Posting my post-F1 75 season launch event Lestappen fic (I seem to find new names for it in every post, whoops) now because I don’t know if I will be in the mood come 6 pm. 🙃
In this fic, we’ve got established Lestappen, the morning after, some sexy time and some love confessions. 😴🥰😏🔥❤️
Word count: approx. 1,7 k
Rating: M
Thank you to Max and Charles (but mainly Max, iykyk) for being completely unhinged about one another, feeding us fic writers and making it basically unnecessary to invent things because they just do them and more than we could ever come up with. They’re the reason this fic exists in the first place.
Big thank you also to the people who commented under the first post and encouraged me to continue writing. This one is for all of you! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 🫶🏼
Read under the cut.
Charles wakes slowly, the soft light of the rising sun filtering through the curtains. They didn’t close them properly last night, too occupied with stripping each other of their respective suits.
He turns his head to the side and immediately meets Max‘s eyes. The other man is on his side, head propped on his hand, his soft gaze trained on Charles. He must’ve been awake for a while.
“Good morning,” Charles greets, croaks rather, voice raspy and deep.
“Good morning indeed,” Max replies, a smile spreading on his lips, crinkles around his eyes.
Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight, his stomach tightening. He loves seeing Max like this, carefree and happy, smiling.
“You look happy,” he says.
“I am. I always am when I get to wake up next to you of course,” Max replies.
His answer sets off a swarm of butterflies in Charles’ stomach and he has to bite his lip so his face won’t split in half because of how broad his grin is.
They don’t do it often, staying the night but when it happens, it feels right and makes Charles wish they’d do it more often.
Max reaches over and places a hand on Charles’ hips before leaning forward and down, claiming Charles’ mouth in a delicate kiss. His thumb starts stroking over Charles’ hipbone which lays exposed. Charles can’t help the shiver running down his spine. He sighs against Max’s lips, lifting his hand to cup the man’s cheek and threads his fingers through the longer strands at the base of his neck.
They kiss, slow and unhurried, kiss for the sake of it until Charles feels tingly all over. His cock twitches, half hard but it’s the morning after all. He’s not interested in taking it any further just yet, still too sleepy and too lazy to do anything about it. So he continues kissing Max, moving his mouth against Max’s as if he had all the time in the world.
Eventually, Max pulls back. His cheeks are tinged red, his eyes half-lidded and his lips are slick and swollen. Charles wants to continue kissing him.
God, he wants him so much.
“Have I told you how handsome you looked last night?” Max asks out of the blue.
Charles rolls his eyes because yes, he heard that before.
“Only about ten times,” Charles giggles, basking in his attention and compliments.
It’s a completely different story hearing this from Max than the sexist, boundary-crossing bullshit that asshole Jack Whitehall was spewing the evening before.
Charles shudders in embarrassment just thinking about it.
Max of course catches onto his reaction.
“I’m sorry that Jack said all this disgusting stuff. I would’ve decked him for that if we hadn’t been in an arena filled with thousands of people and cameras broadcasting it live for everyone in the world to see.”
Charles sighs. “It’s fine, I’m used to it by now.”
“You shouldn’t. You are much more than a pretty face and a killer body. I hate that so many people think it’s okay to talk to and about you like that,” Max argues, anger bleeding into his voice.
“I appreciate you saying this but it won’t change and I’ve learned to accept it. So, please just tell me what you were about to, before.”
“Fine,” Max sighs though he still looks conflicted. “But l’m still telling you regardless, even if it’s the eleventh time. Because you did - looked handsome last night. So much, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. So much, all I could think about was getting you alone and stripping you off your race suit.”
You did eventually, Charles thinks, a little heat spreading through him at the memories of the previous night, how Max didn’t once let go of him the moment they made it to the hotel room, how he had stripped Charles of his actual suit, how Max had laid Charles down on the mattress and pressed him into it the way he had pressed himself inside of Charles after.
“You are always so handsome and I simply love looking at you, but it was particularly remarkable yesterday,” Max continues, not aware of Charles’ straying thoughts.
“So did you,” Charles interrupts, not sure what to do with this kind of compliment, how to accept it.
Max smiles but it’s contemplative. Charles knows that expression. Max is not done yet with the talking.
“Standing there in the front row, it suited you. Even though it wasn’t in first place of course. But that’s where you belong. If I don’t win the championship this year because we aren’t competitive, I want it to be you.”
