Work Text:
Breakup sex was never a good idea. He should have known better.
After
Charles is awakened by someone jerking next to him, as though they have suddenly been wrenched from sleep. The abrupt movement is not enough to immediately drag Charles to full consciousness, so he just snuffles unhappily, burrowing further into his pillow and sheets- his hotel pillow and sheets, he blearily thinks, noting the smell and texture.
Maybe he would have sunk back into sleep, if his bedmate hadn’t reached a searching hand across the space between them, fingers nudging up against his back immediately followed by a sigh that sounds a lot like relief.
Charles is suddenly more awake.
A large, familiar hand grasps his hip (his naked hip) and tugs him backwards, someone spooning up behind him, miles of warm bare skin pressing against his own, from his shoulders down to his legs. An arm wraps around his chest to pull him even closer and Charles wonders if his bedmate can feel the way his heart begins to pound as he’s wrapped in a sleepy embrace.
When a gentle kiss is pressed to his neck Charles finally blinks his eyes open, his stomach twisting with apprehension as he squints against the early morning light.
More kisses are pressed along his neck, up under his ear to a spot that had always made Charles shiver.
“Good morning Charlie.”
Max .
Before
They’ve been broken up for nearly a year now.
Charles has spent that time telling himself it was for the best, that they had been right to wave the white flag. There hadn’t been a big blowup, realistically there hadn’t even been much wrong at all, just a silent, steady dread.
It had been Charles who had tentatively floated the idea of talking about a break up. Throughout the conversation they found a surprising amount of common ground in their views on how things were going. Like the fact they felt it was too difficult to put their best into the relationship when they had to keep so much of it hidden or how the amount of sneaking around was so exhausting. They’d admitted to their own issues- Charles was too cagey, Max wasn’t always supportive enough, neither of them communicated as well as they should. In the end, they conceded it would be best to split up before they began to resent one another, in the hopes that they could still remain as friendly as possible.
They agreed, they were done.
They have been apart longer than they were together, but the relationship haunts Charles more than he ever expected.
In quiet, reflective moments, Charles had been able to admit to himself the reason for this was probably the dishonesty of the ending. All of the issues they had discussed were things they could have easily worked through if they had tried. Instead they had used them as an excuse to mask the bigger, more difficult problem that silently tormented the relationship.
It had stayed unspoken, but Charles knew- the depths of their feelings were, quite frankly, terrifying to both of them.
From the moment he’d realized just how in love he was with Max he had been scared. How could he possibly let himself be that unguarded with another driver, with his lifetime rival ? How could he hand over his heart so completely, give Max the power to destroy him so thoroughly? The odds were already stacked against them being able to make this work, and by staying any longer Charles was just ensuring that he would be completely ruined by its end.
These frightening thoughts began to plague him, day and night.
The time they had spent together had been good, they were good for each other, that was undeniable. But love shouldn’t make you scared. At least… Charles didn’t think so...
As for how Max felt- Charles wasn’t sure what to think, so he tried not to think about it at all. But the signs had been there. Sometimes, when he was feeling sentimental, he remembered the way Max would look at him when they were cuddled close late at night, wide-eyed and vulnerable, almost frightened, a perfect reflection of what Charles felt inside. Other times, during low moments, he made himself remember a different look in Max’s eyes, the glint of relief he saw when Charles had hesitantly brought up the possibility of ending things.
He told himself it didn’t matter, because, in the end, Max hadn’t put up a fight, had even agreed with him on practically every point. There were no hard feelings, they knew they were doing the right thing. It was the friendliest break up of Charles' life, so why did that make it worse ?
Why did he still feel so lost almost a year later? Why did it still hurt so badly?
He knew the answer. But he preferred to pretend that he didn’t.
The season had gone surprisingly smoothly between them as they adjusted to their return to co-worker status. Or maybe not so surprising since breaking up had been the right thing to do. They’d agreed after all.
But things had been changing the last couple months.
Charles had felt Max’s eyes on him more often, a certain weight in the gaze that he was too familiar with. He’d begun shooting Charles more smiles in the paddock, that small private smile that Charles had seen so often during their time together.
It made his stomach feel all fluttery and his heart clench, his feelings betraying his rationality. So Charles did his best to avoid him as inconspicuously as possible. It was for the best, they’d agreed .
But it turned out to be rather difficult, especially because Charles would almost say Max seems to be trying to corner him. He’s certainly been seeking him out more in quieter settings, away from the crowds and cameras, and Charles is beginning to tire of coming up with escape strategies.
