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The water of the pool has been cooling him off for a while now, a pleasant relief after all the humidity of the day. Singapore has this climate no other track seems to deal with, and Max struggles with it every time. It’s a different challenge in the car, and while intense, he can find some kind of challenge in it, a way for him to learn. Not that past races here have given him much hope, but still, he’ll try again this weekend.
The free practices of today were alright, nothing special, and the highlight might be this pool. He’s happy that he put in his request for once. The team always asks him if he has any special preferences, and he can count on one hand how many times he has made use of the offer, but especially now, he’s glad he did so.
He soon finds himself zoning out, tired. He won’t go to bed yet, not when his brain is still this awake. It’ll just mean more hours awake in his clammy bed, or listening to the sound of the air conditioning, when he might as well just stay in the pool longer.
His head falls back onto the stone headrest, and his eyes fall closed. Without knowing, he slips in and out of consciousness. The big change in sleep schedule catches up to him. He knows some of them keep to the European timezone even in Singapore, but he hates being awake at unconventional hours even more than having to adjust to a new timezone.
Time must drift away from him, and he doesn’t know for how long he has been there when he wakes up again, this time from the sound of someone else entering the pool.
It’s Charles entering the pool. Max has seen pictures of him from earlier today, but none of them had prepared him for the glory of seeing Charles in just his underwear. White underwear, as if the sight hadn’t been tempting enough yet.
“Forgot my swimsuit,” Charles says as an explanation.
Max just nods, almost struggling with where to look. Charles’ arms already looked big in those grey fireproofs, his shoulders broader than ever, and considering how defined his stomach muscles are, he must have been spending a good portion of his time in the gym. Probably good too, as a way to get rid of the anger driving for a team like Ferrari must cause.
“Quite the weekend to forget it,” Max says, if just to be polite and at least try to hide his own staring. “The pool has been good.”
He gets just one last peek of Charles’ crotch and he swallows, aware that Charles has always walked around with quite the package, but never so close to him, never with so few layers between them.
Max swallows because when Charles settles next to him, quite a bit closer than decorum would have them be seated, Charles’ scent is intense. He’s not one to be sensitive to scents; he has been surrounded by people from all designations since he was young and it might’ve made him stronger against others’ scents. Still, Charles’ seems to be more intense than usual, but he finds he doesn’t mind either.
Rather, it smells quite pleasant.
A small part of him finds himself longing for a nest smelling just like it, but he quickly banishes that thought. He isn’t close enough to a planned heat for him to be this horny, but sometimes it surprises even himself as to what triggers him to be turned on.
He tries not to think about it, he doesn’t accidentally release more pheromones himself, nor does he want to start slicking up in this pool. The water wouldn’t expose him, but the idea is horrible.
Yet, when he looks up and immediately makes eye contact with Charles, he realizes he might not have been as successful as he wanted to be. It’s hard, this situation, the tension, his own dick.
They’ve always been careful; close but polite, never crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Intense and sometimes rude or horrible when it comes to that on track, but off track, it’s a whole different territory.
In the past, Max had different reasons for the distance, even if he felt attracted to Charles from the start. He didn’t want to seem like a bad stereotype of his designation, wanting to fuck rivals. He could already hear the rumors and see the headlines. His career had also been still at the start of it all, his name not settled as much as it is now. He couldn’t risk it then.
But now he can, yet he feels like he shouldn’t. Not when they’ve become somewhat friends, and Max has started to care for their bond. If he had to ignore his own physical reaction in the past, it’s simply due to a natural reaction to pheromones, and if he has caught himself daydreaming about what courting with Charles would be like, the training and lack of sleep must’ve gotten to him.
Lately though, it feels like it has become even harder. Not because he doesn’t know how to hold himself back or how to redirect his thoughts, even if he has nights he comes and a part of him knows that it’s because of the mental image of Charles fucking him rather than the nameless strangers on his phone screen.
No, it’s because Charles seems hell bend on making life hard for him.
Charles, wearing clothes that show off his body, be it the slim waist or the broad shoulders.
Charles, suddenly bulking up even more, even sometimes forgoing his usual shaving and showing up looking rougher than he has ever before.
Charles, showing up and bumping into him at places they’ve never met before and stopping for a casual conversation.
Charles, searching him out and getting close to him.
Just like now, their shoulders almost touching. Max blinks, swears he can feel the ghost of Charles’ thigh against his. His hole twitches and he can’t decide what would be worse; for him to sport a full boner right now or to actually start producing slick and the pheromones that get released with it.
But then he feels a hand that’s not imagined, no phantom touch can be that strong. He doesn’t move, barely dares to breathe, scared to prove that it’s real but all the same scared that it might’ve been an accident. That it might be something Charles will regret.
