Chapter Text
“—ow, fuck, can you please not do that?” he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown as the nurse just looks at him and sighs.
She held the syringe down and taped it to his arm so that the weird yellow liquid could directly go into his bloodstream.
What was that? Was he being drugged, or poisoned?
Was that pee?
“I wanna pee” he blurts out, not knowing what he’s saying. Maybe he meant to ask what the weird liquid was.
“The Anastasia will wear off in some time. Till then, it’s best to keep him hydrated and, well, don’t ask him so many questions.”
He turned around to look at the source of the voice to find a tall man with silky black hair and unframed glasses looking down at him, one of his hands coming closer and closer towards him to brush the hair out of his face. He wore a white coat.
He was quite nice, actually. His hand was petting him so sweetly, like he was some kind of dog.
Then he started poking at his forehead.
“Ow, please, don-ngh” he whimpered and his head felt heavy again.
“I would recommend bed rest for another day, until the concussion heals” hot doctor said. “We will talk about discharging him later. Let him stay here for now.”
Well, he certainly wasn’t talking to him. He tried to lift his neck to see what was going on better but was hit with a bolt of lightning straight into his head.
“Charles, Charles, don’t move” a familiar voice above him said as he gently pushed his shoulders down so he was lying on the cot again.
“Andrea?” he croaked out, throat dry as parchment. “Andreaaaaaaa.”
He was Andrea. And even Lucas was there.
And there was Ale, Louis and Richard by the end of the bed.
“Why’m I heer?” he groaned and Andrea just sighed.
“You gave me a bloody heart attack you know that? How could you do this to us- it’s a miracle that we even found you.”
Charles couldn’t even register the first few words he said, and he just kept going on—
“You know maman cried? You worried her so much too. God, Charles we thought- we thought—”
“That’s enough sir, you’re overwhelming him” hot doctor stepped in. “Let him breathe.”
And suddenly Charles felt like he couldn’t breathe. The edges of his vision were darkening and he was falling, hurtling down again.
✦
When he woke up again, it was as if someone was drilling his head from inside. Everything hurt, his arm hurt and he realized with clear clarity that he was in a hospital room, the stale white light above him piercing his eyes.
He remembered what happened to him yesterday night too.
He remembered walking out of his hotel room without informing security or any of his friends to go to the nearest bar or club because he was bored and listless and Ferrari didn’t let him fly home that day and he was feeling too depressed and in his own head.
He needed the air, needed to be anonymous with people and needed some alcohol in his body.
He could even get lucky and pick a beautiful girl up, spend the night with her and deal with the consequences later.
The first half of his plan went pretty well. He mingled well with the locals, and not many people suspected who he was in the dim lights of the club. He wasn’t as popular here as he is in Italy or Monaco.
Even the ones who did didn’t care push past an autograph and a few discreet pictures- which he prays didn’t reach social media.
He was a few glasses down and felt loose and relieved when suddenly he was grabbed by someone from behind and directed away from the dance floor.
He remembers fighting, scratching the man, and kicking his face off in order to save himself. One man became two and then there were more than five men crowding him, trying to drag him off the club.
Great, he remembers thinking, I’m about to be kidnapped and sold off.
He bit the guy who was holding him particularly hard, and then was smacked in the head, which ow, and the next thing he remembers is lying on the hospital bed.
Right. That’s what happened.
He looks around to find Joris sitting on the sofa, phone in hand as he hums the song playing in his phone off-key.
Charles wants to call out to him, but his throat was so dry it could even be bleeding right now. He makes a pathetic noise that catches his friend’s attention.
“God, you’re awake” he exclaims. “I was starting to get worried for a bit.”
He reaches over and stands right next to him.
“Wa-ter” he manages to squeak, and fortunately Joris gets the hint and carefully sits him up before pouring a glass of water for him.
The first gulp hurts his throat but relief washes over him as he chugs the whole thing down. He empties the large glass, choking on the last sip.
“Easy, you don’t want another stroke, espèce d'idiot, slow now” he reassured as he ran his palm over Charles’ spine.
“How long was I out for?” he asked as he found his voice again.
“A couple hours. But it’s all good now, don’t worry. You’ll be discharged tomorrow and we’ll fly back on Thursday.”
Thursday? That’s three days later than what was initially planned. He cannot waste three whole days.
“Joris, I feel fine” he lied. “Can we just leave the hospital today and go home tomorrow? I really don’t want to stay here.”
