Chapter Text
Charles takes a deep breath and just says it.
“I wanna try free use.”
There. Done. Out.
Max is staring at him, shocked, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth.
“Come again?”
“Free use. I wanna try it.”
“Right.”
Max leans back in his chair, upsetting the milk in his spoon. It splatters all over the table while Max curses and scrambles to put the spoon where it belongs. His cheeks are very red, which seems unfair given that it was Charles who had to say those words just now.
“Do you maybe want to, I don’t know, sit down for this?” Max asks.
Charles sits down at the breakfast table.
“Okay, right.” Max clears his throat. “Good. Can you… tell me a bit more?”
Charles lifts an eyebrow. “I would like you to use me, please. Sexually, at any and every convenience within a set timeframe.”
Groaning, Max flaps a hand at him. “It’s too fucking early for this.”
“Would you like me to ask again in a couple hours?” Charles grins. He thought this conversation was going to be awkward, but so far, it’s looking more like a comedy that will add years to Charles’ life.
“Sure, right after the visit to your mother’s, why don’t we,” Max mumbles, taking a sip of his tea before he composes himself. “No, it’s okay, I can do this before 10am, that’s fine. Tell me more about it. About free use, since I know, like, very little. And about how you want it.”
“Does what it says on the tin,” Charles starts teasingly, but switches to a bit more serious tone as he carries on. “It just means you’d have free access to me, at any time and in any way we agree on. There’d be no asking since I’m giving blanket consent. There’d be no need for foreplay or anything, unless you wanted it. You’d just have me whenever you felt like it.”
“Isn’t that what we do anyway?”
Charles narrows his eyes. “Are you calling me easy?”
“Absolutely,” Max nods, serene, eyes sparkling. Charles kicks him under the table, and Max yelps.
“It’s different,” Charles continues while Max pulls his leg up to rub at his shin, staring at Charles with a hurt expression. He’ll live. “Because usually, I can tell what you want, or when you want it. And we tell each other what we’re going to do, especially when you’re going to be more in charge. There’s none of that here.”
“You’d let me do whatever?”
“Whatever we’ve done and enjoyed before. Bottoming, topping, fingering, blowjobs-”
“-ties, plugs, marking, denial?”
“Yes,” Charles whispers, red finally pushing into his cheeks as well. “Marks where they won’t be seen. I wouldn’t come unless you made me. For 24 hours, I was thinking, on a day when we have no commitments and when there’s an extra free day after, just in case.”
Max tilts his head. “In case of what?”
“In case we need it to recuperate.” Warmth spreads through Charles’ belly, and he shudders. “In case I need a little time to- to get back to normal.”
Max hums.
“Why do you wanna do it?” he asks, tap-tapping his fingers on the table.
“I just like the idea.” Fidgeting in his seat, Charles reaches for Max’s tea and takes a sip, keeping his eyes on Max’s hands. These words are a little harder to get out. “I think I’d enjoy being… at your disposal, I suppose. Sitting still and looking pretty, kind of, until I can be useful to you.”
Charles watches as Max grips the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. Breathing in deeply, he hears Max do the same.
“There are limits,” Charles adds softly.
“Yeah?”
“No sex when cooking, no foodstuffs in general,” Charles begins, looking up just in time to see Max relax, grinning.
“We learned that lesson,” Max says, more at home.
“That we did,” Charles agrees. “Then, no sex when I’m on call with somebody, or if someone stops by unexpectedly. We’re not leaving the house, but if we have to, no sex in public.”
“Fair, fair, the usual,” Max says. “And you can always red out, of course. You don’t want me to explain what I’ll do to you?”
“No. The surprise...” Charles trails off and shivers. ”It’s good. I don’t want to know.”
“Okay. You said you need no foreplay and I don’t need to ask permission. What about afterwards, aftercare?”
“I think-” Charles gulps, heart in his throat. “I think I’d like it if you just left. When- when you’re done using me.”
“Jesus,” Max mutters, leaning back in his chair. “Fuck. Okay. As hot as that sounds in theory, I don’t think I’m okay doing that. Not without checking with you first. I’ll ask for your colour, or you can just tell me it whenever I’m done with you. And then I’ll leave you, if you’re green.”
“God,” Charles whispers, stomach clenching tight.
“What if you’re asleep, or just waking up? Can I start things then?”
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Yeah,” Charles breathes out, dazed. Max inhales sharply. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind- I’d like waking up to- to that.”
