Alpha F1 Driver Max Verstappen/Omega Camboy Charles Leclerc AU fic
Explicit | Chapter 5/? | currently 56.1k words
Max thinks it started with that video: the short, pornographic clip that showed Charles Leclerc in the throes of an orgasm, moaning in his geographically ambiguous accent, “Now, I-I’m coming on your camera!”
It’s not distracting. Max doesn’t obsess about it afterwards, during the press conference or the race weekend. He doesn’t search up Charles’ camboy page and subscribe immediately, paying the highest tier fee. In the privacy of his hotel room, he doesn’t watch every video in the long list of content dating back to 2017 and violently jerk off to the point of feeling like he has chaffed his dick.
Max Verstappen is a four-time Formula One world champion, at the pinnacle of motorsport, and can fuck anyone he wants – he is not lusting after a camboy of all people.
(Or, after an incident separates Max and Charles when they were younger, Max continues on to F1, expecting Charles – despite being an omega – to make it too, except Charles never does. When Max is reunited with Charles, now a famous camboy, they are drawn together by more than their history.)
i wrote this (the start of 'eyes on me' chp 6 - working chp title was 'Set His Heart on Fire (Like Gasoline)') back in dec 2025, and since then, i've solidifed my feelings on this fic remaining a WIP that probably will not progress any further at this point in time. however, i received a really lovely comment on ao3 and thought that there might be some who are still interested in the fic and would be interested in reading where it was going to go next.
please don't read this if you don't feel comfortable with cliffhangers/knowing it's likely going to stay a WIP.
here's 4k more of my writing for 'eyes on me':
Content warnings: brief mention of male breastfeeding
When PR for F1 the Movie Goes Too Far
penqueenzero ☑️
3.3M views 1 day ago
Transcript:
I know what you’re thinking – penqueenzero, you don’t normally cover celeb gossip. The movie was trash, just by the way. I watched it in at an IMAX advanced screening, so maybe the only good thing was the audio production. Anyway, when my buddy told me this had happened, it got me in a real doozy. The title is not clickbait. Have a look at the video.
[A short, shaky fan-taken video shows a few seconds of the intense kiss between Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc on the red carpet, before it swerves back to the person recording, whose eyes are wide with shock and is holding her hand over her agape mouth.]
Yeah, that’s right, and that’s not the only angle of it, but that’s the only angle I’m including in this video without feeling like one of those hentai-gooning incels jerking it to their waifu pillows in their man-cave basements.
PDA – no fucking way. They kissed. They were raw-dogging each others’ mouths, all sloppy, spit flying everywhere like they’re in a dental clinic. They made out for a solid thirty seconds before one of their handlers had to physically pry them off each other and remind them where they were. Irresistible pheromones in the air or not, I’m pretty sure they would’ve started fucking if no one had stopped them. For free, in this economy?
Okay, all right. Big deal, big whoop. They aren’t officially together in any sense, but they do that in front of how many people in Times Square on the red carpet? I, for one, get performance anxiety. Can’t even get it up in the cuck chair, so I can’t relate to doing any of that, but you know, who cares? They’re movie actors, right? They do this for a living.
Well, actually, they aren’t even the main stars in the movie.
In fact, one is the four-time world champion F1 Red Bull driver and alpha, Max Verstappen, who has spent so long processing his daddy issues that he still defends his father to this day, and the other is the notorious Monegasque omega camboy – yes, the one and only who squirted all over his camera and made bank from selling his own bathwater and pussy juice perfume. I don’t know if the pussy juice perfume thing was a scam or not. I didn’t buy it. If I had a pussy, I’d be doing it too, y’know. I don’t blame him. And I definitely don’t blame his omegapilled audience who want to gain a Monegasque citizenship by claiming him as their mate. Legal tax evasion? Say no more!
Back to the point, Max Verstappen plays himself in the movie. He gets like three minutes of screen time, but he’s mostly in his F1 car the whole time. The camboy, Charles Leclerc – yeah, it’s a French name, so you pronounce it Sharl – gets a bit less screen time, and he’s mostly in the background looking pretty and shit. You don’t really notice either of them unless you’re a) a fan, or b) really fucking horny. I was neither. Don’t ask me why I somehow remember how much screen time they both got.