Joris just sighed and looked at his left arm. It was bruised entirely, a large cut spanning around 4 centimeters marking along his forearm. It was probably done by a pocket knife from one of those people.
Speaking of which,
“How did you guys find me?”
“Well, we—”
“We tracked your phone” a foreign voice enters. Charles vaguely remembers him as Michael, his security manager.
Michael was always the grumpiest most annoyingly obnoxious man Charles had the pleasure of working with. He would always assume what’s best for Charles without asking him.
“We put an actively monitoring chip and it tracked your location. So much screaming around you triggered the emergency alarm response and it gave us access to the mic in your phone and I sent my team along with the police as fast as we could” he sighed. “God, you’re irresponsible sometimes.”
Charles didn’t like that at all. They were tracking the audio inputs of his phone. There could be sensitive information recorded in it, which could very well end his career if it got out.
He didn’t really trust Michael.
But he had to admit that the stupid tracker saved his life yesterday.
“Do you know who those guys are? Are they under custody?”
Joris sighed.
“We couldn’t get them. They escaped the moment police barged in, but we’re still looking.”
Fuck his head hurt. He didn’t want to think of the possibilities of them attacking him again now that they’re on the loose.
He knew it was childish, but he was scared.
The simple thought of what they could’ve done to him if he wasn’t rescued by the police yesterday sent shivers through his body.
Michael must’ve sensed his nervousness as he gave him a tight smile.
“Don’t worry. We’ve put the hospital under lockdown” he told gently. “You’ll fly out soon, and you can forget this ever happened. And for what it’s worth, it’s not personal. These people try and get anyone famous to traffic them later.”
Charles’ stomach churned.
Suddenly the cold hospital AC didn’t do anything to hide the sheen layer of sweat on his body.
“Oh god, I’m so stupid” Joris exclaims. “I’m going to call the doctor, you- you lay down. Michael, come with me.”
And then they leave him alone, and foolishly, he’s a little afraid. He looks out of the window, nervous if someone will break through.
The doctor, the one with unframed glasses, Diego, does a few check ups before prescribing an electrolyte drink with glucose and leaving him alone with his friends.
He speaks to maman through the phone and does his best to convince her that it was just a mild accident and he’s completely alright, but that doesn’t stop her from being worried. He wants to slap Andrea for even telling her.
His body didn’t hurt as much as before, and his felt bearable too. He really needed to get out here.
“I really am okay, you’re all making it a big deal” he complained, to which his friends gave an unimpressed stare.
Some guys from the garage were also present.
“Can I go out for a bit at least, get some fresh air?”
Andrea glared at him. “Like fuck we’re gonna let your ass go out again.”
Charles groaned.
Five minutes turned into ten, then thirty, and he was sitting idle for almost two hours. He wanted to claw out of his mind.
All the guys who were with him left one by one, retreating to their hotels as night came by. A few guys from security and Andrea were the only ones there.
He was about to complain to Andrea again as the door barged open.
Michael strutted in, iPad in hand as a woman followed him from behind. And with them followed a man dressed in all black, tight black shirt and loose cargos with a belt strapped to his waist.
A barrel and two guns were attached to the belt, one on either side of his waist.
Charles gulped. He had wide shoulders. His arms were veined and also large.
He wondered what it would be like to sleep on his chest. He really did.
“-arles? Charles!” Michael called out, and Charles turned his gaze away.
“Where is your head at? Anyway, this is Cindy, HR head from our agency.”
He gave a small smile to Cindy which she did not return. She was probably a woman in her forties, jet black hair streaked with grey.
“Mr. Leclerc, the agency has strongly recommended the need for twenty-four-hour security for you, and we made sure all requirements were met” she spoke smoothly.
Charles was just confused.
“If we could have a private moment with Charles, please?” Michael asked Andrea.
His friend looked sceptical at first, but Charles assured him that it will be fine.
“To pick up where we left off” Cindy continued once Andrea left the room after giving the man a weird look. “We have to take all measures to ensure you’re safe and incidents like yesterday won’t happen again. So, we’ve appointed security for you at all times in a day.”
What?
“I’m not sure that’s necessary, I mean- it’s just for two days when I’m in Spain, non? There’s no need for that in Monaco—”
“Charles” Michael interrupted. “It appears that you haven’t yet understood the gravity of what could’ve happened to you yesterday. Now the whole internet knows, and they think you’re vulnerable.”
Fuck, he didn’t realize that the news had spread out. Ferrari is going to kill him.”