Max is staring at him like he wants to take Charles apart right this second, peel away his layers, see what exactly about this makes him tick, and then do every single one of those things. Charles swallows slowly, then blinks. The tension breaks. Max clears his throat.
“Did you want to do morning to morning?” he asks, just a little rasp in his voice.
It takes a moment for Charles to nod. “I guess it makes the most sense.”
“Do you want to agree on the day?”
Hesitating, Charles clicks his nails along the tabletop.
The idea of not knowing when it will all start is appealing, if just because the first time Max drags him in would make Charles cycle through the emotions so fast, surprise to shock to realisation. To pleasure.
But maybe, for the first time-
“Yeah, let’s agree on something,” he says, inhaling deep.
“Next week is pretty free.” Max stops, eyes darting as he considers. “Wednesday?”
“Magazine shoots.”
“Oh, right. Thursday?”
Charles thinks about it, then swallows heavily.
“Thursday.”
—:—
Max is like an octopus in the mornings, pressed to Charles’ back and all his limbs wrapped around him as they enjoy the closeness. The room is just the right temperature for the sheets to feel cosy, and Charles nuzzles his face into his pillow with a contented sigh.
There’s nothing to do today, thank god, nothing but laze around, maybe read for a bit, play the piano-
Max stirs behind him, stretching. Charles hums, not ready to wake up yet.
There’s a soft snick. Max presses a gentle kiss to Charles’ nape, running his nose along his hairline. Charles leans back into him, skin coming flush with skin, sleep-warm. The back of Max’s hand travels along Charles’ side, making pleasant shivers run down his spine, and then he slides between Charles’ thighs.
It’s wet. Slick.
Charles’ eyes shoot open.
Max coats the insides of his thighs, then grabs Charles’ top leg to shift it forward, the space between his legs growing tighter. The hot head of Max’s cock pushes against Charles’ skin before he slides home, his slick hand coming to grip Charles’ hip to hold him steady.
Charles’ breathing speeds up.
It’s today. It’s today, today, today.
Max thrusts in, brushing against Charles’ balls and the sensitive space underneath them, and Charles groans so loud, fingers digging into the mattress as he stays still for Max, stays still, looking pretty.
“Max,” Charles whimpers, shaky. He can feel heat running over his skin when Max grunts, gripping harder at Charles’ side to prevent him from falling over as he moves quicker, as if Charles- as if he were-
“Yes,” Charles whines high, turning his face into his pillow as Max continues using him.
As if Charles was just there to lend his body to whatever Max wanted to do to get off.
Max’s thrusts turn into short little ruts and then he comes warm and sticky over Charles’ thighs and balls and cock. Charles can’t help the moans or the shivers when Max bites gently on his shoulder, palm sneaking from Charles’ waist to his chest. He pulls Charles in, like moving Charles is something easy and allowed, and it is, always is, but it feels like more today, makes Charles’ cock jump against his stomach.
Max leaves a few kisses on Charles’ back, same as every morning.
“Breakfast in fifteen,” he says, same as every morning.
Charles whines, shuddering when Max pulls away and gets up.
“Colour?” he asks.
Charles is on edge, arousal dripping thick through his veins. Max looks glorious in the morning light, flushed with pleasure, spent cock wet and hanging between his legs for Charles to see until Max gets dressed.
“Green,” he whispers.
And Max leaves for the kitchen, leaves Charles hard and desperate and decidedly used.
It feels so good.
Charles rolls to his back, trying to get his breathing under control. When he looks down, he can see where he’s tenting the duvet obscenely, the soft texture of it making him want to thrust up. He doesn’t, because he’s not supposed to, and goes shower instead, Max’s come trickling down his thighs.
It takes a few tries to turn on the water, Charles’ body full of shivery adrenaline, fingers uncooperative.
It’s today, it’s today, it’s today.
Max could do anything, anything at all. He could bend him over the couch, fuck his throat before breakfast, press him against the fridge when Charles goes to get a snack, could have him whenever he feels like it, and the idea of it sits hot and glowing in Charles’ stomach. The water coming down on him is lukewarm at best but it does nothing to calm him down, doesn’t even get his hard cock to flag.
Running his palms down, he starts washing off Max’s come and the lube, thicker and more slippery than water. It makes him shudder to feel the physical evidence of what happened, cheeks flushing bright. He consciously tries to breathe in deep, working second by second to slow the frantic tattoo of his heart until he can take in enough air to stretch his ribs wide.
