Max dragged himself away from those thoughts and promised to wait a few days before he saw Charles again so he stopped getting so fucking fixated.
He tried drinking to take his mind off things. Instead, as soon as he was mildly tipsy, he just pulled out his phone-
Max Verstappen
I need to see you. Can I come over?
Charles Leclerc
Of course.
Everything okay? I thought you said you were busy tonight?
Max Verstappen
I need to be inside you.
Charles Leclerc
Oh
Yes, you should come over.
Quickly please.
Then Belgium happened.
They’d podiumed together, a situation that always tended to get them more worked up than usual.
They met up for their celebration in Max’s hotel room, burning hot for one another, colliding madly. It became obvious it would be a pleasantly long night when they couldn’t stop kissing after the first round, still whispering filthy praises, still wrapped up together, barely having time to cool down before they were ready for more.
But when the time came for Max to reach over to his nightstand, he was met with the awful realization that the condom box was now empty.
“Fuck,” he hissed, shaking the box as if a hidden condom would magically appear. He still had Charles wrapped up in one arm, keeping him close even as he frantically searched. When Charles let out an impatient sound, Max finally had to tell him, “I‘m out.”
“What,” Charles looked distraught, leaning up in Max’s embrace to look at the empty box like he might be lying, “No!”
“Please tell me you’ve got one in your wallet.”
“You always have the condoms Max, why would I bring anything?”
Max huffs, frustration gnawing on him. Charles was in his arms, looking needy and delectable, sweat damp hair stuck to his forehead and his bright eyes locked onto Max as he pouted up at him, fucked open but still wanting more…
“We’ll just have to do something else,” Max muttered, already shifting to slide back down to take Charles into his mouth, trying not to feel too dejected he wouldn’t get to fuck him again.
But Charles' strong grip on his arm stopped him from moving far.
“Wait,” Charles said, suddenly apprehensive, “Maybe we could-”
Max caught on immediately, his eyes widening, wondering if Charles was actually serious.
“I have not really- been with anyone else since my last test. Only you.” Charles finally admits, his gaze darting down and away, “I do not know about you, but…”
“I haven’t either,” Max said quickly, the confession surprisingly easy.
Now it’s Charles’ eyes that widen, he stares at Max, gives a tight little nod, “Okay, so do you want to maybe-”
Max is nodding back before he can finish the question, leaning down to crush their mouths together and moving between Charles legs, hot and eager.
Moments later, he pushes inside Charles, bare for the first time, finally feeling the slick heat of him completely. It feels so insanely good it makes him lose his English, so it’s Dutch praises that he whispers against Charles’ lips. The whimpers he gets in return are some of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.
They’re helpless to do anything but move together, hard and quick, greedy as they chase after the raw, intoxicating sensation.
“Come inside me,” Charles gasps, just as the pleasure is becoming unbearable.
“Shit, really,” Max asks, frantic, thrusting harder, he’s so unbelievably close but he needs to be sure-
“Please, come in me,” Charles begs and Max immediately obeys, kissing him as he slams forward.
Filling Charles with his cum for the first time, he feels like he’s found heaven.
“It’s just so convenient,” Charles explains to him later. They’re pressed side to side, enjoying the afterglow, but Charles apparently feels the need to justify himself in the wake of his confession. “You are just usually so close, and it’s so much work to find other people to take home anyways, so I haven’t really- you know… Are you okay with this?”
“Mmmm,” Max smiles to himself, resting with his eyes closed, “‘M fine with it baby, it is the same for me.”
Baby. Max still got a little bit of a thrill whenever he called Charles that. It always made his heart feel kind of warm, and the way it made Charles squirm and flush was just a bonus.
They agree they can forgo condoms as long as they are only sleeping with each other. If that ever changes, well, they’ll just start wearing them again until they get tested. The amendment to their arrangement is easy, simple, nothing to make a fuss over.
That night turns out to be the last time they ever use protection.
They never talk about it again, just like they never talk about the fact that neither of them have dated or even slept with anyone else since 2022. It’s just…not something that needs to be discussed.
They began texting each other- outside of the usual questions on their availability and a string of hotel names and room numbers.
Max doesn’t even remember which one of them is at fault. Just that one day they started sending each other memes and by the next month they had begun to message each other at least once a day, their text thread always active with something or other.
It’s fine, it’s totally fine. Friends message each other all the time.
And friends with benefits also sext each other.
They realize that they’re good at it, which probably isn’t that surprising considering how insane their sexual chemistry has been thus far, but it still gives Max a giddy, dizzy feeling whenever Charles and him manage to get each other so heated with just a few messages and a picture or two thrown in.
Max creates an extensive folder of the nudes that Charles sends him. It’s great material for the times they’re unable to meet up.
And if he’s just as happy to receive a text that says:
Charles Leclerc
Next time we’re together I’ll let you fuck my face. Make me as messy as you want.
As he to receive a text more along the lines of:
Charles Leclerc
I tried that Pinot Noir you recommended. Very nice!
Then that is Max’s business and nobody else’s.
Things carried on that way for a time, Max finding himself ridiculously happy with his life.
Not only was he winning week in and week out, but he was also getting laid more regularly than ever- even better, he was getting laid by an absolutely stunning, funny, talented man and the sex was fantastic.
So of course he was content, of course he was comfortable.
Maybe a little too comfortable with certain things.
Like the way it gradually became routine for Max to help clean Charles up after sex, always taking on the task of stumbling his way to the bathroom to get a damp cloth to help wipe him down. Pulling the sheet over him to keep him warm. Grabbing him some water. Helping him gather his clothes. He’d tried to defend it-
“I like seeing the mess I make of you,” he told Charles one night, hand gripping his thighs to keep him spread, eyes locked on where his cum was dripping out of Charles’ hole. He watched until he was satisfied, bringing a cloth over his stomach and between his legs, “But I was taught to clean up after myself.”
Charles had just smirked and raised his shoulder in a lazy shrug, “Be my guest, chéri. Less work for me.”
Max ducked his head to hide the way smiled at the French pet name Charles had started using.
And while cleaning Charles up after sex wasn’t that personal, the way Max was realizing how much he enjoyed taking care of him did give pause for a moment.
When Max’s birthday rolls around, a small gift basket full of Kinder chocolates is delivered to his apartment. It’s a nondescript but sweet gift considering his love for the candy, so he’s already pleased when he checks the card- only to do a double take.
Happy Birthday mate!
Charles
He stays blinking down at the card for close to a full minute, before a soft, flustered little smile tugs on the corners of his mouth.
Opening up his phone, he writes himself a reminder to get a carton of vanilla ice cream ordered to send to Charles on October 16.
They’re friends with benefits. Or…friendly co-workers with benefits. Something like that. Friendly co-workers can give each other gifts on their birthdays.
The excuse sounded weak, even back then.
Things escalated
Max realized this another evening, in a hotel room after the race in Singapore back in 2023.
It had been rough that time, both of them looking to fuck away their frustrations with the race. They had gripped hard with the intention of leaving bruises, their kisses full of more teeth than tongue, and Max had put Charles on his knees, holding his slim little waist tight and pounding into him from behind while the Monegasque clutched the headboard and rutted back against him just as hard.
“Taking it so well, baby,” Max groaned as his hips fucked into him.
“More, Max, I need more,” Charles grunted, turning his head to be heard, mouth hanging open as he gasped and whined with each thrust
“Yeah? You want it harder?”
“Oui, oui… oh fuck, yes, Max fuck, like that,” Charles cried as Max gave him just what he asked for.
It was rough but it was perfect. By the time they climaxed, neither of them were thinking about the shitty race, too wrung out and satisfied.
Max had collapsed on top of Charles, flattening him to the mattress as he rested his cheek against the sweaty skin of his back, panting, so close he could feel the way Charles shuddered with aftershocks.
Honestly, it was rather comfortable, but Max didn’t want to crush him so after a few breaths he reluctantly moved to roll off, only for Charles to reach back and grasp at his arm.
“Wait.”
“Huh?”
“Stay for a minute,” Charles murmured, “I’m cold.”
“You’re cold,” Max was baffled, not only were they Singapore, but they had just fucked hard enough one would half expect the hotel room’s mirrors and windows to be steamed up. How was he cold?
“Yes,” Charles responded, snippy, “It’s the air conditioning or something. I- I’m just cold. You are warm. Stay.”
Max was opening his mouth to respond when it suddenly dawned on him what Charles really wanted. He paused, contemplating, before he rolled off him anyway, shushing Charles when he whined because this time he takes Charles with him as he moves.
They’d never really cuddled before, at least not on purpose.
Turns out…it’s kind of a revelation.
He has Charles gathered up so close, their legs tangled, the curves of their bodies fitting so nicely together. Max can feel Charles’ heart under the hand he has resting on his chest, the way it’s beating a little fast. It makes Max smile, so he buries his face in Charles' soft, messy hair. Charles gives a quiet, shaky sigh, relaxing back into him. A slow and settled warmth spreads between them.
It’s all rather lovely.
Charles claims to be ‘cold’ on a few more occasions before they completely drop the act, wordlessly tangling together each time they’re in bed. If Charles likes to be held after sex, then Max is more than happy to provide. It’s important to keep his bedmate satisfied, after all.
He does not dwell on how much he loves it himself, especially those times when Max is draped on top of him, his face tucked into the base of his neck while Charles traces patterns on his back and lays gentle kisses on his forehead, filling Max with sticky affection that seeps down to his bones.
He is not delusional enough to pretend like he doesn’t understand this is way over the limit for fuck buddies.
But Max realizes he just… doesn’t really care. Not when it feels this nice.
It’s after that, near the end of the 2023 season, that a new complication began to make itself known.
Cuddling had opened up the door for a much more serious issue- whenever they would curl together after sex, murmuring quietly about whatever was on their mind, trading soft kisses between words, gently trailing fingers along each other’s bare skin, things would feel staggeringly peaceful, the type of peace that seemed a sin to interrupt.
That is to say- each time it was becoming harder and harder to let each other go.
They’d already crossed so many lines, but they knew, intuitively, that this was the most dangerous one. Staying over, actually sleeping together… it was treacherous territory.
It would be too much.
Despite this- there is a night in Max’s apartment, the first time they’ve seen each other in over a week. They savor a hazy, intoxicating little reunion. Afterwards, they’re cuddled close, facing one another, drowsy, and still pressing their lips together every few minutes, when Charles finally gives that weary sigh, the one that always means he’s about to say he should go.
But this time, the thought of letting him leave his arms is truly unbearable . Max feels his resistance snap in a clean, quick break.
“Stay,” he whispers.
Damning them with a single word.
Charles goes rigid for half a second before softening just as quickly, allowing Max to pull him in even closer. He hides his face into the crook of Max’s neck, breath tickling his skin, whispers back to him a simple response, “Okay.”
They’re asleep ten minutes later.
The next morning, Max is the first to wake, slipping into consciousness and becoming aware of the warm, comfortable weight pressed against him. He blearily opens his eyes to a devastating sight-
It is morning, Charles Leclerc is still in his bed, still in his arms, still fast asleep. The morning light falls on his face, highlighting the soft, vulnerable expression that sleep has graced him with. He looks peaceful, absolutely beautiful.
Max can’t look away, even as his chest begins to ache something terrible.
All bets are off.
They sleep over every time they can possibly get away with it, even times they probably shouldn’t.
There is now an extra toothbrush in each apartment, a few spare clothes left in drawers to make things easier in the mornings, Max learns how Charles takes his eggs, Charles begins buying the orange juice Max likes.
Things begin to shift through the winter break and the start of the new season.
They meet up more often than ever, multiple times a week.
Occasionally, (often) they eat dinner together when they meet, quickly becoming familiar with the other’s preferred take-out orders, laughing and talking over the meal like this was something acceptable for them.
When Charles decides he wants to get a puppy, Max is there to meet Leo not long after he’s brought home, cooing over him and spoiling him the same as Charles always does with Sassy and Jimmy.
Once, after arriving at Max’s hotel room during a race weekend, Charles looked at the TV screen curiously, asking about the show Max was watching. They end up watching three episodes of Narcos together. When they’re back in Monaco, Max asks if he’d like to watch another episode. Over the course of a few weeks they finish the series together. They start another. They yell at each other if they ever suspect one has watched ahead.
Other times they’ll play a few rounds of FIFA or CoD after dinner, mocking one another and making dirty bets to be fulfilled in the bedroom after they’re finished. Usually the controllers get tossed aside at some point, their competitive edge leading them to take it out on one another physically, with hungry kisses and hands tugging at hair and clothes.
The sex itself, shamefully, only gets better , and their craving for one another seems to be never ending, no matter how often they’re together.
Even their pillow talk begins to change.
It had always been pleasant, but now it’s shifted into something more . The times they talk quietly with Charles tucked under Max’s arm, his head resting on his chest, fingers tracing secrets on his skin…there is no way to pretend like it’s not intimate. They’ve spent hours discussing everything and anything, but some exceedingly vulnerable topics have arisen over the last few months: secrets from their childhoods, the things and people they’ve lost, their fears and worries for the future, their hopes-.
Charles has confessed, in a small, fragile voice, how difficult it is for him to trust someone with all of this. Max treats it reverently.
Back in February, factory runs and various commitments kept them apart for nearly three weeks. They hadn’t been separated for that long in months, certainly not since they had begun to grow closer.
Neither of them handle it particularly well.
By the end of the first week Max had been moody and withdrawn. From the way Charles’ messaged often conveyed his own frustrations with everything surrounding him, Max suspected he had a similar temperament.
They sext constantly, so much that Max had to exercise extreme caution when checking his phone in public. Their messages were filthy and obscene, and Max usually ended up demanding Charles send him at least one dirty picture a day, feeling ridiculously hungry for every glimpse he can get of his lover.
When they finally reunited, they had clashed with a fervor that was intense even for them, spending three days locked away in Max’s apartment to make up for lost time, Charles not even bothering to return home each morning like he normally would. Fuck, they barely left the bed.
But then Max had to pack to go to Milton Keynes for a few days before they would both travel (separately) to Bahrain for pre-season testing. There, they knew they would only be able to snatch a night together sparingly, it feels insane there had ever been a time when they had been satisfied with that.
Charles was upset in the lead up to Max's departure, becoming clingy and sour in equal measures, no matter how much Max cuddled him or promised to text.
“I am tired of texting,” Charles complained one afternoon, the two of them tangled together on the couch, “We were texting for a month. I need more.”
Max had cooed indulgently at his spoiled lover, leaning forward to press a kiss into that mop of fluffy brown hair, “I will send pictures too, of course. What else can I do? You want to try talking on the phone?”
Charles shrugged, avoiding eye contact and focusing on where his fingers were playing with the strings of Max’s hoodie, “There is- there is maybe something that could help. I think it would be good for us, for when we have to be apart. But… I don’t know if you will want to do it.”
“Just ask, baby. I think I am up for almost anything with you,” Max told him lightly, laughing to mask the vicious honesty of his words.
Charles hesitated a moment longer before finally glancing up through his lashes, squirming nervously, “Chéri… would you- would you maybe be okay with making a video with me?”
That was how Max had found himself in this fucking disaster. The story of how everything between them had slowly changed and spiraled out of control.
And maybe the most damaging aspect was also the only thing that had stayed stubbornly consistent throughout the entire arrangement- they still kissed every single time they said goodbye.
Laying there on the massage table, Max raises his hands to press the heel of his hands into his eyes, willing away the memories still lingering in his mind and the pain that came with them, as well as the confusion, the affection, the guilt, and the haunting want that those recollections bring.
There is a reason he never thinks too hard about this thing with Charles. It fucking hurts.
Max is not an idiot. He knows that their arrangement has gone off the rails, that they’ve grown much too close, that he cares too much about Charles, that it’s far, far beyond what a typical friends-with-benefits situation should ever look like.
He knows this, that’s why he’d told everyone that it was complicated.
But it can’t be anything else other than this mess.
It could never turn into something real, not while they’re still racing.
Max scrubs his hands down his face, glaring miserably up at the ceiling.
