Chapter Text
This morning starts like any other; wake up, bathroom, feed pets, make breakfast, eat, jog, come back for a shower and laze the day away, maybe clock in a couple of rounds of FIFA or sim racing. It was like any other day, Max stretches lazily across his sofa, perhaps, a nap would be good. He grabs his phone, sees a lot of unread messages, he’s usually expecting a few because of work but not this many. There’s a few group chats for the drivers, actually there’s way too many because every time someone has beef with another driver, a new group chat excluding said driver would be made.
Max can't keep up at this point, he just replies if he gets tagged on a message. Seeing the group chat at the top with the most recent message, Max clicks into it, slowly backreading some insane dramatic texts, Lando is freaking out, Daniel is typing in all caps, Max raises a brow, wondering what transfer news has made it to their ears.
There’s a lot of fire emojis, and that one red emoji with its tongue out plus a sweat mark.
By the time Max reaches to the core of the message, he sucks in a breath reading the headline link shared.
CHARLES LECLERC X CALVIN KLEIN COLLAB
First off, Charles Leclerc? The same Charles he saw last weekend? The shy yet fierce boy he was racing against during his karting days? The Prince of Ferrari? The love and muse of all Ferrari fans all over the world? The same boy Max Verstappen has been crushing on for years but won’t make a move because how the fuck could he do that?! That Charles Leclerc? Not to be confused with any other.
Secondly, Calvin Klein? Wasn’t that a famous underwear brand or something.
Max clicks into it, of course he has to know and he gets redirected to instagram where the video plays almost instantly. The backdrop is red, obvious homage to Ferrari, the music is classical, fitting for the Monégasque driver and the first couple of scenes are just to set the pace and atmosphere. The camera pans slowly, showing a bit of Charles’ abs, then moves up to his neck, the obvious Adam's apple, then there’s a view of his lips, a smirk.
His voice is clear as the music softens a bit, he speaks Italian or French, Max has no idea, he reads the subtitles and it’s just sophisticated words that are meant to represent this campaign. At the edge of his seat, he cannot wait for the inevitable, surely Charles is promoting the underwear and not a bottle of water or something—
The camera pans out, Max feels like he’s at the peak of his puberty again, all those years of angry frustrated masturbation in his room when he was a teen. His cock immediately twitches at attention for what his eyes are seeing.
Charles is handsome, beautiful, charming, so perfect, he belongs in the Louvre as a sculpture or painting. The smoldering look in his eyes, the crinkles when he smiles, his obvious dimples. The video continues, he runs his hand across his chest, body turning a little to flex his muscles, Max gulps audibly, staring at the obvious curve of Charles’ ass. He’s sure they’re trying to milk the brand name that’s printed on the boxer shorts but all Max can see is the sizable bulge and plump butt in that white and tight undergarment.
There’s a bit more talking before a position switch, he’s leaning back on some rectangular block as a prop, He arches his back, legs spreaded and mouth opening to breathe out. Max can hear the screaming and fainting fans already. He’s one of them because his cock is hard and already leaking pre-cum, Max rubs himself through the sweatpants, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, Charles was too captivating.
By the time the video ends and starts looping from the start again, Max has already shoved his hand inside his underwear and pants to properly stroke his cock. All he can think about is Charles under him in exactly that, looking sexy and cute at the same time. The mess he would make out of him and the words he would whisper into his ears. Just thinking of the Ferrari driver moaning his name has him finishing embarrassingly fast by his own hand– seriously, Max would award himself for the fastest lap.
-O-O-O-
He expects the excitement to die out at some point but Calvin Klein is obviously trying to make their money worth, they release pictures after pictures, short video clips and behind the scenes; all types of content consumed by Max Verstappen the moment of release. He’s never been so invested in a campaign and suddenly he understands how influencer marketing works, he too, would do anything for Charles Leclerc.
The entire internet agrees as the launch video goes viral, as much as Max is proud of Charles’ achievements, he’s also jealous the whole world gets to see something so private even though those are selfish words and he has zero rights to say so.
Somehow he ends up spending his remaining off-days masturbating to Charles’ videos and pictures. He hopes he’ll run out of steam soon, otherwise, there will be complications on track…
-O-O-O-
When the free practice races roll around, Max tries his best to think of anything else aside from Charles and Charles in underwear. Fortunately for him, he gets distracted with work, obviously very passionate about racing but all that comes to a halt when he’s walking with his team and they run into the Ferrari drivers strutting in.
Lewis, is as always, stylish and in Max’s opinion, sometimes, a little too much. He gives the older man a nod with a polite friendly smile, and of course, Lewis returns it easily. Behind Lewis is Charles and he’s spotting casual blue jeans, sport shoes and a simple Ferrari t-shirt, very on brand of him. Their gazes meet, Charles raises his hand for a wave, and that’s when Max catches the sight of his shirt rising up; the black letters bold against the white band, spelling out the brand CALVIN KLEIN . Max’s head short circuits momentarily, he abruptly turns, doesn’t return Charles’ gestures and speed walks the opposite direction.
He should have known Charles would be required to endorse the brand now that he’s officially an ambassador, Max just didn’t think it would be so in his face. The words and questions from his team fly to deaf ears, he’s basically on auto-pilot mode, uncaring for anything and everything while he thinks of the most dire and disgusting scenarios so he won’t pop a boner out in public.
On a normal basis, Charles is already very beautiful and plentiful eye-catching in his race suit, for Max to now think of him in those tight white boxer shorts is incredibly tormenting. There’s a chance he can’t even see Charles eye to eye anymore, they can’t even shake hands because all Max would think of when Charles grabs his hand is how he’s used that exact hand to fist his cock while dreaming of him.