He feels steadier when he steps out of the shower.
He’s still half hard but that can’t be helped; every time he even briefly imagines what might happen, his belly clenches and his cock starts to fill out. It’ll just be a part of the day, most likely. It’d be best to find an older pair of sweats, one he doesn’t mind ruining a little, maybe a pair that’s worn soft, too. It wouldn’t scratch like the towel does when he dries himself off before stepping out of the bathroom and into the gentle morning sunlight of their bedroom.
The world spins and then Charles is pressed against a wall, one of Max’s hands steady between his shoulder blades, the other pinning down Charles’ right hand.
“Fuck, fuck,” Charles whimpers as adrenaline and heat rush back in full force.
“Hey, baby,” Max murmurs, trailing up from Charles’ hand to his shoulder, squeezing where it meets his neck. “Arms back.”
“God, fuck,” Charles breathes out, dizzy. He rests his forehead on the wall and brings both of his arms behind himself.
Max’s palms slide down them, slow inch after slow inch, Charles shivering harder as they get closer to his wrists.
It’s so intense, fuck, it’s so much, his chest is brushing the wall as he pants, heartbeat stuttering below his ribs.
Max’s fingertips brush over the insides of his wrists. Charles’ hips jump forward.
“Jesus, Max.” Charles can’t stop himself, not from saying this, not from whimpering as Max guides his hands closer together, not from moaning as something soft and silken wraps gently around his wrists.
When Max tightens the tie, Charles’ whole body arches, aches. Max’s finger wriggles below the tie and tugs; Charles stumbles backwards into Max.
“Hi, pretty,” Max says, wrapping an arm around Charles to keep him steady and close, his mouth leaving kisses down Charles’ neck.
Charles feels like he might come apart at the seams.
“Max,” he whines softly, pushing back into Max’s lap even though Max is soft against him, can’t go again just yet, can’t fuck him just yet.
Max’s chest vibrates against him as Max hums, and then he’s pushing Charles forward, into the wall again. A palm slides down Charles’ thigh, hooking under his knee and pulling it up as Max braces himself, and Charles groans, whines, trembles, at the stretch and at how open it leaves him.
“Good,” Max says, low and appreciative.
Slick fingers run over Charles’ hole and he twitches forward, the brush of his sensitive cock against the wall making him cry out. It’s cold, rough, not good enough.
Max’s finger slips inside, familiar and followed quickly by another.
“See, you are easy for me,” Max murmurs, approving. The words strike through Charles like a zap of electricity, making him clench on Max, moaning. Max pulls out most of the way, leaving just his fingertips in, and runs the pad of his thumb over Charles’ rim, squeezing it between his fingers. It shocks a mewl out of Charles, arms tugging against his binds as he twists, and Max withdraws completely. A wet hand presses between Charles’ shoulder blades and then he’s pushed flush with the wall, whimpering.
“Stay,” Max orders, digging into Charles’ muscles. “Unless you want to tell me something, stay.”
Charles shakes his head, then nods, shakes it again. He doesn’t know what the correct gesture is, he just wants-
“Please put them back, please put your fingers back,” he stutters out, barely enough air in his lungs to get the words out. Max leaves a surprisingly gentle kiss on his spine and pushes in again, curling to brush against Charles’ prostate.
“Yes,” Charles groans. It’s long and drawn-out, sliding from his throat like it’s the most natural thing before it turns to short little gasps as Max sets a pace, thrusting in fast.
It’s overwhelming, the pleasure washing over Charles’ skin and insides, and he strains against the wall and the tie a few times, only Max’s warning baby stopping him. He feels like he’s burning, clenching on Max more and more as his orgasm inches closer, trembling hard enough that he’s sure Max can see it as clearly as he can hear Charles’ moans start pitching high and desperate.
It all happens in a second. Max presses his fingers hard into Charles’ prostate, lets his leg fall back down, and wraps that hand tight around Charles’ cock.
Charles cries out, struggling in his binds as pleasure so intense it’s almost painful rushes through his body. Max is not moving, the fingers inside Charles still, the hand on him tight and good but also still, the tie biting into his wrists just as Max bites on his shoulder-
“Max,” Charles sobs, shaking as he’s held on the edge. “Oh god, please, please, Max.”
Max sinks his teeth deeper and doesn’t move except for little rubs against Charles’ prostate that make Charles’ whole body twitch.
Then he starts withdrawing.
