Should we head upstairs, then? So we don't waste time.

They've been fighting, and Buck huffs when Eddie doesn't seem to care that Buck is going to the club with a few of his friends. He doesn't seem interested in going. Just shrugs and tells him to go ahead and have fun. He doesn't care.

Though Buck notices from his phone that Eddie is speeding down the highway, already following him. He sees Eddie's little icon and a racecar next to him. Man, he is GUNNING it. Buck smirks because really. this outfit? In these jeans? In this really tight shirt?

Buck barely makes it twenty minutes into the club, one drink down, and someone is already hitting on him when Eddie yanks Buck by the collar of his shirt and snarls at the guy that Buck is already taken.

t4t but not like usual t4t

Toxic 4 Toxic

DDDNE: arranged/forced marriage, extreme dubcon, brief medical setting snippit (marked at beginning and end with ------), discussion of pregnancy, what could be considered mutual domestic violence, omegaverse (obviously) and the required follow up maxussy

Fingers hook in the back of Max's collar, yanking his head back as Charles leans down to nip at his shoulder.

"My birthday is coming up."

Max snarls, snapping his teeth near Charles' ear as he pulls away.

"You mean mine."

Charles lets him get some distance, not that it's ever mattered.

"Sure, but mine is right after, and it's the important one, since I will be twenty."

Max rolls his eyes, scowling.

"What, you want an award? Get an F1 seat and then it will be impressive."

Charles laughs softly, but his eyes are cold where he's watching Max, lingering on his thighs and waist.

"Is that a new lounge set?"

"I wouldn't know Charles, you handle all my brand shit. I just wear what's in the box."

Charles steps forward, and he smells interested, and Max fights his internal groan. Charles is always interested.

"It looks good. I don't want you wearing it around anyone else."

Well, it'll be on Charles to cancel the fucking photoshoot then. Privately, Max is thrilled. He hates doing magazine shoots or brand deals, but part of Charles' contract involves a certain amount of obligations- some of which he can get away with pushing onto Max, since he's basically an extension of Charles.

What it really means is Max ends up doing work with leather brands, jewelry brands, omega brands. Just two weeks ago he'd had to sit still while they adjusted some "pheromone-soothing" collar on him, angled his chin up to look like he was kneeling while they got their pictures.

Even now, there's a few boxes scattered in the living room that he's supposed to be doing something with, unopened.

Charles is getting closer, and Max sighs, eyes narrowing.

"Seriously Charles, you missed the apex on turn seven five times today- why would I let you fuck me?"

Charles rumbles, low and threatening.

"You don't 'let me' do anything. Don't forget how this works, yes? I am much more lenient with you than another alpha would be."

He comes directly into Max's personal space, bringing one hand down to roughly cup his cunt through his shorts, fingers pushing up through the fabric to mimic going inside of him.

Max doesn't give him the satisfaction of gasping, briefly debating how he wants the night to go. On the one hand, Charles wants to get his dick wet, pop a knot, whatever. They don't have any obligations tonight, so Max doesn't have to worry about looking presentable, which leads to the other hand- if he's going to get fucked it might as well be really worth it, the kind where his head goes foggy and he's sobbing into the sheets, half convinced he's going to go into heat.

Maybe if Charles gets the rough sex out of his system tonight, he'll be less pissed when he qualifies like shit tomorrow.

"Those Red Bull alphas seem pretty lenient to me. What's their names again? Daniel and... Marlo? Or was it Carlos? I think his name is Carlos."

Charles fingers twitch as his scent sharpens, taking on a sour note. He's pissed.

Max grins.

"I bet they tag team an omega very nicely."

Charles slams him against the wall, knocking the wind out of him as he snarls, and Max lets his legs fall open a little wider. If he's going to commit, he's going to do it right.

"I bet they have huge knots too, and their driving really is amazing, especially that last race-"

It's said through panting gasps as he tries to catch his breath, but Charles' enraged scent ignites a deep satisfaction within him.

"You stupid-"

He spins Max around, shoving him roughly down onto the coffee table. A press box goes falling off the side, which is really just another good riddance.

If Charles really marks him up, Max can get out of the other photoshoot later this week. He's confident he can pull that off- he's got a lifetime of experience pissing off his alpha, and a whole night to do it properly.

------

"Max! Always so nice to see you in the paddock supporting your alpha- how do you think the Ferrari is stacking up this year?"

Max scoffs, keeping his brisk pace as he walks, forcing the interviewer to jog to keep up with him.

"I think if the team has sorted out their administrative issues from last year, they can actually work on the car this year, and maybe next year they will not suck as bad."