“Combined with the…outrage you’ve received from the internet regarding your performance, it’s a dangerous situation we’re talking about here, Mr. Leclerc.”
Charles ignores Cindy’s words and properly looks at the foreign man for the first time. He knew for certain that he had blonde hair, but it looked almost a light brown under the lights. He had strong features, thick eyebrows, full lips and piercing blue eyes that could kill anyone.
By the way he was looking at Charles right now, he was already a dead man.
One might say that the strange man would be insanely attractive to a certain group of individuals. Beauty is subjective, after all.
The bad news was that Charles was very well within that group. He could be named as the leader too.
The gaze, with those thick shoulders and arms, and the big nose.
“—with you always. Charles. Did your head stop working after that or what?” Michael questioned, his tone slightly irritated.
“I- yeah. Sorry, what was that?”
“I’m saying, you need personal security with you at all times. Especially for the next three months or so.”
Well, no.
“I’m sorry, but that won’t be necessary. Monaco is a law-protected country, nobody can touch me there” he laughs. The others don’t find it funny.
“We’re afraid you don’t have a say in this, Mr. Leclerc” Cindy deadpans.
“But- wait, what do you mean? Why don’t I have a say in this? It’s my safety—”
“Charles” Michael interrupts again. “Your manager pays us a fuckton to keep you safe and not let any harm come your way. And we’ve failed. So we have to take extra measures. And you are cooperating, end of conversation.”
Charles pouts.
“So, we’ve made sure to appoint the best of us for you” Cindy continues. “Meet Max. Max Verstappen. He’s served as a personal bodyguard to many high-profile clienteles and even has done time in the Afghanistan war. I’m pretty sure we cannot get a better match for you than Max here.”
Max, huh.
It felt good to put a name to the face.
He looked at Max and gave a tight smile, which wasn’t returned. Again.
Does he look like shit? Two days in the hospital might’ve messed him up, he didn’t want Max to look at him in this state!
“Get acquainted with him, he’s going to be with you at all times now.”
“Wait” Charles got up slightly. “At all times? What about—”
“Not all times” Cindy reassured as Charles sighed in relief. “Well, he cannot accompany you to the toilet if that’s what you’re wondering—”
“Oh my god. He’s going to be with me at all times, isn’t he? Tell me when I agreed to this, Michael.”
He looked over at Max with utter horror, only to find the man curling the corner of his lips into a smirk. One that would be missed by anyone else in the room.
Oh, Charles was fucked.
“Michael- please. I’m gonna call Nicholas, and- and we’ll go back to Monaco and finish this conversation.”
“The conversation is over, Mr. Leclerc” Cindy snarked, irritated. “Max here will stay with you at all times. He is our best, and here’s his portfolio for you to refer—” she said as she passed a file towards him.
“This is our jobs, so it would be appreciated if you let us do it.”
Charles didn’t want any of this. He’s not going to survive being with a hot man constantly next to him at all times.
His thoughts are led astray as a loud ringtone erupts from Michael’s cellphone.
“Oh- right, okay, one moment” Michael babbles clumsily as he rushes out of the room. Cindy didn’t take long before taking her cue and following him out, which left Charles alone in the room with—
Right.
“Um. Hello” he stuttered. Max blinked. “Nice to meet you- uh, Max.”
Max gave him a small smile before leaning off the wall.
“Nice to meet you too Mr. Leclerc.”
God, that accent, had to be German. Or maybe Dutch, depending on the lisp?
He pronounced Charles’ name as Lec-lurc which would’ve pissed him off on a regular day but Max’s lisp made it sound enticing.
He wanted Max to whisper it right into his ear.
No- what? The man could be a hundred percent straight, and even married. With kids. Charles needed to get a grip on himself.
“So..uh- are you married? You have like” he gulps. “Family at home?”
Max smiles at him. Properly smiles at him. His eyes crinkle and his cheeks fold and it is very cute, Charles thinks. Then unthinks.
“No” he says, soft almost. “All details about me are in the file.”
Charles wasn’t interested in a file. He wanted real answers.
“Girlfriend?” he asked, cautiously optimistic. Max shook his head.
“I don’t see how that aligns with the concerns of your safety, Mr. Leclerc.”
Charles froze like a deer in headlights. He didn’t expect that.
“I- well, I was just asking to make sure I wasn’t, y’know…like, holding you back from your fam- or your girlf- you. Yeah.”