“No, no,” Charles whimpers as he’s left empty, cold. “Max, please no, fuck, please, please.”
Charles can feel his desperation balloon as Max pulls his teeth out of his shoulder, smiling into Charles’ skin before kissing over the mark.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, gentle lips brushing over sensitive skin, and Charles slumps against him, on the verge of tears.
“Please,” he says again, voice thick and trembling.
“Here, baby.”
Max’s hand grips on his side, dragging him back and making him bend forward. A slick round tip of something pushes against his rim, then presses inside, the curved shape of it dragging over Charles’ abused prostate. Charles’ hands clench against the small of his back, and he wishes he could grab on Max instead as the fullness inside him lights him up.
“Thank you,” he breathes out.
Max groans loud behind him, thrusting the plug, the dildo, whatever it is, out and back in.
Everything builds again. The intensity, the pleasure, the adrenaline of being helpless and having no choice as Max begins jerking him off feeds into the maelstrom, spiralling higher until he’s back on the precipice.
“Max,” he sobs out, tense, scrabbling for a touch of Max’s skin. Max leans forward, and Charles tangles his fingers into Max’s shirt.
“Yeah, baby, yes,” Max whispers, pressing deep inside Charles, and Charles arches into it as he spills, heart beating its way out of his chest. His shocked gasps slowly, slowly turn into satisfied hums as relief and pleasure wash over him.
Every muscle relaxing, Charles sighs in contentment. Max carefully lets go of his cock; whatever is inside him gets gently pulled out. The tie loosens, falling away, and Max’s fingertips massage over the pink indents that are left over. Charles’ mind is a little hazy.
“Colour for me leaving you here?” Max asks softly.
Charles’ stomach warms because they are not done yet, they haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, there’s so much to do, still. Then, it twists with nerves, too.
“Yellow,” he whispers, trying to breathe away his daze. “Hug.”
Max wraps around him like he does in bed every morning, chest flush to Charles’ back, arms secure around him. Exhaling slowly, Charles melts into the familiar comfort of him, turning his head to nuzzle into his cheek.
“You doing okay?” Max checks, palm swiping up and down Charles’ front. Charles sinks harder into him.
“So very okay,” he mumbles, feeling Max grin against him. “Are you?”
“God yeah. You’re so fucking hot, baby.”
Charles giggles, preening.
“Good,” he says, mind finally clearing out. He inhales deep. “I’m green.”
“Perfect.” Max presses a kiss into his hair and steps away. “Shower and breakfast, then.”
Charles finally notices how sticky he is again, with his own come this time and more lube.
“Yeah,” he sighs, half giddy and half resigned, but Max is already gone, leaving him dirtied up and shivery in satisfaction. “Shower and breakfast.”
—:—
They eat and then Charles has to disappear into a meeting with his marketing assistant. His hand is just about steady as he waves hello to her, the last bits of adrenaline trickling away, but his cheeks are still flushed enough that she’s concerned.
“Are you feeling alright?” Sofia asks, frowning as she leans closer to her screen. “You’re not getting ill, are you?”
“No,” Charles says quickly, fingernails biting into his thigh, a thigh that was covered in both Max’s and his come in the span of the past hour. “Just finished a workout,” he adds, patting over his face as if that could make the pink subside.
“Alright then,” Sofia says, shrugging, then rifles through some papers. “Schedule. On the tenth, we’re shooting promos for the fan meeting that’ll take place in autumn, and on the eleventh, GQ is popping in for an interview.”
“No photos?” Charles wonders as he tries to leave their flat and today’s excitement behind, doing his best to focus on his job. No matter how annoying the amount of marketing he has to do is, it still is his job, and he will give it the appropriate attention.
“You already took those, last month, remember? I recall there being a lot of leather.”
“Oh, right. What are they focusing on, again?”
Sofia answers and Charles gets lost in the conversation for the sixty minutes that they need to discuss everything: social media content for Ferrari, promos for F1 merch, sponsorship obligations, Netflix reminders.
“I know it’s not your first year with them shooting,” Sofia says, ticking something off her list, “but they get nosier and nosier every year. It won’t hurt to be extra careful.”
“Polite and always grateful, I remember,” Charles grins, repeating the mantra that was impressed upon him time and time again.
“Polite and grateful,” Sofia smiles back, sighing, and then sags in her chair. “Sometimes I wish I could just tell you to get a basket of tomatoes and throw them at the cameras when they come near. It’d make both our jobs easier if they left you alone.”
