Chapter Text
Charles fixed the collar of his shirt as he stared at himself in the mirror. The shirt was a soft cream color, embroidered with thread of the same shade, giving it a subtle elegant structure. The collar was just high enough that the pale ends of his mating bite peeked through when he turned his head. Good. He knew for a fact that his husband liked this shirt on Charles for that exact reason. Or at least he used to.
"Non, Charles, none of that", he admonished himself, fixing himself a little glare in the mirror. "You can do this. This is your husband for God's sake."
Yes. Yes, that was just Max, his husband, his mate, his alpha, father of his children. Just Max, who hadn't touched him intimately in almost a year. Surely, the stupid cream colored shirt would be enough to fix this whole goddamn fucking mess! Charles huffed a short, frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair once more. He looked good, despite the dark eyebags that came with being a parent to two young children. His hair was a little longer than what was perhaps considered appropriate, but there was simply not enough time.
He took a step back from the mirror, to see more of himself. Did the shirt make him look bigger? His weight hadn't fluctuated all that much for his pregnancies to be fair but his chest was definitely still bigger, his nipples got sore quickly when he wore rougher shirts. Well, this one was very soft. Fine material. In fact, it had been one of Max's earlier courting gifts to Charles.
"You still fit into it Charles, so the change can't be too big, now can it?", he muttered to himself, stepping closer to the mirror once more. And he knew that, too. The changes to his body had been rather mild, he had been lucky with his pregnancies, really. Except perhaps for the end period of his second one, but both his children were happy and healthy so he wouldn't complain. Little Lorenza had had a rough start but she was doing just fine now, as was Charles. Two nannies helped him feed and care for the children, as a male omega his milk production was simply not always up to par but he had known that going into the pregnancies. It was simply what it was. He cared for them perfectly well in everything else, as did Max. He really did. Which made this whole no touching him thing all the more confusing to Charles! Max was a great father, spending time with the children, giving them toys, reading to them (Charles often reprimanded him for reading them technical books and Max argued back that they didn't yet understand shit anyways, it was just about hearing his voice and hearing the language) and even getting up at night when Lorenza decided she simply needed to wail for a bit. He'd slink over from his room across the hall, wordlessly taking the crying bundle from Charles' hands and sitting down in the rocking chair.
And that was another thing! Why was he sleeping in his room? When Charles had a perfectly fine bed that they used to share? Max's room was a formality at best! A scam so that guests and staff alike could not accuse them of - Charles didn't even fucking know, they were married for God's sake! The English and their weird stuffiness. If it was up to them Charles would probably not even be working. An omega working? How dare! Well, Max had never given a single fuck about societal rules and neither had Charles, so he was working just fine as a piano instructor for several prestigious clients around town. His husband was very supportive. Not just of his work but of his side endeavors too, helping him find publishers interested in the pieces he composed himself etc.
Admittedly neither Charles nor Max came from poor families, technically both being wealthy enough to not be dependent on work but they were both too passionate to waste away their days...not doing anything. They had settled here in England during their courting, Max following a wealthy patron that was providing many commissions for Max's leather work and Charles following Max because music was liked most everywhere. They had their town house, their money, their works and passion projects and yet! And yet, his husband could not be bothered to satisfy his needs!
Charles huffed again, this close to stomping his foot petulantly on the floor before he caught himself and felt his ears go hot at the childish behavior. He was going insane with this. He had ignored it and waited long enough. If Max truly did not want him anymore- Charles swallowed the sickly feeling on his tongue as he thought those words. If Max truly did not desire him anymore, he could very well have the spine to tell Charles to his face.
He nodded at himself in the mirror before leaving his room and making his way across their spaces, towards Max's workshop. He had heard the soft sounds of Max puttering around in there all day already, as he so often did lately. His husband's works were gaining a reputation around town, commissioned pieces being shown off across salons and dinners. Charles felt a small glimmer of pride in his chest whenever he thought about it. But it did not excuse Max's behavior!
"Max", he greeted as he pushed the door into the workshop open with gusto.
"Charles, hello m-"
"You are neglecting your duties as a husband."
Max's hand froze in the air in front of him at Charles' interruption. The scene Charles was witnessing would be almost comical if he wasn't so irritated. Max's base scent of warm spices permeated the workshop as it always did, hints of oranges starting to weave into it the moment Max had recognized Charles as the intruder, and then the oranges had immediately vanished once more as his words registered. Max's hand slowly settled down on the workbench, project forgotten and abandoned.
"What?", he eventually coughed out.