He wanted to kill himself.
Max chuckled, like actually chuckled, even though it sounded a little amused and mocking and not like one of those genuine ones, Charles was surprised. He didn’t think Max was capable of such a thing.
“I promise, you’re not holding me back from anything” he explains. “I’m just doing my job.”
Charles smiles up at him. Max just seems like a nice person to him. He can trust Max.
But right now everything was too much, the lights too bright, the sheets too rough and Max’s presence overwhelming. Charles didn’t realize how flustered he was until he could feel the droplets of sweat on his forehead sliding down his eyebrows.
He also smelled like sweat and alcohol rub from the injection he got a while back and just not pleasant. He cannot be stuck in the same room as Max like this.
“Um” he hesitated. “I need to—” he awkwardly pointed towards the bathroom.
Luckily Max seemed to understand his cue and nodded at him.
“Okay, I’ll be right outside Mr. Leclerc, just a call away, don’t hesitate to reach out” he said sternly, which- nevermind.
“You can call me Charles” he whispered, almost. “I mean, if we’re gonna be stuck together all the time- might as well be friends, you know.”
He definitely did not want to be friends. No offence to Max, he seemed like a nice guy, but Charles was more interested to see how those veiny thick hands would look wrapped around his neck.
Max grinned. “Bye, Mr. Leclerc.”
He took the AC remote by the coffee table diagonal to Charles and turned the AC up. Like he knew what Charles wanted exactly.
He disappeared without saying another word, locking the door shut. Charles sighed and slouched, lying back.
“Fuck me” he whispered.
✦
He did take that shower, lathered himself in vanilla body cream and finally washed his hair after three days. He still had eyebags and his stubble was a little overgrown so he took thirty extra minutes to put on some moisturizer and shave clean.
Andrea went back to his hotel room after that little incident and now he was bored and alone.
He also read Max’s file.
He was sixteen days older than Charles. They were practically the same age. Charles assumed he was years older.
He was Dutch, which was quite expected, his mother was from Belgium, he had a little sister, spoke four languages, served in Afghanistan for six months, all the usual stuff.
His resume was interesting, he served as a personal bodyguard for many big names, some miles bigger than Charles. He didn’t understand how he worked for this shit agency, or how they managed to land him for Charles specifically.
It was surely going to dent his wallet. At least the man was gorgeous.
Under interests and hobbies, they put fucking fencing and ju-jitsu. That’s all.
His father had also served in the army, a fifth gen colonel, and it was written that Max had a “tense but disciplined” relationship with him. Charles could imagine what it meant.
He had a degree in geography of all subjects. His hair was dirty blonde. He had blue eyes.
They really didn’t mention the size of his dick.
God, he needed a grip of himself.
Charles was around sixteen when he found out he liked men too, when he saw Hugh Jackman in the Wolverine movie wake up from the bed stark naked, cock out and all.
He had a suspicion earlier, when he felt extra impressed at his more impressed classmates.
He took a quiz as expected, got 61% gay and cried himself to sleep.
He told his dad a year later that he might be curious about boys but he wouldn’t do anything to displease him. His dad chuckled and ruffled his hair.
He first kissed a guy after winning his F2 championship. He was older, Italian and tatted, of course Charles had taken a special interest in him.
They made out for a while but he chickened out once they were in the bedroom. Sexy Italian man only got a sloppy handjob that night.
Since then, he’d…experimented. He tried to finger himself, had others do it for him. Most of his bar encounters had him on his knees for other big men. He figured out he loved that, being on his knees, offering submission to others, trusting them enough to shut his mind off.
But that was it. He’d fucked some guys, couldn’t defer the feeling from fucking women, but never really bottomed himself.
It should be special, he’d tell himself. Maybe that was a better method than admitting he was just scared and didn’t trust anyone enough to simply let go.
He also didn’t find particular pleasure when he fingered himself really. It felt like an uncomfortable intrusion, awkward and clumsy.
But he always fantasized about being with other men. How they’d take care of him, whisper soft praises in his ear as they rocked into him gently, blue eyes concentrated on him, strong arms wrapped around his waist—
Oh why the fuck was he thinking about Max?
“Mr. Leclerc?” a female voice knocked on the door, startling him.
It was Emma, the sweet nurse who delivers him food all the time.
He peeked so he could get a closer look on what his dinner was this time. It was steamed Brussel sprouts with pomegranates and berry yoghurt.
“Ugh. I don’t like this” he whined like a kid.