Moments pass and Max dares to breathe again, relieved when the touch doesn’t suddenly disappear. Slowly he relaxes, muscles releasing the tension they had gained. He wants to talk to Charles, wants to fill the tension, wants to draw Charles’ attention away from this moment so he won’t stop it too soon.
Yet his mind is blank, unable to come up with anything when it has Charles’ hand to focus on. He hates this, he dislikes feeling out of control, like they’re discovering new grounds no one is prepared for. He fears that this might be a step they’ll regret, but he can’t imagine himself being the one pushing away. Not when he wants this so badly, wants Charles so badly.
It seems like him relaxing was the sign Charles was waiting for, because the fingers on the inside of his thigh start to draw circles. He gasps, unable to keep it down. Slick is now leaking out of him, just like his dick twitches, and he’s sure that Charles notices both. With his hand so close to Max’s dick, it’s unimaginable that he didn’t feel it. And they might be in a pool, but no amount of chlorine can wash out the scent of an omega’s pheromones when he’s producing slick.
Max swallows, but then he feels how Charles' hand draws up, closer to his crotch, even further.
If Charles is really going for it like this, Max decides he surely must know what he’s doing.
Max looks at Charles, really looks at him, not at all surprised when there is eye contact again. Charles looks at him, not insecure but rather like he’s searching for an answer.
“Can I kiss you?” Charles asks.
Not even a beat passes before Max answers. “Yes,” he says, feeling a smile break through as he says so. That feeling of building happiness quickly gets replaced by surprise and want when Charles kisses him.
Because Charles doesn’t just kiss him, he takes Max. His grip on Max’s nape is hard, pulling him closer, almost onto Charles' lap. It doesn’t overwhelm Max, though; rather, it makes him kiss back even harder. With each move he feels is insecurities disappear, with every teasing whiff of Charles’ scent he takes he finds himself more sure of his actions.
When Charles lifts him to sit on the edge of the pool they only break apart for a second and this time it’s Max pulling Charles closer, not willing to let the alpha go yet. They’ve gone without each other too long for him to let the man go for any longer than necessary.
Max decides that if they’re going to do this, they’re going to do this properly. He pushes Charles away, still close enough that they’re breathing against each other’s lips, still touching but not kissing, when he finally admits it.
“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he says, “Wanted you for so long.”
Charles’ eyes widen, and he looks surprised. Max wonders if he really was that good at hiding his feelings or if they both were just oblivious to each other’s feelings. “You didn’t know? Really?” he asks, not able to stop himself.
He has never been one for sex without feelings.
“I — well,” Charles hesitates, almost looking shy, and Max is surprised by how fast Charles can go from intense to this, and realizes he finds it cute. He realizes he might just like every side of Charles.
“I hoped you felt the same,” Charles admits, “That you wanted me too. But every time I thought that you showed me a sign, I couldn’t figure out whether it was my mind playing tricks on me or you actually giving me hints.”
“I thought I was hiding it well enough,” Max admits in turn, “I didn’t want to make things awkward in case I was wrong…”
They stay silent for a moment, letting the confession hang in the air. Max wants to kiss Charles again, wants more, wants it now, but he has one last thing he wants to share.
“Just to be clear, any sign you see from now on is on purpose. I want you. Only you,” Max says, “And not just sex. I can’t do just sex with you.”
“As if I could ever let you go after tonight,” Charles tells him.
Their next kiss seems to be even more desperate, even though they now know this won’t be their only chance, their only time. Even with the knowledge that they do have a future, no matter what may come, this feels like something they need. Now.
To make it real.
To make them real.
Charles breaks their kiss and trails kisses down Max’s neck, down to the point where his neck slopes into his shoulder, and then he lingers on the scent gland. Max moans, shudders when Charles kisses it too. His hand is tangled in Charles’ hair and his hips move without his permission when Charles bites down. It’s not a mating bite, nothing could ever come close to it, but when Charles starts sucking to make sure it will be marked by a hickey, Max loses it.
It’s so much, their combined scent, finally having Charles this close, knowing that it won’t just be a once-off. He wants to come so badly, knows he could without being touched. Charles might be all he needs.
“No.”
Max looks up. Charles might be all he needs to come untouched, but Charles is also the one denying him.
“Why the hell not,” Max asks, though it sounds almost angry. If it’s there, so close, so easy to grasp, why should he let it go? He’s not one for playing with his pleasure.
“Because I want you to come like this,” Charles says. Max is about to ask, want to question, but doesn’t get the chance. Charles pushes Max back so he falls on his lower arms and then pushes his hips up. They both watch as Max’s cock springs free from his swimsuit, leaking. Not ass much as his hole, but leaking nonetheless.