Meanwhile, my buddy, who has even less of an interest in F1 than I do, joined me at the advanced screening to quote unquote see if they’d continue the mouth-fucking in the movie. All because of this one incident. Spoiler: they don’t. They don’t even interact throughout the whole movie. Oh, they got us good. We’re both just sitting there, big buckets of popcorn over our crotches, but then next thing you know, we’ve unintentionally watched the whole fucking movie.
Now, why does the internet think it’s a PR stunt?
This is an unmated alpha and an unmated omega, who are arguably both at the peaks of their careers. Despite the rumours that they’re fucking and on camera too if you’re willing to believe the conspiracy theories on the camboy’s most recently uploaded video, they haven’t mated each other. Instead, they pull this shit on the red carpet?
Look, let me read out the highest up-voted comment from the F1 subreddit that went haywire over this:
“Max Verstappen hates all kinds of PR bullshit. He hates the press. He apparently didn’t even want to attend the F1 movie premiere. There is no way he would ever agree to doing anything like this, but remember how much bad publicity Red Bull and Max were getting from the reappearance of Mad Max at the Spanish GP? So, the fact that this happened and it’s real? The fact that Charles Leclerc also coincidentally started popping up at the paddock when the promos for the movie started? It was a guaranteed way to get PR – good or bad – for the movie and distract from Max’s toxic alpha moment. You pair the current WDC who is known to not do this shit so therefore it must be legit enough to pay attention to, with the sexiest F1-adjacent omega you can think of who just happens to also star in the movie, and what do you get? A diabolical PR stunt that unsurprisingly has everyone talking about what they actually want you to be talking about. All according to plan.”
Okay, and this one too. I’m not going to read it aloud. Take a look.
[The screenshot shows the following from the comment section:
miniscuderia99: I’ve actually met Charles Leclerc. When I was younger, maybe high school, I got roped into watching my 3 month old niece while my sister got her hair done at Charles’ mother’s hair salon. So there I am, sitting in the waiting area of Pascale’s salon with my niece, and who walks in but Charles Leclerc!
I was nervous as fuck (he is so fucking gorgeous irl like prettier than the photos and videos we’ve all seen) and just kept looking at him, as he played with his phone and waited. I didn’t know what to say. Soon enough, my niece started crying, and I’m trying to quiet her down because I didn’t want her to bother Charles, but she wouldn’t stop. Then Charles gets up and walks over. He first asked me if it was OK to try and settle her, and I said yeah, she’s probably hungry or something. So, Charles put down his phone, picked up my niece, and lifted his shirt. He breast fed her right there in the middle of the hair salon. Chill guy, really nice about it.
↪ bawllsixtynine: ngl you had me in the first half.]
Now that you’ve also been baited by the same comment I was, I’ll move on to discuss why this matters. Why do I care so much if it’s a PR stunt? I don’t even allegedly know these two people. But you see, now, I do.
In fact, the first thing I did was subscribe to Charles Leclerc’s camboy site. No, I did not jerk off. Yet. But, I will be doing that right after I upload this video. Secondly, I did, indeed, go and watch all of the recommended videos on Max Verstappen’s race-craft that suddenly appeared on my homepage thanks to the YouTube algorithm. I won’t lie – those compilations got me harder than the boner I got from looking at Charles’ pretty face. One might say Max in the wet is his natural habitat, although I’m sure Charles himself can attest to that. 2024 Brazil? Two words: nut busted.
Honestly, if they announced they were releasing a collaboration alongside the movie in the form of a limited edition Charles Leclerc pussy juice flavoured Red Bull can with Max Verstappen’s face plastered all over it, I wouldn’t even blink. I’d chug that shit like no tomorrow.
Anyway, don’t kink-shame me. I know you’d do the exact same. That’s about it. See ya.
*
The Red Bull factory at Milton Keynes is Max’s home away from home. Not because it is comfortable in any sense, but because it is familiar, the buildings a sight he has become acquainted with since signing his first ever contract with the company. Hours and hours spent there working with the team eventually transformed into four consecutive World Driver’s Championships.
Inside the white walls of the factory, the team is already busy at work, developing the engine for next year, with new regulations and stipulations to follow. But instead of being in the simulator to fine-tune the RB21 for the upcoming Austrian Grand Prix held at the Red Bull Ring where Max is expected to win – Red Bull’s home race – he is in Christian’s office.