But still- sometimes he catches the way Charles looks at him with his eyes unbearably soft and fond. Or the way he kisses his forehead when Max is cuddled close to him. And he’ll suddenly feel the brutality of hope deep in his heart.
And… there was that time just a few weeks ago. When he thought for a moment Charles was going to tell him- No .
Max sits up abruptly, swinging his legs off the table and hopping down to pace the room, trying to walk away from that particular memory he still couldn’t touch, even now- it was still too raw.
He was trembling a bit, even as he walked. His chest ached and his hands clenched, desperate to hold onto something.
Max thinks he’d give anything to be holding Charles close right now.
tmz.com
Formula One Drivers' SEX TAPE LEAKED… to entire F1 world!
TMZ has learned that the mysterious video reportedly showing “collusion” between two drivers and rumored to contain “sensitive material” is actually a SEX TAPE starring two current Formula One drivers.
Information about the suspicious video emailed to the F1 world had been locked down… but after McLaren CEO Zak Brown confirmed the video’s existence and demanded answers, Formula One officials issued a quick statement that their preliminary investigation hadn’t uncovered any suspicions of collusion, declaring the situation a team and driver issue.
Well… if F1 was hoping that things would quiet down, we think this newest development will certainly show them that isn’t happening anytime soon.
Sources confirm to TMZ that the video contains footage of “explicit sexual content” between the drivers… What exactly that entails, along with the two drivers’ identities, remain unknown… for now.
Developing story.
Notes:
apologies for the delay in getting this to you. it’s end of semester and i have become the victim of teenage procrastination, drowning in grading late work and retakes. next chapter should still be here soon, though.
also...chapter 3 features the sex tape.
thanks for reading! please drop a kudos or comment to let me know if you liked it. even if you just leave a 🔥 or ❤️ i will still be thrilled.
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Chapter 3: your quiet treason
Summary:
social media frenzies, pr meetings, and sex tape viewings.
Notes:
playing fast and loose with pr strategies, contracts, gemma’s role in the pr department, and the actual realities of a leaked sex tape here, but it’s fanfic bby!
enjoy :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
@SpeedsterrSeb
Holy shit TMZ is calling it a sex tape. Guys… they’re terrible… but they never get it wrong.
↪️ @immaovercutyou
O H M Y G O D
↪️ @ChicaneChamp3x
You’re telling me f1 drivers fucked on camera???
@PolePookiePiastri
The way we can’t even have fun speculating if it’s Lando and Oscar in the video because we know Zac never would have opened his giant mouth if they were in it. Why would he ruin this for us???
@SpeedKingLewisVII
We know a sex tape is super serious and violating… but this is a safe space, admit you have theories about who’s featured. Here are the results from my Google Form poll for all the pairs that received votes:
Max x Charles….. 52%
Pierre x Charles... 21%
Alex x George…....12%
Pierre x Yuki……….8%
Carlos x Charles…..5%
Lewis x Max…..…...2%
@LesbianWifeGeorgeR
Some of you are being so disgusting. This is such a massive invasion of the driver’s privacy and you’re treating it like it’s a ship war. Fucking disrespectful.
@TheMaxEffecttt
Be so fr, we all know it’s a Lestappen sex tape.
↪️ @RacingAddict76
Lestappies continue to live in delusion
↪️ @TheMaxEffecttt
Listen to Max’s radio from the last race and call me delusional again.
↪️ @SpeedChasers10
Idk, last race has got me a little suspicious…
↪️ @GrandPrixPrincess
Babe that radio tho!
Max genuinely thinks he might be fine giving up one of his WDC titles, just as long as it meant he never had to set foot in Red Bull’s damn conference room ever again.
He’s back at the table with Red Bull management, his personal team, and lawyers for the PR pitch and the mood is toxic, everyone lost somewhere in between panic, hostility, and embarrassment. People keep glancing compulsively at their phones every few minutes, dreading the notification that declares the video has breached containment.
It’s truly a small miracle that it’s gone this long without more information getting out, but everyone knows better than to hope. It’s only a matter of time.
Next to him, Raymond, his manager, is updating him quietly in Dutch, “We’ve got all of the legal paperwork ready to go, same with Leclerc’s people. Whenever the video gets out, it won’t be able to stay up on any of the major sites for long. It will be difficult for people to find.”
Max gives a half shrug, half nod, keeping his eyes down. It’s good news, but he’s not naive enough to think this means much- just the news that him and Charles have a sex tape will be enough of a catastrophe, and once the video is out, it will be out forever, even if it’s only accessible through shared links and virus laden sites.
Plenty of people will still watch it.
“Let’s get started then,” Gemma’s voice breaks through the tense atmosphere, and she and her team move to the front of the room where their slides are being projected.
And really, Max sort of wants to die at the realization that his sex life has directly led to a powerpoint presentation.
“To review the situation,” Gemma continues, clicking forward to a slide labeled CONTEXT, “This morning, around 500 Formula 1 employees received an email with the subject line Urgent: Footage of Ferrari and Red Bull Collusion, with a video link attached that contained footage of Red Bull driver, Max Verstappen engaging in sexual intercourse with Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc.”
Max feels his face burn with embarrassment, even as everyone does their best to avoid looking at him as Gemma reviews the timeline and gives an overview on all the statements released so far.
She stresses that it is a matter of when, not if, the video is leaked even further, her words making everyone take another uneasy glance at their phones.
“The FIA has officially declared this to be a team and driver matter,” Gemma continues, her voice matter of fact, “Christian was informed that they will only investigate further if there are any credible concerns about collusion, which we don’t anticipate. FIA’s directive leaves us in a good position, it means they won’t interfere as we try to control the narrative. In more good news, Ferrari has agreed to collaborate with us, which will only strengthen the credibility of our response.”
Most in the room nod their approval, and even Max managed to flash Gemma a weak smile, grateful for this small bit of good news.
“Our current job is to decide on a strategy. I’ve been in close contact with Sylvia over at Ferrari and we’ve decided on five possibilities.”
Gemma steps aside and lets the interns present the first two strategies. Or rather, talk about why they won’t work.
The first one, titled STRATEGY #1: DEEP FAKE, would claim that the video was made with AI. It might sound appealing, but that route would only invite deeper analysis of the video and open the door to legal issues. It is quickly dismissed.
STRATEGY #2: SAY NOTHING, was self-explainable, the teams would refuse to comment and wait for everyone to move on. It may have been possible… if not for Zak Brown expressing his “concerns” about collusion to the press.
Now, when the video leaked, others would be able to weaponize the teams’ silence, and Red Bull and Ferrari would look guilty in the court of public opinion, further damaging the brand on top of the backlash that was already coming due to the nature of the video.
The PR teams concluded that strategy #2 was not a viable option. It is also dismissed.
Gemma takes over at this point, clicking to the next slide: STRATEGY #3: THE TRUTH
Immediately, various noises of disapproval come from around the table.
“Strategy #3 would see us issue a statement condemning the leak of the video as a massive violation of privacy, but confirm that there was no collusion, just an intimate encounter.”
“That… does not actually sound so terrible,” Max says, squinting at the slide suspiciously.
“It will leave us too open for speculation,” Gemma explains, “Everyone would want to know more about you and Charles. If we choose not to clarify, the speculation will keep the video in the news cycle and you two will be under a microscope as people try to figure out the nature of your relationship.”
“Alright, now it sounds terrible,” Max sighed, slumping further down in his seat.
“Yes,” Gemma nods, “And if we go further and reveal more details… let’s just say public opinion and our sponsors will not look very sympathetically on a leaked sex tape from friends-with-benefits. It’s exceptionally scandalous. The truth would be terrible for both your personal brand and Red Bull’s.”
“She’s right,” his manager says, regrettably, “It would turn you into a joke, Max.”
Max scowls, “This whole things is already making me feel like a joke, mate. What’s next?”
STRATEGY #4: EXES
Max's mouth drop open in shock, “What the fuck?”
“Let me explain,” Gemma holds up a finger, “The next two strategies will be bending the truth to our favor. In this one, we release the same statement, but we say that it was an intimate encounter between former romantic partners, implying that you were in a relationship, but aren’t any more.”
An unpleasant feeling begins to twist Max’s insides. He decides he hates this one.
“This would take care of some of the speculation,” she continues, “And it would elicit more sympathy than the truth, but there are some negative aspects to consider.”
“Like?”
“There would still be countless probes into this supposed former relationship, keeping the video in the news. We also need to consider the negative connotation with just that- a former relationship. It wouldn’t be as disastrous as the truth, but it still wouldn’t be good for the brand, and,” she paused, eyeing Max carefully, “we would need to keep Max and Charles as separate as possible in this scenario. To avoid unwanted attention.”
Immediately, Max blanches, impossible to hide, “Like, in the paddock-?”
“In the paddock and elsewhere,” she says firmly, “At least for a few months. You’d be watched extremely closely, so no visits with each other. You couldn’t risk it.”
“That’s bullshit,” Max snaps, “It’s my private life-”
“Mr. Verstappen, you signed a contract that agreed your private life would not impact the brand negatively,” a lawyer interjected, “The only reason you’re not currently in breach of that contract is because Red Bull has decided not to take action since the video was likely obtained illegally. If this strategy is implemented, you will be legally bound to follow it.”
Self-righteous dick head. Max is opening his mouth to tell him so when Christian finally intervenes-
“Before we begin threatening lawsuits perhaps we could let Gemma finish her pitch,” he says tiredly, “Please tell me you’ve got something, anything better than this.”
“I do,” Gemma says, her tone becoming cautious. She clicks to the next slide.
STRATEGY #5: RELATIONSHIP
There is a collective, startled moment in the conference room. Max feels his eyes widen in disbelief as he stares at the title of the slide.
“Once again, we bend the truth,” Gemma says slowly, “We release the statement… but we say it was a private video made by two people in a committed relationship, meant for their eyes only. Anyone who watched the video has violated the couple’s privacy.”
“That’s true even without us being-"
“I know, Max. But if we present it this way, the video will truly be seen as an invasion of privacy. Anything else would just be gossip and scandal,” she pauses, looking almost pained, “You two are going to be outed either way. With this strategy, we can make it beneficial for us. It will gather the maximum amount of sympathy.”
Max is still so stunned he can’t even think of what to say, so he just stares blankly at the word relationship. It looks loud, like it’s taunting him.
“I see the sympathy angel but I can’t help but think that this,” Christian waves a hand “would keep just Max in the spotlight. If anything, it seems like this would gather the most attention. An extreme amount, in fact.”
“Yes but it would generally be sympathetic attention and everyone would quickly become much more focused on the relationship aspect than the sex tape. Ultimately, it would minimize the damage, possibly even become a net positive for the teams if we play it right.”
“You’re asking him to be one of the first out Formula One drivers,” Max’s manager says slowly, “For a relationship that doesn’t even exist.”
“I realize that,” Gemma concedes, “But as I said, they’re going to be outed either way. We’ll already have to deal with the consequences, so why not take advantage? And if we go this route,” she nods at the screen, “Max and Charles will be better positioned going forward.”
“What exactly does this entail,” his manager pushes.
“Sylvia and I agree that we wouldn’t ask for much. We’d issue a statement that the couple is planning on keeping their relationship private, so we won’t allow any interviews on the subject. But to sell the story, we would like them to be seen arriving and leaving the paddock together for the remainder of the season, and also be photographed together back in Monaco for a few date nights and yacht excursions. We would also expect them to include one another in the occasional photo carousel, but we won’t ask for a full post. Besides that,” Gemma looks at Max a little too knowingly, “they are free to act as openly or as privately as they wish.”
Oh.
“You mean I could-,” Max needs to pause to clear his throat, “I could- act like he’s actually my boyfriend? To sell the story?”
“If you’re open to it, yes.”
Max pauses as the conversation continues around him, and lets himself think about it.
On one hand, lying to the whole world like this about someone as important as Charles feels deeply, intrinsically wrong, especially when the lawyers begin mentioning things like contracts and lengths of agreement as they mull over the possibilities.
But on the other hand… Max’s heart begins to somersault in his chest when he pictures some of the things he’d be free to do, things he’s secretly been wanting to do.
He thinks about kissing him after a race.
The possibility makes a shiver run up his spine as he pictures it.
Max just having won some impressive victory, going and leaping into his team's arms, clapping hands on his back before they spin him around to where Charles is waiting for him, his helmet removed, hair tousled, balaclava lines on his face as he grins at Max, so fucking gorgeous. The sight of him would set Max’s heart on fire, and he would yank off his own helmet and balaclava, dropping them uncaringly to the ground, before hauling Charles into his arms and into a ferocious kiss, open-mouthed but sweet, tinged with victory. The cameras flashing and the crowd cheering as Charles melted into it. Everyone seeing that it was Max who got to celebrate with him like this, hold him like this, kiss him like this-
He feels his face warm as he forces himself out of the fantasy. Around the conference table, the chatter has a positive energy, almost excited. Everyone seems to agree that it’s risky, but it just might work.
Except there’s still a few questions that need answering.
“How long would this fake relationship last,” Max asks.
“Sylvia and I feel have spoken about a contract that goes from now until the end of January” Gemma tells him, “At the end of that period we could put out a statement that you two have parted and decided to stay friends. Or…we could extend it if that is what you and Charles would prefer.”
Max tries not to linger on her implications, “But… if we do end it in January, you would leave us alone after? We could do as we pleased again and you would be out of our business?”
Gemma looks to Christian who looks at Max, pained, clearly feeling the hypocrisy, “As long you’re careful… I suppose what you do in your personal time is your business if it doesn’t affect the team. No more filming yourselves, though.”
The quip is met with a glower, so Christian quickly moves on, “What do you think, then? Would you be willing to consider this?”
And Max- Max just doesn’t know.
It sounds terrible, with contracts and the lie of it all.
It also sounds wonderful, being able to face this with Charles openly, to hold his hand through it, to maybe have a chance to see what it’s like to have something real, even if it’s just pretend -
But he doesn’t even know if that’s what Charles wants.
“I’m willing to consider it, but I need to talk to Charles,” he says quietly, staring down at his hands, fiddling with his watch, “We need to decide together.”
“Yes, obviously,” Gemma sounds incredulous, “Ferrari is presenting the same options to him right now. We have a group meeting to finalize the approach in an hour. We’ll talk to him then.”
“A group- what the fuck, no. I need to talk to him alone.”
“Max, you'll be able to speak to him, but we do not have time to drag this out with you two talking privately for god knows how long. We will meet with Ferrari in one hour to make a decision, and then you two can talk as much as you like. Now, any questions on this strategy? Are we all in agreement that it’s the best option?”
Max clenches his jaw, not even bothering to continue arguing as Gemma and the others continue to discuss The Relationship Strategy . He knows they won’t listen right now, and he’s too busy weighing the risks of saying fuck it and trying to sneak over to Ferrari after this is over, when he overhears a particularly exuberant PR intern chime in-
“The tone of the video provides The Relationship Strategy with even more benefits,” she says excitedly, “It gives our statements an extra layer of believability considering-”
“Considering what,” Max’s icy voice cuts her off. Everyone in the room turns to look at him, but he’s busy glaring at the poor intern.
To her credit, she continues, despite looking terrified “I just mean- considering that in the video it… it looked like you were already in love.”
Text Message From: Lando
Hey Max, wanted to say I’m sorry about Zac. I didn’t know he was going to say anything…
22 Missed Calls from Dad
Text Message from Danny:
I know you’re still pissed at me, but I’ve thought of a title for your sex tape…
Text Message from GP:
Let me know if you need anything mate. I’m in hospitality if you want to talk…
Text Message from Gasly:
I swear to God Max, if Charles is not okay I’m going to find a way to run you off…
Missed Call from Lewis Hamilton
Text Message from Fernando:
Nice
3 Missed Calls from Mom
Text Message from Dad:
I know what you did. Pick up the phone.
Text Message from Checo:
You owe me, Verstappen. I clicked on the fucking link. Why would you ever…
+135 more
For the second time that day, Rupert cautiously pokes his head into Max’s room, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he’s staring at an active bomb.
Max lifts up the arm he has draped over his face to give him a blank look in return, but otherwise doesn’t say anything from his spot back on the massage table. He’s been lying there while attempting breathing exercises, yet again.