He may even be getting a little desperate to know what Max’s motivation is. If his mind is playing tricks on him or if Max seems to be thinking about Charles like- like someone he wants again.
Maybe that’s why he finally lets the Red Bull driver trap him in Mexico.
During
Mexico was a perfect storm. Irritation, sympathy, and curiosity made a victim out of him, or at least that’s what Charles will tell himself.
He was feeling miffed after the race, pleased with a podium, but irritated that it had been Carlos on the top step. Ever the team player, he had still shown up to the after party, of course, situating himself away from the hustle and bustle so he could enjoy his tequila in peace.
The day had already been strange enough that he was only a little surprised when Max showed up at the club, sidling up next to him at the bar. And maybe he was feeling a little too generous, a little sympathetic even, because instead of utilizing any number of excuses to get away from his ex, he instead decided to gently tease him about his impressive collection of penalties from the race. Max took it graciously, just as Charles knew he would, offering to buy him a margarita for his podium, and by the time Charles glances at his phone to check a text, he sees they've been giggling together for nearly an hour, drifting closer all the while, Max’s hand resting on the back of his chair.
When he looks back at Max he is startled to see a certain soft expression that has settled on his face, a look he used to be intimately familiar with, one that should not be directed at him anymore.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something,” Max says, his tone suddenly gentle.
Alarm bells begin to sound inside Charles' head.
He should make a joke, tell him he needs to go to the bathroom and then escape into the night, do anything to get that look off of Max’s face. So, of course, instead, he just says, “Oh? What is it, mate?”
Max’s eyes sweep around the bar, making sure they are away from prying ears before leaning in closer, “I do not mean this to be too forward, but…”
“…yes?”
“Does it ever bother you that we never had breakup sex?”
Charles feels a bit like he was just shunted into a barrier.
“I-I don’t- Max, I- What ?”
“It has just been bothering me is all,” Max reaches up to play with the hair behind his ear, a flustered tick of his Charles knows all too well, “We’re coming up on a year apart, yes? So I have been thinking about you a lot lately and-and I realized I don’t remember our last time together, and we never even had breakup sex or one for the road or whatever you call it. We should have, no? Things ended well enough, we should have given it an appropriate send off.”
Max is laughing nervously, but Charles can’t bring himself to join. His stomach is feeling fluttery again at the memories of their sex life. If he had to describe it truthfully- it had been fantastic, hot and intense, a big part of the relationship that Charles missed a little bit too much if he was being honest.
This was dangerous territory, this conversation cannot be happening.
“You do not remember the last time we had sex so this has been bothering you?”
Max shrugs, “It has. No closure, you know? Or whatever they say.”
Closure, that- that is not a word that Charles wants to think about. He averts his eyes back to his margarita, stirring his straw and falling quiet as he tries to keep calm. Even as his thoughts spiral, he suddenly realizes he doesn’t remember when their last time was either. They had been avoiding each other for a couple weeks before ending things, and that time is a painful haze in Charles’ mind. It hurts to even try to remember, making his body begin to tense anxiously.
“So it’s never bothered you,” Max presses.
“I have never really thought breakup sex was a good idea, Max,” Charles replies, trying to keep his tone neutral and the panic out of his voice, “So no, that is one part of the break up that has not bothered me.”
Max hums thoughtfully, “But… other parts of it bother you?”
“Why are you asking me about this,” Charles questions, his voice a little higher pitched than he’d like. He sneaks a glance at Max and is horrified to see that soft look take over his face again.
“Come on, Charlie. You know what I’m really asking for,” Max says gently, leaning in even closer. Charles is suddenly more aware than ever of Max’s arm on the back of his chair, he feels distinctly trapped between Max and the bar. “I know we aren’t getting back together-”
“ We agreed-”
“I know, I know,” Max is practically whispering in his ear, Charles needs to grip the counter edge to stop himself from trembling, “I know we agreed ending it was for the best. I’m just asking for one more night if you will have me. Just to say goodbye properly. I think it would be good. For us- to help us move on.”
The offer is as ridiculous as it is devastating.
It is an epically stupid idea to let Max back into his bed when Charles has been battling lingering and confusing feelings for him for nearly a year. There is a 0% chance this will give him closure of any kind like Max claims it will, and instead it will just rip open his carefully sewn wounds and erase the miniscule progress Charles has made in moving on. This conversation alone, with the bombshell confirmation that Max has also been struggling to move on, has already done enough damage.
