HORNY ON MAIN

Charles nods understandingly. "Why don't you go lie down and I'll bring you some tea? We can talk about it later if you want."

Y/n shakes her head, her hair falling across her face. "No, I just want to sleep. Can you order us some food for dinner? Something comforting, like pizza or Chinese?"

Charles nods, pressing a tender kiss to the top of Y/n's head. "Of course, mon amour. I'll take care of everything. You just focus on resting."

He guides her towards their bedroom, helping her out of her work clothes and tucking her into bed. Y/n sighs contentedly as she sinks into the soft mattress, the stress of the day already beginning to melt away.

After ensuring she's comfortable, Charles quietly leaves the room to place their food order. He selects Y/n's favorite pizza, knowing the familiar flavors will bring her comfort. As he waits for the delivery, he tidies up the living room and prepares a mug of chamomile tea, hoping the soothing aroma will help Y/n relax.

Y/n stirs as Charles gently shakes her shoulder, his deep voice cutting through the haze of sleep. "Mon amour, the food is here. I also made you some tea if you'd like."

She blinks groggily, her hair tousled from sleep. "Mmm, okay," she mumbles, sitting up slowly. Her legs feel heavy as she swings them over the side of the bed, and she reaches for Charles' hand for support.

He helps her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. "Take your time, ma chérie. No need to rush."

Together, they make their way out of the bedroom and into the living room. The savory scent of pizza fills the air, making Y/n's stomach growl. She smiles gratefully at Charles as he guides her to the couch, helping her sit down before retrieving her mug of tea.

"Thank you," she says softly, taking a sip of the warm, fragrant liquid. The chamomile soothes her throat and helps clear the last remnants of sleep from her mind.

Y/n takes a bite of her pizza, savoring the rich flavors as she gathers her thoughts. Charles watches her patiently, his blue eyes filled with understanding.

"So, tell me about your day, mon amour," he prompts gently. "What happened at work?"

Y/n sighs, setting down her slice. "It's just been incredibly busy lately. We're swamped with projects and deadlines, and as the team leader, it feels like everything falls on my shoulders."

She runs a hand through her hair, frustration evident in the tense set of her shoulders. "Don't get me wrong, I'm proud to be a female leader in a male-dominated field. But sometimes I just want to be... I don't know, normal? Without the added pressure and expectations."

Y/n continues, her voice tinged with weariness. "I mean, I love my job and I'm grateful for the opportunities I've been given. But some days, like today, it just feels like too much. I'm constantly juggling tasks, putting out fires, and trying to keep everyone motivated."

She takes another sip of tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. "And then there's the added pressure of being a woman in a leadership role. I feel like I have to prove myself twice as hard, work twice as long, just to be taken seriously."

Charles reaches over and takes her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I understand, ma chérie. It's not easy being in your position. But remember, you're not alone. You have me, and I'm here to support you in whatever way I can."

Y/n looks at him gratefully, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I know. And that means more to me than you realize. Having you here, ready to listen and help, makes all the difference."

Her cheeks flush slightly as she speaks, a mix of vulnerability and affection in her eyes. "You always make me feel cherished, Charles. Even when we're... intimate, I never feel objectified or used. You treat me like a partner, not just a plaything."

She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And when you take control, when you're rough with me... it's like I can let go of all the pressure and expectations. I can just be me, not the team leader or the successful career woman. It's liberating."

Charles brings Y/n's hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. His blue eyes sparkle with adoration as he gazes at her. "You are my first priority, baby. Always. In every aspect of our life together."

He sets aside his own plate of pizza, turning to face her fully. "Your happiness, your well-being, your pleasure... those are what matter most to me. Whether we're in the bedroom or out in the world, I want you to know that you come first."

Y/n's heart swells with love and gratitude as she looks at Charles, his words echoing in her mind. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she admits softly, her voice thick with emotion. "You're my rock, my safe haven. I can always count on you to be there for me, no matter what."

She reaches up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his stubbled jaw. "I love you, Charles. More than anything in this world. And I promise, no matter how stressful work gets, I'll always come home to you. You're my priority too."

Charles leans into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the feeling of her skin against his. When he opens them again, they're filled with a fierce protectiveness. "I love you too, mon amour. More than life itself. And I'll always be here to support you, to lift you up, and to remind you of how incredible you are."

—

As the movie plays on in the background, Y/n shifts restlessly on top of Charles, trying to find a comfortable position. She squirms and wriggles, her movements causing friction between her body and his. Unbeknownst to Charles, Y/n's subtle motions are deliberate, her pussy rubbing against the growing bulge in his sweatpants.

She bites her lip to stifle a moan, the sensation of his hardness pressing against her core sending tingles of pleasure through her body. Charles, oblivious to her intentions, wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Is everything alright, mon amour?" he asks, noticing her fidgeting. "Do you need to get up?"

Y/n shakes her head, a coy smile playing on her lips. "No, I'm fine. Just trying to get comfortable." She continues to grind against him, her movements becoming more purposeful.

