Just An Inchident

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Max took a deep breath to steady himself. Tipping his head so he could only see Charles from the corner of his eye, Max forced himself to say, “Your little game isn’t going to work. You cannot distract me–”

The words got stuck in his throat as Charles shifted his weight on the wall to allow his hips to rock as a stuttered breathy groan passed his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to touch me?”

Max bit down on his tongue as a surge of desire rushed through his veins. He tried to look away, tried to force his feet to turn and walk away from the temptation.

Charles let his eyes flutter closed, his eyelashes brushing against his flushed cheeks. Shifting his weight on his feet, Charles parted his legs. “Max,” he whispered breathily.

And that was all it took. Max surged forwards, his Red Bull clattering to the floor as Max slotted his thigh between Charles’ legs and rolled his hips against Charles’.

A shuddering moan slipped from Charles’ mouth, his head dropping back against the wall as he hissed out his pleasure. “God, yes…” Charles broke off with a gasp.

Max snaked a hand up into Charles’ hair, and used the grip to tip Charles’ head forward, hungrily capturing Charles’ lips in a searing kiss that had them both groaning.

God, fuck, Max didn’t want to admit it, but he’d needed this. He’d really needed this.

It was too damn good, licking his way into Charles’ mouth. Too damn good when Charles nipped at his lower lip in response. Too damn good when their tongues melded together just as their hips rocked against each other.

Charles broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, hands scrambling to grasp at Max’s hips, pulling him closer. “Max, I need–”

“I know,” Max hissed, dropping his head to Charles’ shoulder as he started to grind against Charles’ thigh.

The Monégasque let out a ragged whine, gasping in Max’s ear as one of his hands shifted to grasp at Max’s bicep. “Max please, just, could you just…”

Max grinned, pressing the shape of his smile into Charles’ shoulder as he trailed hot open-mouthed kisses up his neck to the corner of his jaw. He knew what Charles wanted, and he was going to give it to him. 

But Charles had been such a tease. Riling Max up just because he could. And now it was Max’s turn.

“Sounds like it is you who wants my touch,” Max murmured, letting his lips trace over the stubble dusting Charles’ jaw. Tilting his head, he allowed the scratch of the stubble to graze against his nose. Charles stuttered out a moan. Max’s grin morphed into a smirk. 

“Is that what you were after?” Max murmured, nosing into the crook of Charles’ neck before dragging his lips up as he mouthed along Charles’ cheekbone. “Is this why you broke in?” Hovering his mouth millimeters away from Charles’, he whispered, “If you want it, come and take it.”

Charles arched off the wall, crashing their mouths together in a messy kiss—Charles gasping as their mouths melded together and Max shuddering as his teeth grazed against Charles’ tongue.

There was something about the way Charles kissed. Desperate, clawing, shaking. As if Max’s mouth held the oxygen Charles needed to survive. It was all-consuming, earth-shaking, dizzyingly addictive. It didn’t matter that they’d only been together two weeks before. Charles kissed like it had been months since he’d last had a taste of Max, kissing Max until he was lightheaded and gasping for air, refusing to drag his mouth away. 

It was like a drug that Max couldn’t get enough of. Wrapping his tongue around Charles’, sucking on the Monégasque’s lower lip, licking his way along the roof of Charles’ mouth. Every slide of their mouths against each other had Charles shaking, and it sent tendrils of fire through every nerve-ending in Max’s body.

Max pulled back, drawing in fast breaths of air, his lungs burning as he pushed Charles’ shirt up to get his hands against Charles’ skin. Charles let out a broken whine. Max laughed, breathless, but the noise quickly turned into a moan as Charles latched his lips onto Max’s neck. 

Max had enough brain power to briefly think how impatient Charles was, but the thought vanished from his mind almost instantly as Charles placed hot kisses along his neck before finding the sweet spot he was looking for behind Max’s ear.

Max gasped, rocking his hips against Charles’ as Charles latched on, sucking and nipping at the skin until Max was absolutely breathless, writhing against Charles and squeezing his eyes shut as his vision went white.

Max could feel the smirk against his skin; knew Charles had left a mark for everyone to see tomorrow. He knew it would cause trouble, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Charles’ mouth was on his again, exploring Max’s mouth with his tongue.

And God it felt good. Charles’ mouth was made to slot against his. They fit together, as if Charles' lips were meant to be melded to Max’s at all times. 

Charles knew exactly how to swirl his tongue against Max’s; how to slow the kiss and wait for Max to get weak in the knees before deepening the kiss again. 

It wasn’t really kissing anymore though, both of them panting into the other’s mouth as they rocked against each other. Charles was letting out the most addicting stuttering gasps against Max’s lips, little broken bitten off cries as Max used his grip on the Monégasque’s hips to push him down so he was rutting against Max’s thigh.

It was too much, too much, and Max knew the exact moment that Charles tumbled over the edge when the Monégasque broke the kiss, dropping his head back against the wall with a sob. Max mouthed at the corner of Charles’ lips, gasping out Charles’ name as he came a moment later.

Shuddering through the waves of pleasure, Max dropped his forehead against Charles’ shoulder, pushing their combined weight against the wall as his knees threatened to give out. Charles let out an almost pained gasp, nails scratching down the back of Max’s shirt as he rocked his hips up into Max.

Max tiredly pressed his lips in a shadow of a kiss against Charles’ collarbone, and Charles’ gasp shifted from agonized to breathy as his eyes slipped shut.

It felt almost impossible to catch his breath again as Max came down from the high, as if Charles had stolen it all with his kisses. By the time Max felt like the world was no longer spinning, he registered Charles’ fingertip was brushing softly against his neck, behind his ear.

“You are proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Max muttered against Charles’ shoulder when he felt the pad of Charles’ finger brush against the bruise on his neck.

Charles hummed lowly. “Your race helmet should sit right about here,” Charles said, tapping the hickey with his finger. “Should be a nice reminder with every movement in the car tomorrow.” Charles paused, rolling his hips up languidly against Max’s just to hear Max gasp. “A pretty good distraction, don’t you think?”

Max pushed back and out of Charles’ reach, catching the spark of mischief in Charles’ eyes in the white glow of the moonlight now filling the corridor.

Charles had won this round…for now.

Stepping back, Max licked at his kiss swollen lower lip and flashed Charles a wink. Two could play at this game, and Max had a history of winning.