Christian doesn’t grant him a friendly greeting, slamming the door shut and enclosing the both of them in privacy. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Christian shouts, loud enough that his words can probably be heard from outside the room, as he makes his way to his seat.
I wasn’t thinking, Max thinks. Max doesn’t speak as he sits down opposite Christian. Upon reflection, it had been more difficult to think than to not think, when Charles had kissed him on the red carpet. Rational thoughts of breaking the kiss and pulling away from Charles – what he should have done – had disintegrated into the ether, almost as though the alpha part of his brain had irreversibly rewired itself around Charles, around his imprint-bonded omega.
“We need to terminate this contract,” Christian says, leaning back in his ergonomic chair and crossing his arms. “This omega has completely ignored everything, made a mess, played you and us like a fucking fiddle. Your father was right. Jos was right. You can’t bargain with these omega bitches – they’ll start thinking they have some power over you and then act on it, and he did, didn’t he? Made a real fucking fool out of you – us. He could cost us our sponsors if I can’t persuade them to stay on despite the damage to our image this has created. An omega outside of Red Bull having sway over you, an alpha driving for us, is not a good reputation to have, least of all how it’s going to fuel the rumours that you’re the alpha in his videos. Never mind the fact that he’s the brother of a Ferrari driver.”
Processing the entirety of Christian’s superfluous tirade, Max reels back at the implication Christian has been speaking to Jos about more than just racing-related matters. “What does it matter what my father says? I don’t want to terminate the contract. I don’t care if Charles breached whatever clause about keeping this a secret. It would’ve been an impossible feat anyway. It shouldn’t be on him.”
“He showed no discretion. Zero!” Christian fumes, an acrid, burning scent emitting from him in waves. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows you didn’t want your relationship with him aired out to the public, but he still kissed you in front of all those cameras. Why? You know why, but you won’t admit it and you keep protecting him even though he’s doing you and your rep – our rep – more harm.”
“What am I not admitting, Christian? Tell me,” Max deadpans, standing up and levelling him with an unimpressed stare. “You think you know me so well, but you don’t. We might both be alphas who work for Red Bull, but we are nothing alike.”
Instead of replying immediately, Christian opens a desk drawer and slaps the small pill bottle down, its contents rattling from the force of his action. His voice is steady, serious.
Max fixes his expression in apathy, glancing between Christian and the innocuous medicinal container. He waits for Christian to speak first. He won’t give him the satisfaction of his curiosity.
Christian falters in the duel of indifference. “Look. I’ve discussed it with the medical team. We’ve procured the medicine we need. It is fucking expensive and hard to get due to the rarity of your condition. You take this – you’ll be free from the imprint bond. No more behaving like someone else, like an unchained alpha. This isn’t you, Max. You never slept with omegas before. You never let another person broadcast your relationship to the world like this without retribution from yourself. You’d never do anything like what you did. Now, you’re telling me you’re fine with all of this? For an omega attention whore like him? You’re better off breaking the bond before he humiliates you when he goes running off with other alphas. You know it will happen – it’s just a matter of when.”
Max grabs the see-through container, examining it. The label is in an incomprehensible language. Only one lonely white tablet is inside. He slams it back down on the desk in front of him. “No. I am not breaking the bond. I already told you that. Plus, it needs to be reciprocated by Charles, or it won’t work properly.”
Christian doesn’t take back the container. He peers at Max with a knowing gaze. “You need to do this before you go into rut. Before he goes into heat. Don’t fret – I am not that cruel; I have procured the meds for him too. But of course, I cannot give it to him unless you accept this too. Max, you possibly don’t realise this, but you have become very different since being around this omega: uncontrollable, reckless, impulsive. These are all symptoms that occur when the alpha inside you is unable to fulfil the imprint bond. Don’t you remember the medical report? Critically high alpha rut hormones that will eventually not be able to be managed by rut suppressants. That is why you must make a choice. Soon. For the sake of your health, at least, and to keep yourself in contention for the championship. If you want to keep doing your job safely.”
Max huffs in disbelief. “I was fine in Canada.”
