Chapter Text
Max Verstappen sat at the kitchen table, fingers loosely curled around a cup of coffee that had long since cooled. The house was quiet, save for the occasional soft hum from the baby monitor on the counter. The morning sun filtered through the large windows, casting pale beams across the polished floors, and for a moment, Max let himself bask in the illusion of serenity.
But there was no peace here—not really. Not anymore.
Across the room, Daniel Ricciardo stood at the stove, humming to himself while flipping pancakes, the soft sizzle filling the air. He glanced back, catching Max’s eye with his familiar, boyish grin. “You’re in luck today, mate. I’m making my world-famous pancakes.”
Max forced a smile. “Lucky me.”
It wasn’t Daniel’s fault, Max reminded himself for the hundredth time. Daniel was still… well, Daniel. The same easy-going, charming man he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. And he was an amazing father to Oscar. But the warmth between them had dulled. It wasn’t gone completely, but it faded like embers slowly losing their glow.
Max took a sip of his coffee, the bitterness matching the gnawing ache in his chest. Max had hoped that becoming parents would fix what was broken between them when they'd adopted Oscar over a year ago. He had hoped that holding their child would fill the empty spaces in their marriage, that somehow, the responsibility of raising a family together would bind them the way it used to.
But it hadn’t. If anything, Oscar’s arrival had only made the distance between them more apparent. They were parents now, yes—but partners? Lovers? Max wasn’t sure they were those things anymore. They existed in the same house and went through the motions, but the spark that once ignited everything they did together had burned out.
And no matter how hard Max tried, he couldn’t stop feeling dissatisfied. Couldn’t stop wondering when everything had started to slip through his fingers.
“Do you want some?” Daniel asked, holding up a plate stacked high with pancakes.
Max blinked, drawn from his thoughts. “Huh? Oh… no. I’m not hungry.”
Daniel’s smile faltered, just for a second, before he recovered. “Alright, suit yourself. More for me.”
Max watched him for a moment longer, feeling that familiar stab of guilt twist in his chest. Daniel didn’t deserve his coldness. He was doing his best—had been since Oscar was born. He had late nights and stressful days at work, but he still made time for their son, made time for Max. And yet, Max couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on him, the suffocating feeling that this wasn’t enough. That Daniel wasn’t enough.
Max tore his eyes away, glancing down at the baby monitor on the table. Oscar was still asleep, his tiny breaths a soft rhythm in the background. The thought of his son tugged at Max’s heart. Oscar was perfect—everything Max had ever wanted in a child. And yet, even that wasn’t enough to fix what had gone wrong between him and Daniel.
“Charles should be up soon,” Daniel said, drawing Max’s attention back. He was busy at the counter now, arranging his breakfast with a strange kind of focus. “He’s taking Oscar out this morning, right? To the park?”
Max nodded, trying to shake off the lingering haze in his mind. “Yeah. He’s been great with him. Oscar loves going out with Charles.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Daniel’s lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Oscar light up the way he does when Charles walks in the room.”
That was the truth. Oscar had been attached to Charles since the young man arrived on their doorstep. Max hadn’t thought much of it at first—Charles was good with children, that much was obvious. He had a natural ease about him, a kind of warmth that drew people in, especially kids. But now… Max couldn’t help but notice how that same ease drew him in too.
It had started innocently enough. Charles Leclerc, the new au pair they’d hired after weeks of searching for someone trustworthy. Young, Monegasque, with a sweet smile and a face too pretty for his good. He was supposed to be there for Oscar, to help with the day-to-day chaos of their lives, to give them both a bit of a break.
But somewhere along the way, Max found himself noticing more than just Charles’ talent with children.
It had been gradual—small things at first. The way Charles laughed easily, the way he made Oscar giggle louder than Max had ever managed to. The way he looked after their son like he was the most precious thing in the world. But then there were the other things. The way Charles would brush past him in the hallway, or flash him that dimpled smile that made something stir low in Max’s gut.
He knew it was wrong— Jesus, he’s twenty years younger than you —but he couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in. Couldn't stop the rush of heat that pooled in his stomach when Charles was near.
Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Max glanced up, his heart stuttering as Charles appeared in the doorway. His hair was still damp from his morning shower, dark curls clinging to his forehead. He wore a loose t-shirt and shorts that rode just a little too high on his thighs. He smiled when he saw Max and Daniel, his face lighting up in that effortless way that always caught Max off guard.
“Morning,” Charles said, his accent curling around the word, soft and lilting.
Daniel waved him over with a grin. “Morning, mate. Pancakes?”
Charles chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed a glass of water from the counter. “No, thank you. I’ll just have something small before Oscar wakes up.”
Max forced his gaze to remain neutral, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup. He couldn’t look at Charles too long, couldn’t let his mind wander where it shouldn’t. But it was impossible not to notice the way his shirt clung to his chest or the way his skin glistened from the shower, soft and damp.
“I’ll take Oscar to the park today,” Charles said, glancing over at Max. “Maybe the library afterward if he’s up for it. He’s been enjoying those car books.”
Max swallowed hard, forcing a nod. “That sounds good. Thanks for… you know, everything.”
Charles’ eyes softened, and Max could feel the weight of his gaze, warm and inviting. “Of course! He’s a great kid. It’s a pleasure to take care of him.”
Something tightened in Max’s chest, a strange pull that he couldn’t explain. The way Charles said those words, with such sincerity, made his heart twist in a way that left him breathless. He wasn’t just talking about Oscar. Max could feel it—there was more to this.
Daniel, oblivious as ever, dug into his breakfast with a hum of satisfaction. “Charles, you’re a lifesaver. Oscar’s been so much happier since you started.”
Charles smiled softly, his gaze flickering toward Max again before he took a sip of his water. “I’m glad to hear that. Means I’m good at my job,” he says with a terrible wink.
Max’s pulse quickened, his mind spinning in a dangerous direction. Something about Charles—his kindness, beauty, and soft naivety— pulled Max in and made him crave more. The way he cared for Oscar, the way he fit so seamlessly into their lives, was almost intoxicating. Max could picture it sometimes—a different life, where Charles wasn’t just their au pair, but more. His imagination ran wild late at night when he couldn’t sleep, the guilt gnawing at him, but the fantasy was too strong to push away.
What would it be like if Charles wasn’t just helping with Oscar, but truly part of their family? What if Charles was the one Max came home to every night? What if—
Max snapped himself out of the thought, shame flooding through him. He was married. He had a husband. A child. This wasn’t some twisted fantasy he could indulge in. Charles was twenty years younger than him—practically still a kid himself—and Max was old enough to know better.
But as Charles moved to rinse his glass in the sink, his back turned to them, Max’s gaze lingered, trailing down the length of Charles’ lean form, the sliver of skin revealed as his shirt rode up when he stretched. Max tore his eyes away, heart pounding, heat crawling up his neck.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking this way. But even as he tried to convince himself of that, the pull only grew stronger.
And that scared him more than anything.
Max's internal turmoil was interrupted by a shrill cry from the baby monitor. Oscar was awake, and Max felt a rush of relief wash over him. He could focus on being a dad, on the joy that Oscar brought, even if it meant putting his conflicting emotions aside—if only for a moment.
“I’ll get him,” Max said, standing up abruptly. He needed a distraction, a way to ground himself in the reality of parenthood. As he walked down the hall to Oscar’s room, he heard Daniel and Charles continue their easy conversation behind him.
Pushing open the door, Max entered the nursery, and his heart swelled at the sight of his son, a little bundle of joy with wild blond hair, his face scrunched up in frustration. Max rushed over, scooping Oscar into his arms. “Hey, buddy, good morning!” he cooed, nuzzling his cheek against the baby’s soft head.
Oscar responded with soft babbles, his tiny fingers grasping at Max's shirt. For a moment, everything else faded away—the tension with Daniel, the confusion about Charles, the creeping dissatisfaction. In Oscar's eyes, Max saw love and pure, unfiltered joy.
But as he rocked his son gently, the realization hit him again. This little boy didn’t deserve a father who was torn and unhappy. Oscar deserved stability, and happiness—everything Max had once promised to give him.
+++
Charles Leclerc couldn’t deny that his job wasn't exactly glamorous.