Charles' brow furrows slightly as he feels Y/n's movements become more deliberate. A spark of realization dawns in his eyes as he glances down, noticing the way she's subtly humping against him. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face.

"Is that so?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Because it seems to me like you're trying to start something, ma chérie."

Y/n blushes, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. She tries to play innocent, batting her lashes at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," she giggles, continuing her movements.

Charles chuckles, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. He guides her movements, helping her grind against him more firmly. "Oh, I think you do," he teases, his own arousal growing with each pass of her heat against his clothed cock.

Y/n gasps softly, her head falling back as she loses herself in the sensation. "Charles..." she breathes, her voice heavy with desire.

Charles pulls Y/n down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. His warm breath sends shivers down her spine as he whispers in her ear, "What do you want, baby? What do you want to do? Tell me."

Y/n's response is cut off by a sharp gasp as her clit rubs firmly against Charles' hardness. The intense sensation makes her toes curl and her thighs tremble. "I... I want..." she stammers, her mind clouding with lust.

Charles grins, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he guides her movements. "Yes, ma chérie? What do you want?" he prompts, his voice a low rumble in her ear.

Y/n's head lolls back, her hair cascading down her shoulders as she grinds against him with increasing desperation. "I want you," she finally manages to say, her voice thick with need. "I want you inside me, Charles. Please..."

Charles' smile turns wicked as he recalls Y/n's earlier words about finding liberation in his dominance. "No, mon amour," he purrs, his fingers tightening on her hips. "Work for it. Show me how bad you want me inside you."

Y/n's eyes widen, a mix of surprise and arousal flickering across her face. She nods eagerly, her movements becoming more frenzied as she grinds against him. "Yes, Charles," she breathes, her voice submissive and needy. "Please, let me show you..."

She redoubles her efforts, her hips undulating in a sensual dance as she seeks to drive them both wild with desire. Her pussy throbs with need, aching to be filled by his hard cock. Y/n whimpers and moans, lost in the haze of lust, desperate to prove her desire for him.

She continues to grind against Charles, her movements becoming more urgent and needy. The heat radiating from her core is unmistakable, and soon a damp spot begins to form on the front of his sweatpants. Lost in the throes of passion, neither of them notice the growing wetness.

Charles' head lolls back, his eyes closed in bliss as he feels the scorching heat of Y/n's pussy pressed against his clothed erection. "Fuck, mon amour," he groans, his hips bucking up to meet her downward thrusts. "You're so fucking wet for me. I can feel it soaking through my pants."

Y/n whimpers and mewls, her voice rising in pitch as she chases her impending orgasm. The friction of her clit rubbing against his hardness is almost too much to bear. "Please, Charles," she begs, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you. I need your cock inside me. Please..."

Y/n's movements grow more frantic as she nears the edge, her hips gyrating wildly against Charles' clothed erection. She's so close, teetering on the brink of a powerful orgasm. But just as she's about to tip over, Charles' hands tighten on her hips, slowing her down.

"Did I tell you to speed up?" he asks, his voice stern despite the lust clouding his eyes. "No, I didn't. You're not in control here, Y/n. I am."

Y/n whines in frustration, her body trembling with the effort of holding back her climax. "Please, Charles," she begs, her voice high and needy. "I'm so close. I need to cum. Please let me cum."

Charles shakes his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Not yet, mon amour. You haven't earned it. You need to work harder for your prize."

Y/n's eyes fill with tears as she pleads with Charles, her voice cracking with desperation. "Please, sir," she whimpers, her hips still grinding against him despite his commands. "I'll be good, I promise. I'll do anything you want. Just please, let me cum. I need it so badly."

Charles' expression softens slightly as he sees the tears streaming down her face. He reaches up to wipe them away with his thumb, his touch gentle despite his firm demeanor. "Shh, ma chérie," he soothes. "You have no reason to cry. If you've done your job correctly, you'll get your reward. Crying isn't going to do anything for you right now."

Y/n nods, sniffing back her tears. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what's to come. "I'm sorry, sir," she says, her voice meek and submissive. "I'll try harder. I'll do whatever it takes to please you."

He smiles approvingly at Y/n's obedience. "Good girl," he praises, his voice low and husky. "Now show me again how bad you want my cock to fill you up, okay?"

Y/n nods eagerly, her eyes shining with determination. She takes a deep breath, centering herself, before beginning to grind against Charles once more. Her movements are slow and sensual at first, her hips rolling in a deliberate rhythm.

As she gains momentum, her pace quickens, her pussy rubbing insistently against the bulge in Charles' sweatpants. Soft moans and whimpers spill from her lips as she loses herself in the sensation, her body undulating with need.

"Please, Charles," she gasps, her voice ragged with desire. "I need you inside me. I need to feel you stretching me, filling me. Please, sir, give me what I crave."

Charles cups Y/n's cheek, his thumb gently caressing her skin as he wipes away the stray tears. His blue eyes are filled with a mix of tenderness and lust as he gazes at her. "You look so adorable like this, begging for me," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "So desperate and needy, all for me. It's beautiful, mon amour."