"You heard me", Charles responded. His eyes narrowed slightly and he kept his hand securely on the door knob. He could see his husband starting to gear up, jaw working silently.
"Charles, I don't- I spend time with you and the children, don't I? And I-" Max was almost tripping over his words, the way he did when his thoughts were faster than his tongue. "I try to support your hobbies and your projects and, and I try to provide financial support for our family and-"
"I did not marry you for your money", Charles interrupted him. He could see Max bite back a response, not so much at his words but his tone.
"That is not what I said at all, Charles."
Charles could see Max's temper start to flare, satisfaction lighting up his chest at being able to do so with such ease. Max's ears and cheeks were starting to take on a pink hue, it always looked so charming on him.
"I will concede that what you said so far is true, you're being a wonderful father", Charles admitted. He could give credit where credit was due, he wasn't cruel. "But you have other duties as a husband still", he added haughtily.
Max spread his hands in front of him helplessly, his light eyes swerving around the room as if he'd find a solution to his confusion there. They settled back onto Charles quickly though. As they always did, Charles thought with another shadow of satisfaction.
"What do you mean, Charles? Stop talking in riddles, will you?"
Well.
"It's been a year!", he responded, his voice far louder and sharper than he had meant to. "A year since you've last...touched me", he pressed on, the last bit being definitely less confident than he had started.
Max was staring at him like he had just announced that English food was the height of good cuisine. He waved his hands wildly infront of himself and Charles tried hopelessly to not be endeared. Good god, he had been married to this man for over 3 years, he really should be over his little crush.
"We cuddle with the children! Almost every other night! I scent you at least once a week", Max rushed out, still gesturing.
"That is not what I mean and you know it!"
"Evidently, I do not." There was genuine frustration starting to bubble up in Max's voice. Charles could also detect it in his scent, sour like citrus but without the sweetness of his usual oranges. Charles took a slow breath, trying not to look away from Max's imploring gaze.
"Touch me...intimately."
It was like he had set off a bomb, rather than uttered three words. There was an immediate shift in room. Max had stopped breathing for a moment before breathing in slowly. His gaze flitted across the room once more. This time it did not return to Charles and he felt its abscence like a cold omen settling on his shoulders. His own nervous scent was starting to disperse in the room, he could smell it mixing with Max's scent.
"I provided toys", his husband said slowly, voice choked and unsubtle.
"I do not care for those", Charles answered in the same tone. He really did not. First he had thought Max was trying to court him again but then had quickly realized that these objects had meant to replace his husband. Tsk! Fool.
"I just...Well, you must get tired, of course, of me crowding you all the time just to get a taste of...", Max started but trailed off. He cleared his throat awkwardly. His hands were now fiddling with loose ends of whatever was on his workbench, gaze solidly fixed there.
"Of what?", Charles immediately pressed. Max had had that growly undertone in his raspy voice that he used to take with him. Maybe they were headed in right direction.
"Just me, pressing up on you like a horny dog, how it was back-"
"No, finish your sentences."
"Charles."
"So that's it, is it?", Charles snapped, finally losing his patience. "You don't desire me at all anymore?"
"Charles, what? What on God's green earth are you-"
"A year, Max! A year since our youngest daughter was born and you haven't shown any interest in-"
"It was a difficult pregnancy! You were dead on your feet by the end of it and after the birth." Max's hands were once more flying through the air. "Charles, there were moments during which the doctor told me I could lose you."
Max's scent was changing rapidly, a whole storm of emotions scattering among it, but Charles wouldn't back down now.
"And so your solution is to just never touch me again? Lorenza is well and healthy, she is so strong already at one year old and no longer needs my constant care."
"We both agreed we did not want more than two children. Did you change your mind and not tell me?", Max questioned.
Charles threw him a glare. He would not get distracted by that bait. "That's not -! I can take medication to make me not conceive during heats! You act like this is the 16th century!", he thundered on. "What did you mean to say earlier! Taste of ?"
"To get a taste of your slick, goddammit Charles!"
Satisfaction and lust spread across Charles' skin like quicksilver. Yes, this is what he came here for. Max was running his hands through his hair, making it stick in all directions before hiding his face in his palms. "Yes, it is exactly what you'd think I would say. Why are you so-"
"But not anymore, do you?", Charles kept pushing. "So that's it, no more- just no more desire? I've given you the two children you wanted and now-"
"The day I stop desiring you is the day I stop breathing."