As the new au pair in the Verstappen-Ricciardo household, his responsibilities consisted of caring for baby Oscar and keeping the house running while his employers were at work. He got to spend the days with the little boy, whose bright smile and bubbly energy had quickly won him over. But as much as he loved his work, Charles couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.
That was the funny thing about working as an au pair. On the surface, it seemed simple. Care for the children, keep the house tidy and make sure the family had everything they needed. But underneath the surface, there was a layer of complexity that Charles hadn't expected.
It had taken him a while to figure out the subtle nuances of the Verstappen-Ricciardo marriage. They were both loving and attentive parents, but there was a distance between them that seemed unbreakable. He'd overheard their quiet arguments and had seen the way they drifted apart even when they were in the same room. It was heartbreaking, and Charles couldn't help but feel a rush of sympathy for both of them.
But despite his growing concerns, Charles was happy. Oscar was a joy, and the rest of the household was kind and welcoming. And though he'd only been there for a few weeks, Charles could feel himself fitting into the family. He hadn't expected that—hadn't expected the bond he'd formed with his little charge or the way he'd grown so attached to his employers.
But as he sat in the kitchen with Daniel, the man's easy laughter and a warm smile tugging at his heart, Charles couldn't deny that he'd found something special here.
"You've been a lifesaver," Daniel was saying, his voice warm and familiar. "Seriously, the difference you've made in Oscar's life is incredible."
Charles ducked his head, a rush of warmth flooding through him. "He's a wonderful boy. Probably the most well-behaved child I’ve looked after,”
Daniel smiled, a hint of sadness flickering across his face. "He adores you, you know. It's like he's known you his whole life."
"I adore him too," Charles admitted. "He's a blessing."
The silence that followed was punctuated only by the sound of the clock ticking on the wall. Charles' eyes trailed back to Daniel, his gaze lingering on the man's strong jaw and his broad shoulders. Daniel was handsome, there was no doubt about that. But there was a certain sadness behind his eyes, a distance between him and Max that made Charles' heartache.
"I made you and Max lunches to take to work. It's just some sandwiches and fruit, but I wanted to make sure you guys were eating well."
Daniel's smile widened, his eyes sparkling. "You're too good to us, mate. Thank you."
Before Charles could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Max appeared in the doorway, carrying a drowsy Oscar in his arms. Charles' heart skipped a beat at the sight. Max, with his dishevelled hair and tired eyes, holding his son with such care. There was something undeniably attractive about the image—a softness Charles hadn’t anticipated from the usually intense Max Verstappen.
"He’s a little fussy today," Max said, his gaze flickering briefly toward Daniel before settling on Charles. "Probably just tired."
"Do you think he’s coming down with something?" Charles asked concern etched across his face as he instinctively stood and moved toward them. "He was a little difficult last night too."
Max shrugged, shifting Oscar in his arms. "Maybe. Or teething, I think."
Daniel, who had been watching them both, chimed in. "My nephew was like that when his teeth were coming in—fussy for days. Couldn’t sleep."
Max nodded, the brief moment of connection between him and Daniel dissipating just as quickly as it had come. Charles noticed it, the flicker of something that once was but had faded over time.
"I’ll take him," Charles offered, reaching out for Oscar with gentle hands. "You two need to get going for work or you’ll be late."
Max hesitated, holding Oscar a little tighter for just a moment. Charles saw the reluctance in his eyes, something deeper than just a father not wanting to let go of his child. But after a beat, Max nodded, carefully handing the baby over.
Oscar squirmed for a second before settling into Charles' arms, his tiny fingers gripping the fabric of Charles' shirt as he buried his face against his chest. Charles felt a rush of affection for the little boy and smiled softly.
"We’ll see you later," Daniel said, his voice a little too cheerful as he grabbed his keys from the counter. His eyes lingered on Charles, gratitude evident in his expression, but there was something else there, something cautious.
Charles smiled back, shifting Oscar in his arms as he gently rocked him. "Have a good day," he said quietly, his attention already shifting back to the fussy baby as Max and Daniel disappeared down the hall to get ready for work.
In the foyer, Max slipped on his shoes, glancing at Daniel who stood by the door, adjusting his jacket. Silence stretched between them, the kind that had become all too familiar.