“They decided I was the safest option to visit to give you a task,” Rupert says with a meek chuckle as he steps in the room, “I think that blow up scared most of them off for the time being.”
“They deserved it,” Max mutters, turning away, “Everyone in there acting like I was an idiot for being angry that most of them watched it, like they had any fucking right.”
“Well, I can assure you that I have no interest in watching your sex tape, mate,” Rupert shuffles awkwardly, “Listen, I’ve got your phone and laptop. IT checked it and didn’t find malware, so they’re cautiously optimistic you’re safe, even if we’ll still need to toss these. But management is, er, asking that you go through and delete anything else that could cause some trouble.”
“Oh my fucking god,” Max groans dramatically, scrubbing his hands down his face in frustration.
“They told me to tell you they could do it if you’d rather-”
“No!”
“Thought so,” Rupert smiled kindly, “Look, they wanted me to stay with you to make sure you’re not doing anything you shouldn’t…But honestly the thought of watching you clean out all of that makes my skin crawl… so can I trust you to do what you need to do while I stay out in the hall?”
Max looks at him, surprised and grateful, and nods.
“I’ll be close by,” Rupert hands him the phone and laptop, “Don’t forget, no searching the news, no social media, no contacting anyone outside of Red Bull. And, uh, they told me to tell you Charles hasn’t been given his phone back yet, so no use trying to contact him.
Hopes dashed, Max still takes the devices with a nod.
“Chin up, you’ve got about 45 minutes before you’ll see him at the meeting,” Rupert offers, giving him a final smile before heading back outside.
Max watches him go, before bracing himself and tapping his phone screen. The sheer amount of notifications is overwhelming, and one in particular catches him, immediately making his blood run cold-
22 Missed Calls from Dad
He closes the phone, tosses it aside. There’s no way he can even think of dealing with that right now. Not if he has any hope of keeping his composure.
Shifting his gaze to the laptop, Max considers ignoring his task entirely, keeping the laptop shut instead of deleting anything that might “cause trouble”.
However… the possibility that his photos aren’t safe… of Charles being even more violated… It's enough to have him heave a sigh and open it, going to the secret file where he’s saved all of his favorite pictures that Charles had sent, beginning to delete.
It’s more difficult than he’d like to admit.
Charles always looked so fucking good, and Max had spent more than a few lonely nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, biting his lip and clicking through the photos to get himself off. It’s rather hard to let them go, especially the more innocent ones that he had taken himself, like the photo Max snapped of the first time Sassy had curled up in Charles’ lap on the couch, sleeping peacefully while Charles' face showed pure elation.
Nevertheless, he continued deleting for a few minutes…before falling violently still.
On the screen was an image- it’s Charles, slightly blurred, shirtless, eye alert and focused. It wasn’t a picture, but a thumbnail.
It’s their sex tape.
Seeing it gives him a strange, shivery feeling.
He wasn't sure why, it wasn’t like Max had never watched it; he had, a few times at least.
Every time he played it, he was torn between deep embarrassment and intense arousal, but it never failed to make him come ridiculously fast, the orgasms powerful in a way that left him breathless and shaky.
But he really only watched certain parts. In fact, he wasn't sure if he’d ever watched the entire thing start to finish
And all of those insinuations were suddenly roaring loud in his head-
[“Anyone who watched that video would think you two were together.”
“Even though the whole thing was dirty as hell, it was… intimate.”
“It looked like you were already in love.”]
-It made him painfully curious.
Before he can think twice, he’s digging through his backpack to find his earbuds, casting a wary look between his watch and the closed door, noting that he should have enough time until anyone comes looking for him…
Earbuds connected, he stares at the play button on the laptop screen. It stares back, silently judging.
He presses play.
The frame comes to life, Charles staring intently at the camera for a brief second before moving back, revealing Max casually lounging on a bed behind him, dressed down to his underwear, looking at Charles with a soft, amused expression.
The sight of himself makes his palms start to sweat.
On the screen, Max reaches for Charles' wrist and tugs him onto the bed. He goes easily, giving a breathless laugh as he situates himself so they face each other.
They’re framed nicely, there in Charles’ bedroom. The view is from the side of the bed, Max distantly remembers the nightstand Charles had dragged over to perfectly place the phone, how Max had teased him for probably testing out the angles before…
In the video, Max cups Charles' chin, pulling him in for a quick kiss.
It’s fairly chaste, but Max is already feeling uneasy. His fingers twitch back towards the mousepad before stilling.
On the screen, Charles draws back for a moment, glances at the camera, video Max follows his gaze.
“You sure you want to do this,” Max winces at how gentle he sounded.
“I am,” Charles looks back at him, round eyes coy and smiley, “If you are.”
“All good here, baby.”
Great, barely a minute in and everyone suddenly knew Max’s favorite pet name for Charles. He frowns, even as his stomach tightens with something ambivalent. If the situation was different… a small part of him might like the fact that people will see Charles as Max’s baby.
Back on the screen, they’re kissing again, but it’s much more heated. Open-mouthed, wet, messy, the way the two of them had always preferred. Just the sounds of it are filthy, the wet smacking sounds and the little noises they keep making in the throats. Max watches, transfixed, as you can see their tongues dipping between each other’s lips.
Eventually, video Max puts a hand on Charles’ chest and tries to push him to the bed. Charles lets out an indignant squeak and reaches over for the phone, taking it down with him. There are a few seconds of strange jostling, the camera settles pointing at the ceiling, Max and Charles laughing together in the background.
“This is… going to be… such a mess,” video Max’s voice is muffled, but amused. There’s kissing sounds in between his words, like he’d been mouthing down the column of Charles neck as he spoke.
“Then let’s make it a hot mess, yes,” Charles replies, and Max hears himself scoff at his horrible joke. Presently, he doesn’t know if it makes it better or worse that they’re acting so natural with one another, so obviously comfortable. The thought of people seeing them like this makes him shift uneasily.
The screen finally moves again, blurry moments before coming to a stop.
Charles is holding the phone angled down his body, like it’s his point of view. It’s a good shot, capturing Max pressing slow, reverent looking kisses down his chest, his mouth drifting towards Charles’ nipple when his eyes flash up, a shock of blue. He stares behind the camera at Charles, his lips wrapping around the tight little bud, his mouth pursing as he sucks, Charles’ breathy curse heard in the background.
Now, Max feels his whole body tensing up as he watches, and for a moment- it’s too much. He turns away, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw. It makes him sick to know that people have seen this… but there is also, disturbingly, a familiar heat filling his belly at the same time.
Max forces himself to open his eyes.
“Shit,” he hisses, stunned at the image.
On the screen, he has drifted further downwards, situating himself on his stomach between Charles’ legs and pulling off his underwear, leaving Charles bare and exposed.
Max is holding that pretty cock up to his face, tongue out and lapping at the head, licking up all of Charles’ precum, he’d always loved the taste of him. A moment later, he’s wrapping his lips fully around Charles’ cock and slowly sinking down, his eyes closed and brows bent up with an expression like he’s in heaven as Charles’ soft moans can be heard behind the camera.
Back in karting, Max distantly remembers how some particularly vicious boys used to sneer that he had a ‘cocksucker’ mouth. If they watch the video, Max wonders if they’ll feel vindicated in seeing how right they were.
“Your mouth feels so good chéri,” Charles whispers, already sounding affected.
You could hear Max hum his thanks around the cock filling his mouth, and it makes Charles moan, high and choked, as Max began to move his head, slowly and steadily dragging his mouth up and down, while his hand twisted and stroked around the base of Charles’ dick. His cheeks hollowed to provide that deep suction that always drove Charles crazy.
In the present, Max feels his mouth begin to water, the familiar taste of Charles on the back of his tongue. He bites his lip distractedly as he continues to watch.
“Merde, merde, god Max, so good,” Charles murmurs behind the camera as he’s sucked off. One of his hands enters the frame, drifting down to grip Max’s hair. The gesture made the video version of himself look up again, and Max would swear it almost looks like his eyes are smiling, his mouth otherwise occupied.
After a moment, video Max reaches out of frame and comes back with a familiar tube of lube. Max watches himself slicks his fingers, with bated breath and apprehension. On the screen, he coaxes Charles to bend his knee, his hand disappearing underneath him, between Charles’ thighs-
The stuttered gasp Charles releases is gorgeous.
But then he was speaking again, breathless and hurried, “Wait- wait, I am too close.”
Max released Charles cock, his mouth making a wet popping sound before he laughed, “That was quick. Does the camera do it for you, baby?”
“Shut up,” Charles snips at him, but there’s amusement in the words.
Once again, the simple ease between them makes Max feel strange, his stomach sort of fluttery.
The next few minutes sees Charles passing the phone to Max so he can roll over onto this front, and as the view switches to Charles’ gorgeous tanned back, muscles shifting underneath his skin as he lifts up his hips, presenting his ass to the camera, Max realizes he has a problem-
The sight of his lover like this has Max’s blood running south, his cock slowly thickening in his pants.
Considering the circumstances, it feels deeply wrong to be getting turned on, but he’s helpless when he sees Charles like this, especially as he watches his free hand appear in the frame, sliding down Charles’ back to his ass, grabbing a handful of one cheek and squeezing appreciatively. The sight makes Max let out a bitten curse, just as he does in the video.
“Show off for me,” his own voice rasps through the airpods.
Charles lets out a choked sound but does as he’s told, lowers himself so his chest is resting on the bed so he can reach back with both hands to spread himself.
The sight of his tight little hole on full display is obscenely erotic. Almost at once, Max is fully hard.
“Look at that pretty hole, baby,” he cooed in the video. The camera moved closer to get a better look as one of Max’s lube slick fingers appeared, slowly circling over Charles’ hole, teasing, making it clench, before slowly pushing inside, the camera capturing the full details of Charles' body greedily accepting it.
Max has to bite his lip to hold in a moan, watching intently as he slipped another finger into Charles, then a third, the way he stretched around them, taking it so well as they sunk into him. As he watches, Max flexes his hand where it’s resting, his fingers feeling the phantom heat of Charles' body.
Suddenly, he hears his lover demanding more-
“I told you I already prepped,” Charles whined, “I want your cock.”
“But you look so good taking my fingers, baby,” Max responded, the camera still focused on where Charles' hole is clenching down against the three knuckles stuffed up tight against his rim. Suddenly Charles lets out a squeak, and Max starts sounding smug “And you love it so fucking much don’t you? Like when I touch you here.”
The camera moves back, more of Charles' body in the frame, highlighting the way he is suddenly arching and squirming on the bed. Max knows this is when he had started nudging his fingers against Charles’ sweet spot, in that insistent way that always drives him crazy.
“Max, please,” Charles begs as he continues to squirm.
“Please, what?”
“Please fuck me,” Charles demands, high and frantic.
“Okay, Charlie, okay. I’ve got you,” Max laughs breathlessly, the footage once again turning chaotic as the phone was dropped on the bed so Max could take off his underwear and lube himself up.
The hot, shameful, feeling brewing in his chest only intensifies during the brief lull. Max is well aware of what's coming next, it’s the part of the video he usually watches to get himself off. His cock is aching in his pants, but he refuses to touch himself. He swears he’ll never touch himself to this cursed video ever again.
Yet he still continues to watch.
Eventually the phone was picked back up, Charles once again coming into focus. He's down on his elbows, but looking over his shoulder at Max and the camera, a heartbreaking, pleading expression on his face.
“Need you, Max,” he says quietly, with a fervent edge still in his voice.
“Need you too, Charlie,” Max answers gently, the camera shot easing down, to show where Max’s hand is caressing his side, “I need you so bad. Always need you.”
The camera angle shifts even lower as Max shuffles closer. He’s now gripping his cock, hard and thick, stroking it slowly.
“Help me, baby, spread for me again.”
Dutifully, Charles reaches back with one hand to hold himself open, just enough for Max to work with. He smacked the head of his cock down on his needy hole a few times, just giving him a taste-
“Max, I fucking need you, please.” Charles almost sounds close to tears.
“I know, schatje,” Max murmurs in the background, “Shhh, I know. Gonna take care of you. Now be a good boy and let me in nice and easy-”
He watches, transfixed as his cock slowly sinks into Charles, as he takes every fucking inch until Max’s hips are flush with his ass, completely buried inside of him. The camera captures everything.
“Your ass is so fucking tight, so good,” he says in the video, his raspy voice joining Charles’ soft moans.
As he starts to move, Max needs to close his eyes again, his face screwing up in agony. Watching this is both intoxicating and excruciating in near equal measures, and he feels like he’s losing his mind. He can still hear the sounds from the video, their little noises, the sound of their damp skin slapping together into a quickening rhythm.
When he can’t take it anymore, he opens to a sight that makes his heart give a violent jerk, his cock twitching in his pants.
On the screen, he’s got a good rhythm going, a quick, forceful pace that has Charles’ cheeks bouncing everytime Max’s hips smack against his ass. The camera pans up slightly to show that his free hand is tangled in Charles hair, pulling his head back as Max fucks into him, making sure the video caught his sweet little whimpers- the ah ah ah’s driving Max insane.
It's so fucking dirty.
“Let me hear you. Show me how much you love my cock,” he pants in the video, his hips picking up speed, clapping Charles' cheeks obscenely.
“Max, oh fuck,” Charles whimpers, his back curving as he lets out a squeal with a particularly hard thrust.
“That’s good, Charlie. Always such a good boy for me.”
Max watches and listens, feeling sick and turned on at the same time as his eyes are locked onto the way Charles is spread open on his dick, his hand in the video releasing his hair so Max could grip his ass cheek instead, pulling him back into his hard thrusts.
God, he really is such a good boy.
“I’m gonna cum,” Charles gasps, sounding desperate.
“Don’t even think about it,” Max orders, breathless himself, “I’m not done with you yet.”
Suddenly there’s a rush of movement on the camera, the scene going unfocused yet again, with whining and shushing noises in the background, until it finally settles, Max leaning back from where he had placed the phone back on the nightstand. Charles also reappears in the frame, he’s been flipped onto his back and he’s reaching for Max with grabby hands, his eyes round and hungry.
Max grabs his thighs and yanks him further down the bed before he falls on top of him, between his spread legs. They kiss desperately, Charles hands are everywhere, gripping Max’s hair and running down his back.
They look so needy.
Max pulls back from the kiss with a wet, smacking sound, kneeling up on the mattress “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t come until I say.”
“Max, please-”
“You can do it, baby, I know you can. Don’t you want the video to be so good-” he reassures him as he reaches down to position his cock, the push in making them both whine.
Max falls forward to kiss Charles again just as he resumes fucking him, immediately building an intense pace as his arms slide under his shoulders, pulling him in close.
In return, Charles wraps himself completely around him, hands gripping his shoulders, his legs bent over Max’s hips and around his waist so the camera has an excellent view of the way Max’s hips are bucking so roughly. The wet sounds of their sloppy kisses compete with the slap of their skin together.
It’s all so stupidly intimate.
“Let me come,” Charles whines from where he’s tucked his face into Max’s neck.
“Not yet,” he hears himself pant back.
“S'il te plaît, babe, please. You feel too good.”
“Just a little longer.”
“I can’t.”
“Charlie baby, be good for me. You can take it.”
With that Max cruelly begins pounding into him, causing Charles to make the most delicious, pathetic little noises, taking it so fucking beautifully.
Abruptly, Max raises himself up on an arm, grabs a handful of Charles’ hair again to hold his head still as he looks down at him, making sure their eyes meet. Even from their side profiles it’s clear their gazes are burning hot as they stare at each other.
“Every time you watch this I want you to remember how good I make you feel, how well I fuck you. Promise you’ll do that?”
“Oui,” Charles gasps.
“Promise me, Charlie.”
“I promise, chéri.”
“Good boy,” Max reaches a hand between them, “Now come for me.”
It only takes a couple strokes-
“Oh, oh, oh,” Charles' back arches viciously as he cries out, his legs shaking. The camera catching a few white spurts that shoot onto his stomach.
Max needs to bite his lip as he watches, stifling the weak whimper that rises in his throat when he sees Charles come. This had always been his favorite part.