Max knows he’s pretty big for an omega. Not that it usually gets much attention; alphas in the past almost skipped immediately to his ass. Charles doesn’t though; his hands find purchase on Max’s thighs before he lowers himself and takes Max down his throat.
It’s hot and wet and overwhelming and Max almost fucks into Charles’ throat, might even come, but he manages to hold back. Barely, but just enough.
“Fuck, Charles,” he moans. He tries to keep his eyes open because not even his wildest dreams could’ve prepared him for the sight Charles makes. “You feel so good, look so good like that, fuck, can’t wait for you to fuck me.”
Charles doesn’t stop, only keeps going. Gives more attention to the heat, teases the slit, all before taking Max fully into his mouth again. Max could get lost in this, finds himself getting lost in it, chasing the orgasm that’s so close when Charles lets him free from his mouth.
Max is ready to complain, to whine why the alpha just won’t let him come, but Charles is faster. “Just wanted to say,” he starts, a smirk playing on his lips, “I’ll swallow.”
Charles barely has his lips around Max’s cock before he comes.
It’s much, so much, but not too much, never too much when it’s Charles he’s with. He’s high, or at least this is what it must feel like, and when Charles kisses him, Max doesn’t even take a moment to think about whether it’s disgusting or not that he can taste his own come.
He can feel Charles’ erection against him, wants to tease Charles too, wants to jerk him off, return the favor and take him down his throat, but Charles stops his hand from trailing into the white underwear.
“If you touch me, I’ll come,” Charles says, “And you can do everything you want with me, later. I really want to fuck you now.”
Max kisses him as an answer before he lets himself be maneuvered by the alpha so that he’s back in the water, bent over the edge. Charles’ arm is around his waist, holding him up so the stone isn’t digging into his stomach, and Max knows there will be a later moment in which he can properly appreciate the alpha’s strength.
Being on the edge of the pool for so long already means that the water hasn’t been able to dilute the slick anymore. When Charles pulls down Max’s swimwear fully, Max knows he must be a mess. Everything is sticky and sensitive, but it’s so, so good when Charles’ first finger enters, soon followed by a second when the alpha realizes just how slicked Max is for him.
“Don’t want to hurt you,” Charles says, voice tight like he’s on the edge, “But merde, you feel so good. I want to fuck you so hard.”
As if to prove his words, he moves closer to Max, rubbing his now unclothed erection against Max.
“Want you,” Max moans, “Want you to get on with it, fuck me now, please, alpha.”
A third finger enters Max but not for long before they’re all pulled out of him, leaving him gaping. He doesn’t mourn the loss, not when it’s soon replaced by the feeling of the head of Charles’ dick against his rim.
“Fuck Max,” Charles whines as he pushes into Max. Max moans, feeling uncomfortable for only a split second before it gets replaced with the pleasure of being stretched by Charles.
“Not going to last,” Charles pants, sounding almost sad about it. Max twitches at hearing how pitiful he manages to make Charles sound, and wonders just how good the alpha would sound begging.
They have so much to explore.
“Come,” Max tells Charles, “You can fuck me properly next time.”
Charles listens so well, Max realizes, because it’s only a second before he feels how Charles fills him up. They’re both panting, a sweaty mess, and Max moves to pull himself off when he realizes he can’t.
They’re stuck.
Charles groans at the movement and, probably realizing what Max intended to do, pulls him back against him.
“Did you just knot me in a pool?” Max asks him, somewhat incredulous.
“Not really,” Charles says, nuzzling his face into Max. The voice, combined with the movement, melts Max. He’s not immovable when it comes to post-coital cuddling, even in public. And Charles is right, he didn’t knot Max properly. If the knot had fully developed, he would’ve felt it way more.
It’s like a tease of what’s to come next time, when they’re not as overwhelmed by emotions.
Charles pulls the both of them back into the pool, the two of them becoming one as they wait for the knot to go down completely. Max lets himself be showered with kisses by Charles, loving the feeling of those lips against his temple, his cheek, his neck, his back. He feels like all he’s surrounded by is Charles.
It’s unsanitary and disgusting, and he really wouldn’t know how to explain this to anyone, ever, but he’s glad it happened. That they finally happened.
“You can make up for it by scenting my nest,” Max decides.
“That’s the least I can do,” Charles agrees without letting even a beat pass.
“Maybe next time we have a weekend off, you can sleep there too,” Max says, catching himself already daydreaming about their future.
“There is nothing I would love more,” Charles, “Other than having your permission to officially court you.”