rubberonpavement (microwavevibes)
Fandoms
- Formula 1 RPF (8)
Recent works
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a peach so ripe that even your breath would bruise it by rubberonpavement (microwavevibes) for burninghotspace
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
18 Oct 2025
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Summary
Charles Leclerc is a man who gets what he wants — trophies, fame, Ferrari. He has that all tonight, fresh off a flawless podium, the taste of gold and champagne still heavy on his tongue despite the tequila he’s been sipping for the better part of an hour. One might suggest that having it all might mean he wants for naught, and yet, satisfaction only makes room for something new. As lights flash and music thrums, he searches the faces of the crowd with heat low in his belly. The weight of a hand on his waist, curled around the back of his neck, squeezing his own in a friendly greeting haunts his skin like a ghost. Mingling with the last of his tequila is hot and hungry wanting for skin and sweat and sex. Watching these bodies tangling on the dance floor, so close and twisting that God would wrinkle His nose at such a sinful sight, is not enough. There needs to be a body against his own, writhing in his hotel sheets as he drags his mouth over the curve of muscles, the tickle of soft body hair.
Charles Leclerc is a man who gets what he wants, and tonight, he wants Max.
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Summary
They don’t make it to dinner.
They mean to. Daniel promised the perfect night out — overpriced food, a prissy bottle of red, and sunset-warm sand under their feet after they’d cleared their plates. They've got a reservation timed with the sun and everything, going all out before they're tangled together for the two and a half days it will take to clear Max's heat.
“Let me see your eyes again,” Daniel says, positively sappy.
It makes Max laugh, rolling his eyes and turning his head to look over his shoulder at Daniel. That's his second mistake — the first being the choice to leave the bathroom in only a towel. Daniel looks radiant in the low light, all tan skin and dark hair, eyes half-closed in a gentle wanting. God, Max has never learned how to ignore that look and not be derailed by being the focus of such complete desire. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep himself from saying, “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, we won’t be making it to dinner.”
“Oh, Maxy,” Daniel hums, smile stretching wide. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
So, they don't make it to dinner.
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Summary
Some insane thing between his ribs with teeth in his heart whines and writhes and says that, if Max does good enough, Charles will love him. It’s a shocking, jarring thought that Max hasn’t let breathe in case it stole all of the air from his lungs. He knows it’s impossible. Even the idea of that love is so far beyond what he deserves, but Charles being his friend has never been enough.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, back in Austin. We’re friends, right? Maybe the notion that this could ever be something more wouldn’t feel so hopeless if he hadn’t foolishly stuck a label on whatever this was. All he’d known was that he needed something. He’d craved some sort of value in Charles’ mind, wanted to be something more than just a good handful of fucks. Friendship held the promise of after, he’d decided, even if it wasn’t the type of after he wanted.
Series
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Summary
A hand brushes his back, the ghost of a touch, and he turns just in time to grab the card Max is slipping into his palm before weaving back through the crowd of the press pen. For a moment, Charles stands frozen and confused, trying to understand what exactly happened. In his hand is the card for a hotel, the room number scrawled in sharpie underneath the address.
Charles stuffs the hotel card into his pocket until he can huddle into the brief safety of his driver’s room. He stares at it for almost too long, trying to figure out where the night would go if he took up Max’s proposition. There’s no decent indicator to Max’s mood today, twenty-second penalty be damned. He’s been level-headed and smooth in every glimpse Charles has gotten of him, not a lick of emotion betraying him in those squinting blue eyes. In Monza, Charles had been soaring, and Max had been wanting. In Singapore, Max had been gutted, and Charles was willing to do whatever it took to help. Austin was a glowing, alcohol-softened fantasy that ended with an easy morning and gentle hangover. Everything had been perfect last week, but now— Charles isn’t sure what to think.
Series
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Pretty as a Peach, Smooth as Molasses by rubberonpavement (microwavevibes)
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
22 Oct 2024
Tags
Summary
The bar has log cabin walls, dim lights, and a low ceiling. Country songs he never plans on knowing twang through the speakers, and there’s a general glow of liveliness throughout the swaying crowd. The place was just far enough off the beaten track that Charles wonders if anyone here knows who he is. They certainly don’t give him a second’s glance as he slips by, trying to find an empty spot at the bar.
“Ah-ha!” Carlos slides up next to him and gives him a studious once-over. “You are late, though I suppose it is because you had to get pretty, hm?”
“Pretty?” Charles asks, rolling his eyes and raising an eyebrow at Carlos’s outfit — a vaguely wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants that look more expensive than his jeans. “I am sorry I did not want to show up in my pajamas.”
“I am quite done with dressing up and, more importantly, do not have someone to impress."
Series
Recent series
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Il Predestinado Vince, Il Predestinado Regna by rubberonpavement (microwavevibes)
Fandom: Formula 1 RPF
11 Nov 2024
- Words:
- 36,449
- Works:
- 6
- Bookmarks:
- 66