Y/n leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she savors the feeling of his hand on her face. "I am desperate for you, Charles," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Only you can satisfy me, can give me what I need."

She opens her eyes, locking her gaze with his, the intensity of her desire burning bright in their depths. "Please, sir," she implores, her hips still grinding against him in a slow, sensual rhythm. "I'll do anything, be anything you want. Just please, let me have you. Let me feel you inside me."

Charles groans, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Y/n's desperate pleas and the feel of her hot, wet pussy grinding against him. "Fuck, mon amour," he growls, his hand sliding down to grip her hip tightly. "Cum for me, baby. You deserve it. Let go and give yourself to me."

Y/n's eyes widen, a gasp escaping her lips as Charles gives her permission. She nods frantically, her hips moving faster, more urgently, seeking the release she so desperately craves. "Yes, Charles!" she cries, her voice high and needy. "I'm cumming! Fuck- I'm cumming!"

Her body tenses, her muscles coiling tight as her orgasm approaches. With a final, hard grind against Charles' clothed cock, she comes undone, her pussy clenching and fluttering as waves of pleasure crash over her. "Oh god, oh fuck, Charles!" she moans, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

Y/n's body shudders and trembles as her orgasm washes over her, her pussy clenching and releasing in rhythmic pulses. She whimpers and moans against Charles' chest, her hips continuing to grind against him, riding out the waves of pleasure.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she chants, her voice muffled against his skin. "It feels so good, Charles. So fucking good."

Charles strokes the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her black hair as he holds her close. "That's it, mon amour," he encourages, his voice low and soothing. "Keep going. You're doing so well. I know it feels amazing. Come on, you can do it. Let it all out."

Y/n whimpers and moans, her body still shaking with the aftershocks of her climax. She continues to grind against Charles, her movements becoming slower, more languid as she comes down from her high.

Y/n collapses against Charles, her body spent and sated in the aftermath of her intense orgasm. She pants heavily, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she tries to catch her breath. "Fuck, Charles," she whispers, her voice hoarse and raw. "That was so good. So fucking good."

Charles chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath her as he holds her close. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, ma chérie," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "You did so well, taking your pleasure like that. I'm proud of you."

Charles looks down at Y/n, concern etched on his features as he takes in her exhausted state. "Are you sure you still want me inside you, mon amour?" he asks gently, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "You seem so tired. We can wait if you need to rest."

But Y/n shakes her head vehemently, her eyes wide and pleading as she gazes up at him. "Yes, yes, yes please," she begs, her voice desperate. "I can do it, Charles. I can take it. I need you inside me. Please, I'm begging you."

Charles' resolve wavers, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight of her desperation. He knows he shouldn't, knows she needs rest, but the hunger in her eyes is too much to resist. "Alright, ma chérie," he growls, his hands gripping her hips firmly. "If you're sure you can handle it..."

Charles flips Y/n over onto her stomach, her ass high in the air as she presents herself to him. The wet spot on her shorts from her previous orgasm is clearly visible, evidence of her arousal.

"Fuck," Charles growls, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in the sight of her. "Look at you, so wet and ready for me. Your pussy is practically dripping."

He runs his hand over the damp fabric, feeling the heat radiating from her core. Y/n whimpers and arches her back, pushing her ass higher, silently begging for more.

Charles slides his hand beneath Y/n's shorts, his fingers seeking out her slick, swollen folds. "Mmm, so wet," he murmurs, teasing her entrance with the tips of his fingers. "You want me to fill you up, don't you, ma chérie? Want me to cum inside this tight little pussy?"

She bucks against his hand, her hips rolling back as she seeks more contact. "Yes, Charles, please," she begs, her voice high and needy. "I want you to breed me. I want to feel you cumming deep inside me."

Charles groans, his cock throbbing at her filthy words. "Fuck, mon amour," he growls, his fingers delving deeper, stroking along her inner walls. "You want my dick stretching you out, don't you? Want me to claim this sweet cunt as mine?"

Charles' fingers pump in and out of Y/n's dripping pussy, her velvety walls clenching around him as he strokes her most sensitive spots. "Fuck, mon amour," he groans, his thumb circling her swollen clit. "Your cunt is clenching so hard around my fingers. You're so fucking needy for my cock."

Y/n moans shamelessly, her hips rocking back to meet his thrusts. "Yes, sir," she pants, her voice ragged with desire. "I need to be bred. I need you to fill me up, make me yours."

Charles' eyes darken with lust at her words, his imagination running wild with visions of Y/n's belly swollen with his child. "You'd look so beautiful pregnant with my baby," he growls, his fingers curling inside her. "I bet you'd make such a good mommy. Fuck, I can't wait to see you with my child."

The thought of Y/n pregnant with his child sends Charles into a frenzy of lust. He needs to make it a reality, to claim her womb and fill it with his seed. With a growl, he withdraws his fingers from her dripping cunt, leaving her empty and aching.