Daniel leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Max’s cheek. "I’ll try not to be home too late tonight," he said, his voice low. "We can have dinner together, put Oscar to bed. Maybe give Charles the night off."
Max hesitated, feeling the weight of the words but forcing a small smile. "Yeah, that sounds good."
As Daniel leaned in for a quick kiss on the lips, Max responded, hoping for a spark, for some reminder of the love that had once been so strong between them. But the kiss felt hollow, and the ache in Max’s chest deepened. There was no fire anymore, no passion. Just the motions of a life they’d built together.
"You have a good day at work," Max said, pulling away gently.
"You too," Daniel replied, his hand lingering on Max’s arm for a moment before he opened the front door and stepped outside.
As the door closed behind him, Max stood in the hallway for a moment, listening to the distant sound of Charles' voice from the kitchen. The young man’s soft coos and gentle murmurs to Oscar echoed through the quiet house.
"You and I are going to have such a fun day, right, Oscar? We won’t let a little teething slow us down!"
Oscar’s soft babble in response made Max’s heart clench. There was something about Charles that brought warmth into the house, something Max had been missing for a long time.
He found himself walking back toward the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to watch Charles with Oscar. The sight of Charles holding his son, cooing and smiling at him, stirred something deep inside Max—something dangerous.
"Everything okay, Mr. Verstappen?" Charles asked suddenly, his soft voice pulling Max from his thoughts.
Max cleared his throat, forcing himself to snap out of it. "Please, call me Max. And yeah, everything’s fine. Oscar seems happier now."
Charles smiled warmly, bouncing Oscar gently in his arms. "Yeah, he just needed a little extra love. And this," he said, pulling a chilled teething toy from the freezer and offering it to Oscar, "will help with the pain."
Oscar grabbed the toy eagerly, his small fingers wrapping around it as he gnawed on it, his discomfort already easing.
Charles' smile grew, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at the baby. "That’s a good boy, Oscar. Look at you being so brave!"
Max couldn’t help but be drawn in by the way Charles interacted with his son. There was a naturalness to it, a tenderness that Max had been missing in his life. He stepped closer, gently wiping away the last traces of tears from Oscar’s cheeks.
"Be a good boy for Charles today," Max murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Oscar’s head.
Charles looked up at him, their eyes meeting briefly, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
"He’s always a good boy," Charles said, his voice barely above a whisper.
And as Max turned and walked away, the weight of what he was feeling settled heavily in his chest. Something was brewing between them, something he couldn’t ignore any longer.
He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.
+++
It was supposed to be a simple family dinner—just him, Daniel, and Oscar. Daniel had promised he'd be home on time, that they’d have the night together after a long stretch of distant, work-filled evenings. But Max had stopped holding his breath for those promises a long time ago.
He glanced at his phone. The last message from Daniel had been hours ago: Running late. Don’t wait up. Max had tried to suppress the disappointment that had gnawed at him when the notification had pinged. It wasn’t new, but tonight, it felt sharper than usual. The promise from that morning was rendered useless.
A soft coo from the living room pulled Max’s attention away. Charles was sitting on the floor with Oscar, playing with some brightly coloured blocks, his laughter light and infectious. Even from the kitchen, Max could hear the joyful sound of his son’s giggles as Charles helped him stack the blocks high before knocking them down with a playful "Oops!" Max couldn't help but smile at the scene. Charles had a way of making everything feel easier and lighter.
Max glanced at them over the rim of his glass of water, trying not to let his gaze linger too long. But it was hard not to notice Charles, especially tonight, with the way his clothes clung to him— He wore those tight shorts again—ones that clung to his thighs in a way Max had noticed but tried not to linger on—and a snug t-shirt that was too small on him but fit like a second skin. It shouldn’t have caught his attention, but it did. Charles didn’t seem to be aware of the effect he had, and that only made it worse.
“You alright?” Charles asked, looking up at Max, his soft Monegasque accent curling around the words. His bright green eyes were warm with concern.
Max blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, fine,” he said quickly, though the slight roughness in his voice betrayed the lie. “Just… a long day.”