“So hot, baby,” Max whispers in the video, voice tight. He immediately falls back down into Charles arms, flush to him, pressing more messy kisses to Charles slack mouth, “So fucking hot. I’m gonna come.”
“Come in me,” Charles pleads, weak and cock drunk, “Please, babe. Want your cum.”
“Yes- Fuck- Charlie- Oh fuck,” Max sounds absolutely gone as he gives his final deep thrusts, burying himself fully inside the man underneath him.
Max watches himself collapse on top of Charles, he can’t tear his eyes away when Charles brings up a trembling hand to stroke his hair, leaning forward to press kiss after kiss onto Max’s forehead as he catches his breath.
It makes his heart hurt.
After a moment, the video shows Max stirring, leaning forward to press his own sweet kiss to Charles' mouth. He straightens up, delicately shushing Charles when he whines at the pull out, before leaning over to grab the phone.
Max feels his stomach tighten, knowing what’s coming.
The camera focuses again, showing Max cupping Charles' flushed face, running his thumb over his lips, the shot panning down Charles’ torso, so the viewer can appreciate the cum smeared on his belly, next to his spent cock.
“Roll over, schatje,” Max directs, his voice hoarse.
Charles turns yet again, obediently spreads his legs.
Max’s hand comes back in the frame to spread him open a final time, to show off his used, fucked little hole, the pearly trickle of Max’s cum that’s started to drip out of him. Max gathers it up with his thumb, and pushes it back inside.
“You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” is the last thing that’s said before the video ends.
Max slams the laptop shut, burying his face in his hands. Tears are burning behind his eyes, and he focuses both on willing them away and ignoring the way he’s still ferociously hard, his cock begging for attention.
The whole paddock had been sent that, countless people had already watched him and Charles, and more are going to.
He feels violated, angry, turned on, confused, and helpless- it’s an infuriating mess.
Because it was suddenly clear that everyone’s comments had been justified. Anyone who watched that could see there was something more between them.
Max fucked Charles like he owned him, he kissed him like he loved him.
Because he did.
Stumbling to his feet, Max begins pacing again, chest heaving as his mind keeps racing through his tangled thoughts.
For the first time since this whole affair began, Max let himself name that deep, overwhelming, feeling that filled his chest whenever he looked at Charles as he slept, whenever their hands clasped after a race, whenever he caught his eye across a room, whenever their lips met in one of their countless kisses goodbye.
He was so fucking in love with him.
Max couldn’t hide from it anymore, he didn’t want to hide from it anymore, he wanted Charles, all of him, all of the time. But it wasn’t that simple- he couldn’t stop thinking about the merciless fact that Charles had never said anything himself, that he might not want the same thing…
And now Max was supposed to figure out how to deal with this right as they were being thrown into a sex tape scandal.
The maddening unfairness of it all has him snatch up the laptop and slam it on the floor, the scattered remains looking just as destroyed as Max felt.
33745718646
Pierre, this is Charles. Andrea snuck me his phone.
You need to stop coming around Ferrari, they won’t let me see anyone and it looks bad.
Pierre
Fuck I’m sorry.
I’ve been worried and no one would tell me anything.
Are you okay?
33745718646 (Charles)
The entire paddock got sent a video of me taking Max’s cock up my ass.
I’m not doing great.
Pierre
What do you need? What can I do?
Charles
Book me a boat ticket to Antarctica
Run me over with your car.
Something like that.
Pierre
I’ll book the boat ticket.
But I’m also going to kill Max.
Charles
Don’t be an idiot, Max didn’t do anything wrong.
I was the one who asked to film it.
My phone was the one that disappeared from my driver’s room for a few hours before magically reappearing. And I was so stupid, I wasn’t even suspicious.
This is all my fault.
Pierre
Don’t say that. This is no one’s fault except for whatever asshole leaked the video.
Do you think someone hacked your phone when it went missing?
Do you know who it was???
Charles
Not for sure, but I have someone in mind.
I can’t talk about that now. I’m too fucking angry.
Pierre
I’ll fuck them up when you tell me who it was.
Charles
Thanks calamar
Pierre
I’m sorry for asking this but it’s driving me crazy- you and Max?
What is this?
Charles
We have an arrangement, we fuck.
Pierre
That’s all?
Charles
It’s complicated.
Pierre
Okay…
How long have you been fucking?
Charles
2 years
Pierre
Seriously??? And you never told me?
That’s a long time for fuck buddies, no?
Is this why you haven’t been with anyone for years???
Charles
Christ, I am so tired of talking about this.
It’s like this, please don’t ask for details:
Max and I fuck. We filmed ourselves fucking because I asked him to. Some asshole leaked it to the paddock. It’s probably going to be on the internet any second. And now Ferrari and Red Bull are going to try to talk us into some insane pr strategy where we lie and say we’re in a relationship.
That’s it- that’s everything.
Pierre
A fake relationship???
They’re forcing you to do this?
Charles
Trying to.
Everyone is so fucking convinced this is the right way to fix everything.
We have a meeting with Red Bull in 30 minutes to talk about it.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to face Max.
Pierre
They can’t make you fake a relationship. That’s disgusting.
Tell them to fuck off.
Charles
I’m going to.
I won’t force Max to be in a fake relationship with me.
He’ll hate me. He probably already hates me.
I can’t take it if he hates me.
Pierre
Cha, he won’t hate you.
I don’t know what you see in him but I know that much.
Charles
He should. I’ve fucked this whole thing up.
Pierre
What do you mean?
Charles
I never should have asked him to make a video. I don’t know what I was thinking.
I just can’t stand being away from him, I thought the video would help.
You know what’s stupid? It didn’t really help, it just made me miss him more.
Pierre
Charles…
Do you like him?
Charles
That’s what else I fucked up.
Pierre
So you do like him?
Charles
I WISH I just fucking liked him.
Pierre
What are you saying?
Charles
Nothing.
I don’t want to talk about this.
Sorry, it’s been a long day. I didn’t mean to treat you like my therapist.
Pierre
Okay… but I think you need to talk to Max about this.
Charles
No.
I told you, I’ve already fucked everything up enough.
Pierre
Look I don’t say this to make you feel bad, but everyone online already thinks you’re the ones in the sex tape.
His radio from Brazil is being replayed all over socials.
Everyone in the paddock keeps saying they always thought there was something going on between you two.
There are so many pictures and videos being reposted showing you two acting like idiots with crushes.
I think all that means something.
Charles
Yeah, it means we made it too obvious that we were fucking.
Nothing else.
Pierre
What about the radio?
Charles
He was just worried.
Pierre
He’s never sounded like that for anyone else.
Charles
We’re close, he cares. It doesn’t mean anything.
Pierre
You sound insane.
Charles
Thanks
Pierre
I just think you should talk to him before you agree to any PR stuff.
Charles
I’ve already thought of what I’m going to do.
Pierre
And does that include having an honest conversation with him?
Charles
Now you sound insane.
I already told you I’m not fucking things up any more.
Pierre
You’re going to hate me, but I need to say this:
Anyone who watches that video can tell there’s something more between you than just sex.
He looked at you like he was in love with you.
I’ll tell you again- that means something.
Charles
You watched it?
Pierre
Talk to him.
Charles
Answer the question
Pierre
Pierre!!
I’m going to kill you.
Notes:
honestly, i'd also want to flee to antartica if a sex tape like that got leaked.
next chapter will be up around the new year! i hate to make you wait, but i’m traveling for the holidays (paris, my first time), and while i’ll definitely be writing during the trip, the thought of editing and posting from my phone makes me want to cry.
hopefully you'll stick around for the ending, it will include a little charles pov interlude that you all inspired me to write. i'm excited to share it with you.
please consider dropping a kudos or comment (even just a ❤️). i appreciate them all sm, you have no idea
you can find me on tumblr @chock-and-bates
see you soon
Chapter 4: interlude: but you're the reason
Summary:
the charles interlude: how it all went wrong for him
Notes:
i must confess, this story was never meant to have a charles pov, but you all convinced me. i had forgotten just how easy it is to lose myself into an angsty charles, so i fully admit this interlude got away from me and grew into a full length chapter.
enjoy :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
bbc.com
Intrigue over Formula 1 leaked video
nytimes.com
Formula 1 rocked by alleged sex tape
theguardian.com
Claims spread that unnamed Formula 1 drivers filmed a sex tape
@formulafantasmas
The New York Times has an article up! This is beyond breached containment. It doesn’t get more mainstream than this. Fucking hell.
Charles stares unseeingly ahead, the rosso corsa walls of his driver’s room blurring into an indistinguishable backdrop for his dread.
Andrea’s phone lays beside him. Pierre had stopped responding some time ago and Charles couldn’t bring himself to keep the phone on, his eyes continuously darting to the clock to watch the digital minutes drop away.
Closer and closer to the meeting time. When he would have to face Max.
The knowledge of what he has to do is distressing enough, but, as is Charles’ nature, his mind makes matters worse, racing through memory after memory to remind himself of just how badly he has fucked everything up.
Charles remembers the damp chill in the Suzuka air, the moments after the race, when the 2022 championship had officially slipped from his grasp. He remembers the maelstrom of emotions in his chest; anger, resignation, jealousy, acceptance. He remembers his team’s quiet, muted congratulations for his podium.
Mostly, he remembers the feel of Max’s hand gripping his neck for the briefest moment when Charles offered his congratulations. It felt like a brand, lingering long after the touch had left…
***
As he laid back on that hotel bed, spreading his legs for Max to settle between, the thought had fluttered through his head that this is what he deserved after the season.
It was a double edged sword.
He fought until the end, so he deserved to finally give in to his guilty desires, to greedily enjoy licking into Max’s mouth and nipping at that freckle on his upper lip, to finally rut his cock against the Dutchman’s thick thigh like he’d always fantasized about.
He’d also lost decisively after such a strong start, so he deserved the nerves, the anticipation of the intense discomfort he’d experienced the few times he’s tried this before, the pain he was willing to endure if it meant he could feel used-
Charles couldn't have predicted what would actually happen.
The pain he’d braced himself for never came, but he hadn’t anticipated just how overwhelming it would be to have Max inside him. Stretching him out, filling him up so much he could only take short, choppy breaths, a strange warmth seeping into his heart as pleasure consumed him.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Max had gasped into his ear as he fucked him.
“Toi aussi,” Charles returned, so overcome he couldn’t find his English.
He hadn’t been prepared for how shamefully right it would all feel.
***
Later, and he can never remember who was to blame, who leaned in first... they were kissing goodbye. It was a long kiss, a sweet one, their mouths moving gently together, neither of them in a hurry to pull away.
The entire night had left Charles exhilarated and shaken, but nothing fucked him up quite as much as that damned kiss.
Charles couldn’t stop thinking about it.
He tries everything to put it out of his mind- running until he feels like his legs are about to give out, going to the clubs with his friends, playing the piano for hours, yet every night, when he’s alone in bed, his mind returns to the same person- Max.
Then, horribly, Max offers himself again at the very next race, and then again at the race after that, and again for the rest of the season.
Like an idiot, Charles accepts every time.
And it’s simply devastating the way it’s always exactly what Charles needs, how Max has the ability to make him feel so unbelievably good.
It doesn’t take long for him realize that he’s beginning to crave the feeling of Max against his body rather desperately, a dangerous addiction.
It’s evident in the way he can’t resist offering himself up in dirty club bathrooms throughout the winter. Gladly getting on his knees for his rival, letting him fuck his throat and hoping Max doesn’t notice how hard it gets him just to have Max in his mouth. Or in the way Charles can’t help but whimper, pathetically eager, when Max’s fingers slip inside him, biting his lip to stop himself from begging Max to please fuck him again.
The reason he doesn't panic is because it was more than obvious Max was just as infatuated- apparent by how he could never keep his eyes off Charles whenever they were in the same room, by how eager he was to get his hands around his waist when they’re alone...
Being wanted like that, by someone like that, is intoxicating… It makes him feel powerful, gives him a sense of control.
Which meant that it was completely acceptable for them to agree to keep seeing each other during the season, to keep kissing each other goodbye, it didn’t have to mean anything.
Charles had it under control.
“Who is she,” Arthur asks him one day when they’re out at lunch. It makes Charles look up from Max’s text message, his pleased smile sliding off his face when he sees his little brother’s mischievous look.
“What?”
Arthur chuckles, “Come on, Cha, I can tell you’re seeing someone. You’re so obvious, smiling and spaced out like a girl with a crush.”
“I’m not seeing anyone-”
“No?”
“Well, not really... it’s casual…”
“Oohhhh,” Arthur wiggles his eyebrows at him, “Well, she seems to be making you very happy for something so casual.”
Charles rolls his eyes, hoping it masks the strange giddy unease that the comment gave him.
They fuck often and they talk just as much, pillowtalk turning into an unspoken part of the arrangement.
He finds that Max is a surprisingly good listener, allowing Charles to voice his frustrations with the season, with (after some training) minimal biting comments about his team. He has good insights, funny observations, and he never fails to sneak in comments so Charles knows how highly he rates him, seeming to delight in the way it makes Charles shy-
“Your blush is cute,” he said with a grin, looking over at Charles on the other pillow, who could indeed feel his face heating up after Max had called him the best qualifier on the grid.
“Shut up Max.”
“Don’t be shy, Charles, it’s not like I haven’t figured out that you have a praise-”
“Shut up Max!”
These talks open up a peculiar new desire, and Charles finds himself seeking points of contact after sex as they gossip, their hands brushing together, or a leg thrown over Max’s.
He tells himself it’s acceptable if it doesn’t go further. He lies and says this is enough.
As the season goes on, he begins to feel like he’s losing the plot, at least in regards to himself.
It was clear (depressingly early) that Max was going to win damn near everything that year. It should have made Charles unspeakably jealous, and it did… but it also didn’t stop him from letting Max have him every race weekend, another reward to go along with his victory.
“Where is your trophy,” Charles had once asked after Max let him into his hotel room. His eyes had been scanning the suite, trying to keep his composure even as Max stood behind him, laying hot, wet kisses against the nape of his neck while his hands fiddled with the drawstrings of Charles’ joggers.
Max had chuckled, “Right here, baby.”
He suddenly gripped Charles' hips, turning them to face one of the hotel suite’s numerous mirrors. Charles caught sight of his own flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes before he was distracted by Max moving in even closer behind him, arms wrapping tightly around his stomach and pulling him back against his chest.
“Prettiest trophy,” Max had murmured against his cheek, smirking at their reflections, “And I get it every race weekend, my favorite prize.”
Humiliatingly, Charles’ jaw had dropped open slightly, before he hid behind mock-outrage, squawking at Max before spinning in his arms to continue where they’d left off.
Later, after Max had kissed him goodbye and Charles was on his way back to his own hotel, he tentatively let his mind wander back to what Max had said, to the heat that filled him when he realized Max was calling him a prize.
It’s both degrading and flattering- he’s letting himself get fucked by the winner, but he’s also the trophy that the winner wants.
Charles can’t lie, the thought sets his heart on fire. It sort of scares him, but not as much as it makes him want Max even more.
Time carries on and he felt himself slipping further into the mess.
One evening, as Charles lounges naked on his bed, well-fucked and sated, he finds himself giggling as Max gets distracted from redressing, instead showing off his juggling skills with some of Charles belongings, regaling him with facts on the history of court jesters that he learned from some YouTube video he watched on the flight home-
It was ridiculous, but all Charles felt was sickeningly fond. It’s a feeling that comes to him often when he’s around Max.
Charles knows by now that he should take a step back, that he’s getting too attached. He knows he needs to put some space between them
But he does nothing- too caught up in the thrill, in the exhilarated grins Max and him share every time they’re together, in the intoxicating kisses they fall into whenever there’s a chance.
Nevermind the strange ache that he’s beginning to feel in his heart.
Charles stares down at his phone, nibbling on a knuckle as he re-reads his last message from Max, now a few hours old as the Dutchman said he was heading into the simulator in Milton Keynes.
Their texting habit had gotten out of control in the past month, becoming a daily thing, enough so that Charles feels sort of unsettled if he has to go long without hearing from Max.