“And what happens if he leaves you on your own for more than a few days? You know very well, Max. You either claim him or you move on. And we both know which option your omega will refuse.”
Gritting his teeth, Max wants to snap back that Christian doesn’t know Charles at all. That they can manage this adequately, without the need for interference from a third party or medication. But what kind of alpha would he be if he knew there was a possible way to break the bond safely and didn’t provide the option to Charles? He had refused all this time, unable to swallow the idea of Charles sleeping with another alpha to break the imprint bond, but now that Charles can be freed from the bond without needing to do that? What kind of person would he be if he didn’t let Charles make his own choice?
He would be no better than Christian, or Jos, or every other alpha who has challenged Charles’ volition and made his life difficult.
Taking the pill bottle and pocketing it in his jacket, Max says, “I’ll talk about it with Charles when I see him again. But I’m not… I’m not breaking the bond or the contract unless he wants to.”
“Fine.” Christian sighs, rubbing at his temples as though he has a headache. “Also the PR department has decided to play that incident off as a one-off publicity stunt, since that’s what everyone on the internet thinks of it. You’ll be briefed on it by Gemma before media day.”
“Great,” Max replies, lying through his teeth. He would much prefer to head back to Monaco now. At least, the conversation is over now. Heading out of the office, by the doorway, Max says as way of farewell, “I’ll see if they need me on the sim.”
Max doesn’t wait for a response.
*
Gemma’s revenge comes swiftly on content day for the Austrian Grand Prix. Because it is the Red Bull Ring, Max has come to anticipate having to participate in more media duties, but when Gemma requests his presence there earlier than usual, he knows to prepare himself mentally.
“New agenda on your docket. Confirmed last minute, sorry,” Gemma says, sounding wholly unapologetic whilst typing on her phone. Max can’t blame her, considering what she has had to see. “You know what happened last week can’t happen again. We’ve been through that. Just keep that in mind for today.”
Max doesn’t bother explaining again that it had never been his intention to even kiss Charles in public like that. He couldn’t be livid about the incident or Charles’ spontaneous actions, because on any occasion, if it had occurred in a private setting, he would have wanted that. He would have wanted to kiss Charles and not care or think about anything else. But Max is a F1 driver, and the one with more to lose from a situation like this – as Gemma had amicably reminded him over emails and in person since it had happened.
Red Bull had underestimated Charles. Max had underestimated Charles, and now he must pay the price in the form of needing to endure more PR obligations.
Standing on the circuit, Max remains stock still, a predictable Red Bull can in his hand like a picture-perfect advertisement. In the middle of the track is a sleek car with its hood vandalised by the Red Bull logo. It reminds Max of the Ferrari GT3 he had driven when he had completed his Nordschleife test at the Nurburgring.
Around them is a filming crew. One cameraman is already tunnelling in on Max’s face, as if hunting for his reaction. Max refrains from stepping backwards to create distance.
“So,” Gemma starts, sensing Max’s unspoken question. Shoving her phone into her pocket, she claps her hands together. “The reception to the incident has been significant, not just immediately afterwards but over the past week. Both positive and negative. We are going to capitalise on it. You’re going to be filming content with Charles Leclerc, doing a hot lap segment. He’s agreed. He should be here but seems like he’s running a tad late.”
Max nods. He hadn’t seen Charles since the New York premiere. Charles hadn’t set up a time to film another video, and Max isn’t sure if there might ever be another one – if Charles still wants him to be in his videos. Max had checked Charles’ camboy site daily, the page remaining empty of new posts or livestreams, and yet the pussy-eating video continued to rack up a considerable amounts of views, somehow nearing even the views for the squirting on camera video that was a few years old.
Max shouldn’t be surprised – Charles likely anticipated this result. Probably devised the machination with the sole intention of proving that attention is everything, even when Max thinks himself to be above it. That Red Bull and Max shouldn’t have been so naïve to presume someone like Charles could be kept concealed. Such a PR stunt should have infuriated Max by its mere principle, but it was hard to be mad when the person he was kissing was Charles Leclerc.