Charles smiled, understanding without pushing. “Yeah, I get that. It’s been a long one for Oscar too. His gums are giving him hell.” He turned back to the baby, who was happily trying to topple the tower of blocks Charles had just built. “But he’s been a trooper.”
Max smiled, watching the pair. “You’ve been good with him. Better than good. I don’t think he’s had a day this calm since… well, ever.”
Charles looked up, and for a moment, something passed between them—a flicker of warmth, of connection that made Max’s heart skip a beat. “I just do what I can. It’s easy when he’s such a good kid.”
Max cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “Do you want something to eat? I could make us something.” He realized how domestic it sounded as soon as the words left his mouth, but he didn’t mind. There was a strange comfort in the idea.
Charles hesitated, glancing down at Oscar. “I wouldn’t want to impose…I can fix myself something later,”
Max waved it off. “You’re not imposing. You’ve been working hard all day. Let me do this. It’s the least I can do.”
Charles smiled, and there it was again—that soft, disarming smile that made Max’s pulse quicken. “Alright. Thank you.”
Max stood up, feeling suddenly lighter. As he moved to the kitchen, he realized he was looking forward to spending time with Charles, something that had become a rare feeling in his strained marriage. He began pulling ingredients from the fridge—nothing fancy, just pasta and a few vegetables. As he chopped the vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board gave him a moment to think, to process the strange tension that had settled over the house.
When he looked up, Charles had shifted Oscar onto his lap, the baby resting his head against Charles' chest as if he belonged there. Charles absentmindedly ran a hand through the little boy’s hair, his eyes far away, lost in thought.
“Are you alright?” Max asked, noticing the slight change in Charles' demeanour.
Charles looked up, blinking as if he’d forgotten where he was. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”
“About home?” Max asked gently, sensing there was more behind Charles' soft expression.
Charles nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t even question how Max just seemed to know what he was thinking. “Yeah. I miss it sometimes. Monaco is… it’s small, you know? But it’s home. My family’s there, my friends.” He paused, his gaze drifting to Oscar, who was slowly drifting to sleep in his arms. “But I love it here too. With you guys.”
Max leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. “How long has it been since you’ve been home?”
“Almost eight months now,” Charles said quietly. “Feels like forever. I came straight here from my other job after being hired,”
Max felt a pang of sympathy. He could see the longing in Charles' eyes, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of homesickness. “Do you get to talk to them often?”
Charles nodded. “Yeah, I do. But it’s not the same, you know? There’s something about being there, about hearing the sound of the sea and smelling the food. And just… being around the people you grew up with.” He glanced down at Oscar, his voice softening. “But being here has its rewards. Oscar feels like family now.”
Max felt a warmth spread through him at those words, an unfamiliar sense of gratitude and closeness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’ve made a huge difference in our lives. And I mean it.”
Charles looked up, their eyes meeting across the kitchen. For a moment, the air between them felt thick with something unspoken, something heavy yet undeniable. Max’s chest tightened, his heart pounding in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not about Charles.
But as he stood there, watching the younger man cradle his son with such tenderness, Max couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if things were different. If the warmth he felt when Charles was near wasn’t something he had to push away, but something he could embrace.
The pasta boiled over, hissing as it hit the hot stove, and Max jumped, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Shit, sorry,” he muttered, turning to rescue the pot.
Charles chuckled softly behind him, and Max could hear the smile in his voice. “You alright over there, chef?”
Max laughed, feeling a little ridiculous but grateful for the lightness. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Dinner will be ready soon.”
As he plated the food and set the table, Max couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting between them. Something that neither of them could ignore much longer.
They ate in companionable silence at first, the soft clink of cutlery the only sound in the dimly lit kitchen. Max noticed how easily they fell into this rhythm—how natural it felt to share a meal with Charles, to sit together like this. Oscar had settled in his playpen, happy to nom away on his cool teething toy, leaving them with rare, uninterrupted time.
“You’ve been working with kids for a while, right?” Max asked, breaking the silence.
Charles nodded, taking a sip of water. “Yeah, a few years now. I started when I was still in high school. I always loved being around kids, and it kind of became this… thing I was good at.”
“You are very good at it,” Max said, his voice sincere. “Oscar’s lucky to have you.”