Snorting, Charles leans forward. “Now, now, Sofia, we can’t both think like that, who’s going to keep me in check?”
“Now, now, Charles, why does it always have to be me?”
“Because I do the driving?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Sofia sighs and gathers all her papers into a neat pile, signifying that they are done. “In any case, good luck next week, I hope it all goes well on the track.”
“Thanks,” Charles smiles. “I’ll keep away from any tomatoes.”
“That’d be great for my stress levels, thank you,” Sofia grins, waving. “Bye, Charles.”
“Have a good weekend, bye.”
The call winks out, leaving Charles with his home screen, silence and a smile on his face.
Bless Sofia. Whatever would Charles do without her.
Closing his laptop, Charles stretches from his fingertips to his toes, knuckles and spine cracking as he goes, and then he slumps into his chair with a sigh.
The door behind him opens quietly, Max’s familiar footsteps coming to him. He lets his head fall back, staring at the ceiling until Max’s face floats into view.
“Hi,” Charles says, affection looping in his chest. He makes grabby hands until Max puts his palms on Charles’ shoulders and pecks him on the lips.
“All finished?” Max asks, sliding his hands up and into Charles’ hair to scritch-scratch at his scalp. With a hum, Charles melts into it.
“Yeah.”
“How did it go?”
“I have seventy-five places to be and about a million photos and videos to shoot.”
“Poor baby,” Max snorts, tugging gently on Charles’ hair.
“Ha.” Sitting up, Charles swivels in his chair to face Max, his hands coming to Max’s waist even as Max’s return to his hair. “You’ll have it much worse, world champion, I guarantee you.”
“Maybe,” Max says, his touch settling on Charles’ nape. “On your knees.”
Arousal sweeps through Charles, belly clenching as he gasps, fingers digging into Max’s sides.
Max gently cards through his hair, expression soft as he stares down.
“Charles,” he says, blinking slowly, his chest rising with a steady inhale. “On your knees.”
Without a word, Charles slides to the floor.
He hits the carpet with a quiet thud, head tilted up and hands still resting on Max’s hips.
“Good,” Max murmurs, giving Charles one last pet before he reaches for the drawstring of his sweats, unties it, and draws the elastic down along with his underwear.
Charles whines under his breath, listing forward. His heart is galloping away again, body warming up.
He knew he’d probably like all this, that’s why he suggested it, but he had no idea just how strongly it would punch him in the stomach every time Max put him where he wanted him, every time Max talked to him like he had no doubt that Charles would listen.
“Keep your hands on me, sides or legs,” Max says, confident, and Charles sinks a little lower on his knees before him. He nods.
“Good,” Max repeats. He has a hand around his cock, stroking himself to hardness, and Charles can’t help watching him, eyes flicking between the movement and Max’s face, the way his mouth falls open when he feels good. Max swipes his thumb over the head, the finger coming away glistening; Charles keens, his palms slipping to the backs of Max’s thighs as he straightens up.
Max laughs, the sound clear in the quiet, daylight-filled room, and Charles shudders when Max says, “Open up, baby.”
Charles lets his mouth fall open and Max slowly, gently feeds him his cock.
“Come on,” Max encourages, fingers tangling into Charles’ hair. “Suck me, baby.”
Charles seals his lips around him and moves.
“Yes,” Max groans softly, head falling back. Charles’ hands spasm, hips twitching forward, and he turns his head to rub the tip of Max’s cock against the inside of his cheek. Max groans again, and the bitter taste of pre-come covers Charles’ tongue.
“God, the things you do to me,” Max says, gripping tighter on Charles’ hair, and Charles stills, waiting, ribs rising and falling fast as he breathes through his nose.
Max pulls his hips away until he almost slips out, and Charles tries to chase after him, scalp stinging as Max holds him.
There’s a delighted laugh, and Charles blinks his eyes open to look up.
“Such a gorgeous baby,” Max hums, keeping Charles steady as he pushes back in until Charles chokes, water gathering at his lash line. “Gorgeous, pretty baby. Are you ready?”
Charles nods as best he can, clutching harder at Max’s legs.
Max moves.
He’s careful still, making sure he’s not pressing in too deep, but his cock grazes the back of Charles’ mouth every few thrusts, making him gag and swallow hard until tears start sliding down his cheeks, and Charles feels-
Exactly how he wanted to. Like he’s at Max’s disposal for whenever Max wants to come, whenever Max feels like sticking his cock or fingers someplace warm and wet.