He’s not quite at that level yet, but he is feeling an itch, considering something he’s never really done before-
Before he can overthink it, he’s opening up his camera, snapping a picture of himself in the mirror of his bathroom. He’d just gotten out of the shower, his hair is still damp and his skin flushed from the hot water, he’s completely naked-
He sends off the picture to Max before he can talk himself out of it, then promptly tosses his phone away and screams into his hands.
Charles never does this, always too paranoid of the pictures somehow getting out. But for Max…
It’s just… he trusts Max with this.
Max
Fuck Charles
Fuck
Trying to kill me?
You’re so hot.
Send me another?
“You love this don’t you,” Max whispered in Charles ear after he’d just finished, still catching his breath, his softening cock still nestled inside, “I can tell. You love it when I come inside you.”
Charles had made a noncommittal noise, burrowing his face in Max’s shoulder so he didn’t have to look at him.
They’ve been fucking bare for around a month now, but it’s still just as intoxicating- the hot, wet sensation of being filled with Max’s cum, so filthy, so intimate, so possessive.
Charles had never had unprotected sex in his life, and now he is utterly obsessed.
“It’s okay, baby. I get it,” Max says, kissing his cheek before raising himself up on his knees. The movement makes him slide out, Charles has to swallow down a whimper.
“I get it,” Max says again, as he cups the back of Charles' thighs, gently pushing back until he’s folded in half, spread open, “I love it too.”
Max’s eyes are fixed between his legs, where Charles can feel cum beginning to seep out of his hole, a feeling he both loves and hates. Embarrassed, Charles clenches his hands in the sheets to resist hiding his face, forcing himself to keep his gaze on Max.
“So pretty,” his lover murmurs, reaching down to circle his thumb over Charles’ hole, smearing his cum, “You look so good, all full of me.”
Charles can't help but mewl when Max pushes his thumb into him, feeling how wet he’s left him inside. The sound makes Max’s eyes flicker back up to meet Charles and they share a shy, private smile.
So yes, maybe Charles loves it when Max comes in him, but at least Max shares this little fixation.
And maybe a part of that reason he loves it so is that he knows as long as Max is fucking him bare, he’s not fucking anyone else. But no one needs to know that.
In the after, Max has begun to take care of him in other ways, besides cleaning him up and getting him water and indulging him with gossip.
Now Max hugs Charles to his chest, stroking his hair as Charles nuzzles into his neck, the sounds of the night life outside of the hotel room soft, muted.
They're so close.
He looks inward, tries to find satisfaction as they lay there quietly, and he does, Max holding him like this undeniably soothes something vicious inside him. But it’s becoming harder and harder to deny that he wants more , but what that means, Charles doesn’t know.
Charles just wants this. All the time. He wants this so bad he’s burning for it.
It’s too dangerous to think about it. But the longing is beginning to turn painful.
Max leaves a hoodie behind one afternoon when they met for a quick encounter, a rushed, giggly romp in Charles’ bed before Max had to dart off for some sponsor event, leaving Charles satisfied but alone.
That’s when he’d noticed the hoodie on the floor, vaguely recalling the way Max yanked it over his head while still trying to keep his eyes on the way Charles was stuffing two fingers into himself…
He picks it up, looking it over. It’s one from Max’s personal brand, his lion logo sitting in on the chest and an obnoxiously large 1 on the back. The hoodie is soft, oversized, looks cozy.
Before he can think about it, Charles pulls it over his head, flops back in bed and reaches for his phone to mindlessly scroll. He tries to ignore how it smells like Max.
Turns out, it’s a very comfortable hoodie.
So comfortable that Charles takes to wearing it around his apartment the next few weeks- it eases the strange pains in his heart when he’s alone and trying not to think about certain things.
He wears it so often he stupidly forgets about the implications when, a few weeks later, he opens up the door for Max, who’d just arrived for an impromptu hook up. Charles quickly realizes his error when Max does a double take at the sight of him.
Huffing, Charles crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively, quickly thinking of a half-truth, “You left this here, and it is my laundry day, I had no clean clothes.”
“Is that right,” a slow grin spreads across Max’s face.
“Oui, it was my only choice.”
“Well,” Max walks into his apartment, kicking the door closed, “Lucky thing it looks so good on you. Come here, baby.”
Max asks Charles to keep the hoodie on while he rides him. The way Max looks at him so softly, tracing the lion logo on the hoodie as Charles moves on top of him, causes Charles to think maybe …
He squashes that thought as quickly as it comes. Max is the most honest, blunt person Charles knows. If he had something to say, he would say it.
“Shhh, shhh Charlie, it’s okay.”
Max’s soothing voice broke through the overwhelming distress, pulling him abruptly into consciousness. With a shuddering gasp Charles wakes up and tries to gain his bearings-
Max is with him, holding him. They’re in bed. He’s in Max’s apartment, sleeping over after he came earlier for dinner and sex. He’s just had that nightmare, the one that never goes away, the one he hates to talk about-
“You’re all right, baby,” Max hushes him softly, pulling him closer, “It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.”
Charles is still trembling from the adrenaline of the dream, but his muscles gradually relax as Max continues to coo at him, his breath slowing down, his heart rate finally calming as Max runs his fingers through his hair.
“I am sorry for waking you,” he finally whispers when he’s sure his voice won’t crack. He can’t resist cuddling closer into the warmth of his lover’s arms.
“It’s fine, you were just twitching a little,” Max replies, looking at him so gently, “Was it that one nightmare?”
Swallowing down a whine, Charles manages a jerky nod.
Max makes a sad noise, “My poor baby,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss Charles forehead, “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m here.”
And something… something about this is suddenly so fucking overwhelming.
Charles feels like his heart is cracking open in his chest, an unnamable, molten feeling he’d been holding in finally released, flooding his veins, filling his soul, suffocating him. It feels monumental, it feels like a tipping point.
It feels terrifying.
With a broken whimper Charles mindlessly leans forward to kiss Max, a needy distraction from whatever the hell is happening to him. Max gives a surprised little sound but quickly and eagerly kisses him back, and that is how they spend the next several minutes, holding one another, locked in slow, tender kisses until they fall back asleep
***
The next morning Charles is quiet and hesitant, though he agrees to stay for coffee, not wanting anything to seem too out of the ordinary despite the way he feels shaken.
It is there in Max’s kitchen that the feeling from last night returns as he watches the way the sunlight catches in Max’s hair, giving him a golden halo as he sleepily pets Jimmy, coffee cup in hand, looking so soft and so sweet.
Looking like everything Charles has ever wanted.
There is no denying this, and Charles accepts it with devastation- he is so deeply, deeply in love with Max Verstappen.
He goes home and cries.
***
A day and a half later, Charles finally emerges from the cave he turned his room into, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, a vicious headache pounding in his temples.
He has done his crying, his spiraling, his agonizing. Now, he calmly makes himself a cup of coffee, goes out on his balcony and stares across at the horizon, reflecting on the past 36 hours and the decisions he’s come to.
It’s a curious thing, he thinks, to feel your heartbreak at the same moment you fall in love.
That’s what the past day been like, as if he’s mourning a love lost instead of a love found. Because him and Max… it will never happen.
That’s the conclusion he had come to over and over and over again. Anything more than their current situation would be impractical at best, catastrophic at worst- their careers and their fame making it practically impossible.
And… Charles couldn’t escape the ruthless truth that Max probably didn’t feel the same. If he did, he would have said something, that was just who Max was. Instead, he was probably perfectly satisfied with the arrangement as it is, and if Charles was ever stupid enough to open his mouth, it’s possible all of this could come crashing down.
He can’t stand the thought of that happening.
That is the other, tragic realization that Charles has stumbled on in the last two days- he is not strong enough to let this go. As painful as this is, he would rather have some of Max than risk having none of Max.
He wants Max, desperately. Wants him so much it hurts. But Charles is used to wanting things just out of reach- he will manage.
They carry on, Max hopefully none the wiser.
The two of them grow even closer, spending long stretches of time together, watching shows, gaming, playing with the cats, talking, fucking- it’s all extraordinarily pleasant, it makes it too easy to imagine a world where they could be together.
Truthfully, Charles had underestimated how painful it would be, how it would make the hunger clawing in his chest so much worse.
So he gets Leo to help ease the loneliness in his apartment, it helps some.
But being away from Max is still hard, incredibly hard actually. Being apart for too long makes Charles’ hunger turn to excruciating starvation, and it’s when they’re facing down one of these separations that Charles stupidly, (so so stupidly) suggests the video, hoping it will be a balm of sorts.
He watches the cursed thing a startling amount, focusing on Max’s cock fucking into him and the moments after they climaxed, when he can watch the way he got to hold Max in his arms.
He feels pathetic.
They still never fail to kiss each other goodbye when they have to leave each other. No matter if they'll only be apart for a few hours or for weeks, they will always press their lips together before one of them walks away.
Charles clings to the habit desperately- using it to not only ease the sting of separation but also as a reminder that he’ll get to see Max again, that at least he has this.
“Are you sure no one saw you,” Charles whispered as Max continued to trail kisses along his jawline.
“Yes, baby,” Max mumbles, his mouth moving down his neck, “Told you I came through the back. No cameras.”
“But my team-”
“Thinks I just stopped by to wish you luck before the race,” Max cuts him off, shutting him up even further by grasping his chin to pull him into another deep kiss, one Charles helplessly sinks into with a soft moan.
They’ve been pushing the boundaries in the paddock lately- spending more time together during the driver’s parades, eating dinner together some nights, occasionally even sleeping over at each other’s hotel rooms before practice or qualifying if one of them could use the company.
But this, this is the riskiest thing they’ve ever done.
There’s a rain delay, a long one, and Max has decided the best use of his time before the race start is to spend it with Charles, making out in his driver’s room.
It’s stupid of them, so stupid, but Charles doesn’t protest, just happily sucks Max’s lip into his mouth as he scratches his fingers through his hair. He knows Max is stressed, Lando is too close in the title fight for Max to afford any mistakes, and he’d been given a ridiculous penalty after qualifying that had moved him back several positions. If this helps Max, soothes him, then Charles is happy to provide.
Eventually Max gets a text summoning him back to Red Bull and he parts from Charles with one last, lingering kiss goodbye, shooting him a playful smile as he leaves.
Blinking away the haze Max left him in, Charles glances around for his own phone, relieved when he spots it on the coffee table. A couple weeks back he hadn’t been able to find his phone between practices, despite being sure he’d left it in his driver’s room. Him and Andrea had torn apart the place looking for it, and then, magically, it had been found near the data center after FP2, even if Charles was certain he wouldn’t have left it there.
Nothing seemed amiss when the phone was checked over, but the experience had set him on edge nevertheless…
Charles puts the incident out of his mind as he sets about his race prep.
***
Only a few hours later and he’s sore and angry, being ushered from medical and to the airport.
He’d gotten tangled up in a battle with Russell on track and Carlos decided to try to take advantage, attempting to pass them both. Instead, his teammate had lost control, taking all of three of them off track and catching Charles’ car in just the right way to send him slamming into the barriers.
It’d been a bad crash, his worst in a while, looking even worse than it felt, stunning the crowd. The impact had shaken Charles badly, making him slow to get out of the car. That, paired with the fact there were radio issues that meant he couldn’t tell Brian he was okay, made everyone frantic and overly cautious.
An emergency vehicle had arrived to cart him off to medical while Carlos and George were allowed to walk back to the paddock, leaving Charles to fume silently.
He was discharged from medical with bruising and a cracked rib, painkillers easing the worst of it. The team allowed him to skip the media and even arranged an early flight for him, probably eager to keep him away from Carlos until he can calm down.
He's on a plane flying home before he’s even processed what’s happened.
Charles is exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as they take off. It isn’t until they land that Andrea gently wakes him up, and Charles groggily powers on his phone as the plane taxis, bracing himself for a slew of messages about the crash.
But what he sees first makes him startle to full alertness, straightening up and clutching the phone tighter as he reads-
Max
Are you okay?
They told me you were okay but I want to hear from you.
Charles?
Please respond.
Baby I’m going crazy, please tell me if you’re okay.
Charles please
14 missed calls from Max
“Merde,” Charles hisses, quickly clicking the call button and lifting the phone to his ear, his pulse thrumming fast.
“Charles, what the fuck,” Max answers after the second ring, his voice sounding tight and choked. He’s upset.
“Chéri, hey,” Charles replies, soft as he can, “I am so sorry I didn’t see your calls. Ferrari sent me home early and I fell asleep on the plane.”
“I was so worried. Fuck, don’t ever do that again.”
Charles' lips quirk up, a little amused even as he sees Andrea sneaking a glance at him, “Don’t do what? Crash out or miss your calls?”
“Both,” Max says, grouchy, before slipping back to concern, “God, are you okay? What did the doctors say?”
Charles spends the next few minutes updating him, murmuring quietly as he sees Andrea pretend not to listen. He asks how Max’s race went and his lover curtly answers that he ended in 2nd before changing the subject, telling Charles he’s about to leave, on his way to the airport himself.
“I’ll land in a few hours,” Max tells him, “Will you be at your place? Can I come see you?”
There’s a sudden ache in Charles' chest that has nothing to do with the bruises from the crash.
“You don’t have to do that, chéri, it will be late-”
“I don’t give a shit. Please let me come see you,” Max pushes, stubborn as ever.
Charles closes his eyes against the now familiar feeling of love that washes over him, focusing on keeping his voice even as he responds, “Yes, you can come see me. I will be at home.”
They say their goodbyes and Charles avoids Andreas' judgemental eyes by looking through his other messages. His trainer had figured out about his and Max’s arrangement some time ago, and, besides the occasional teasing comment, it is generally a topic that they don’t touch.
Apparently today is an exception.
“Be careful, Charles.”
“It’s nothing. He just wanted to check on me. I have messages and calls from other drivers too,” he waved his phone at Andrea, like it was proof Max’s call wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Okay,” Andrea says slowly, “But other drivers didn’t have a radio like that when they saw you crash. I’m just saying… be careful.”
Charles frowns, about to ask what the fuck he’s talking about but Andrea is already turned away from him. When he looks back at his messages, he’s even more confused. Most of them, of course, enquire if he’s all right, but a number of them also ask if he heard Max’s radio-”
***
When he arrives back at his apartment, his mother and Lorenzo stop by to see him and help him get settled. By the time they leave and he’s showered off the travel grime and applied more arnica to his bruises, it’s a few hours later. That’s when he can finally sit down on his couch to listen to the radio, a strange anticipation rolling in his stomach.
He doesn’t have to look far, it’s a trending topic.
He picks a video that shows Max’s onboard. Max had been able to see the crash happen from his position behind the three cars involved, and Charles clenches his jaw as he watches himself go into the barriers. Shit, it really did look bad.
Half a second after, he hears Max speak-
“Who was that?” There’s an edge in Max’s voice,“Which Ferrari went into the wall?”
“It was Charles,” GP comes on, “Yellow flag. Watch-”
“Is he all right?”
“I’ll update you-”
“GP is he all right?”
“We haven’t heard yet, Max.”
“What the fuck do you mean,” Max’s panic rose quick and obvious, “What the fuck do you mean? Has he said anything? Is he moving? GP is he-”
“Okay, okay he’s standing up Max. Looks like something is just wrong with the radio.”
It’s quiet for a beat.
“He’s okay?” Max sounded so small.
“I think so.”
Charles’ breathing has turned shallow, his heartbeat picking up as he listens to it again and again. It’s not too incriminating, but it’s also not nothing, and social media is probably going crazy over it, and listening to it is making Charles feel so… so-
A sudden pounding on his door makes Charles jump and drop his phone to the couch. Scrambling to his feet, he heads to the door, looking through the peephole and rushing to open it when he sees who it is.
Max barges his way inside as soon as the door is open, looking wild eyed and disheveled. He drops a backpack to the ground and throws the door shut behind him before crowding up to Charles, reaching out to gently grip his arms and draw him close.
Charles watches it all with astonished eyes. He notices that Max's hands are shaking where they hold him.