Another shot of pleasure raced down Charles' spine but he couldn't stop here, couldn't just believe him. "Liar! I know the pregnancy changed my body a bit but I didn't... I didn't think you the kind of alpha that-"
"Charles, this is not at all what this is about-"
"I remember when just a hint of skin was enough to make you press up on me", Charles said, steadfastly staring at Max, daring him to back down first. His husband's cheeks were steadily coloring, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Now it is as if the moment you can smell my arousal, you flee the room. You used to... knot me whenever I asked for it-"
"Charles, the children!" Max stared at the open door behind Charles.
"Are not here! That's what I came here to say, too. My doctor informed me that my heat will strike within the next day as my body is trying to return to its previous rhythm after the pregnancy caused by your triggered rut."
The whirlwind of emotions in Max's scent suddenly christallized, distilled into what Charles usually identified as...guilt? Why would Max feel guilty though? Their current issue of discussion hadn't been a problem before, there had not been enough time between the first and second pregnancy for it to become an issue. A surprise rut had immediately made Charles pregnant again. Not against his will or anything! He had talked to several doctors before joining his mate, who had all assured him that he was in perfectly fine condition to receive his second child if he wished so. And anyways, it was Max's rut, not Charles' heat so the chances had been low and his other option had been to let his mate suffer trough a surprise rut on his own. They were not pleasant by any means. Max's rhythm had likely been all thrown off through Charles' pregnancy hormones. Not necessarily Mother Nature's smartest invention. It had been... quite an experience. Charles lightly shook his head, trying to blink back into the present before he started blushing.
"The children are staying with their uncles and mates, as well as their nannies", he continued, voice not betraying his inner turmoil. Arthur had been too happy to provide heat shelter to increase chances of a third Leclerc-Verstappen child after first Victor and second Lorenza. His youngest brother had been driving Max crazy with increasinlgy creative variations on the name of Arthur in his most recent letters. They were visiting from Monaco with their own mates and families, staying for several months.
"So it is just us in the house. No servants beginning tomorrow morning until the end of the weekend, so I can ride out my heat-" (the word ride suddenly conjured up vivid memories of Charles desperately riding his husband's thigh, big hands securely guiding his hips in their rocking motions, the glossy sheen of slick heavy on the fine light hairs of Max's thick thighs and he faltered momentarily in his passioned speech) "-and I would have greatly appreciated the assistance of my mate and husband. But alas." Charles swiped a cruel hand through the space between them. "Now hand me your vest, if you're not gonna wear it. If I cannot have my husband's assistance, I shall at least have his scent."
Charles raised his chin slightly, staring down his nose at his silent husband. This look was usually enough to spur him into action. That power was still there apparently. There was no hesitation as Max tossed him the vest from the back of his chair. But he knew that. In all other aspects Max was being the perfect mate, a great father, an enthusiastic supporter but- He did not even step around his workbench to come near him, tsk. Fool, Charles thought again as he caught the vest, resisting the immediate urge to put his nose into the fabric. Fool, but this time he meant himself.
He stared at Max a little longer, hoping for a reaction. When nothing came, he swallowed his disappointment with difficulty. Nothing, not even a hint of interest at the mention of Charles' heat. Turning his back, Charles left and let the door fall shut noisily.
He held back frustrated tears as he climbed the stairs to his room quickly, shutting himself in and throwing the vest onto his half made nest on the bed. "Dammit", he whispered hoarsely. Dammit, dammit, dammit. The longer he stared, the harder the tears burned. Eventually he gave up, peeling out of the stupid cream colored shirt (still taking care to not damage it, too precious) and instead slipping into Max's suit vest. It looked stupid of course but it smelt so richly of oranges and spices. He sat in the middle of his nest. It was not finished yet but already his mate's scent made it better. It was not the only piece of Max's clothing in there of course. They lived in the same house, Charles could steal his husband's clothes easily. But this one, this one was fresh, worn just earlier and well loved too. It probably held Max's scent even after a wash, he wore it so often. It had been a gift by Charles, too.
Well, he thought, well, it was what it was. So what if Max did not desire him like a lover anymore? He was still grateful to have him as his husband and mate, he told himself. It was true, too!
Charles tucked his nose into the fabric on his shoulder and told himself he didn't miss him as his lover.
"Godverdomme", Max groaned into his palms. He was still sat at his workbench. Oh, he had gotten himself into such a fucking mess.
He had managed to let his husband think, to let Charles, the most beautiful man on earth, think that Max did not desire him anymore. Yes. Perfect. Could not be farther from the truth, though. If anything, he desired his mate more than ever before. Just hearing Charles say the word "knot" had been enough to set sparks off in his brain, leaving him stupid.