The offer is so dangerous, yet Charles doesn’t know if he’s ever been so agonizingly tempted in his life. It’s just- he just misses Max so badly sometimes. Maybe it would be worth it, for just a little bit more time with him, to be close one last time. He remembers all too well how it felt to be with him in that way, his body already coming alive with the knowledge that he could have it again if he just-
“I think you want to say yes,” Max says quietly, into the small space between them, “I would treat you so good baby. Just let me, for one more night.”
It’s a stupid, stupid idea.
“Just one more night,” Charles tries to sound firm.
The way Max grins at him is beautiful and terrifying.
He doesn’t remember much about how they ended up at the hotel room (Max’s) or if they talked on the way there. Mostly he just recalls the heat of Max’s hand on his thigh.
But the moment the hotel door shut behind them… that is a little too clear.
For one thing, it was frantic almost immediately.
As soon as their lips first met in a fierce kiss they had trouble separating from there after; nipping, licking, and sucking at each other’s mouths like they were starved for it, an uncomfortably accurate description. So attached, they barely managed to undress each other, pulling and yanking at clothes so forcefully a few buttons and seams popped as their hands urgently searched for every inch of uncovered skin, greedily relearning the slopes and planes of each other.
Their eagerness was almost pathetic.
Throughout it all, Max had gripped Charles tightly against himself, keeping him close like he was scared he was going to change his mind and bolt out the door at any moment. It felt possessive, desperate… and Charles knew he should say something, slow him down, but he’s too hungry for more more more. Even when they made it to the bed Max hadn’t let up, caging him in underneath his broad body, smearing every inch of them together as he pressed Charles deep into the mattress and continued to kiss him breathless.
It was… a lot. Too frantic for a goodbye fuck, probably. They should be going slow, savoring each other for a final time. But Charles says nothing, just lays there, sucking on Max’s tongue and basking in the feeling of being under the man he had been trying so hard to get over.
“I missed you so fucking bad,” Max confesses to him at one point, while his hand is wrapped around Charles cock, stroking him in a way that he knows drives Charles crazy, “Missed having you like this.”
And that is not something you should say to someone during breakup sex, Charles thinks, a little hysterically. But once again he says nothing, just whimpers and bucks up into the grip around his cock.
Worse for him, moments later, he can’t help but make his own confession as he’s mouthing at Max, having managed to squirm his way down in-between Max’s thighs to get at the thick cock he had spent countless nights reminiscing about.
“I thought about this,” he admits, panting, taking a break from letting Max push into his throat, allowing that beautiful cock rest against his cheek without complaint, “Could not stop thinking about this. I’ve wanted you back in my mouth for so long, c héri . Almost got down on my knees for you so many times in the paddock-.”
The ill-advised pet name makes Max groan, his cock flexing against Charles face as his fingers in his hair tighten almost painfully, pulling slightly to guide him back and up towards Max’s mouth for another ferocious kiss.
It would be so much easier if they could just stop talking , but neither of them do, the floodgates are open and red flag after red flag keep appearing as they continue. The things they say to one another make the night reek of a reunion instead of a goodbye. It makes Charles feel a little insane.
Like the way Max sounds when he begs, “Let me inside you, baby. Want to fuck you. Need to fuck you. It’s all I’ve thought about for months. Let me, please.”
Or the way Charles' voice shook when he explained to Max, as his fingers stretched him open, that he was so tight because “No one else has touched me this way. Not since you. Did not want anyone else to have me like this.”
Or most of all, how Charles just spread his legs wider when Max had asked to fuck him bare because he wanted to feel all of him, blindly trusting Max’s promise that he was clean and giving his own promise back.
Stupid, stupid, stupid .
The push inside was so thick and overwhelming, so perfect it made Charles' eyes water, or maybe that was due to Max’s words whispered against his jaw “There you are, there’s my baby. Doing so well. God, Charlie, doing so, so well.”
The sex was good…phenomenal being the more accurate word if Charles felt like being honest. Devastating, as well, given how it reminded him that no one else had ever been able to make him feel anything as good as Max could, but phenomenal nonetheless.
If only it hadn’t been so tender . Max held him tightly as he thrust into him, gazing down at him with awe and adoration glimmering in his eyes as Charles took his cock again and again and again. Charles could admit that he was no better; he’d kept his fingers knotted in Max’s hair to keep him close, so Max couldn’t miss the way Charles kept whispering to him, “ Tu te sens si bien , c héri . Missed you.”
Their words and actions were damning, but maybe it all would have been forgivable and forgettable if not for what Max had said right after they finished, when Max was still laying half on top of him, Charles’ cum smearing between their bellies and Max’s slowly seeping out of his hole, both of them breathing heavily and trembling through the aftershocks.
