Chapter Text
Poetry in motion.
The sappiness of the thought isn't lost on Max. But since the beginning, there's truly been no other way to describe Charles on the ice.
Sweat runs down the side of Max's face and soaks his hair as he pulls his helmet free. He hadn't expected practice to be so intense today, but Coach had other ideas. Dropping his helmet to the bench, he reaches for his water bottle and takes a hearty gulp.
"Good lord," Daniel groans as he all but collapses on the bench next to Max. "Even my balls ache after that practice."
"Somehow, I'm sure it's your fault." Lando says with a sigh as he rakes a hand through his damp blonde curls. "Did you hide Coach's keys again? That was the last time he made us skate sprints like that."
"I still have no idea what you're talking about." Daniel says, trying and failing to look innocent. "The keys were found in Carlos' locker, after all."
Carlos just flips his middle finger as he guzzles from his own water bottle.
A smile warms Max's face as he takes another drink from his own bottle and gazes out over the ice. Now that his hockey team has cleared the rink, the figure skater practice sessions can start. The first out is a slender, tall blonde woman dressed in dark green who begins her warm-up with easy circles around the rink. She's quickly followed by a lithe, toned man who - whoa.
Max doesn't care if he's staring. He's never seen anyone more beautiful from his brown curls to his bright green eyes as he skates around. His black and red clothing fits him like a second skin and the way he moves… poetry in motion.
Max swallows a mouthful of water, nodding out towards the rink. "Who's that?"
"Hmm?" Daniel glances up and out towards the ice. "Which one? The leggy blonde or the pretty boy?" He turns back to Max with a signature sly grin. "Wait, why am I even asking…" his words trail off in a laugh.
Max's traitorous cheeks flush as he glares back at Daniel and it doesn't go unnoticed by Lando. He, too, chuckles gently with a shake of his head as he looks out at the rink. "Charles is far too smart for any of us."
That doesn't deter Max, though. Now that he knows Charles' name, it's all he needs. Much like his position on the team, he has the goal in sight and nothing will slow him down.
As Max watches, Charles moves with unparalleled finesse and competent determination. His artistry shines in every Salchow jump and triple Axel, not to mention his step sequences or layback spins. It's matched only by his unflinching passion as he commits himself towards his dream and Max couldn't be more proud - or in love - with his boyfriend of nearly three years.
That fact takes him aback as he shifts against the arena stadium seat, watching Charles catch his breath after landing a jump. Max doesn't know where the years have gone but for the first time in his life, he's too deliriously happy to care.
Honestly, he still doesn't know how a lumbering troll like him managed to catch the interest of such a bewitching ice nymph. As his ice hockey career attests, Max is no slouch on skates but he never comes close to matching Charles' grace or economy of motion, let alone the mischievous twinkle in his mercurial green eyes.
If Max lingers longer on the ice after practice, no one has to know why. Of course, that doesn’t stop Daniel and Lando from making their own assumptions and snide comments. Fortunately, they’re easy enough to ignore and Max sheds his helmet as he catches his breath.
Shuffling his stick and helmet in one hand, he runs the other through his sweat-damp hair and attempts a casual glance around the rink. A smirk comes to his face as Charles’ toned, slender figure comes into sharp view, the black of his leggings and the garish red of his soft-shell jacket contrasting with the white ice around him. The cold air gives Charles’ cheeks an adorable pink hue beneath his perceptive, ever-changing green eyes.
Max knows that he probably stares like a lovesick puppy, but who can blame him? “Am I dreaming?” He says by way of greeting. “Or is that you, pretty boy?”
Charles doesn’t quite roll his eyes as he scoffs in amusement. “Yeah, of course, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” He skates in a lazy, easy circle around Max. “I know I’m irresistible, but I know you can do it.”
“You’re the worst fucking tease, Charles.”
The corner of Charles’ mouth lifts higher as he runs his gaze up and down the fit of Max’s uniform that shows off his broad shoulders and lean, tapered waist. Charles gives a gentle shake of his head. “How can you say that to me when you look like that, hmm? Criminally indecent is what you are.”