Quickly, he shoves his sweatpants down, freeing his throbbing cock. It springs forth, hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Y/n whimpers at the sight, her pussy clenching around nothing.

Charles makes quick work of her shorts, yanking them down her thighs and exposing her glistening folds to his hungry gaze. "Fuck, look at this pretty little cunt," he groans, giving her ass a sharp smack. "So wet and ready for me."

He teases her entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it up and down her slit, coating himself in her slick arousal. Y/n bucks back, desperate for more, but Charles denies her, keeping his movements light and teasing.

Charles grips Y/n's hips tightly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he lines himself up with her entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he sinks into her welcoming heat, inch by inch, until he's buried to the hilt.

Y/n cries out, her back arching as she's stretched and filled by his thick cock. Even though they've been together countless times, her body never fails to adjust to his impressive size. "Fuck, Charles," she gasps, her nails scrabbling against the couch. "You're so big."

He groans, his hips settling flush against her ass as he gives her a moment to adjust. "That's it, ma chérie," he murmurs, his hand stroking soothing circles on her lower back. "Take all of me. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Charles begins to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm as he pulls out and thrusts back in. Each stroke is deliberate, designed to make Y/n feel every inch of his cock as it slides along her sensitive walls.

"Mmm, that's it," he groans, his hand coming down to grip her hip, steadying her as he picks up the pace. "Feel that, mon amour? Feel how deep I am inside you? How I'm stretching this tight little pussy?"

Y/n whimpers and moans, her body undulating beneath him as he claims her. "Yes, Charles, yes," she chants, her voice rising in pitch as he hits that spot inside her that makes her see stars. "Harder, please. I need more."

Charles obliges, his thrusts growing stronger, more forceful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by their moans and cries of pleasure.

Y/n's body begins to shake, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure coursing through her. Tears stream down her face as Charles pounds into her, each thrust hitting her deepest, most sensitive spots.

"What's wrong, ma chérie?" Charles asks, his voice a low growl. "Can't take my dick? How am I supposed to make you a mommy when you can't even handle a few thrusts?"

Y/n sobs, her pussy clenching around him as if trying to hold him inside. "I can take it," she gasps, her voice strained. "I can take it, Charles. Please, don't stop. I need it. I need you to fill me up, to breed me."

Charles groans, his hips snapping forward harder, faster. "That's it, mon amour," he grunts, his fingers digging into her hips. "Take it like a good girl, okay?”

Y/n nods frantically, her face pressed against the couch cushions as Charles pounds into her from behind. "Yes, yes, please," she gasps, her words muffled by the fabric. "Harder, Charles, fuck me harder!"

Charles obliges, his hips slamming against her ass with bruising force. The couch creaks and shakes beneath them, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room. "That's it, mon amour," he growls, his hand fisting in her hair, holding her head down. "Take it like a good girl. You're doing so fucking well."

Y/n whimpers and moans, her pussy clenching around Charles' pistoning cock. She can feel her orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in her core. "I'm close," she pants, her voice ragged. "I'm gonna cum, Charles. Please, please, please..."

His grip on Y/n's hair tightens as he feels her pussy fluttering around him, signaling her impending orgasm. "You gonna cum for me, ma chérie?" he growls, his hips never faltering in their relentless pace. "Do it. You deserve it. Cum on my cock like a good little slut."

Y/n screams as her orgasm crashes over her, her body convulsing beneath Charles. Her pussy clamps down on him like a vice, rippling and pulsing as she rides out the waves of pleasure. "Charles!" she cries, her voice raw and broken. "Fuck, Charles, I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

He groans, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release. "Fuck, baby," he grunts, his balls drawing up tight. "Gonna fill this pussy up. Gonna breed you, make you mine."

He buries himself deep inside Y/n as he reaches his peak, his cock pulsing as he fills her with his hot, thick cum. He groans long and low, his hips jerking with each spurt of his release.

Y/n whimpers, her pussy milking him for every last drop as she feels him flooding her womb. When he finally pulls out, a trickle of his seed leaks from her well-fucked hole, dripping down her thighs.

"Fuck, look at that," Charles growls, his fingers scooping up the cum and pushing it back inside her. "Such a messy little slut. You're not going to let any of my cum out, understand? You're going to keep it all inside this greedy cunt."

He leans down, pressing soft kisses to the globes of her ass as he continues to finger her, stirring his seed deep inside her. "Good girl," he murmurs, his breath hot against her skin. "Such a good girl, taking my cum so well.”

Y/n comes down from her high, her body goes limp beneath Charles, her breathing slowing as she catches her breath. Charles continues to stroke her hair soothingly, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulders and back.

"Shh, it's okay, mon amour," he murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

He carefully maneuvers them so that they're lying on their sides, spooning on the couch. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close, one hand resting possessively on her lower belly.

"Rest now," he whispers, nuzzling her neck. "Let me take care of you."