Mentally scolding himself, Max anticipates the drive simply because that’s when his mind will be off Charles for sure.
…
That is what he hoped for but Max Verstappen for once finds himself unable to concentrate, he turns late, he steps on it too much, he doesn’t break enough. It’s so obvious that the team gets concerned for him and Max in return gets frustrated in himself with equals to him shouting over communications.
It was an absolute shit show, Max was fuming by the time he’s out of the vehicle, ripping the white balaclava before tossing it off to be forgotten, he tells the entire team he would appreciate the silence for him to recalibrate his thoughts, everyone shared worried glances but ultimately respects his decision. Max doesn’t know how long he was alone for but really he was just beating himself up mentally.
Two knocks on the side of the door, Max looks up from where he’s seated and the last person he wants to see is here.
“Max…is something wrong?” Charles steps in without permission, Max can only roll his eyes while huffing out in annoyance, bold and arrogant for the Ferrari driver to just waltz in as if they are close friends. Just because they’ve known each other for a long while does not really translate to friendship even though deeply that’s what Max really hopes for.
“None of your business.”
“...” Despite the silence, Charles still walks over closer to take a seat next to him and Max is ashamed when he gets flashbacks of what he’s been up to on his off days recently.
“Look, it’s just a couple of bad races… you’ll do better at quali.”
Max sighs out loud “It’ll be better for you if I don’t do well at qualifying, why do you care?”
Charles chuckles softly, eyes glancing over at Max “Who says I need you to race badly for me to do good? I win because of me.”
The Red Bull driver can agree to that, a small smile on his lips.
“I am just tired…” Max takes another deep breath, keeping his heart steady and his temperament in check, the last thing he wants is to blow at Charles for no good reason. “Shouldn’t you be too? Busy with all your new work. I saw your ad.”
At the mention of the campaign, Charles freezes for a while, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while his cheeks flush a little pink with embarrassment. “Oh, that. Yeah, it happened.”
“I didn’t think you’d be into modelling but it suits you.” Max tries to keep the comment general, and wouldn't want to give off the wrong impression.
“I’m not sure what came over me when I signed the contract… I just wanted to be more… confident?”
Max cocks a brow at that last statement, Charles Leclerc, more confident? Seriously? He’s the most dashing and talented man to walk this earth and he needs more confidence? If he needs more confidence then Max Verstappen clearly needs to reevaluate his life.
“Is your ego not big enough, Charles?” He simply has to dig into this because he clearly remembers how adored Charles is with the fans all around the world.
“It’s not like that!” Charles laughs, shaking his head “I…” he bites his bottom lip, Max’s eyes immediately dart to stare.
“I just…– do not laugh at me… but I… did not feel very confident because the person I am interested in… does not look at me that way…” Charles’s explanation is terrible and Max feels his heart ache from Charles’ lack of confidence and how he has someone he likes already.
“Firstly, she’s a fool. Secondly, you did an underwear campaign just to get attention? That is desperation, Charlie.” Max might be jokingly talking but his frustration grows, angry at whoever it is that isn’t giving Charles Leclerc the time of their day because if he has the chance, he would literally never stop loving him.
“ He is a fool.” Charles corrects him and Max finds his eyes widening in realization. “And yes, it is stupid for me to do something like that… but if that doesn’t work then surely nothing will? You have to understand, Max, I have liked him for years. ”
“You could have just confessed??” Max can’t believe he’s about to argue with his rival/crush about this “You are amazing, Charles. I am sure whoever it is that you’re interested in, also likes you or wouldn’t mind trying… You should be clear about your feelings instead of doing an underwear campaign or whatever… besides… If I were them, I’d get really jealous about my boyfriend’s ass being plastered on billboards.”
The pink from Charles’ cheeks are now to his ears, he’s smiling softly, the indents of his dimples appear.
“He is very focused and single minded. I do not think it is that simple to confess. To be honest, I’ve tried getting his attention but we do not talk much except for racing…” As Charles explains, Max starts to get more and more annoyed by whoever this ungrateful blind bastard is. The jealousy creeps up to him without him processing it enough in his head.
“He can’t be
that
single minded? Is he dense?”
How can someone look at the Ferrari Prince and not see anything but perfection? How can anyone not even try? Charles is fiercely intelligent, funny, witty, adorable, sexy, kind, sweet, and everything in between. Max’s favorite opponent on track and his favorite person to see on the podium.
“I think so… but he’s very passionate about racing.”
Max huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest. Whoever the fuck this is can’t be better than him–
“Your fan? Someone from your pit crew? A sportscaster?”
“A driver.” Charles looks him dead in the eyes when he answers.
“A driver?!” Max’s eyes are wide and he’s about to lose his goddamn mind.
Was it Carlos this whole time? After all they’ve had a long good relationship on and off track. Maybe Pierre? Charles has mentioned a couple of times how they’re good friends. Fuck, could it be Oscar? Or even Lando? Max’s own confidence takes a hit, knowing he’s a good driver and has won a couple of championships but this year the McLaren boys and their cars could really break through.
“How good is he?”
“Mhm… Pretty good, in my opinion.”
“How good can he be, if he hasn’t won any championships?” It’s a diss at whoever that person is because Max is assuming the driver is someone who’s currently on grid right now and out of everyone who has a championship win, it can’t be Lewis or Alonso– fuck, please tell him it’s not Alonso.
Max’s blood pressure is at an all time high, so high, that he barely thinks, he just talks. Charles matches his fast pace like he does on track.
“He has.”
“How many?!”
“How many have you’ve had again?” Charles tilts his head innocently.
“Four!” Max spits out the answer.
“Four.” Charles repeats.
Max blinks, staring at Charles with wide eyes, he sucks in a breath, his heart jumps.
Wait.. what the fuck?!