“It’s good for your head boy” the elderly nurse remarked with a warm smile. “Should I also arrange a tray for the nice man outside?”
Nice- what?
Max had been here all the time? What the fuck?
Either he was out for a while and had come back when dinner time was up to make sure Charles wasn’t- poisoned or anything, although he might just be judging by the ugly purple color of the sprouts. Or he was there all the time.
He was standing by the door throughout the time Charles took to shower and relax. What a psychopath.
He wondered if he should ask Emma to torture him with sprouts too.
“That’ll be one more, Emma. Thank you so much” he smiled at her. “Could you please tell him to come inside?”
“Of course, sweet boy” she smiled back again. He liked her so much. Why couldn’t she be his bodyguard? She’d kill all attackers with her kind smile and Brussel sprouts.
She left the door open and went out. Max entered not a moment later.
“You wanted me” he said curtly. “You need anything?”
Charles couldn’t believe him.
“You were outside the whole time?”
Max raised an eyebrow.
“I mean to ask” Charles said a little more firmly, confident(he’s lying). “You were right outside the door. Why didn’t you come in? Or- or why were there like, the whole time? Didn’t you get tired, bored—”
“Mr. Leclerc” Max’s steel voice cut in. “I don’t think you understand the concept of a personal bodyguard.”
What- How are he?
“I think that’s quite rude, Veritaser—” he looked at the files. “Verstappen. Verstappen? Verstappen. Huh, that’s a nice name, anyway- you’re supposed to be with me when I’m with the paps and the media, or in public- you know.”
Max chucked. Like, actually this time.
It was a pretty sound.
“No, I don’t know Mr. Leclerc. My job is to keep you safe all the time” he said. “That includes when you’re in the paddock, when you visit your favorite café and when you’re in your Monaco mansion. I should be there with you.”
Charles blinked.
“I- okay, so Michael’s not here right now, so we can cut the act—”
“Do you want me to feed you?”
Charles’ mouth fell open as he looked at his very ugly meal. And then back at Max.
“Since your hand is injured.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “I eat with my right hand. And you have to eat this too. Emma’s bringing a special plate for you.”
Max looked at the food and grimaced. “That?”
Charles grinned. “Comes with the job, Mr. Verstappen.”
✦
˚Max had reluctantly finished his food with Charles before putting aside both his and Charles’ trays, bringing wet wipes for him to clean his hands on and offering to take him to the bathroom.
By the time Charles was out, Max had extended his cot further and arranged the pillows. He even put two new water bottles by the bedside table as the old one was nearly finished.
“Listen, I may not know a personal bodyguard’s full duties, but this is not one of them. I can handle it, Max.”
Max smiled at him, eyes crinkling. “It’s nothing. I like doing it for you.”
Oh. That was weirdly intimate.
“Are you flirting with me, Max?” his sleep deprived and drug induced brain asked out loud. Max snorted, puffing up a pillow.
“Do you want me to?” he asked, looking at Charles firmly this time. Charles’ knees felt weak. They felt like jelly.
Surely he couldn’t- he wouldn’t- he wasn’t. He mightn’t either.
“Ha ha- you- you’re funny, that’s what you are” he stuttered like an idiot to which Max snorted again.
“Sure.”
Fuck you mean sure?
“I’m going to bed” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Max laughed at him again before taking his blazer and belt off in one go. He carefully hung them on the stand before he started to untie his shoes.
“What are you doing?” Charles asked cautiously.
“Getting ready for bed, I can’t sleep with a gun pressing into my stomach, Mr. Leclerc.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “I meant where are you going to sleep? Here?” he asked, delirious.
Max shrugged. “I mean I can’t sleep outside on the metal chairs. They’re cold and uncomfortable. If you want me to—”
“No no, that’s fine, um” Charles mumbled. Was he going to sleep right next to him? In the same bed? With space barely enough for Charles to feel very comfortable?
He thinks if Max will wrap around him from behind while falling asleep with his lips on Charles’ earlobe.
Fuck, that position gave him so many ideas. He could grind against him—
“Mr. Leclerc, you feeling unwell? You look uh, red.”
Charles bolts up immediately, clearing his throat. He cannot believe he just did that. He will have to go and bury himself.
But before that he wanted to know how Max would feel pressed behind him. All the vanilla body wash couldn’t go to waste.
“Um” he mumbled as he alternated between looking at the bed and Max. Max’s eyebrow shot up, a slow smirk playing on his lips.