Y/n sighs contentedly, snuggling back against him. "Mmm, Charles," she murmurs, her voice sleepy and sated. "That was... incredible. I love you so much."

Charles smiles, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. "I love you too, ma chérie," he replies softly. "More than anything."

He strokes Y/n's hair gently, his fingers combing through the silky strands. "Feeling better now, mon amour?" he asks softly, his voice warm with concern. "After what happened at work today?"

Y/n sighs, her body melting further into Charles' embrace. "I don't even remember what happened at work," she admits, her voice small and distant.

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Charles opens his mouth to retort back in bratty fashion, but Carlos merely licks a wet stripe up his bare stomach and he moans, embarrassingly eager for Carlos’ tongue on hyper-sensitive skin. He gazes down, cheeks flushed, cock already half-hard in Carlos’ deft hand that’s stroking idly, and Charles feels so pathetic that he could be reduced to mere babbling, incomprehensible noises when Carlos hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Does she do this to you?” Carlos wonders, swirling his tongue over a pert brown nipple, and Charles hisses when Carlos’ teeth graze the sensitive flesh there. He suckles and nips and doesn’t stop his hand’s slow, torturous glide over his cock, and Charles wants to rut into his grip so that he can experience more of that delicious friction. “Does she know you’re sensitive here?” 

Charles makes a noise, and grips the sheets so that he can distract himself from the electrifying heat of Carlos’ mouth. But there is no escape from Carlos’ heated gaze - his dark eyes so full of lustful intent that Charles feels giddy, lit aflame. God he wants to come - preferably all over that smug, sexy face.

Thankfully Carlos’ mouth releases his nipple with an exaggerated pop, but Charles knows that Carlos is an explorer - he won’t be content to traverse just this one piece of him alone.

Sure enough - Carlos’ mouth is an expert cartographer, mapping a wet, hot path up to his neck, cataloguing the moles and muscled lines of definition along his chest, his clavicle, his neck. Charles lets a sigh leave his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as Carlos moves over his body with a patience that leaves him breathless. God he could die like this, from the way Carlos savours him. 

By the time Carlos ends up between his thighs, Charles is rife with tension - dizzy with desire. Carlos surveys his cock with a knowing look, wetting his lips. Charles is ashamed how much he’s holding his breath for this - for Carlos to grip him by the base and put his mouth over the tip of him, sucking with a slow, even pressure that makes him yelp in this harsh, high-pitched way -  making Carlos smile. “More,” he begs, rutting his hips desperately in rhythm with Carlos’ mouth that’s starting to slide down his cock.

“Are you eager like this for her? Or is this all just for me,” Carlos says, more teasing than cruel. All the same, Charles’ hips jut up, eager for the friction his mouth is offering. “Does she know how much of a slut you are for it?”

Charles whines, feeling stupidly hot all over. 

Carlos makes a muffled sound, the words garbled in his throat because his mouth is so full of cock. Charles recognises the acquiescence, and slides his hand into Carlos’ hair and tugging like his life depends on it. The thick, syrupy heat of pleasure builds inside him, even as Carlos gets sloppy with it, faster now, his spit and god knows what else dripping over his chin, over Charles’ dick, his fingers.

But it’s not the tight, sweet suction of his mouth that eventually gets him to come, nor the twisting strokes that Carlos makes expertly at the base of his dick. 

It’s the look Carlos gives him right before he comes - the all-knowing smugness in those beautiful eyes. Carlos knows him, not just in name, not just as a fellow driver. Not just in the superficial lines they have to cross as teammates - not just in the set up of his car, or what he’d rather be doing if he weren’t an F1 driver.

Carlos knows his soul, his body. The way Charles likes being praised, how his hand likes to be wrapped up in Carlos’ bigger, warmer one. What makes him belly-laugh, eyes scrunched up so tightly he can barely see. How he loves to be praised after a great drive, or a tough workout session. How he needs to be held through night terrors and the worst, spiralling thoughts he has - of crashing, dying… of losing a teammate and a soulmate at the end of the season.

He can’t hold back when comes into Carlos’ mouth, gripping his hair tight and erupting wet and hot - a mess. He shivers in the aftermath, his eyes glistening. He must’ve said Carlos’ name, because he hears the echo of it ricochet back to him, reverberating in the beat of his heart. 

Carlos grins at him and in the hazy afterglow, he feels his chest expand with the free-falling feeling of being in love with Carlos all over again. Carlos looks so ravaged, wet with spit and his come, but so handsome as he’s panting, voice hoarse from the blowjob. 

He watches Carlos wipe his mouth, reaching for his phone. There’s only the briefest flutters of panic - the post-nut clarity setting in, realising Carlos is taking a photo of him like this - panting and sweaty and splotched red with the force of his orgasm. He’s so boneless he couldn’t move if he tried. Instead he asks, “Carlos, what are you doing?” 

Carlos grins at him. “What do you think? Reporting you, of course.”

He giggles at the realisation, before spreading himself out more, as slutty as he can be for the photo. He’s always loosened up and reckless after an orgasm, ready to play, ready for round two. 