Charles smiled, but there was a touch of something wistful in his expression. “I don’t know if it’s me who’s lucky or him.”
Max tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
Charles set his fork down, leaning back in his chair as he thought about his words. “I guess… I always wanted a family. Maybe not right now, but someday. Being here, with Oscar… it kind of gives me a glimpse of what that could be like.”
Max felt his chest tighten at the admission, the weight of Charles' words settling over him. It was a desire he understood all too well, one he had once shared with Daniel. But now, sitting here with Charles, Max couldn’t help but wonder if the future he’d imagined was starting to shift.
They had more in common than Max had realized—more than just their connection to Oscar. There was something deeper, something that felt almost fated. But as the evening wore on, Max knew that acknowledging it meant crossing a line he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.
Yet, sitting here, with Charles looking at him with those soft, green eyes, Max found himself drawn closer to that edge.
"Well I can tell you with confidence, you'll make an amazing parent someday, Charles," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Charles' smile can light up the whole room. "That's very sweet of you to say," he said, his cheeks blushing slightly. "I appreciate it."
Charles gathers their dishes and brings them to the kitchen before starting to prepare Oscar's bottle. "I can do the dishes if you'd like to feed Oscar," Max offered, standing and reaching for the dishrag.
"No, it's okay. You cooked. The least I can do is clean up," Charles replied, turning to wash the dishes.
"Are you sure?" Max asked, wanting to be helpful.
"Absolutely," Charles said, shooting him a smile over his shoulder. "Go feed your son," he said with a nod.
"Alright," Max replied, heading toward the living room where he could now hear Oscar fussing.
He found his son curled up in his crib, his tiny hands gripping the bars, his bottom lip quivering. "Hey, hey," Max said softly, picking him up and holding him close. "What's wrong, buddy? You hungry?"
He brought Oscar to the kitchen and grabbed his bottle, which Charles had just finished filling. "Here you go," he said, handing it to the baby, who eagerly began sucking on the nipple.
"Thank you," Max said, watching Oscar settle down.
"You're welcome," Charles replied, smiling at him before going to finish cleaning the dishes.
Max couldn't help but take a glance at Charles, taking in how the tiny shorts hug his plump ass and how his shirt rides up, showing off his tanned skin. He bit his lip, forcing himself to look away but he is a weak man so he takes a second, maybe even a third, glance.
After a few minutes, he couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering to the idea of Charles being his, what it would be like to just hold him and kiss him. To slide those sinful shorts off and-
"You okay, Mr. Verstappen?"
Charles' soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Max cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... zoned out."
Charles smiled, and God, he was gorgeous. "I know the feeling. I was thinking about watching a movie, maybe having some ice cream and wine...i-if you'd like to join me," he added quickly, his cheeks blushing slightly.
"I'd love that," Max said, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that told him he shouldn't. He was lonely and tired and aching for something to ease the ache in his heart. So if Charles was willing to give him that, he was going to take it. Maybe he shouldn't have answered so quickly but Charles' offer was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.
+++
Max goes through Oscar's bedtime routine with Charles, bathing, changing and getting the baby ready for bed. Charles gives Oscar some medicine to help soothe his aching gums, and the baby seems a little more content afterward. Max can't help but watch the way Charles interacts with Oscar, the tenderness and love in his eyes making his heart clench.
"Do you think you could put him down while I go take a quick shower and change?" Max asked, realizing that he was still in his suit from work.
"Sure, I'll stay with him until he falls asleep," Charles said, bouncing the baby on his hip. "Say night night, Papa."
"Good night, Oscar," Max said, kissing his son's forehead and trying not to linger.
Max goes to his bedroom and starts the shower, peeling off his suit and stepping under the hot water. He tries not to think about Charles, but it's hard. He can't deny the attraction he feels, the urge to touch and taste and take. He's a weak, weak man, and the image of Charles' toned body and plump ass keeps creeping into his mind.
He steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, feeling a little guilty but mostly horny. He pushes down the urge to wrap his hand around his cock and jerk off, knowing that it would be so easy. But he shouldn't. Not with Charles just down the hall.
So he slips into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and heads back to the living room, where Charles is curled up on the couch, a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. "How's Oscar?" Max asks, his voice low.