“You’re okay,” Max asks, his gaze running up and down Charles like he’s going to be able to see any injuries through his clothes.
“I’m fine, chéri,” Charles replies, going for soothing despite his surprise at how Max is acting and the way the radio has flustered him, “It's like I said, just bruising and a rib fracture.”
“No internal bleeding?”
“No,” Charles reaches up a hand to stroke his hair back, a move that always settles Max, at least a little bit.
“No concussion,” Max still asks, despite the way he noticeably calms a bit as Charles pets at him.
“No.”
“How bad is the pain?”
“They gave me painkillers, it’s manageable,” Charles' eyes shift over to the backpack Max dropped on the floor, looking for a subject change, “What’s in that?”
Max barely glances at it, “My carry on. I came from the airport.”
Charles’ eyebrows raise, “You came straight here from the airport? Why?”
“I told you I was coming. I needed to see you,” Max huffs, looking cross at the question. Still, he doesn’t remove his hands from Charles, and something about that makes a familiar, sticky sensation bloom in his chest.
“So worried about me,” Charles teases, trying to keep it light, to distract them both “You have seen me crash before, Max. I’m fine. Everything is okay. No need to worry.”
He lets his hand fall to rest on Max’s neck, his thumb running up and down his throat in what he hopes is a soothing motion.
“Just because I’ve seen you crash does not mean I have to like it,” Max says, still looking too serious, his grip on Charles arms tightening, “I kept thinking about it on the flight. That was such a fucking mess, I can’t believe-”
“You’ve been thinking about me a lot, Verstappen?” Charles goes for teasing again, not really wanting to talk about the crash, just wanting to get that worried look off of Max’s face.
Max falls quiet for a long moment, still staring at Charles with those serious eyes. He suddenly removes a hand from Charles' arm, only to reach up to brush the hair back from his forehead.
“Of course. I think about you every fucking day.”
There’s heavy honesty in those words, as much as there’s an unspoken truth lingering just behind them.
It makes Charles startle, his eyes widening as he looks up at Max. Max cups Charles face in his hands, meeting his gaze, thumbs stroking his cheeks as Charles finds himself getting lost in the way the blue of his eyes glitters so prettily.
A thick tension settle between them, one that’s begging to be cut if one of them would just dare to speak again.
Words crawl up Charles' throat, almost escaping-
Unable to stand it anymore, he leans in and kisses Max, soft and slow, trying to let it say what he can’t. Max returns it quickly, deepening the kiss, coaxing Charles’ mouth open so he can slide his tongue inside, filthy and sweet. His hands drift down to Charles' hips, holding him gently as he begins to walk him backwards towards the bedroom.
"Can we-"
"Yes."
***
It was so… different that night.
Max couldn’t seem to stop kissing Charles, couldn’t keep his hands from running over every inch of him as they laid together, naked in the sheets, their mouths and hands greedy. He presses gentle kisses into Charles’ bruises, murmuring something in Dutch that Charles couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, Charles just whimpered in response to the feeling of Max’s lips on his injuries, keeping his fingers knotted in his golden hair.
When Max had Charles laying underneath him, open and waiting, he’d cupped his cheek with a gentle hand.
“Look at me,” he’d ordered softly, waiting for Charles to meet his gaze before he finally pushed inside. He got to watch the way Charles lips parted in a shaky exhale, his eyes going round and vulnerable as Max buried himself in him.
“Keep looking at me like that,” Max murmurs as he begins to move, his thrusts slow but insistent, gently rocking Charles' body into the mattress as they continue to stare at each other.
One particular thrust has Charles crying out and curling up closer to him, his hands grasping at Max’s shoulders, desperate as he tugs him down. Max goes willingly, bringing his forearms up to rest on either side of Charles’ head, caging him in, making a small space just for them, keeping the rest of the world out.
It has Charles feeling so molten inside, so fucking in love with the man above him who’s making him feel so incredible, so safe.
“Just like that, baby. You feel so good. Doing so good for me,” Max whispers to him, something still burning in his eyes as he continues to stare at Charles.
His words, his body, and that look in his eyes, that fucking look, makes something spark in Charles’ chest, something reckless and desperate.
“Max,” he says, his breath being pushed out of him with each thrust, “Max, I love- love-”
Charles sees the way Max gaze sharpens, his eyes fixed on him as he listens to Charles stumble over his words. Some emotion flickering across his face that Charles can’t quite decipher, as he waits for him to finish the sentence-
Shit, what the fuck is he doing?
“I- I love this,” Charles finally gasps, panic making his lungs constrict. He rips his eyes away from Max, squeezing them shut as he turns to bury his face against the forearm Max has braced next to him. He wills himself not to lose it, even as Max fucks in particularly deep, his back arching as Max holds himself there.
Things are quiet for an unbearable moment. Charles' heart pounds in his chest, and overwhelmed tears burn behind his eyes. He can’t believe what he almost did-
Soft lips are suddenly pressed to his cheek, a delicate kiss before Max whispers against his skin, “I love this too, baby. Love everything about this.”
Mon dieu.
Charles lets out a wounded noise, turning back and capturing Max’s lips in a messy, frantic kiss. Max returns it desperately, beginning to move again.
He whispers to Charles between kisses, “Tell me…again…how much…you love this.”
“I love this Max,” Charles responds immediately, his lips dragging against Max’s with every word.
“Again.”
“I love this, Max. Love it so much,” Charles says, voice tight as he holds back tears, “Now you, s'il te plaît, tell me.”
“Love it, Charlie. Love having you like this. Love it so much.”
They continue like that, trading kisses and declarations of how much they love being together like this, completely tangled together, Max fucking him hard and slow.
Except that wasn’t quite right, was it? Describing what happened that night as fucking felt dishonest.
No, even though he’d always found the phrase much too sickly-sweet, even Charles can admit that was the first night they’d ever made love.
***
And still… Max didn’t say anything immediately afterwards. Just took care of Charles like he always did, cleaning him up and turning off all the lights before he came back to the bed, where he gathered Charles close, holding him carefully as Max buried his face in his hair, his breaths evening out as he drifted off to sleep.
Before he drifted off he finally whispered something, "I'm so glad you're okay. Couldn't take it if anything happened to you."
And that was it.
Charles laid awake in his arms, once again holding back tears, grateful that Max couldn’t see his shattered expression.
Max was vulnerable with him, took such good care of him, obviously cares deeply for him... but it’s still not enough.
Charles almost confessed tonight because he wants everything, and it hurts so fucking badly that he can’t have it
Laying there with Max, so safe and in so much pain at the same time… Charles realizes this is ruining him, he doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this-
There’s a knock against his driver room door, tearing him out his thoughts.
“Charles? È l'ora dell'incontro.”
“Va bene,” he calls, grateful his voice is steady.
He stands stiffly, pauses for a moment to take a deep breath and gather himself.
Reliving this carousel of memories has done its job, strengthened his resolve, reminded him of the countless, selfish mistakes he's made during this mess with Max.
And now, because of Charles, they're are on the verge of ruin, their fucking sex tape about to hit the general public any second, a violation so terrible he’s struggling to comprehend it.
But just because everything is going up in flames doesn’t mean it’s too late to do the right thing.
He will not agree to the fake relationship. He won’t force Max to lie to the world, to pretend to be in love with Charles when he probably (rightfully) hates him for what he’s done. He doesn’t need to be tied to Charles' sinking ship, Max deserves so much better than that.
Besides, he thinks ruefully, it’s not like Charles would survive something like a fake relationship anyways. He was already being eaten alive by what they currently had.
With a sharp inhale, Charles grits his teeth, squares his shoulders, and turns to go to the door. He makes his way to the meeting room, praying for the strength to do what needs to be done.
Praying he can finally be strong enough to let Max go.
tmz.com
Send TMZ a Hot Tip!
Name: Anonymous
Email: [email protected]
Phone Number: +34791082581
Hot Tip: I work in F1 and have access to the sex tape. I am willing to reveal the drivers identities or send you the video for the right price. Call me if you are interested.
Notes:
charles :(
last chapter so soon, i hope you’re ready.
please consider leaving kudos or a comment (even if it's just ❤️), i love hearing your thoughts!
author lore: while i was in paris over the holidays i had a waiter who thought my accent was hilarious, so he asked me to say all the french words i knew so he could help me with pronunciation. when i finished, he said i had a very interesting vocabulary- but it’s not like i could tell him i learned a solid chunk of it from reading so many lestappen smut stories, so i just smiled and said oui for the 100th time and then he gifted me a keychain of an eiffel tower and said “i like your energy” so that was interesting-
you can find my on tumblr @chock-and-bates
finally, small spoiler for something that is not in the final chapter is below. no major plot points given away, just want to make sure i can manage expectations.
Click here for a small spoiler
i will not directly be revealing who leaked the sex tape in this fic, because it doesn’t really fit into the narrative of the next chapter. just wanted to get that out of the way in case anyone is looking forward to it :(
i do, however, know exactly who leaked it, and i’ll probably reveal it by posting about it on tumblr someday after this is completed. so if you really want to know, all hope is not lost!
Chapter 5: till i touch, touch, touch you
Chapter Text
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: F1 Sex Tape
Attachment: content_licensing_agreement_10-17-24.pdf
Message:
Attached you have the completed contract for your records.
The payment of €90,000 is currently being wired to the account number you provided.
Our story will be going up within the hour.
On behalf of everyone at TMZ, it was a pleasure doing business with you!
Take care,
TMZ Investigative Team
Max is still pacing in his driver’s room when Rupert gives a quick knock before opening up the door. His trainer’s eyes widen when he sees the shattered laptop remains scattered all over the floor.
“Max-”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right, all right,” Rupert says, holding up a placating hand and wisely choosing to leave it. “I came by to tell you the team is starting to head to the meeting. They’re, er, being very clandestine. They want to use RB’s hospitality to avoid suspicion, and stagger the arrivals and such. We leave in ten minutes.”
“Why are they making it so fucking complicated,” Max mutters, roughly swiping away some of the laptop debris with his foot, “We can’t do it over Zoom? Or at least out of the paddock?”
“This will be too intense for a Zoom meeting, mate. And Gemma says the optics are bad if we’re seen leaving. So…grab you in ten?”
Max waves him off, and then he’s once again alone with his frantic thoughts.
Ten minutes.
Ten fucking minutes and then he’s going to have to face Charles and he still doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to say to him.
Immediately he decides he can’t do anything as ridiculous as confess his feelings today. Charles is undoubtedly stressed beyond belief over the leak, and the last thing Max wants to do is make it worse.
No, first they need to deal with the crisis in front of them. Max’s feelings can wait.
Maybe it will even work out for the best, Max thinks to himself, with a touch of unease. Everyone seems convinced that the PR relationship is the right strategy, and if Max trusts Charles to do anything, it is to go along with whatever Ferrari asks of him. And while Max may have conflicting feelings about the situation, the most important thing is that it will allow him to keep Charles close, to be by his side as they face the world staring back at them at their most intimate.
And then… maybe when the time was right and things had quieted down… Max could talk to Charles. Even if the thought of doing so fills him with a jittery mixture of terror and hope.
It’s a familiar feeling, and unbidden, he’s suddenly taken back to the night after Charles crash, when Max had been out of his mind with worry, so intense it was stinging and vicious, only quieting when he had Charles safe in his arms. He remembers how his lips felt against those awful bruises on Charles chest, the scalding eye contact, those green eyes so round and vulnerable-
Mostly, he remembers the sound of Charles gasping and stuttering “Max , I love- love- I- I love this .”
The short, stumbling sentence has haunted him since that night, the echo of it tearing at his insides.
tmz.com
BREAKING NEWS
TMZ exclusively confirms Formula 1 Drivers MAX VERSTAPPEN and CHARLES LECLERC filmed explicit SEX TAPE! …Scandal shocks the sports world.
TMZ has gained exclusive access to the video that has sent shockwaves throughout the autosports world… and the details will shock you!
Earlier today TMZ broke the news that the rumored Formula 1 leaked video was actually a sex tape, and our sources have now given us exclusive access to the video. We can now confirm the video features 3 time World Champion Red Bull driver Max Verstappen and Scuderia Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc engaging in some pretty XXX rated activities with one another.
We at TMZ would like to congratulate the pair on filming the hottest celebrity sex tape in a decade. We’re sure this will go down as a classic.
Click read more for the details, screenshots, and video!
The paddock is strangely muted as they make their way through, Max flanked by Gemma on one side and Rupert on the other. Other people are still milling about but the atmosphere is tense, heavy, and there have been far too many glances and whispers for Max to possibly be comfortable.
He does his best to ignore it, keeps his eyes ahead, a PR practiced neutral expression pasted over his face. But with each step the cocktail of anticipation and anxiety in his gut just grows stronger and stronger.
Trying to breathe through it, he can’t stop dwelling on how this has quite possibly been the longest day of his life, how all he wants is for this final meeting to be over so he can go back to his hotel room and lock out the world.
Max wonders if Red Bull and Ferrari would permit Charles to come with him.
God, he feels like he’d give anything to make that happen.
After the crash, he’d had Charles in his bed every night, needing him close, and it’s been a difficult few days ever since they’d left each other to travel to the race. These past few nights he’s been unable to sleep, missing Charles’ warm body next to him while he keeps replaying their languid kiss goodbye- when they’d stood in his entryway for god knows how long, bags packed at their feet, mouths pressed together, taking turns leaning in for “just one more” time and time again, it had been so familiar, so lovely-
Next to him, Gemma’s phone suddenly blares a loud alert, jerking Max out of his thoughts.
In that moment, it’s as if something bursts the tension in the paddock, and a frenzied, rabid energy floods the place.
“Max!”
“Max wait-”
He looks around in alarm as journalists and photographers seem to be converging on him, literally sprinting as they shout-
“Max! Over here!”
“Max do you have any comment-”
Gemma is glaring down at her phone, cursing, “Shit, it’s happened. TMZ has it.”
Suddenly, Max understands what it’s like to feel your blood run cold.
He’d thought he was prepared for the moment the video dropped, for his violation to officially be broadcasted to the masses. He was wrong.
Years of experience with the media give him the instincts to lower his head, looking down so the brim of his cap blocks the worst of the camera flashes (flashes, why do they always need flashes?). There is a dull roaring in his ears, his heart galloping in his chest and a strange numbness taking over his limbs. Protective arms wrap around him, guiding him forward as he is quickly surrounded by a mob of media, even more of the vultures heading towards them.
There’s shouting, so much shouting, so many blinding cameras flashing, and it’s the strangest sensation, how everything is muffled, as if he’s hearing it underwater as he tries to remember to just keep breathing, to keep walking.
Some of the journalists’ screeching questions still make it through to him-
“Max, how long have you been involved with Charles Leclerc?”
“Why did you film the video?”
“Max, Max! Are you concerned about how this will affect your season? Your sponsors?”
“Are you in a relationship with Charles?”
“Max, do you know who leaked your sex tape?”
“Do you feel like you’ve let down your fans?”
“How do you feel now that you’ve been outed?”
He is in hell. Pure and utter hell.
Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, he clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes on his shoes, putting one foot in front of the other as he pushes his way through the crowd. Gemma is hissing something in his ear, something about RB hospitality being too far and Ferrari being closer, and he’s pulled to the side, still fighting their way through the chaos.
Before he can process what’s happening, he’s suddenly face to face with a massive Prancing Horse logo, staring at it blankly while the noise around him quiets a few decibels. It takes him a stupidly long moment to realize that he’s been pulled into Ferrari hospitality, Rupert and Gemma still flanking him as they tug him along.
“This is a disaster,” Gemma is fuming, “I cannot believe it dropped while we were outside. What a shitshow.”
While not as insane as what they just escaped from, the building they’ve entered is already well into a panic. Ferrari employees are running everywhere, more Red Bull personnel rushing in, words are being shouted in English and Italian, and hysteria threatening to swallow them all whole.
As Max is shepherded through the red halls, he dazedly remembers that he never had a chance to warn his mother or Victoria about the news. He hopes someone else did.