“Oh” he drawled. “Bed’s not big enough for…two?”
Fuck him. He was doing this on purpose.
“I- uh, um, surely we can—”
“Would you please relax, Mr. Leclerc” Max laughed mockingly. Charles would usually throw something at him, but his traitorous mind preened at the soft humiliation.
“I can take the couch. You get your beauty rest.”
Charles was split between relieved and anguished. What is this was the last chance to make it sweet with Max?
He looked at the weirdly built couch with metal handles.
“That cannot be comfortable.”
Max shrugged again. “Eh. I’ve had worse. May I use your restroom?”
Charles nodded. This was so awkward. He wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
He made himself comfortable on his flat cot by stuffing extra pillows around his head and shoulders. He threw a single pillow and sheets towards Max’s direction.
“I’d probably snore, so…” he trailed off when he saw Max’s smile from where he was sleeping.
The lights were turned off before he even asked Max to do that, and the AC was turned down to a chill setting.
So this was it then?”
“Um” Charles stammered again. “Good night?”
No response.
He was such an idiot. Did he have to go to that fucking bar? If he was feeling low, he could’ve called someone- his mom, or some professional and vented about it. He could’ve done some exercise, some time on the treadmill or- or—
“Night, Mr. Leclerc.”
✦
The guys who tried to attack him were all masked. They wore black hoodies with caps and covered their mouths so only their eyes were visible. Not all of them were local.
One of them had an eye tattoo of some fire thing. One of them had an eyebrow scar and green eyes and looked undoubtedly American. One of them was female.
He couldn’t look at the strong man who was holding him down from behind much, except for hunting blue eyes. The ones that could literally pierce into him.
It wasn’t like Max’s, they made him feel all seen and flustered. The masked man’s searing gaze before he grabbed Charles by the hair, threw a harsh hand across his face and banged it straight onto the—
“No!” he sat up, scrambling around the empty bed to find something to protect himself from. Cold sweat broke on the back of his neck and he woke Max up by his heavy panting.
“Wha’s wrong?” he slurred as he immediately got up, scanning the surroundings. Charles’ brain was firing at top speed, unable to separate the nightmare from reality.
“I- they- he was here- right here, he was gonna—” he broke off, shivering from the exposed cold.
Max looked at him understandingly before coming towards him and gently running a hand across his back. The soothing sensation did calm his brain a little, but he was still shaking.
The memories were too realistic. His head hurt like fuck and he wanted to cry.
Why was he like this?
“Do you want to talk about it?” Max asked gently again, bending down so his face was level with Charles’.
Flashes of the man’s raging eyes before his head was slammed against the hard metal made him shudder again and a spike of pain shot through his head as he groaned pitifully.
“Hey, hey, Charles, it’s alright” Max cooed softly as he took Charles’ hand in his own. “I’m here, they can’t get you.”
That did make him feel a little better. But he was still scared.
He also realized it was the first time Max addressed him by his first name. The usual soft syllables sounded harsh and almost…sexy? In his accent.
“Oh, uh, sorry if I’m saying it wrong, I didn’t mean to—”
Wait, did he just say that out loud?
Fuck his life.
He gripped Max’s hand tighter.
“Can you…” he hesitated. “Can you please stay?”
Max raised an eyebrow. “I’m not leaving.”
“No, I meant stay here” he motioned the empty spot next to him on the bed. “I’m scared.”
It felt like shit admitting it, but he really wanted Max to stay right there. He could wallow in embarrassment and self-pity later.
Max hesitated for a moment before nodding and settling down next to him.
“I’m right here, Charles” he softly whispered before tucking Charles in. It had been so long since someone had done that to him, it was nice being taken care of.
He whimpered as he settled back in again, trying to fall asleep. He made sure Max never left him, he was right there next to him, holding his hand.
“Good night” he heard Max whisper, his another hand petting his hair gently. It didn’t take much for him to fall asleep like that.
✦
He woke up the uncomfortable feel of his calves cramping and the sweat gathering around his neck. Someone must’ve turned the AC off during the night.
His skin felt sticky and his hands were heavy and clammed together with- oh.
Max.
He cracked his eyes open with great effort to see Max looming over him, kind of life an angel with the lights falling from behind. He was in the same position he was when Charles fell asleep, which would mean- oh fuck no.
“Thought you’d never wake up” he smiled, easy as ever. “Good morning.”
From where does he get the plain audacity from?