"Sleeping soundly," Charles replies, a soft smile on his lips. "The medicine should help him sleep through the night."
"Good," Max says, settling onto the couch. He's suddenly aware of how close they are, how easy it would be to reach out and touch Charles. He can feel the heat radiating off his body, and he can't stop himself from looking at Charles' lips, so soft and full. He clears his throat slightly and reaches forward to fill the wine glass Charles got out for them. "I hate seeing him in pain,"
"I think that's normal for all parents, ah, thank you," Charles takes the glass Max offers him. "We can watch a movie if you want, or talk. Whatever you're comfortable with,"
"Mmm," Max hums, taking a sip of his wine. "What movie do you want to watch?"
"Oh, uh..." Charles blushes slightly, and it's adorable. "Maybe... um, maybe we could watch a romantic comedy or something,"
Max raises an eyebrow. "Really? That's what you're into?"
Charles' face turns a pretty shade of pink, and Max wants to lean forward and kiss him. "It's... I think it's romantic. And sometimes you need a laugh,"
"Hmm, I never took you for the romantic type, Charles,"
Charles shrugs, sipping his wine. "I just... I've always had this fantasy of falling in love, and... well, being swept off my feet. Is that weird?"
"No, no," Max reassures him. "That's not weird at all. It sounds pretty fucking adorable."
Charles blushes again, and Max wants to kiss him even more.
"How about Mamma Mia? It's one of my favourites," Charles glances at Max, almost nervously.
"Mamma Mia, it is," Max says, grabbing the remote and clicking through Netflix until he finds the movie.
They settle back onto the couch, and Max can't help but notice how close they are. Their thighs are touching, and he can feel the heat of Charles' body against his. He tries not to think about the way Charles' skin would feel beneath his fingers, how his lips would taste. He shifts a little, trying to focus on the movie, but he can't seem to get his mind off of Charles.
" Honey, honey, how he thrills me ," Charles sings softly, and Max can't help but smile. " Ah-ha, honey, honey , Come on Max! You have to know the lyrics, it's ABBA," Charles teases, nudging his shoulder playfully.
"Sorry, I'm not a fan," Max admits.
Charles faints a gasp, putting his hand over his chest. "How dare you? ABBA is one of the greatest bands ever. Everyone is an ABBA fan, it's a fact! Oh, did you know the drummer was an F1 driver?"
Max laughs, shaking his head. "I did not know that."
"Well, it's true," Charles insists, grinning. “Fun little fact for you,”
"Maybe I should have listened to more ABBA growing up," Max muses, sipping his wine.
Charles continues to sing along to the songs, moving his shoulders and making Max laugh. The familiar start of Dancing Queen begins, and Charles sits up a little straighter, his eyes shining.
"You have to know this one!" Charles puts his wine glass down before standing up and grabbing Max's hand.
"What are you doing?" Max laughs, letting Charles pull him up.
"Dancing, of course! This is a classic, you have to know the moves."
Charles starts swaying his hips and singing along, and Max can't help but admire his energy and enthusiasm. It's contagious, and Max is moving with him before he knows it.
They dance and sing, and Charles' smile is the brightest Max has ever seen it.
" You are the dancing queen, Young and sweet, only seventeen, Dancing queen,"
Charles grabs his hands and twirls him, and Max can't stop laughing. It feels so freeing, so liberating, and Max wishes it could last forever.
" You can dance, you can jive, Having the time of your life, Ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, Digging the dancing queen ," Max sings, and Charles claps his hands together.
"Yes, that's it!" He laughs, his green eyes sparkling. "You do know the words!"
They keep dancing, their bodies moving closer, their smiles matching. Charles' cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are shining. He looks so happy, and Max wants to kiss him. So he does.
He leans forward and presses their lips together, and Charles freezes. His hands grip Max's arms, and for a moment, Max thinks he's made a mistake. But then Charles kisses him back, and it's like the world around them falls away.
The kiss is slow and tender, and Max's hands cup Charles' face. Charles’ hands rest on his hips, pulling him closer, and Max can feel his heart pounding. He can taste the wine on Charles' tongue and it's even sweeter than he imagined.