He’s dragged further along. At one point they pass by the Sainz entourage, Carlos Oñoro and Carlos Sr. locked in a heated conversation with someone important looking in a suit. Max briefly catches Carlos Jr.’s eyes as he passes, a worried glint in his former teammate’s gaze.
The moment is over as quick as it came and the world returns to its dizzy haze, Max stumbling along the hallways, allowing himself to be led, more red paint and more prancing horses and more panicked noise overwhelming his senses.
There are shouts about lawyers and getting people on the phone, he recognizes Christian and Helmut’s voices entering the fray, some people are still yelling in Italian, and he’s still walking down a fucking hallway and everything is red, red, vicious red.
Gemma yanks him through a doorway, into what looks like a conference room where there are more people, more shouting, and Max still feels as if he’s in a fog as his gaze passes around the room-
Until everything sharpens into startling clarity the second he lays eyes on Charles.
Max blinks, sobering and coming back to himself as he stares at his lover.
Charles hasn’t noticed him yet, too caught up in an intense conversation with a red-haired woman who he vaguely recognizes as the infamous Silvia. His voice is raised, close to yelling, but Max doesn’t understand the Italian, only able to watch his furious expression and track the way he’s gesturing passionately with his hands.
It’s the first time he’s laid eyes on Charles since this catastrophe began. It’s almost embarrassing how greedily Max drinks in the sight of him.
And then Charles finally sees him.
He was in the middle of speaking when his eyes flicker over to where Max is standing. Cutting himself off with a choked sound, his body goes rigid as his lips part in surprise. It is his turn to blink as he looks back at Max… until a broken expression flashes over his face and he quickly lowers his eyes.
The sadness on his face sends a sharp pain straight into Max’s heart. He’s about to move forward to go to him until he’s startled by Gemma’s voice- loud and right next to him.
“Right, everyone, we need to move fast,” she yells over the chaos, managing to gain most of the room’s attention, “Lawyers are filing to get the video and screenshots removed immediately. We need to get a statement prepared before the press gets a hold of the legal paperwork. Max is willing to consider the relationship strategy, so let’s quickly iron out the details and get the contracts-”
“I won’t do it.”
It’s like the air is sucked out of the room. Everyone, Max included, turns to Charles in shock.
“Charles,” Silvia snaps at the same time Gemma pales and says, “What?”
Charles is staring back at Silvia, a determined look on his face, while Max stares at him, still working through the disbelief.
“I will not fake a relationship.”
Once again, the room erupts into mayhem. Charles and Silvia are snapping at each other while Gemma tries to intervene, lawyers are snarling into phones and waving around documents, Christian is swearing as he stares down at his phone in horror, and in the back of the room stands Fred Vasseur, watching everything unfold with a bemused expression-
It’s all too much, too chaotic and Max can’t fucking take anymore-
“Everyone shut the fuck up!”
The volume and authority in Max’s voice makes everyone freeze for a single shocked second, but a second is all he needs. He looks straight at Charles, ignores the way his heart skips a beat, “We need to talk.”
Charles looks back at him with wide eyes, but before he even has the chance to respond Silvia and Gemma are protesting-
“We do not have time to talk over this! Charles knows we do not have any other realistic options, he will sign the contract,” Silvia insists.
“She’s right,” Gemma tells him sternly, “Every second we waste is more time for this to spin out of our control. We need to settle this now.”
Just as Max is opening his mouth to argue someone else interjects-
“Oh, let them go,” they all turn to Fred, still standing apart from the group to watch the drama from a distance. The Ferrari boss raises an eyebrow at the outraged media personnel and shrugs, “The video is already out, the worst is done. Let them talk, the rest of the world can wait for a few minutes.”
For a tense moment all is quiet until Silvia gives in with a tense, “Bene.”
“You can take ten minutes,” Christian tells Max, going for firm despite still looking shaken.
“We’ll take as long as we need,” Max bites back, before looking at Charles. He can’t help it, he feels his expression soften, “Come on, Charles.”
Charles is still looking at him with uncertainty, but after a moment’s hesitation he walks over to him. Max is so relieved he mindlessly places a hand on the small of Charles’ back as they leave the conference room, so grateful to finally be able to touch him.
Charles' breath hitches at the first touch of his hand.
@TMZ
Click here to view more of our #exclusive screenshots from the Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc sex tape 👇
↪️@isjcokay: Idk who these people are but this shit is hot as hell. Good for them.
↪️@spacitron34: Delete this you disgusting freaks.
@vigilanteverstappie
I can’t believe this is happening???
@bbcbreaking
F1 leaked sex tape features three time world champion Max Verstappen and Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc.
@fer_rar_rar_rarri
Of course Lestappen Confirmation Day has to happen in the most chaotic, traumatizing way possible.
@nytimes
Formula 1 sex tape hits the web, outs drivers Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc
@TSUNODAA587
Unfollowing anyone who posts links to the video or screenshots. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Max quietly shuts the door to the driver’s room Charles led them to. They are finally, blessedly, alone together for the first time since the crisis began.
He leans back against the door, releasing a heavy sigh as things begin to sink in. The video is out, countless people are currently watching them at their most intimate, watching how Max fucks Charles, violating their privacy and their dignity…
And Charles won’t even look at him.
He stands there with his back to Max, holding himself stiffly, completely silent.
Max tries to wait him out, but he can’t stand just watching. Pushing away from the door, he walks up to Charles, gripping his shoulder and gently urging him to turn around, “Hey.”
Charles allows himself to be turned, even if he’s still rigid as a board. As soon as Max sees those green eyes up close, big and round and fearful, any hesitation quickly vanishes. Without a second thought, he roughly pulls Charles into a hug, suppressing a shiver as he finally gets to hold him.
For an unbearably long moment Charles stays stiff in his arms, until, slowly but surely, he relaxes somewhat. His own arms coming up to loosely wrap around Max in turn, as he rests his cheek against his shoulder. Max feels more than hears Charles release a ragged exhale, and he pulls him closer in response.
They stand there, wrapped around each other, and for the first time in god knows how many hours, Max feels like he can finally breathe.
Eventually he turns his head slightly to murmur in Charles’ ear, “How have you been holding up?”
Charles makes a scoffing noise, “I threw up when I found out what was happening. And you?”
“I think I almost fainted,” Max admits, pleased when Charles gives a weak laugh in return.
They’re quiet again for a moment, until Charles pulls back slightly. Thankfully, he doesn’t go far, withdrawing just enough to face Max, his hands still resting on his shoulders while Max is still allowed to hold his waist.
Charles frowns at him, “You… you do not seem angry with me?”
“What,” Max can’t hide his incredulity, his grip tightening, “Why would I be angry at you?”
“You should be,” Charles says, his voice going tight and high, “Max, this is, it’s- it is all my fault!”
“Charlie, what the fuck are you talking about,” Max asks, startled as he watches Charles work himself up, “None of this is your fault-”
“Max, be serious! I was the one who had the idea to film it-”
“An idea I agreed to.”
“Yes, but if I had not suggested it we would not be here! And it was my phone that went missing.”
Max’s brow furrows as he remembers Charles telling him about that some weeks ago. He tries to tug him closer, “Even if that is how the video was hacked, it is still not your fault. It’s the fault of whatever asshole sent it to the paddock in the first place.”
“What if that person did it to try to hurt me,” Charles challenged, stubbornly resisting Max’s attempts to draw him in. “It was my phone that went missing, from a place only my team has access to. This was an attack against me and you got drawn into it because of my stupid decisions!”
Max purses his lips to keep in the frustrated words he wants to say. Charles' willingness to crucify himself had always driven Max insane, and he needs to remember that now is not the time to get into another argument about this.
But something he said was worth explaining-
“You think it was someone at Ferrari that leaked it?”
“Yes. Someone who has an interest in Ferrari not being happy with me.”
Max picks up on it immediately, unable to stop the wince when he realizes what Charles is implying.
“You do not believe me,” Charles says, shaking his head, the guilt on his face deepening. He tries to draw away, but Max tightens his hold yet again. “Fred did not believe me either. No one does.”
“I did not say I didn’t believe you,” Max insists firmly, “It is something we will need to look into after things calm down today, and I promise I’ll support you. But Charles… even if it was someone from Ferrari… it’s still not your fault. I am not angry with you, and you should not blame yourself.”
Charles shakes his head again, lowering his gaze to break their eye contact, “You are being too nice to me, I don't deserve it. I’m just… very sorry for the mess I have gotten us into. I’m so sorry, Max.”
“Charles,” Max groans, wanting to argue further but knowing they need to move on, someone is bound to interrupt and try to force them apart sooner rather than later. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I swear. But we need to talk about what we’re going to do.”
Charles just shrugs, clearly still upset and still avoiding his gaze.
They fall into another silence, but there’s a clear tension now, the peace from before vanished. On edge, Max decides to make the first move-
“So… you don’t want to do a PR relationship?”
The question makes Charles stiffen again, he’s abruptly drawing back and out of Max’s arms before he can protest. Max’s hands fall back to his sides, clenching into fists to stop the way they tingle unpleasantly without Charles to hold. He watches as Charles turns partly away from him, nervously fiddling with the cuffs of his hoodie, Max watches and tries to ignore the cold dread that is starting to gather in his stomach.
“No, I do not want the PR relationship,” Charles finally confirms, quiet but firm. “I do not want us to be trapped in a lie, not about something like that. It will be hard enough to deal with all of this without having to also be faking a relationship at the same time.”
Shit.
It stings, it stings badly as his hopes are dashed, but Max thinks he manages to keep it off his face. He even nods slowly, because Charles does have a point, painful as it is. “Then what do you think we should do? Tell the truth? Gemma was very against that, I don’t think my team will agree.”
“No, they told me no to that as well. I wanted to say it was fake, A.I. or something, but Silvia and Mia said there would be too many issues,” Charles pauses, rolling his shoulders back, “I think we should say it was a drunk hookup that went too far.”
Max's eyebrows shoot up, bewildered, “A drunk- What? What the hell… What are you even saying?”
“We say that we were drunk, we hooked up, and we filmed it,” Charles waves a hand around as he explains, as if conjuring the excuse from the air, “PR will word it better.”
Max stares at his, half amazed that Charles actually thought this was an option, “Charlie… no one would believe that.”
“Why not,” Charles asks, upset again as he walks over to the room’s desk, fiddling with something or other and still refusing to make eye contact.
“You’ve seen the video, yes? We’re obviously not drunk and we’d obviously fucked before, we were not exactly acting like it was our first time- And who the hell films a hookup?”
“Maybe it only seems that way to us because we know the truth,” Charles counters, despite sounding strangled and unsure, “It is not that obvious…”
“Yes it is,” Max pushes back, his competitive side flaring as he walks up closer behind Charles. “Do you know what everyone has been saying to me today? That anyone who watched that would think we were together, not that we were drunk .”
He thinks back to what he’d just watched on his laptop screen not even an hour ago- the way they laughed together, kissed one another, spoke to each other… nothing about their sex tape screamed drunken hookup. A strange part of Max almost felt insulted by the notion.
Charles finally spins around to face him again, his expression stormy, rising to meet Max just like he always did. “Then what do you suggest, Max? Because I am just trying to help you. I don’t want you to be stuck pretending to be in a relationship with me-”
“For fuck’s sake Charles would it really be that bad?”
Charles startles at Max’s outburst, before falling quiet as he cocks his head, like he’s trying to figure something out, “You… you are actually wanting to do the PR relationship?”
Now it is Max’s turn to have his gaze dart down and away, feeling the back of his neck turn hot, “Look, I do not like the lying part of it either. But if they're not going to let us tell the truth then we will be lying no matter what, and this sounded like the best option. At least with this we will be able to keep seeing each other-”
“You want to keep seeing me?”
Max quickly looks back to Charles, unsettled by the question, “Of course, I want to keep seeing you.”
Charles is staring back at him in surprise, as if this wasn’t something he was unprepared for.
“Oh,” he says smally, looking a little overwhelmed.
“Charles, please,” Max can’t take the distance between them anymore, he steps forward and Charles allows him to cup his elbows, pull him back in, “Let’s just go with the PR relationship. We will still be able to- to have our time together, we will-,” Max pauses struggling to find a way to phrase this, “We will just have to pretend in front of the public.”
“Pretend.” Charles stiffens again, Max immediately senses he said something wrong.
“Yes, yes,” Max shuffles closer, trying to be reassuring but Charles pulls back, “Nothing too much. Gemma just said we should be seen together more often, that’s all. Coming to the paddock together and some photos around Monaco. She thinks if we just go until the end of the season and through most of break winter break that will be convincing enough and then we could announce we decided to just be friends-”
“What?”
“Come on Charles didn’t they tell you this,” Max can hear frantic note creeping into his tone, but he can’t seem to control it, not when Charles is trying to pull himself away again, “We can decide how long we want this to last and put it into the contract-”
“Contract,” Charles actually stumbles back out his hold, a hysterical laugh escaping, “You’re fine with them giving us a fucking contract? For a fake relationship? A fake relationship with a deadline? ”
“Of course! Then they will have a deadline for them to be out of our business and we can-”
“No, non,” Charles furiously shakes his head, “I cannot do this. I will not do this.”
“Then what do you want,” Max demanded, fear and frustration making him impatient, “You want to go with the ‘exes’ plan? Have it so we can’t be around each other anymore? For fuck's sake we probably wouldn’t be able to meet up anymore with everyone watching us-”
“And maybe that is for the best,” Charles snaps at him, spinning away to face the wall and running and hand through his hair.
…What?
Those words are like ice, cold and piercing, and the panic that had slowly been gathering in Max’s stomach suddenly floods the rest of his body, “Why- What- what are you saying?”
It is quiet for a beat-
“I cannot do this,” Charles finally says again, sounding choked, “I cannot pretend with you. Not anymore.”
Max falls violently still.
Those are, quite possibly, some of the most painful words that have ever been said to him. The stinging pain of them mixes with his panic to create the most unbearable emotional agony he’s ever experienced, so intense it physically hurts.
He realizes his heart is breaking.
They are quiet again, as Max feels the burn of tears building behind his eyes, trying to will them away as he listens to Charles' shaky breathing.
Finally, after a few long minutes, he finds his words again “So you’re the one who actually wants to stop seeing each other. You can’t bring yourself to pretend to be my boyfriend, so you’d rather just stop everything?”
Charles keeps his back to him and says nothing.
“I thought…,” Max needs to pause, swallowing roughly, “I thought this might have… meant more to you than that. You told me that you loved this.”
Still Charles says nothing, but Max sees the way his shoulders have started to tremble. The sight makes him hurt even more and the silence makes him angry.
“So were the last two years just sex to you, then,” he pushes, his voice turning rough, “That is why it’s so easy for you to throw this away, yes?”
Charles does not deny it, he still doesn’t even turn to look at him.
But there comes a muffled, choked sound, something that sounds like a stifled sob. It breaks Max’s heart even more, he absolutely hates to see Charles cry. Except, the sound also offers him the smallest, tiniest little pinprick of hope… maybe Charles is not so willing to let them go.
In desperation, Max latches onto it.
“Is that what you want, Charles,” he presses, harsh. He walks up behind him to put a hand on his shoulder to turn him around, to force him to look him in the eyes so he can’t hide from this. But Charles flinches out of his grasp, spinning to face him on his own, a wild look on his beautiful, tear streaked face.
“Do not touch me,” he spits out, backing away from Max, “I can’t think when you touch me.”
“Well I can’t think when we don’t,” Max snaps back, following Charles even as he tries to retreat, “So tell me, is that what you really want? To end things?”
“It’s what is best,” Charles repeats, still backing away while Max chases him relentlessly.
“I did not ask you that, I asked if it’s what you want.”
“I just said it’s for the best,” Charlies insists, even as another tear falls down his cheek.
He won’t say it. Won’t say it or can’t say it- either way, it’s the same thing. Max’s hope grows brutally brighter, he clings to it like a life preserver against the heartbreak that was threatening to drown him.
Max moves closer still, can’t help reaching out a hand to try to wipe away his lover’s tears, but Charles stumbles back against the wall to get away.
“I don’t give a fuck what’s for the best,” Max tells him, pushing closer until Charles is pressed back against the wall to avoid him, “I care about you. So tell me, tell me that’s what you want. Tell me that you want things to be over between us.”