He releases his hands from Max’s immediately and sits up straight, wiping the drool from his cheek. Max was so close next to him.
“You were like that- all night?” he slurs out as he releases Max’s hand. He immediately feels blood circulating back to his own hand.
Max winces a little as he shakes his hand a few times before giving Charles a small smile. He was really annoying.
“You asked me to stay, I will do anything you ask me to” and boy was Charles willing to test that.
“That doesn’t mean you’ll stay there frozen the whole time!” he raged. “You could’ve gotten out of my grip gently and then got some fucking sleep, Max are you stupid?”
Max just smiled again. “You asked me to stay.”
And how was Charles supposed to stay fucking normal after that? After Max ruined his sleep, his back and his hand trying to make Charles feel comfortable?
“And you were looking very…” he trailed off. “Peaceful. Like you were having sweet dreams. It was not so bad, really.”
God, this man was too sweet. He really spent the whole night staring at Charles sleeping. It would’ve been creepy if it were anybody else but it’s Max.
He was going to say something incredibly sappy to someone he met twelve hours ago until Joris knocked on the door to inform them about leaving in two hours.
Max excused himself and exited the room, which left Charles alone with his thoughts.
Breakfast was a quiet matter, and so was flying home to Monaco again. His friends kept him company, he had to attend twelve meeting with Ferrari just for them to gloat about how much better Lewis was than him. In a car built completely against him.
Worst off all Max maintained his blissful distance from him, staying just around the orbit of his surroundings to not go noticed. He noticed Max being extra protective when they were going up to the boarding pass, a hand on his waist as a fan came closer for a picture.
He could easily span Charles’ waist with both his hands. That had no business being as hot as it is.
He needed to stop thinking with his dick.
Max wasn’t even in the vicinity of Charles in the private jet. How could he do that to him? After all they’ve been through—
“Oy! Charles!” Andrea’s annoying voice penetrated his trail of thoughts. “Encore en train de rêvasser?” [Daydreaming again?]
“No” Charles grunted. It was far from the truth.
“I bet it is about that bodyguard, non?” he teased. Charles dismissed him again.
“Arrête de faire le connard!” [Stop being a dick!]
“Come on Charlie” Richard interrupted. “He looks weird, like that thing from ice age—”
“Diego?” Joris chimed on.
“Oh putain, non. The sloth- what was it? Manny?”
“Sid?” Charles asked, exasperated. “Putain de merde, he does not look like Sid the sloth, shut up!”
“Alright, whatever.”
Charles sighed as he slumped back into the seat. This has been a weird, weird week.
✦
“Remember that you cannot even think of proposing anything below 2.3%, they can be persuasive—”
“Tell that guy- Matteo? That his clause will be up this August and he will have to pay 5% up the original amount if he doesn’t fulfil the end of his deal and- Charles? Charles!”
Charles whined as he faced Emma and Kate again, both of them going on about his supposed sponsor lunch. He didn’t even want to attend this thing since he’d just come back from Spain. Fuck Ferrari for making him do all the heavy work.
His stylist sprayed some of that useless L’oreal hair spray on him as the other lady straightened his collar. A few spritz of some random perfume was sprayed on him before he was deemed ready.
“Remember Charles, 2.3%! anything above that is—”
“Outrageous, got it” he sighed. He was supposed to meet up with the Peroni guys and discuss about the upcoming PR technique they could master that didn’t involve fanfiction.
He was dressed in a quarter zip and silk trousers complementing his skin tone. He looked nice. Like a classy old man.
Yeah no.
“I swear to God, if it goes beyond 2.3% we—”
“Emma, I think I got it” Charles nearly yelled. “2.3%. 2.3% Two point three percent. There.”
Emma sighed in resignation as she left the room mumbling about how they don’t pay her enough.
He had just reached Monaco and just got settled into his room and people were dying to eat him up already. He didn’t even get to unpack!
The bruise on his forehead was subtly covered by his hair and his eyebags were concealed with cream Dior. He was hungry and felt weird and Max had just moved into his apartment.
He was going to stay in the guest room. He had to stay with Max all the time. Like they were fucking lovers.
Wake up with him, eat with him, sleep with him—
He walked out to find the culprit admiring one of the weird paintings he brought at an auction. It was almost comical how Max just fit right in his space.
“What’re you looking at?”
Max turned around as he cleared his throat, his eyes roaming over Charles’ body covered in fancy clothes.