He can't stop deepening the kiss, backing Charles up until his legs hit the couch. Charles lets out a soft moan, and Max wants to hear it again and again.
"M-Mr. Verstappen, what are you doing?" Charles breathes, his lips inches from Max's.
"I'm kissing you," Max replies, his voice low and husky.
"We shouldn't," Charles says, but his hands grip Max's waist tighter.
"You're right," Max says, his lips ghosting over Charles'. "But I want to. Don't you want me to?"
Charles can't stop the whimper that escapes his lips as Max's hands roam down his back, squeezing his ass.
Max smirks and captures Charles' lips again, pushing him back onto the couch and crawling on top of him. He can feel the heat of Charles' skin beneath him, and it's intoxicating. He kisses him hungrily, his tongue exploring Charles' mouth.
Charles moans, his hands tangling in Max's hair as Max trails kisses down his neck. "You're so beautiful, Charles," he whispers, his hands tugging at Charles' shirt. "Do you have any idea what you do to me? When you wear these tiny shorts and walk around the house like a goddamn snack."
"M-Mr. Verstappen," Charles gasps, arching his back as Max's hand slides beneath his shirt. "We can't-"
"Call me Max," he growls, sucking a mark onto Charles' neck.
"M-Max," Charles whimpers, his fingers digging into Max's shoulders.
Max's hands slide down to the waistband of Charles' shorts, tugging at them.
"Tell me you want this, Charles. Tell me you want me to fuck you right here on the couch, and I'll make you scream my name. I'll make you feel so good, baby," Max promises, his fingers tugging at Charles' shorts.
Charles lifts his hips, letting Max slide them off, and Max can't stop himself from running his hands up and down Charles' smooth legs.
"Fuck, you're so sexy, Charles. Do you have any idea how hard it's been to keep my hands off you?" Max murmurs, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of Charles' boxers.
"Ah," Charles whines, his hips bucking against Max's touch. He knows this isn't right but he can't help himself. Max's touch feels so good.
"That's it, baby. Just let go, and let me take care of you."
Max slides Charles' boxers down just enough for Charles' cock to spring free, his fingers tracing the line of Charles' cock.
"Max," Charles breathes, his hands gripping the couch cushions.
"That's it, baby. Just relax and enjoy yourself."
Max wraps his hand around Charles' cock, stroking him slowly. He leans back in, kissing Charles like his life depends on it, and Charles moans into his mouth.
"So fucking gorgeous," Max groans, his thumb circling the head of Charles' cock.
Charles whimpers, his hips rocking against Max's hand.
"Does that feel good, baby? You like it when I touch you like this?"
Charles nods, his eyes fluttering shut. "Yes, yes,"
"God, the things I want to do to you, Charles. The ways I want to make you come. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Charles moans, his hips jerking upward.
"Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you want it. How much you want me."
"I-I want you," Charles pants, his hands tangling in Max's hair. "Please, Max."
Max smirks and lowers his head, his lips wrapping around the head of Charles' cock.
"Oh my god," Charles gasps, his hands gripping Max's hair tighter.
Max takes his time, teasing and licking, savouring the taste of Charles' cock on his tongue. He wants to make this last, wants to memorize every inch of Charles' body.
"Max," Charles groans, his hips bucking up, and Max can tell he's close.
He speeds up his movements, his hand and mouth working in unison.
"Fuck, I'm gonna-"
Max swallows him down, letting Charles come down his throat, and he moans as he tastes him.
"That was..." Charles breathes, his eyes glassy.
"Beautiful," Max finishes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Max, we can't do this again," Charles says, his voice breaking.
"I know," Max replies, his eyes meeting Charles'. He can't stop himself from leaning down and kissing him, his tongue sweeping into Charles' mouth.
"You have a husband," Charles whispers before kissing him back.
"I do," Max agrees, his hands moving to shimmy Charles' underwear and shorts back up. He kisses him again, his lips soft and warm. "But you're so fucking tempting."
"You can't tell him," Charles says, his eyes widening.
"I won't. But I also can't promise that I won't kiss you again."
"Please don't," Charles begs, but he doesn't mean it.
"Just once more," Max whispers, his fingers tilting Charles' chin up.
Charles leans up and kisses him, and they both know it's a lie.