“It’s an opportunity to sell,” Max quips. Now that the amount of time and distance between himself and Charles is realised once more, Max feels the nagging need to seek Charles out. Perhaps all the contact previously had sated the alpha within, having felt mostly fine in Monaco, but hearing that Charles will be here, alongside him, once more has him giddy. Excited. Even if the imprint bond ties them together, Charles isn’t required to join in on PR content devised by Red Bull.
The topic of Max’s thoughts arrives with his entourage. Max’s gaze narrows in on the scent blocker patch visible on Charles’ neck, then trails down to his disorienting choice of outfit. Charles is in white shorts, tan calves and thighs on display, but more than that, he looks like he is being swallowed up by his oversized Red Bull-branded hoodie.
Max glances at the other Red Bull staff, wondering if they recognise the offending piece of clothing. That it belongs to Max. The same one he wore and gave to Charles in Montreal. Though the scent blockers prevent alphas and omegas from sniffing each other’s pheromones, the hoodie might still smell like him. A quiet and innocuous declaration that only the paddock-goers would realise; the video viewers would remain unaware.
When Charles steps close enough, Max doesn’t even need to strain to recognise his own scent. It clings to Charles like cologne, except no one comments on it, everyone too engaged with the task at hand. Or too polite – with Max being right there too.
Meeting Charles’ gaze, Max nods in greeting. “Ready for your hot lap?”
Charles grins, bright and dazzling, dimples on show. For the cameras. Max is incidental. Charles replies, “You are the passenger. I will be driving.”
“Oh.” Max notices the sheepish expression on Gemma’s face. Accepting the helmet proffered to him by a staff member, Max busies himself with securing his safety gear, unsure of what else to say.
“Not looking forward to my driving?” Charles challenges, teasing. His green eyes are twinkling, and Max wonders if the screen will ever be able to display this visage of Charles faithfully, the way Max sees him now.
“No, I—” Max frowns, wondering why it feels like he is lisping, his tongue feeling heavy and twisted. “I am looking forward to it. I remember how you were with karting, and now you do sim racing. You must be good—”
Already with his own helmet on, Max finds himself distracted by Charles still fiddling with the straps of his helmet. Leaning in, Max helps, fingers brushing Charles’ as he buckles the chin strap for him. Max sees Charles swallow, eyes dropping from Charles’ lips to his neck. Max hesitates, his touch ghosting over the skin. Stepping back, Max doesn’t ache to rip away the scent blockers like before, realising that perhaps Charles smelling like him seems to be enough to sate his alpha’s possessiveness.
“Thanks.” Charles winks at him, failing to shut only one eye. Endearing, if Max is allowed to comment.
Gemma fakes a cough behind them. “Keep it friendly and professional for the filming,” she says, voice quiet even though she doesn’t have a mic attached to the collar of her shirt like Max and Charles do. Even if the mic does pick up on her words, the video editors will know to cut it out.
Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc are not mated or courting. The kiss on the red carpet was a publicity stunt. This will be a planned marketing manoeuvre that will now benefit Red Bull Racing. Viewers will believe they are capitalising on the online chatter. Sponsors will be satiated by the increased engagement rate. It is a win-win situation for everyone involved, or so Gemma has laid out.
Max waits for Charles to step into the car first before he follows suit. He has done this before – filming hot laps with celebrities and the like, although usually he is in the driver’s seat – so it shouldn’t be a big deal.
There are cameras everywhere inside the car too, aimed at them. The moment Max sits in the passenger seat and straps the seat belt on, he notices Charles is already mid-making-Max’s-life-difficult. He has underestimated Charles once again.
Having peeled off his scent blocker patch with nary any consideration for Max’s mental wellbeing, Charles explains, “I can’t focus on driving if I have it on. Hope you don’t mind.”
Even if he were to say that he minds very much as he tries not to make a show of inhaling, Max stares at Charles shoving the scent blocker in the pocket of his jacket. “Uh…” Max blubbers, snorting in a lungful of irresistible pheromones.
“Don’t worry, mon ami. Only the super fans will notice there’s something missing from my neck and it isn’t your mating bite,” Charles reassures, completely unabashed, while Max sinks further into his seat.
The engine starts. Hands on the wheel, Charles looks away from Max to the track in front – the Red Bull Ring. A smirk rests on Charles’ lips; Max finds it impossible to look away.
Foot to the pedal, and away they go.