A laugh creeps up Max’s throat. “No, mate - criminally indecent are those leggings of yours. There’s children here, after all.”
“Lando doesn’t count.” Charles says, stretching his arms overhead and accentuating the sensous curve of his spine. “And I’m glad you like them so much. I’ll have to remember that for later.”
Max groans low and hungry in the back of his throat. “Do your worst, Leclerc.”
Charles’ eyes glitter with wicked mischief as he attempts a wink that is more ridiculous than sexy, but somehow, it’s still sexy. “Oh, I intend to, mate,” he says for Max’s ears alone. “Just for you.”
Charles' skates leave the ice again as he jumps and his landing sticks with impeccable timing of his spins. He comes down on a strong, steady ankle, extending his arms with artistic flair and smiling his megawatt smile. That's still something Max finds amusing. While he has the benefit of his helmet and face shield during his matches, Charles deliberately practices his showmanship with smiles and drama to accentuate his performances.
Charles' coach gives him a hearty clap as the Monegasque comes around on the ice, bracing a hand on his hip. Charles' smile has warmed from the exaggerated expression of competition to something much more genuine and satisfied. Even Max feels a pleased smile warm his face as he takes it in. Charles has been practicing so hard lately to prepare for his next competition and he's finally seeing more consistent results.
“You lack consistency.” Charles scolds as Max writhes beneath him. “Doesn’t your coach tell you that, too?”
“Charles… fuck,” Max whines. “Do not bring up my coach when your fingers -” His words die on an undignified whimper as Charles gives an expert turn of his wrist.
There’s nothing remorseful in the maddening tempo of his fingers as they unravel Max from inside out. “It takes consistent practice to nail each element of any routine.” Charles punctuates each word with an expert stroke of his fingers as he murmurs against the pronounced curve of Max’s hipbone. “You can’t just brute force it with aggression or hit with some stick.” He pauses to trail his tongue along the sloped hollow of skin, and Max shudders uncontrollably as another needy whimper crosses his lip. Charles' eyes gleam with sinful adoration as he works his hands faster. “You see, my body is my team,” he continues as Max’s hand threads through his soft curls, “and my passion is my brute force."
"Charles, please... I need-"
"I’m an artist, after all," Charles teases as he hovers his mouth where Max wants him most. "And you can’t rush an artist.”
With a soft smirk, Max stands from his seat and starts down the stadium steps towards the edge of the ice rink. He leaves his bulky hockey gear bag behind, taking only his skates with him. It’s quick work to toe off his sneakers and lace up his skates around his jeans, straightening his team-branded, navy-blue soft-shell jacket as he stands up. At the rink’s edge, he slides off the skate guards, secures the gate behind him and steps out into the ice.
Charles’ coach spots him on approach over Charles’ shoulders and offers a small nod of greeting. Max nods in return, careful to keep his distance to let the post-practice debrief wrap up, and he’s rewarded when, at last, Charles turns around to face him.
In the heat of practice, Charles has long since shed his red jacket. Without it, the skin-tight fit of his black short-sleeved, high-collared bodyshirt is beyond obscene. Especially when paired with the delicious black leggings that leave very little of his physique to the imagination. Charles’ eyes narrow in playful suspicion as his coach melts into the arena’s shadows, leaving them alone on the ice, and he lazily glides over towards Max.
“Don’t tell me that you’re out here to give me pointers.” Charles teases as he circles around Max.
“Why would I tell you what you already know?” Max counters easily as he follows Charles at an easy pace. “Your Axel still needs work.”
“And it will get the work. There’s still time yet before the competition.”
Max nods as a fond smile lights his face. “And, like always, I know that you’ll smash it. That trophy is as good as yours.”
Charles shakes his head in gentle reproach as a laugh bubbles in his throat. “Don’t you dare jinx me like that,” he says as he pivots, skating backwards as he levels an accusing finger at Max. “If I break my ankle next time out, it will be your fault.”
Max nearly rolls his eyes even as he chuckles in return. “You won’t break your ankle, Charles. You’re too good for that.”