There’s a lump in Charles’ throat which he tries to swallow down unsuccessfully. They rarely talk about anything racing related when they aren’t at a track, the possibility of it blowing up in their faces being too real. They can’t risk them because they are both striving for the same thing, one of them just more successful than the other one so far.
“Max,” he croaks.
“I mean it.” The determination in his blue eyes is palpable.
“I know.”
Max never lies to him. But he also doesn’t coddle Charles, so him saying that means a lot.
“Everyone is saying that Lando’s the favourite but I think it’s you. They - we - should be scared of you. Let’s hope they realise that too late.”
Charles can’t hold back anymore, too overwhelmed by Max’s seemingly limitless belief in him. He reaches up, one hand on Max’s nape and pulls him down again, hungrily licking into his mouth. Max grunts but reciprocates the kiss before settling his weight on Charles’ body. It’s what Charles has been waiting for and the next moment he switches their positions until he’s on top of Max.
He pulls back, placing his hand on Max’s cheek, his thumb grazing over Max’s plumb bottom lip, pulling it down a bit.
“For the record, I hope we can have a proper title fight. I want to beat you to the title.”
Max grins. “I won’t make it easy for you.”
“I’m counting on you not to do that.”
They smile at each other for a moment longer, before Charles leans down and kisses Max again.
The other man is pliant beneath his touch. He parts his legs until Charles can settle in the v created solely for him. Their groins touch and Charles feels Max being half hard just like he himself is. He rolls his hips down, causing a low moan to leave his lips. Max lifts his hips, searching for the contact, wanting the touch just as much as Charles does. The delicious friction ramps up Charles’ pleasure until heat spreads from his belly over his groin to the tip of his toes.
He continues rolling his hips down against Max’ who’s meeting him with equal rolls upwards until they’re both fully hard. They aren’t even really kissing anymore, only breathing heavily against each other’s mouths while jumping each other.
Any other instance Max would’ve pushed a finger inside of Charles by now, or vice versa, but not this time. Instead, Max sneaks a hand between them, his knuckles grazing Charles’ belly and abs, setting off another set of sparks. He wraps his hand around both their dicks. Charles moans at the delicious pressure and lifts his head a bit to look between them and see Max’s long fingers wrapped around both their members.
“Fuck,” he curses.
He’s always had a particular thing for Max’s hands. They’re the sexiest thing about him for Charles and seeing them wrapped around both of their dicks, makes his vision go hazy and his lust ramp up even further.
“Fuck, baby, yeah, just like that. So good,” he moans, dropping his forehead to Max’s shoulder as he pushes his dick into the tight circle created by Max’s hand.
“Charles,” Max moans, his knees now tightly bracketing Charles’ hips, his heels digging into the back of Charles’ thighs and his free hand burying itself into the hair at the base of his neck.
He’s surrounded by Max, Max is all he can feel and smell and taste. It’s heady and toe-curlingly good. It’s all he wants right now and here. And forever possibly too, even if that is too much to encompass in that moment.
Charles doesn’t know how much time passes, only that he’s closing in on his release at rapid speed as he continues humping against Max, letting the other man jerk them together.
He lifts his head from Max’s shoulders, meeting Max’s gaze, sees his own lust and adoration reflected in them blue orbs.
“Baby,” he brings out, not able to say more, hoping to convey…
“Me too,” Max replies, equally as breathless.
He ups the movements in his hand, adding a new twist. It’s the last thing Charles needs to tip over the edge. He spills all over Max’s hand and cock.
Max comes a second later with a drawn out moan of Charles’ name, adding to the mess.
He lets go of their dicks, his legs falling away from Charles’ sides and Charles rolls off Max and onto his back next to the other man, chest heaving.
He keeps looking at the ceiling until his breathing has calmed down. Only then does he turn his head to the side, just to find Max looking at him already.
“I love you, Charles,” Max says earnestly, catching Charles by surprise. But he’s smiling, warmth and happiness and so much love radiating from his eyes that it causes Charles’ breath to catch in his throat.
His heart is hammering in his chest, his mouth dry but his chest warm and his belly full of butterflies.
He reaches over, takes Max’s cum-free in his hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles.
“I love you, too, Max,” he replies, trying to convey his feelings the way Max managed to just seconds before.
Judging by the smile he gets in return, the crinkles forming around Max’s eyes and the way Max bites his lower lip, he succeeded.
Maybe forever is not out of reach after all.