“That’s it. Keep still for me, sweetie,” Carlos says, laser focused as he snaps the shot. He types a few words, and sends the photo - Charles doesn’t need to see to know it’s incriminating, delicious. He feels nothing but calm, relaxed numbness, as Carlos settles beside him and holds out the phone for them both to see. 

Almost instantly, the reply comes back in blue text - Alexandra sends a bunch of blushing emojis, one with a tongue sticking out.

He looks like he had fun. 

“I did,” Charles admits, tucking his cheek against Carlos’ shoulder. 

Carlos smiles, replies - He always does. And I hope you did, too.

The three dots appear - and they wait for the response together - eager for what she has in store. 

Alex doesn’t disappoint, and Carlos’ breath hitches at the collection of photos they’ve been sent.

At first, it’s so innocent and sweet - their girlfriends in the car in a half-hug, wide smiles and sparkly eyes, progressing to selfies at dinner, sharing burrata and wine. Rebecca planting a friendly kiss on Alex’s cheek, her arm around her waist. Cute. 

Carlos swipes and the photos grow increasingly suggestive - tongues out, and clothes slowly being stripped away as the hotel room comes into view. One with Alex sprawled on the messy bed in a pair of sheer panties - Charles makes Carlos pause on that one, just for a little bit longer. 

And then the next few make them lose their minds - their girlfriends in an intimate embrace, bare skin for days. Alex’s tongue along the underside of Rebecca’s breast, one hand between her thighs and her eyes wide, wanting. Another one with Rebecca’s face between her legs, tonguing her clit, and Alex’s mouth open in gorgeous ecstasy. Then, a video, where they’re just kissing and grinding against each other - slow and soft the way girls just instinctively know how to. 

He turns to Charles who looks absolutely enraptured, cheeks pink and breath not altogether steady. It’s hot, watching him get turned on by this little arrangement that they have.

Carlos nudges him playfully, snapping him out of his horny stupor. “Charles. We can’t let them win, can we?”

Charles giggles, and reaches to hit record on the phone he holds, before pulling Carlos on top of him for a filthy kiss.

-

There were many things Carlos hated about company-mandated functions – but this one took the cake – having to sit through pre-dinner drinks, in a suit that was choking him half to death, next to some big shot Shell executive that was loudly and obnoxiously discussing something that he didn’t quite care about or understand.

He didn’t want to appear rude, but there was only so many times a man could get up to use the bathroom as an escape before people started worrying about his digestive health.

He texted Charles a bunch of times, but as with most of their interactions, Charles was taking his own sweet time to reply, and he’d had to distract himself with other things until Charles arrived and could put him out of his misery. He’d stuffed his mouth with so many appetisers to avoid socialising, that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to touch any of the other food served.

Just as he was about to be dragged into another boring conversation, he’d heard his name called when he looked up, there they were - his saviours.

Charles in a well-fitted suit like his own, and his gorgeous girlfriend on his arm, in a dress that fits her like a second skin. 

He had to compose himself for a second – because he couldn’t handle the sight of both of them together – sexy, confident, and, by the looks of a tiny bruise on her neck, had been late because they’d been very preoccupied with each other right before this. He doesn’t allow his mind to swirl with the possibilities – but they pop up without any warning: Charles and her, pressed to the hotel room’s sleek wall, his hands everywhere – touching and exploring as she squirms and whimpers – maybe, Carlos thinks, Charles even gets on his knees for a pre-dinner appetiser…

He knows he would, given the chance.

But as tempting as the image of his teammate and his girlfriend is, Carlos endeavours to be a gentleman. He will not intrude on something that isn’t his to take or share…

Unless, well – if they invite him; in which case, he’s pretty sure he’d be stupid to say no.

He shoves the thought away and gets up to greet them - a friendly kiss on her cheek, a handshake with Charles. Throughout dinner, he is on his best behaviour - but they’re not making it easy on him, with their flirting that he definitely does not feel jealous about. It’s just that it’s so… in his face. They’re usual more subtle than this.

He leans back to casually observe - paying no heed to the long, arduous speech going on in the backdrop. He notices Charles on his phone, his fingers tracing patterns - but he’s not looking at his screen. He’s looking at her: his eyes hungrier than usual - and Carlos sees her tremble - gripping the table until her knuckles turn white and her breathing goes shallow, laboured.

Is she… okay?

He’s about to ask, but then his eyes snag on the app that Charles is playing with -  and he can’t shake the feeling that they’re definitely up to something.

Before he can stop himself, he asks, “What’s on your phone, mate?”

She freezes, and Carlos almost wants to take it back. It’s rude, interrupting this - whatever this is.

Charles, however, grins. “Just a new game, Carlos.” The wink he sends to her isn’t lost on Carlos.

He gathers up the courage he doesn’t know he has. “Can I try?”

He does not think they’d say yes - but the ensuing consent is issued so enthusiastically, he almost feels afraid that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. The phone is handed over, and their eager faces, staring up at him, are all but pleading with him to play this little game with them.