“Nothing” he whispered. “What are you dressed all cute for?”
Charles ignored how his gut supposedly contracted within itself. This was not the butterflies in the stomach people described it to be. It was like a whole leech sucked him dry.
What if Max—
“I’m going to some sponsor lunch with Peroni” he replied trying to keep his voice calm.
Max nodded at that. “Great. Give me five minutes and I’ll get ready.”
“Wait you don’t have to—” he stopped himself. “Right. You’re gonna be with me all the time. Okay.”
Max nodded again, appreciative almost, a smile playing on his lips. This man was so complicated.
They were in the car shortly after, Max insisting they both sit in the backside even though Charles always preferred to sit out in the front. One look into Max’s stern eyes had him obeying.
The ride alone was quiet, awkward almost. Max kept looking out of the window, not even sparing a glance towards Charles.
He couldn’t stop fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
“So” he tried to start a conversation. “Why’d you ignore me on the flight?”
Max turned around, blue eyes filled with mirth and a little fondness. He grinned wide as he shook his head.
“I didn’t expect you to be that needy.”
Sir? Hello?
“I wasn’t being needy, just—” he was going to strangle him. “You were supposed to do your job?”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Whom would I be protecting you in a private jet filled with your best friend?”
Okay. Point.
“But still” Charles argued to which Max chuckled again, a beautiful sound.
“You missed me, Mr. Leclerc?”
Charles glared at him. “I told you to cut it with the Mr. Leclerc bullshit.”
“Not if it gets you all red like that.”
And if Charles choked on dry air at that, he wasn’t the one to blame.
They reached shortly after, a nice private restaurant in Nice. There weren’t paparazzi or fans around but Charles still indulged in the way Max stuck close to him when leading him inside.
The reception booth was filled with too much flowers and plants for Charles’ liking, but he was sat on the plush sofa while the head manager arranged their tables.
Her nametag read Tanya, and she was gorgeous. She was tall and curvy, brown tan skin glittered like gold under the warm lights, black hair with honey blonde highlights and had the confidence of a tiger.
She wasn’t Charles’ ideal type, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he was attracted to her.
He also couldn’t ignore Max’s overpowering presence standing next to him.
“So, Mr. Leclerc” she continued with her southern French accent. “You’re ready to go. Enjoy” she smiled.
“Charles please” he got up smoothly. “I would’ve enjoyed it more if you were there.”
It was a bad shot, but he couldn’t miss her cheeks going rosy for a second. She cleared her throat and twirled a strand of her hair.
Bingo. Easy as ever.
“I need to stay professional, Mr. Leclerc” she said shyly, head down. “But, maybe later.”
Her big doe eyes looking up with thinly veiled excitement was a pretty big indicator of the effect he had, thank you.
Charles smiled at her again as he watched her leave. He was rudely interrupted by someone clearing his throat from behind.
He turned around, annoyed, to watch Max looking smug as ever.
“What?” he raged.
Max barely stifled a snort. “Nothing. Just wanted to remind you why exactly you’re here for again.”
Charles chuckled sarcastically. “Honestly, you’re unbelievable. Are you- que dites-vous, insane? Or are you mad because you cannot pull women at all?” he asked half-joking referring to Max’s empty dating history in his files.
Max smirked as he looked Charles up and down. He fixed his gaze strongly on Charles’ face as he walked closer, eyes narrowing on Charles’ lips.
He was hyper aware of all the hair standing on the back of his neck. He couldn’t help but gulp under Max’s dominant gaze.
“You’re right, I can’t pull women” he whispered right into Charles’ face. “But I can pull boys, I have pulled boys, pretty ones. Soft ones…”
Charles shivered as he brushed a hair out of his face. Max grinned again.
“The ones that go red and flustered and look up to me with big beautiful eyes” he smirked.
Charles mouth fell open. Surely, surely Max wasn’t talking about him.
“You’re as red as your car” he teased. Charles stepped away from him.
“Shut up—”
“Did I get you flustered?”
“Shut up!”
He was a hundred percent going to curl and die.
Max suddenly dropped his smile, his eyes sincere and he leaned in again.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
Fuck no. He was minutes away from popping a fucking boner in a restaurant.
“Uh, no, not at all” he stammered, trying to sound as earnest as possible. Max seemed to buy it.
He gave Charles a once-over and headed towards the glass door.
“Reservation’s waiting” he turned around and subtly winked at him. “Come on, pretty boy.”
Fuck.
He was so fucked.