“Can’t believe I ever let you go,” Max had whispered, so softly.
He’d said it so quietly Charles suspected he wasn’t meant to hear. Unfortunately, he did, and the crack that went through his heart was so painful it made his breath catch in his throat. He blinks up at the ceiling, willing away the tidal wave of emotions rising in his chest as Max stumbled from the bed and into the bathroom, trying once again to keep his panic at bay.
There was no closure in this, he had fucking known it. Instead he lay here, heart ripped open and a mess of confusion and regret.
This was such a stupid idea. Why did either of them think they could handle this?
That’s what he keeps telling himself when Max comes back with a damp cloth to clean him off, laying delicate kisses against his stomach and thighs as he does so, making Charles’ emotional turmoil even worse. He tries to focus on gathering his strength, to get up and find his clothes, to bid Max goodnight and thank him for everything before he crawls back to his room so he could fall apart in peace.
But then Max has to go and look at him so earnestly, “Please stay.”
“ Oui , I will.” Charles agrees before he even has time to process the question, catching himself by surprise but accepting it nonetheless, resigned to another fuck up. Apparently he’s too exhausted physically and emotionally for any self-preservation tonight.
And if Max’s relieved little smile soothes his aching heart ever so slightly… that is between him and no one else.
He’ll rest for a bit, he thinks to himself as Max settles in next to him, he will just rest until Max falls asleep and then quietly leave and send him a goodbye text in the morning.
Charles is still repeating this plan to himself as the sound of Max’s breathing lulls him to sleep.
After, again
Obviously, his plan did not pan out, Charles thinks to himself as Max keeps kissing along his shoulder, arms tight around him once more. He has Charles trapped yet again.
“I was worried you would leave” Max murmurs into the back of his neck before pressing a long kiss there, salt in Charles' wounds.
He knows he should shrug Max off of him, remind him last night was just break up sex and take his leave. That is what he should do. But he can still feel Max inside him… and the echo of last night makes him soft and dumb, sentimental almost.
So instead he reaches up a hand to grasp onto the arm wrapped around his chest and simply tells him, “You are lucky I did not wake up in time.”
Max huffs from where he’s buried his face in his hair, Charles cannot tell if it’s in amusement or annoyance. They lay quietly for a time, the silence blanketing them as they hold each other. Despite the sweetness of the moment, Charles’ mind is racing. He doesn’t know what comes next, honestly doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out what comes next since every scenario he imagines seems terrible. They should probably talk about the things they said last night, or maybe they should never talk about it ever again or maybe-
“I am glad you didn’t leave,” Max breaks the silence, cutting off Charles' spiral as he rises up on elbow to look down at him. Charles looks back, cautious and quiet as he takes in his returned lover. Mornings had always been one of his favorite versions of Max, the messy hair, sleepy eyes, unshaven stubble, and soft appearance had always made him melt a little bit. He’s dismayed to realize it still has the same effect on him, his blood heating up as Max’s eyes run all over him. When Max reaches up a hand to cup his face, Charles can’t resist leaning into it.
“You are so beautiful, you know,” Max said, voice raspy and earnest as his thumb strokes Charles cheekbone, painfully delicate. “Charles, I…”
He goes very still, eyes widening. Max’s tone makes it seem like he’s going to say something important, like maybe he’s finally going to encourage them to be honest.
But Max doesn’t continue, falling silent again and staring down at him with the smallest frown. They stay quiet for several moments, suspended tension between them. Then- there’s a certain glassiness that comes to Max’s eyes when he leans down to place a tender kiss on Charles cheek, his lips feeling like a brand.
“Can we- can we do it again? One last time?”
Charles scrunches his eyes shut as soon as the words register, fighting against the need that swells so viciously inside him. It would be insane for him to make the same stupid mistake twice. He needs to say no and remind Max that last night was supposed to be the last time or remind him that they agreed breaking up was the right choice or demand for Max to finally just tell him what the hell he wants-
But Charles is a weak, weak man. He submits to his destruction with a small nod and a chaste kiss to Max’s palm, goes pliant when Max greedily pulls him back under him.
Once again, they succumb too easily, sloppy kisses as they cling to each other, hips locking together so they can feel each other growing hard. When Max slides a hand between them for his fingers to nudge at his rim, he finds Charles still wet and open from last night. It’s not long after that Max is sliding right back into him, both of them gasping at the feeling, their faces still so close together they’re sharing breaths.