(in terms of what happens next, there's a reference to it in the first chapter xD)
Hii, omg.. I just read the most recent chapter of "eyes on my" IT'S INCREDIBLE!!!, I loved it, I'm still loving it, and I love how every decision is complicated and the characters have so much backstory that it reflects attitudes in the present.. I simply love it, I love how it gets more and more complicated, I still don't know if it will end happily or not, but I will definitely love everything you do!! ❤️❤️❤️ kisses!! Lots of kisses!!
thank you so much!! your kind words are so sweet - it's exactly what i wanted readers to get from the fic 🥺🥺 (spoiler i did plan for a happy ending, so hopefully we get there! im sry i've been really slow with updates ;u;) lots of kisses back <3
Hellooo! I wanna start with the fact that I love your work “eyes on me (just keep watching)” sooo much, like its sososososoo good and makes me pause at the end of every chapter because of how much lore that was, lmao. I would never want to preassure you with writing, but is there any chance i could ask you for an update on the upcoming chapter? Thank you for reading this! Have a good one!
thank you so much!! ♥ i do appreciate hearing that each chapter is meaningful because i rly strive to make it so~ :D
idm being asked about the fic! thank you for being so thoughtful. the next chapter has hit a... standstill... i wrote like 1/3rd of it in dec, and then my motivation to write has kind of careened off a cliff... i hope to write some more as maybe the season starts up again, since i have it plotted out and all, i just have to find the time, motivation, and confidence in my writing to keep going 💪🥺
thanks for reaching out! sry if this is probably not what you wanted to hear :,) but i am very very very slowly working on it... ♥
saw this tweet on my 'for you' twitter (ofc i am getting recommended tweets about charles being an omega)
immediately reminded me that i need to lock in and write my fic (the 'eyes on me' one - i have not been writing at the same pace as before orz) because i've had max getting jealous about channik again planned for AGES... in approximately the chapter after the next... (if you remember which race this is ;))
fic idea: what if f1 did an actors on actors-esque interview series (drivers on drivers)? lestappen having their freak4freak conversations about how driving gets them hard in ways nothing else will. maxplaining and leclerifying on record for 40 whole minutes. a voyeuristic window into charles' praise kink meeting max's competency kink.
years from now, when they've both won the WDC, they reflect on their efforts and struggles.
max: "you drove your heart out in AD 2025."
charles: "it was such a difficult season. i pushed to the max, but yes... [describes how ferrari finally got their shit together in the era of new regulations🙏]"
and they somehow end up crawling into each other's laps by the end of it and making out.
my ao3 wrapped (reading-wise) - because my ao3 history stays between me and my deathbed, i still had to censor many parts but i thought it'd be funny to share just how much i got into reading lestappen this year (funnily enough the first f1 rpf fic i read was not even a lestappen fic). disclaimer: the code doesn't differentiate between fics i clicked on and fics i fully read til the end.
Omg I swear I’ll leave you alone after this but potential mini sequel where Max finally eats out Charlie’s greedy cunt because he’s all pregnant and round and earned pleasure from tongue 😛
LOL you don't need to leave me alone :P idm!! in fact, i am very flattered!
cw: AFAB terms for charles' genitalia, mpreg
tbh i recently wrote max eating the chussy in my other fic - chp 5 of eyes on me (just keep watching), and i tend to avoid writing the same sort/type of smut scenes so soon after one another, just because i feel like it'd unintentionally end up reading the same/repeating myself. charles isn't pregnant in the fic, but he does pretty much ride max's face, and max would eat that chussy all day if he could hehehe
(in change the prophecy, once his heat hits, charles would get immediately preg because max breeds him right away. the only thing is that in the red bull pack, they normally have all the alphas, not just the pack alphas, fuck the omegas in order for a pregnancy to catch every heat, except with pack alpha max being completely bewitched by the newest omega in the pack, traditions and rules get thrown away, just so that max is the only alpha who gets to fuck charles. of course, this ends up causing plenty of internal strife and turmoil in the pack, but max is pleased and happy to be certain that the only father to charles' pups is himself. max doesn't care that the pack is gradually becoming dissatisfied with his ruling when he's got his beautiful omega impregnated and squirting on his tongue. (chussy so good it brings a previously healthy pack to ruin 👌))