The corner of Charles’ mouth curls with flattered amusement before he can stop it, and Max loves the love that shines in Charles’ eyes. His heart skips a beat, and he’s instantly reminded of the first time he asked Charles out, fully prepared for rejection and no regrets, and instead ended up closing down a ramen shop as he and Charles lost all track of time.
Charles’ smile grows as his gaze runs up and down Max’s body with an assessing edge. “So are you, you know.” He effortlessly spins around on his skates, continuing their lazy progress around the rink. “Is everyone ready for the match on Saturday?”
“I think so.” Max answers as he skims along the ice into a shallow curve to match the rink's oval shape. “Last year, this other team was shit, so we’ll see if they’ve put the off-season to good use.”
Charles glances over his shoulder, just enough for Max to see the fond smile warming his face. “I remember that match - when Daniel went down and came up without his two front teeth.”
Max shrugs. “Occupational hazard, I suppose.”
“Well, don’t let that happen to you.” Charles says as he turns on his skates again, suddenly skating forwards to Max. “Your teeth are just too lovely as they are.”
A sharp laugh punches from Max’s chest, wrinkling his eyes. “You think my teeth are lovely...?"
Charles shoots him a mock-annoyed glare. “You know what I meant - that you… that I like your smile just as it is now.” He circles around Max in a lazy parody of his talented step sequences, and Max pivots on his own skates.
He may not have Charles' grace, but he knows how to move his body on skate blades. The fabric of Charles’ bodyshirt stretches tight across his chest, and with his cheeks flush from practice, he paints such a gorgeous sight. Max can't stop from reaching out to reel him in close, but Charles digs a toe in the ice and grinds to a halt.
Max pouts for the sheer show of it, and Charles’ smile takes a wicked edge as he pivots in place. Stretching his arms overhead, the lean lines of his torso elongate - and he’s just as gorgeous from behind as the fitted fabric stretches over the globes of his ass and his strong legs. Hungry heat sparks in Max’s blood, threatening to settle between his legs as he continues to run his gaze over Charles’ body.
“Though, if anyone,” Charles continues as he glides a skate forward, purposefully accentuating the sway of his hips, “at any time, hands me an envelope with your teeth in it… I’ll probably just tell them to throw it away.”
“Wow,” Max shakes his head with a breathy scoff as he skates forward to follow after Charles. “And here, I thought that you loved me. You mean you wouldn’t turn my teeth into a necklace so you could always keep a part of me with you?”
With an effortless move, Charles turns back around towards him wearing Max’s favorite smile. “A part of you is always with me, mon cher.” He places his right hand over his heart as he skates backwards. “Right here.”
Max picks up his pace and crowds into Charles’ space before he can pull away. His large hands find Charles’ lean waist and the scent of exertion on Charles’ skin nearly drives Max wild. He leans in, drawing a deep breath. “God, you smell good.”
Charles snorts gently. “We both know that you have poor taste in that area.”
“Oh, come on,” Max counters as they continue to move together. “You should be grateful that I like the smell of feet and sweat.”
“Spoken like the oafish hockey fiend you are.”
“You love the oafish hockey fiend that I am.”
Charles’ back collides gently with the rink wall, and Max doesn’t hesitate to leverage his broader frame against the slender man. A purr rumbles in Charles’ chest as their bodies connect from waist to shoulders. Their lips meet and it’s everything Max wants for the rest of his days. Charles’ mouth curls to a smile against his as they linger in the intimate, reassuring contact after a busy, tiring day.
Charles hums with contentment. “I could get used to this, you know. Cool down laps with my boyfriend to warm me up.”
Max growls his approval as he leans in to steal another kiss. “I could get used to that, too. So long as you’re there after each match to do the same.”
“No deal,” Charles gives a short shake of his head. “You have too many teammates, and I much prefer debriefing with you when there aren’t catcalls or Daniel serenading us in the background.”
“Don’t say his name,” Max whispers conspiratorially. “It’s like talking about Beetlejuice - just saying his name can cause him to suddenly appear.”