It can’t be what he thinks it is, surely. They don’t make apps like that which connect to toys. He reminds himself that this isn’t a James Bond film - this is real life.

But the look in Charles’ eyes is one he recognises with great interest – mischievous, calculating, with just enough intrigue to hook Carlos in. And when Charles nods at him, Carlos knows what it means – just trust me mate. You’ll love it.

Trust. Carlos wants to laugh. He’s had four years of trust with Charles, but it’s never gone this far before. It’s never involved another person - least of all his precious girlfriend.

Carlos dares to look at her now - her pretty, perfect self all dolled up tonight. Beneath the facade of propriety, he sees the dilation in her eyes, her bated breath - the words please practically spilling out of her lips. He cannot help but give in to the curiosity, the irresistible pull of the both of them, egging him on.

Under the guise of this game, Carlos let himself indulge in this one perfect fantasy that he knows he cannot have for real.

A game, they’d called it.

And thank god – he’s a competitive motherfucker.

He dares to let his fingers play on the interface, and feels heat creep up his spine when he sees her stiffen at that first stroke. Her reactions are all falling into line, and pretty soon he knows exactly what this app is - what his fingers are doing to her. Her mouth parts as his fingers grow determined, stroking up and down in teasing little zig-zags, playing with her and building her up towards the inevitable. He bites his lip as he watches her control start to fray, her body growing tight with need, and allows himself to imagine that it’s not an app he’s touching, but her. From the wild look of pleading in her eyes, and how erratic her hips are moving now - he knows she likes it,  and wants more.

Fuck. And who is he to deny her anything when she looks this good, on the edge?

She’s gripping Charles now - his thigh, squirming in her seat. Close. Carlos can barely see her hands on Charles from his seat, but he’s enjoying the effect this entire situation has on Charles who is watching her so closely, colour high in his cheeks. He’s not breathing steady at all. And when she calls Carlos’s name, instead of her boyfriend’s, Carlos can’t help the thrill of victory that courses through him. He watches the jealousy and pride and need flicker through Charles’ eyes without restraint. God - hearing the low rasp of her voice is making him hot all over. He’s so hard, his dick pressed painfully into his zipper, and yet there’s nothing he wants to do more than watching her edge into feral territory - especially with all these people around who just might see.

She turns to Charles, and beg him to let her come, to let Carlos let her come – please; and Carlos swallows as he feels a hot shiver pass through him. Really, he should have some shame, some sense of decency, or restraint, but when there’s a beautiful girl on the brink of orgasm in front of him – he can’t help himself. He wants to see her come - needs it.

But Charles reaches over and puts a hand on his wrist to gently ease him off - and he’s grateful that at least between the three of them, Charles is still thinking with the head on his shoulders. Carlos feels breathless as he gazes at the two of them, so clearly turned on for something that he’s not going to get to give them tonight. 

He doesn’t allow the disappointment to fester – because he’s long learned, he can’t harbour longings for things he cannot have. He hast to be realistic and not romantic – to preserve himself so that he does not get his hopes up. So that he does not get hurt.

And so, despite every molecule inside him screaming at him to carry on – he respects their wishes and hands back the phone. Inside him, he’s teetering on the brink of something he can’t quite name.

He composes himself, his racing heart, his body that’s turned on beyond belief. He keeps his eyes on them, the whole dinner, the way Charles continues to play with her, attentive and sweet, but also attuned to exactly what his girl needs – edging her throughout the rest of the meal. And even though he’s not the one strapped to a vibrator, Carlos feels like he’s being toyed with – and he almost cannot bear it – watching her get teased, knowing he can do nothing about it as much as he’s dying to.

Later, when they leave, Carlos watches Charles’s hand curl possessively over her waist, easing her out of the chair. Her legs are jelly, and he cannot mistake the slight wobble in the way that she walks. He thinks, with some measure of pride – I did that to her, I got her all hot and bothered.

But as they wave goodbye to him, he plasters on a smile that he doesn’t quite feel inside, his own heart sinking with loneliness and a pressing desire to be wanted and needed. He sees them walk away towards the hotel lobby and resigns himself to this – to being the one that’s always left behind, somehow.

He stares at his empty plate for long seconds, his brain threatening to dissociate. But then he notices a tiny little card peeking out from under the folded napkin containing his silverware that had gone untouched for their last course.

His fingers seek out the little paper card and when he opens it, he finds a hotel room number scrawled messily at the top, with one keycard slotted on the inside.

He swallows, and pushes aside the very tempting invitation to dash upstairs. Instead - he does what’s right (he is a gentleman, after all). 

He sends a message to Charles, a photo of the card in hand. This yours?

The reply comes a little later - perhaps after five, ten minutes - and Carlos almost spits out his drink when he reads it.

It’s yours - if you want to come join us.

-

channeling all my sadness post-baku into very fulfilling writing for this fic (which was one of my favourites to write). thank you mar, my beloved, for giving me a chance to breathe a second life back into a fic I’ve loved since day 1. please pardon any errors - would love to know what you thought!