“Stop putting this all on me,” Charles says desperately. He tries to slide away from Max, but that only leads him to trapping himself into a corner, and Max knows it’s wrong, but he swiftly moves closer, placing his hands on either side of Charles and blocking him in.
The Monegasque has literally backed himself into a corner, with no escape, and he glares up at Max with tear filled eyes. “I do not want to lie to the world. I do not want to force you into this-”
“You’re not forcing me into anything,” Max retorts, “And I’m not asking about that. I’m asking you to tell me, right here, right now, that you do not want to be with me anymore. Tell me.”
“Max-”
“Just tell me.”
“Stop asking me-”
“God, Charles, just say it!”
“Fuck!” Charles breaks, finally pushed to the limit as he presses back into the corner, with nowhere to run. He raises his hands to his hair, gripping it in frustration and screwing his eyes shut, “Non, non! It is not what I want, but I cannot- I cannot...” He trails off with a frustrated whimper.
The spark of hope in Max’s chest bursts into a wildfire, savage and joyful, and he pushes on, “Can’t what, baby? Tell me what it is and I’ll help, I promise.”
“Max, please don’t make me talk about this,” Charles finally meets his eyes again, his gaze wild and pleading.
“Charlie, we have to talk about this,” Max presses, “I swear, I will do whatever you want, but I won’t lose you over this. Please, I'll follow whatever stupid PR strategy there is as long as it means I don’t have to stop seeing you.”
Charles lowers his eyes again, sniffling and trying, unsuccessfully, to get his tears under control. It pains Max something fierce not to reach out to brush the tears from his face, but he manages. But he still can’t bring himself to back away, to give Charles space. He’s too afraid if he does he’ll never be allowed this close again.
“The video is already out there,” Max continues when Charles stays quiet, “Wouldn’t you rather face it together than alone? I just want to be there for you, baby. Let me.”
“But you said,” Charles starts and then pauses to take a shuddering breath, “You said you wanted to do the PR relationship. I cannot-.”
“God, it’s not like it’s that different from what we’re doing anyway,” Max spits out, catching the way the statement makes Charles' eyes widen in surprise. “But fine, if you don’t want that then we will do something else. Whatever you want. I just…,” Max trails off, swallows hard and forces himself to continue, to be brave, “Charlie, we always kiss goodbye, but I will do anything if I don’t have to kiss you goodbye for the last time.”
His words, so truthful, so vulnerable, do not have the desired effect. They make Charles’ face crumble, and he curls forward like Max had shot him, “I cannot do this!”
“Baby, can’t do what?” Max is alarmed and desperate, his self-restraint finally breaking as he reaches out to grasp Charles’ shoulders, trying to hold him together and get a fucking answer at the same time.
“Non, you don’t understand, it hurts,” Charles cries, his chest heaving, his hand clutching at his chest.
“What hurts,” Max worried, his own hand covering Charles’ on his chest, “Do you need a doctor-”
“No, no, non, non, non,” Charles scrunches his eyes shut and throws his head back against the wall, “You hurt, everything hurts, I cannot keep doing this, it’s ruining my life-”
“Charles, what are you saying -”
“Je t'aime,” Charles gasps. His eyes fly open, glittering with tears and locking onto Max’s , “Je t'aime tellement chéri.”
It takes him a second… and then-
He doesn’t speak French well, but he understands enough.
A dizzy, euphoric feeling slowly breaks through the shock that has paralyzed him. Max suddenly feels light-headed, weak in the knees for the second time that day.
Charles takes a shuddering breath, continuing in English.
“I love you, Max,” he says, voice trembling, “I love you so much, it hurts. I am so sorry, I did not mean for this to happen, but it is killing me to not have you, so I cannot keep going- meph!”
He’s cut off with a startled sound when Max surges forward to kiss him, capturing his lips frantically.
Max presses kiss after kiss to his slack mouth, his shaking hands coming up to cup Charles neck to pull him close, feeling the way he trembles under his palms-
“Ik houd van jou,” he whispers against Charles' lips, unable and unwilling to put any more space between them, dipping forward for another kiss before continuing “I love you too. So much, Charlie. I love you so much.”
Charles gasps, and Max loses his patience and kisses him again. After a few seconds, Charles begins to tentatively kiss him back. Never one to let a gap go to waste, Max slips his tongue into his mouth, eager to get to as much of him as possible.
“You never said...,” Charles mumbles into the wet of the kiss before pulling back for a breath. His cheeks are bright pink, his eyes still shiny and confused.
“Because I didn’t think I could have you,” Max confesses, joy still thrumming through his veins, “I did not think we could ever be together. I thought you were happy with how things as they were. I did not want to fuck everything up with my feelings, so I tried to ignore it. But, god, baby- I’ve wanted you so bad, so fucking bad.”
He dives back, pecking Charles lips, once, twice three times before locking their lips together in another long, deep kiss. Charles allows it, making soft, pleased noises as Max tries to devour him
“I-I was always thinking you would say something if you wanted more,” Charles whispers when they finally part for air, looking dazed, “That is why I- Max, I was scared, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-“
“Were you going to say it that night,” Max asks the question that has haunted him for the past two weeks, one he couldn’t let himself dare to hope on, “The night of your crash? I thought maybe you were going to say something else, when we were… together.”
There’s a spark of recognition on Charles face, and he nods, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.
“I almost told you then, I only barely stopped myself. I have felt it for a long time chéri, I’ve wanted you for so long ” Charles says, his eyes brightening more and more as Max’s confession seems to finally sink in. He gives a breathless, disbelieving laugh, “Fuck, Max, this is real? You really love me back?”
“I love you, baby,” Max grins back at him, “You love me?”
“Yes, Max,” Charles says, already leaning in again, “Love you so much.”
Their mouths press together again, tender this time. Max holds Charles in his arms and thinks back on the other time he’s held him like this, how Max had sometimes caught himself wistfully thinking how he wished he could have this all the time, that it could be real-
And now that he knows that it’s possible, that Charles loves him, that their teams would support and encourage it… The realization makes Max melt a little bit, especially with the way Charles is sucking on his lower lip.
But he wants to be absolutely sure they’re on the same page this time, no more dancing around the topic or misunderstandings, so he reluctantly pulls back, shushing Charles' little whine and taking his hands in his, looking at him openly.
“You want this, yes,” Max whispers, bringing Charles’ hands to his mouth, kissing over his knuckles, “You want us to be together? For real?”
He’s surprised when Charles tears his hands away, but it’s only so the Monegasque can grab his collar and yank Max into yet another kiss, fierce, wet, and biting.
“I want that. I want you,” Charles mumbles against his mouth, “I want everything with you.”
Max smiles into the kiss, “Gonna be my boyfriend, Charlie?”
Charles only responds with a short, breathy “oui”, before they are quickly sinking back into each other, the kisses deepening into something heated, feverishly joyful.
Max sucks Charles tongue into his mouth, moaning as he feels fingers curling into his hair, and he is just so fucking in love with the man in his arms. Needy, he presses Charles back into the wall, crushing their bodies together, their mouths clashing wet, messy, and so good. It’s all beginning to make his cock stir in interest, so he reaches down blindly without breaking the kiss, until his hand grips Charles’ thigh and he can hitch it up over his hip.
Charles whimpers as Max settles closer, into the cradle of Charles’ hips, where he can rock against him, wanting to be closer still, wanting to feel skin on skin, god, he desperately needs to be inside-
“Well, I assume you two have figured things out?”
The unexpected voice makes both of them jump, and Max whips his head around to see Fred standing in the doorway, looking in at the two of them with amused exasperation.
“I am very happy for you, if that is the case,” Fred continues dryly, “But both Silvia and Gemma are a few moments away from a stroke if they don’t hear that you’ll be signing off on the relationship strategy. They want to release a statement.”
Oh… yes, that’s right, they were in the middle of a sex tape scandal. Max had quite honestly forgotten about it in the insanity of the last few minutes.
He turns back to Charles, the two of them still holding on to each other as they try to catch their breath. He quirks an eyebrow, and Charles answers his wordless question by beaming up at him.
“They can release the relationship statement,” Charles tells Fred without taking his eyes off Max, “But I will not sign the contract. This is not PR, we are doing this for real. Max is my boyfriend.”
Max melts even more, grinning back at Charles and pulling him in against his chest.
“Very kind of you to tell us this time, Charles. Congratulations,” Fred chuckles. “I will let them know they can release the statement. But please keep your clothes on, I’m sure the lawyers will still have things for you to sign very soon. I will be sure to send the next person in with a spray bottle in case they need to cool the two of you off.”
With that he disappears back out the door, with good timing as Max and Charles are once pressing their mouths together, intertwined and stumbling over to the room’s small couch. They collapse onto it, Charles sitting on Max’s lap, cradled in his arms as they nuzzle their faces together, seemingly unable to stop pressing kisses anywhere they can reach.
They’re so disgustingly infatuated. Max adores it.
“I can’t believe it took our sex tape getting leaked for us to finally figure this out.” Max laughs as Charles covers his face in little pecks.
“I can. It’s very us, chéri . We never make it easy on each other.”
The comment makes Max laugh even more, just as the weight of Charles in his lap made the warmth pooling in his lower stomach all the more pronounced.
“You’re coming back with me to my hotel,” he murmurs to Charles.
“Am I,” Charles giggles, placing kiss after kiss on Max’s cheeks
“Yes,” Max said, rubbing the tips of their noses together, sickeningly tender, “You will be lucky if I ever let you leave my side again. Can’t let you go now that I have you.”
“You’re so sweet, mon amour,” Charles teases, an evil glint in his eyes.
The new nickname only stokes the fire in him, so Max leans forward to kiss him some more, his mouth drawn like a magnet back to Charles again and again, needing him so much-
“I’m going to take you to the hotel,” he speaks between the kisses he trails over Charles’ cheek, down his jaw, “And I’m going to show you how much I love you-”
“Oh? And are you going to do that,” Charles is still trying to tease, though his breathy tone makes it clear he’s just as eager.
“In whatever way you’ll let me,” Max mumbles into Charles' neck, sucking gently at the soft skin, not worrying in the slightest about leaving a mark, rather hoping he does, in fact.
“Mmmmm,” Charles lets out a wanton little noise, tipping his head back to encourage Max, “I think I will let you do anything you want to me.”
“Don’t say that,” Max says huskily as he kisses up the side of Charles’ throat, until he’s whispering in his ear, “You have to drive tomorrow. Don’t tempt me, baby.”
He sucks Charles earlobe in his mouth, delighting in the way it makes his boyfriend shiver so prettily.
Through the shivers, Charles manages to ask, “Well, you can be gentle, non?”
Fuck.
A groan pulls itself from Max’s throat, and he’s promising quickly, “I can be gentle, baby. I can be so so gentle.”
He leans forward to give him another fervent kiss, already imagining what he’s going to do him back at the hotel, how it’s going to feel making love to Charles now that he’s his boyfriend -
Until they’re rudely interrupted by Andrea’s yelp of disgust as he barges through the door, “Madonna santa! Fred, I am going to kill you!”
scuderiaferrari and redbullracing
Scuderia Ferrari and Red Bull Racing both condemn the unauthorized release of a video involving our drivers, Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen.
This illegally obtained media was a private video made by two people in a committed relationship, only ever meant to be shared with each other. The leak is a flagrant violation of their privacy and is completely unacceptable. We will fully pursue legal action against anyone disseminating or duplicating the stolen video and work with the appropriate authorities to address this breach and ensure accountability.
The couple asks for privacy and understanding as they navigate this unfortunate situation.
Scuderia Ferrari and Red Bull Racing stand firmly behind Charles and Max during this time and encourage fans, media, and the public to support them by maintaining an environment of respect and dignity.
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As Max prepares to finally leave for the day, he glances outside a window of Ferrari hospitality, surprised to see it’s near sunset.
One of the worst and best days of his life is finally coming to an end.
Charles and him had still been stuck in Ferrari hospitality for hours at this point. Even after Fred had passed on the happy news of their relationship there had still been statements to finalize, NDAs to sign, PR points to discuss, legal updates, and countless other details to sort out.
Truthfully the time had passed rather quickly, the two of them in a dopey, lovesick haze that had managed to turn the atmosphere in the conference room from one of crisis to annoyance. Everyone on their teams quickly growing irritated with the way they kept distracting each other with giggling flirtations and not-so-innocent touches.
They could deal with it, Max and Charles were in love.
It was amazing how much easier that made everything. And even though the violation of it all still stung, Max didn’t find it difficult to ignore. As horrible as the scandal was, it had also given him what he wanted most in the world.
The thought makes him glance over to his boyfriend as they walk hand in hand through the halls of hospitality.
Charles is staring down at his phone, which (along with Max’s) had finally been returned to him so that they could get in touch with their families. They made those calls in the privacy of Charles’ room, fingers tangled together as they updated their parents and siblings on the situation, assured them they were fine, and made plans to introduce them to their boyfriend as soon as they could.
Even the call with Jos had been surprisingly bearable, with Max’s father focusing more on getting revenge on the leaker than the details of his son’s personal life. It was surprising, but Max would take it gratefully.
“My lawyers say the video has been removed from all the major sites,” Charles tells him, likely reading some texts, “And Silvia says the response to the statement has been mostly positive. We are still all over the news, of course.”
“Of course,” Max repeats, shrugging his shoulders. “Did you delete all your social media apps like you promised?”
“All except for Instagram.”
Max squeezes Charles hand firmly, “Delete it, baby. I do not want you reading through idiot comments, I have plans for you tonight.”
“I will, mon amour, but first I was hoping you would maybe take a photo with me for my story,” Charles says mischievously, his inner menace peeking through when he looks over at Max.
The sight gives him butterflies.
“Well, I don’t know, baby. Last time you asked me something like this it ended up causing a massive scandal so should I really trust- ooof,” Max grunts as Charles elbows him in the stomach, looking at him adoringly as he does so.
As Max snickers at his own wit, Charles snaps a photo of their hands held between them. He spends a second typing something before he smiles down at the image, holding it out to show Max.
The picture, taken from above, shows them hand in hand, their red and navy jacket sleeves offering a nice contrast, with their shoes visible as well. Charles has typed a small, simple message- ❤️💙🖕
It’s both so perfectly Charles and so unexpected of him that Max can do nothing but return his smile, nodding his head in approval, and leaning forward to plant a firm kiss on his cheek as Charles posts it. Silvia and Gemma will probably throw a fit over the photo being uploaded without permission, but Max finds it difficult to care. Charles and him deserve to have a little fun with their own sex tape scandal.
“So, now that we’re dating will you finally follow me again?”
“Never,” Charles says sweetly, tugging Max along until they make it to the entrance of hospitality, where a crowd of personnel are waiting to escort them through the paddock and to a waiting car, hopefully shielding them from the worst of the photographers and journalists waiting to pounce.
Right before they step outside Max catches Charles' eyes one final time.
“Ready, baby?”
“Ready, chéri.”
They lean in for a short but sweet kiss, and Max’s last thought before they step outside is that he is so, so grateful that this isn’t one of their kisses goodbye.
The door opens, the cameras begin flashing, and Max grips Charles’ hand.
Notes:
the way i really want to write what happened at the hotel room that night… i’m never defeating the deviant allegations.
anyways, the next few months are a sickly-sweet, love-drunk honeymoon period that drowns out the worst of the scandal. they’re pretty much too obsessed with each other to notice any negativity lol. eventually the news cycle moves on but these two remain and they are so so so happy.
to say I have been blown away by the response to this story would be an understatement. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all of the kudos, comments, and tumblr messages. i appreciate every single one of you so much ♥️
i would still love to know what you thought of this chapter, so please consider leaving a kudos or comment (even just an ❤️).
i’m on tumblr @chock-and-bates
i’ll definitely be confirming the video leaker on there in the next few days, but i do so love to read your theories so feel free to take a guess.but for now i’m going to celebrate the end of this fic by popping some champagne and dancing around to fortnight by taylor swift with my cats (and maybe my husband if he’s not agonizing over football)
see you soon loves
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