“Tell me how you want it,” Max rasps, even as he’s already started to slowly rock, fucking his cum back into Charles.
The filthy sound of it makes Charles blush, makes him desperate for more, “Deep. Want to feel you so deep inside me.”
Max makes a wounded sound, bowing his head like the request has struck him. Then he gathers Charles up in his arms, cradles him close again, pressing kisses all over his face even as he steadily picks up the pace, a response to every one of Charles’ cries. Harder and harder.
“Am I deep enough for you baby,” he pants against Charles' mouth, bucking his hips roughly against him, as far as he can go, “God, Charles, is that deep enough?”
Charles shakes his head, whining and trying to spread his legs wider. “Never enough, mon amour . Give me more, Max, want all of you.”
“ Mijn God , fucking-” Max reaches for Charles leg, like he always would when he was about to really make Charles feel it, pulling it up and over his shoulder so he has more room to work, to make a tighter place for him to burrow his cock in even deeper just like Charles asked for. He’s so perfect like that.
Charles scrambles his hands against his back, squirming as Max relentlessly fucks into him, right over his sweet spot. “Max, ah, ah, ah Max ,” he gasps, unable to get enough air. Unable to do anything to escape from the unbearable, amazing pressure building inside him as Max watches him with something like love on his face, hopeless, fascinated love.
He comes with a sob, cock spilling almost untouched between them, the pleasure crushing.
Max lets out a moan as Charles’ hole squeezes down on him, the buck of his hips growing rougher, more erratic, seconds away from coming. He leans down to press his face to Charles, they’re cheek to cheek as Charles whimpers with each thrust, barely lucid but still desperate to feel Max’s cum filling him once more.
“I’m never letting you go, baby, never fucking letting you go again. Fuck, Charles .”
Max gives one last violent thrust, holding himself deep inside, hot and pulsing. Charles sobs again, at the feeling and more at Max’s words, tears finally slipping from his eyes and dampening his cheeks. He clings to Max’s neck, arms wrapped tight around him as Max drops right on top of him, loving and despising him at the same time. The afterglow is beautiful and terrible, the tears don’t stop.
It doesn’t take Max long to notice. As soon as he does his head jerks up, looking at Charles with alarm.
“Charlie, oh god” he quickly reaches up to wipe away the tears, “I hurt you?”
Charles shakes his head, whimpering. The lie came easily even as more tears spill from the corner of his eyes. Because Max did hurt him, the last few hours have hurt him immeasurably.
“What’s wrong, baby” Max is so worried, still thumbing away each tear he can find, “Please tell me.”
“I-I- I,” Charles hiccups, tries to think of what he can say, how he can tell Max that he is what’s wrong. He has made Charles a broken, confused mess. What is Charles supposed to do with those things Max said? How is Charles supposed to accept this as their goodbye when it’s become brutally obvious that they miss each other something terrible? Why is it so hard to do the right thing and stay apart, just like they both agreed was for the best? Why is it even harder still to admit that he wants Max back?
He can’t bring himself to ask any of those questions. Because even after everything that’s happened, Charles' terror at giving himself over to Max outweighs everything else.
But Charles is still a mess of emotions, and those emotions make him more reckless than usual. He throws a desperate, doomed offer at Max, just to see what he does with it.
“I do not want this to be the last time,” he finally says, breath shuddering, “I want to do this again.”
It’s vague, so horribly vague, cowardly almost, in how open it is for interpretation. But it is honest, as honest as Charles is willing to let himself be right now.
And Max… Max melts at those words, his expression softening to a startling degree, an overwhelmed smile pulling at his lips, “We can do this again shatje . We can do this whenever you want. I promise, I’ll be there whenever you need me. Just let me take care of you.”
Charles nods, closes his eyes again so he doesn’t have to see that adoring look on Max’s face. He tugs his lover down until Max buries his face into his neck, placing soft kisses there as he gathers Charles close against his chest.
Just like Charles, Max had kept his true meaning blurred. It’s unclear what they are agreeing to, are they fuck buddies, are they getting back together, are they something else? It’s probably a horrible sign that the uncertainty gives Charles a sense of relief.
The important thing is they are going to keep being close, just like this, as terrible as it might be.
It’s obviously a dangerous situation, chances are this will lead to nothing good. However as Charles tilts his head back, offering more of his neck for Max to suck and bite, so he is marked as clearly on the outside as he is on the inside, Charles thinks that he will accept it. Suffering near Max is better than suffering away from him.
Breakup sex was never a good idea. But it happened. And now, at least, he has Max to hold.