The corset he wears is laced up so tightly, it pinches his sides, but it was valentines’ day, and Charles hadn’t asked for anything except this.

And although he felt ridiculous, parading around in something so restrictive and feminine… he wasn’t prepared for the way Charles’ eyes grew large and dark when he saw that corset on him.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and (oddly) admired the way the boning contoured his body into a curvaceous shape - emphasising the broad expanse of his shoulders and back, and making his waist so tiny and trim in contrast.

“Fuck…” Charles had uttered, like a filthy prayer, “god you look so hot.”

He too, wasn’t immune to the prettiness of Charles, already naked, laid out on the bed, propped up by his arms to take a better look at his get-up. “I kept my side of the deal…” he murmured, approaching the bed and feeling the thigh highs he’d worn to accompany the corset bite into his thighs. He wasn’t sure how Charles would feel about them, but from the way his eyes cascaded down his body, fixated on the lines strapped across his muscled legs, his bulge straining at the tight satin underwear he’d worn… Carlos knew he’d been right to go full-on with the costume.

Charles reached out to put his hands on his cinched waist and drew him in to the bed, but Carlos held back. “Ah, ah,” he’d chastised, and Charles pouted. “Where’s my present?”

There was a glint in Charles’ eyes that simply spelled trouble, but Carlos was eager for it. in fact he couldn’t ever remember a time where he wasn’t eager for it.

From beneath the sheets, Charles produced a Ferrari-red bow inscribed with glittery letters: daddy’s fucktoy.

Carlos felt his face grow hot, as Charles handed the ribbon to him. “Was the ‘daddy’ necessary?”

He gave Carlos the most teasing little grin. “Was the only one they had left. And besides… don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Carlos hoped his blush didn’t betray him, but it always did. He tied the bow around Charles’ neck anyway, and somehow seeing the words scrawled shamelessly across his boyfriend’s neck turned him on more than he cared to admit.

“Oh!” Charles added, reaching for another surprise - this one, making his eyes bulge - a set of metal clips that looked particularly painful… and intriguing.

“Where do they-?” Carlos swallows, trying not to think about where they’d look best on Charles’ smooth skin - the welts, bruises they’d leave… so red and suckable.

Charles clips one to the bud of his nipple, hissing and sighing with the pained-pleasure of it all. Carlos wants to tug on the chain connected to it… to hear the pathetic whimper he knows Charles saves just for him. “Can you put the second one on me, please?”

Charles presents his chest proudly to Carlos, who takes the clip and, instead of giving him what he wants - draws little tantalising circles around his nipple until Charles moans at the cold metal against his warm skin. “Did you ask me nicely?”

“Please,” Charles begs, and Carlos nods, letting the clamp press gently into his sensitive areola. The whine that leaves his pretty mouth is so sexy, he tugs at the chain once, just hard enough to make Charles yelp now, and gaze up at him with the hungriest look he’d ever seen.

“Please fuck me,” he begs, and Carlos cannot deny him anything when he looks this pathetic.

He doesn’t hold back when he crawls atop him - slicking himself up as Charles lies back and holds his knees to his chest. He’s so incredibly tight when Carlos fucks into him, wincing and begging for more - wanting it to hurt so good, so Carlos tugs on the clamps until he cries out, until his neck turns red as the bow he wears, from exertion and arousal. Fuck. It’s so hot seeing him like this.

Carlos fucks him until Charles’ eyes glaze over and he grows dazed and barely coherent, and Carlos has to pull his legs from his chest and wrap them around his corseted-waist, so he doesn’t ache from too long in the position, and Charles whines in gratitude.

Charles becomes more delicate like this, running his hands indulgently across his broad shoulders, scratching at the muscles that bunch up across the tight boning of his garment. He kisses Carlos, and moves with him in a rhythm that makes them both breathless and aching, until Carlos pulls back and leans his forehead against Charles’, a wild, searching look in his eyes.

“Want you to come for me,” he orders, and Charles seizes up with the desperate desire to obey.

It’s what good fucktoys do, after all.

And Carlos tells him so in whispered, fervent praise. “My good little fucktoy.”

Charles gasps his name when he comes, spilling all across the corset that Carlos wears and over his own tummy, and it’s all Carlos can to to hold his composure - wanting to watch the way pleasure etches itself across his beautiful face.

God he could get addicted to the sight of this. And maybe he has.

The groan he buries in Charles’ trembling mouth is desperate, and Charles answers with eager little cries - pleading with him until he comes inside him - hot and messy, panting against the thrilling rush of his orgasm and the restrictions of his corset.

He slumps over into Charles’ arms, his flushed face half-pressed against the glittery bow he wears, and wonders how they’ll top next year’s Valentine’s Day.

-

????????? don’t know where this came from, oh my god. do not perceive me.

thanks for the ask, eva 🥰 feel free to send me more prompts!

inspo pics (if you care for them)