Whimpering, Charles strains against Max’s hold.
Max’s fingers loosen in his hair, hips slowing.
Charles wants to make Max feel good. He wants to make him come.
“Colour?” Max asks, thumb running over Charles’ cheek.
Charles blinks up at him, giving a little nod as he pets down Max’s legs in reassurance, and then brings himself down on Max’s cock until his nose is pressed against Max’s belly.
“Fuck,” Max hisses, hips jumping, but he has nowhere further to go. It jostles Charles for a second, but he steadies himself, humming at the stretch in his throat, the ache of it. He lasts a few seconds and then pulls off, panting as he nuzzles into Max’s stomach.
“Okay,” Max says, fisting Charles’ hair, gripping tight. “Come here.”
Charles pulls himself straight, opens his mouth, and Max fucks in.
The wet sound of it echoes off the walls, as does Charles’ gag before he takes hold of himself, relaxing and letting Max do as he pleases. Every moan and gasp that slips from Max fills him with warmth, this odd little feeling of usefulness when Max pushes into him again and again, the drag of him against Charles’ tongue sending out shivery pleasure.
“Close,” Max grunts above him, and he’s slowing down, every thrust leaving him inside Charles a little longer like he’s trying to keep himself on the edge; like it feels too good to end.
Charles moans through his heavy breaths. Max rubs the head of his cock on Charles’ tongue, tiny little movements that allow Charles to close his lips around him properly and suck.
“Baby,” Max groans, hips jerking forward, and then he comes warm and bitter into Charles’ mouth.
And it feels so good, a pleased whine escaping Charles’ throat. It feels so good to make Max come, no, to have helped Max come. He’s just here, at hand, when Max wants it.
The feeling grows overwhelming, and Charles pulls off, swallowing as he tilts his face to the floor. Max’s hand comes to pet through his hair.
“Green, I’m green,” Charles pants, shivering.
“Okay,” Max says somewhere above him. He takes half a step back, Charles’ hands sliding off him, and he pulls up his sweats before he walks away.
Charles curls forward, abdomen clenching almost painfully hard as more arousal floods his veins.
It’s so fucking good.
Max using him, coming, and walking away feels so good.
Clawing into the carpet as his head spins, Charles tries, really fucking tries to hold it together, just a little. He’s trembling all over, hard cock tenting his own sweats and leaking by the feel of it, jumping as Charles examines the white-hot pleasure rooted in his stomach, how it swirls and grows when he hears Max put music on in the kitchen, a pan clanging against the stove. It’s just about lunchtime, the sun is high, and Charles is doing his best to breathe through the intoxicated thrill that’s filling him up to the last crevice.
It takes long minutes for him to calm down. The sounds have changed several times, knife and chopping board, fridge doors, sizzling and scraping and the scratch of wood on teflon. When the metallic clinking of forks and knives appears, Charles breathes in deep and stands.
Max’s eyes widen when Charles walks into the kitchen. He’s probably still flushed and mussed up, so it makes sense.
There’s a glass of water waiting by Charles’ usual eating spot, and he takes it gratefully.
“Thanks,” he says, just a bit scratchy. Max visibly composes himself before he smiles and comes close, palm resting on Charles’ hip.
“Any time, baby,” Max murmurs, leaning in to rub his nose against Charles’. Charles hums in contentment, pulling himself up to press their lips together. His hard cock brushes against Max’s leg and neither of them acknowledges it.
“Lunch,” Max says once they pull apart. The mundanity of it startles a laugh out of Charles, and he sinks into his chair.
“I’m gonna have to take a nap after we eat,” he grumbles, muscles and brain both tired and sleepy. Who knew today was going to take it out of him so much.
“Sure,” Max says, grinning before he digs in. “Napping is a required activity on a day off.”
Charles flips him off and follows his example. The food is lovely and a little heavy, and Charles falls asleep as soon as he burrows under a blanket on the couch.
—:—
The first time Charles wakes up, it feels like he barely fell asleep, and that’s probably right because the hum of the dishwasher is just picking up in the background. Max lies down in front of him, his warm palm running up and down Charles’ back as he says, “It’s okay, baby, go back to sleep.”
Charles curls into him, content, and goes back to sleep.
—:—
The second time Charles wakes up, he’s on his stomach, Max’s hands are holding his ass cheeks apart, and Max is pushing his tongue into him.