But truly, his husband must be so tired of Max's greedy hands on him. He had put him through two pregnancies, back to back. The last one, their little Lorenza had been grueling. Max had at one point almost lost all hope, the doctor telling him gently to prepare himself for the worst case. And now, everytime he thought about touching Charles again like this, like a lover, he could not shake this feeling of guilt. Even outside of ruts and heats, when chances of pregnancies were incredibly low for a male omega, the risk of putting him through that again- no.
And anyways, Charles was probably tired. Both tired because taking care of children was hard work and tired of Max acting like a horny juvenile that had just presented. Charles had not been telling lies earlier, Max really used to be on him at every possible chance. He groaned into his palms again, embarrassed about his past self and embarrased about the fact that nothing really had changed in that regard. He still wanted that. All the time.
Sometimes he would see Charles and the children cuddled together in the sitting room, silently reading a novel while the children napped and his chest would be so full of light and love he was afraid he would choke on it and collapse at his husband's feet, right where he belonged. And at the same time, seeing Charles in his thin soft private clothes, watching over their children (their children! Max had helped make those! He was a father!!!), the soft subtle swell of his bosom, the lean muscles in his forearm, the long pianists fingers curling delicately around the pages, the- Arousal flooded through him like tidal waves sometimes, unbidden and uncontrollable. His teeth ached to scrape along the pale scar on Charles' strong neck, feeling his own mating bite tingle in response.
But it felt selfish, so selfish when his husband showed no sign of reciprocation. Max could still smell everything else on him, fondness, trust, amusement at his antics sometimes, sadness, anger, annoyance. Never arousal though. And that was fine, wasn't it? Sure, yes, it did hurt his pride a little, his most primal side feeling hurt at seeing his mate so blatantly uninterested. It definitely hurt when sometimes, after carefully scenting the children, he would use the chance to touch his husband just slightly. Nothing overtly sexual, just close, softer than a perfunctionary scenting. Grasp his wrist to softly rub against his scent gland there and touch his nose and cheek to Charles neck. At the beginning he had almost imagined that he could see some longing in the green of Charles' eyes but there was never a hint of arousal in his scent, like there used to be during a thorough scenting. Just a melancholy mixture of adoration and sadness. Sadness! Why was he sad? Was he sad that he had married Max? Sad that he had children with him? No, no, Max told himself, he was being mean and cruel. Charles was no pushover and very clear about his emotions. He would not have pretended to love Max for so long only to suddenly change his mind.
But then what was it? Max was so confused about it all, ashamed of his own arousal when it was so clearly unwelcome and now his husband accused him of neglecting him? That had not been his intention at all. He hadn't been naive enough to believe that his mate didn't have needs at all. He had tried to provide... toys. Not that he had been opposed to providing pleasure with his own hands and mouth if Charles had wished so but-
"Whatever", Max scoffed, still very much alone in his workshop and trying to ignore his half hard dick. He was pathetic. He was gonna have to get his shit together. His mate had very clearly asked him to help him through his heat. Charles had said that further pregnancies could be avoided and Max would simply have to trust in his mate to know what was best for his health. They could probably try those new things, those condoms or what they were called. Max tried not to wrinkle his nose as he imagined the texture on his dick. But they wouldn't be helpful during a heat anyways, kind of defeating the point of Max joining instead of letting Charles ride out his heat alone. Sure, Max's scent would be calming but clothes could provide that. Clothes could however not provide a knot to pump him full of his cu-
Max stood abruptly, now more than half hard and ran his hands through his hair again. It was late, bordering on really late and he figured there was nothing he could do right now but go to sleep and see what happened tomorrow. He killed the lights around the workshop, checking the front door lock and saying good night to the cook who was still messing around in the kitchen. Probably preparing food rations for when all the staff would be gone for Charles' heat.
When Max came up the stairs into the hallway the door to Charles' room was closed. He was clearly not welcome at the moment to continue their discussion. He hesitated anyway, stood near the door. Max held his breath, he could hear Charles rummage. Building a nest? God, he missed sharing nests with his mate. They were always so messy but comfortable and homey, smelling like pack and mate and sex. Sure, they nested with the children in the living room often. But heat nests were something different.
Max shuffled into his own room, staring at the sad state of his bed. Several moments later, he crept into the hallway once more, dropping his used bed sheets in front of the closed door. It was not really a peace offering or anything, he had always done that for his heats. Charles could always just leave it there, if he didn't want them. Max crawled into his new sheets, smelling like nothing at all. He very pointedly laid on his back, refusing himself the relief of pressing his cock into the soft comfort of the mattress, hands rigidly at his sides as he tried to count himself to sleep.