Charles’ intoxicating laughter rings out as his smile widens and his eyes sparkle. He’s so truly beautiful and Max doesn’t ever want to forget this moment.
“Well, you should have told me that years ago.” Charles chides playfully. “No wonder I can’t get rid of him.”
Max chuckles as he leans in for another tender kiss. “That’s just because he likes you - he knows how happy you make me.”
“And fortunately for your sake, you make me just as happy,” Charles nips his bottom lip. “Or Daniel would round up the rest of your team to come kick your ass.”
Max snorts derisively even as he shakes his head. “I’d certainly deserve it for hurting you like that, so they’d certainly be welcome to try.”
Charles hums with amusement and Max leans in for another kiss. Charles’ mouth is so warm and pliant against his, and their tongues brush together with teasing, searching strokes. Sparks shoot up Max’s spine as Charles’ hands rest against his shoulders and their hips roll together in a slow grind. Max digs his skates into the ice, trying to find better leverage but Charles beats him to it. With a final kiss, Charles pitches his body weight forward and their blades glide away from the wall.
As Max relents their close embrace - hell, their make out session - he glares in mock-hurt. “Well, you certainly know how to make a guy feel unwanted.”
Charles sighs with put upon annoyance. “I’m not having clothed sex with you against the rink wall,” Charles’ cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink as he continues. “I could never skate here again without remembering it….”
“That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”
“Of course you’d say that.” Charles snorts as he guides a skate forward, extending his arms and lengthening his torso in a move that’s designed to tease more than it is an element from one of his routines. “You don’t have to time the rotations of your spins just right or gauge your distance before starting a sequence. And I don’t need the memory of you rutting against me like the animal you are threatening my focus every time I round this corner. Because then I really might just break my ankle and it will be your fault.”
Max shoves a hand in his jacket pocket as a smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like I’m just the worst influence on you.”
“The absolute worst.” Charles confirms without looking back as the distance on the ice increases between them. The tempting sway of his hips grows more deliberate and Max suppresses a groan as Charles moves his feet with expert skill in another slow, lazy step sequence. His voice comes even and smooth despite the exertion of his body. “But what else do you expect when your boyfriend loves you so much, hm?”
Max runs his thumb over the lid of the velvet box in his pocket as his smile grows. “Then, let’s fix that, shall we?” He moves his skates forward with a burst of the famous speed that he’s known for. Approaching Charles, he drops a knee and the cold, melting ice instantly seeps into his jeans but it’s easy to ignore. He digs the toe of his skate into the ice to bring him to a gentle stop as Charles spins back around just in time for Max to pull out the black velvet box.
The lid snaps open to reveal a stunningly simple and beautiful band, embedded with three curling lines of small diamonds. Charles freezes at the sight of Max on bended knee, eyes going wide and stunned as he stares back.
Max’s heart gallops and lodges in his throat, but he’s never been more certain of anything in his life. “Charles, you mean more to me than you will ever know, but I hope this gives you some idea. Whatever the future holds as you chase your dream, I want to be there for you, for all of it. You deserve the best and I promise that I will do my best-”
“Yes.” Charles interrupts, voice shaking and tight with heartfelt emotion.
Max chuckles breathlessly. “I haven’t even asked you yet…”
“Then, ask me already.” A joyful smile grows on Charles’ face as his eyes glisten. “Ask me, Max.”
Max returns the smile as his heart soars. “Charles… will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, mon amour.” Charles glides towards him, sniffling. “A thousand times, always yes.”
With trembling fingers, Max removes the ring and slides it onto Charles’ finger for a perfect fit. The white gold compliments Charles' skin tone and the rows of pristine diamonds glitter under the skating rink lights as Charles cups Max’s face with both hands, drawing him in for a long, solid kiss. Charles’ tears dampen Max’s cheeks as he wraps his arms around Charles’ waist, hauling him closer and lifting him off his feet. His footwork isn’t as refined as Charles', but the movement sets them on a gentle spin as they twirl around the ice, lost in each other’s embrace.
And if Charles ends up with a distracting memory against the wall of this ice skating rink after all… well, Max can’t be held responsible for how much he loves his fiance.