"Oh! Well everyone, that was Charles Leclerc's mate, who's reputably famous for his bluntness, and has fabulously put it on display for us, thank you so much-"

Max lets the garage door swing shut behind him, cutting off the rest of the sentence.

It's a bustle of activity inside, both sides of the garage a hectic mess.

They're running Pierre with Charles this year, but there's a rookie coming through the junior formulas Max is keeping an eye on.

Generally, the actual seat politics here have nothing to do with racing, which is annoying, and more to do with slightly less than legal weight being thrown around, which had been terrifying when Max realized.

That night- he wasn't sure where the conversation had gone wrong, considering Charles had kept him kneeling next to him, head against his thigh- but one moment it had been a casual game of poker, and the next moment there had been guns pointed at everyone across the table, dead silence in the room.

Max had frozen, panicked until Charles had dropped one hand down, curled it around the back of his neck and squeezed, and then it had gone hazy with the scruffing, and he's not really sure what had happened afterwards.

He'd been pissed later, demanding an explanation, bitching at Charles about the entire evening until he'd finally been shoved into the nest, and Charles had agreed to tell him if Max would just shut up.

Some days, Max wishes he hadn't asked.

Now he's making his way through the garage. Everyone here knows not to touch him, although sometimes he can feel them staring. He slinks into the back hallways, following the tug in his chest into Charles' drivers room.

Charles is pulling his fireproofs on, half crouched over the crammed cot against the wall. He looks up when Max steps in, shoulders relaxing.

"Media holdup?"

Max wrinkles his nose.

"How'd you guess?"

Charles grins, mouth curling into something more smug than Max would like.

"I got this strange feeling of immense irritation, for some reason."

His fingers curl into Max's collar, tugging him forward before shoving him down, and Max winces as his knees hit the flooring.

Charles tangles his fingers into Max's hair. It's getting long, but it's not Max's decision to make if it gets cut or not.

"I'm going to knot your mouth, baby."

Max makes a face, phantom pain in his jaw already as he looks up at his alpha.

"Do you even have time for that?"

Charles shrugs, eyes flicking to the clock.

"I've got less the longer you try to talk to me about it, instead of leaving your mouth open."

Touché.

------ ------

Max digs his heels in when Charles tries to pull him away from the car. He hates these appointments, despises them with everything in him, and the day he makes it easy for the Charles is the day he's dead.

"Max."

Charles sounds exasperated already, hooking a finger into the ring of Max's collar and tugging.

Max curls his lip, planting his weight. There's a chance Charles brute forces it, uses a Command and makes Max walk himself inside, but he's somewhat sympathetic to this part usually.

Sure enough- there's a hand on his waist as Charles steps into his space, wiggling his fingers between Max's collar and neck to press down on his scent gland, capturing his lips in a kiss. Max's head goes hazy, the stimulation on his neck making him pliant.

"I know you don't like this, but we need to get it done."

Sure, whatever his alpha wants.

Charles pulls back, tugging Max with him as they walk into the clinic, and it's only after they've checked in, drawn blood, and Max has changed into the clinic gown that Max comes back to himself, shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

Charles squeezes his thigh, a silent reminder to behave.

Max lets the unease build up in him until they call his name, walking him back into the exam room. Charles stays close to his back, pushing his scent as Max halts in the doorway.

The bed in the middle of the room is his worst enemy, every year. He still hates it, with the crinkling plastic under his back, the stirrups at the end of the bed for his ankles.

He doesn't realize he's whining until Charles tugs his collar, hooking his chin over his shoulder.

"Come on baby, the sooner you get up there the sooner it's over."

Max leans back into him, and he's sure he must smell strongly of distress, because Charles makes a sympathetic noise, nosing at the underside of his jaw. For a second he thinks maybe he won't have to do it, and they'll go home, but-

"Get on the table, Max."

His body is moving before his brain catches up, stepping onto the table and toeing his shoes off. Charles watches impassively, wrapping one hand around his bare ankle.

"See, that wasn't so bad."

Max wants to kick him in the face. Heavily considers it as well, watching Charles snag the ends of the cuffs at the stirrups, wedging his leg into place, but if he does that he's not sure what Charles would do as punishment.

Being here is punishment enough.

He whines louder when the cuff snaps into place, keeping one leg wide as Charles grabs the other.

"Charles, Alpha-"

Charles pushes his scent again, deep and soothing as he loops the cuff around Max's other ankle.

"You'll be alright, it'll be quick."

He steps forward, pressing a kiss to Max's mouth.

"But you know how important this is, getting checks on your health."

Max swallows, cold and upset and shivering already, strapped down. He'll behave with his hands this year- last year had been awful all around, and he doesn't want a repeat of the experience. He's learned.

Charles eyes him for a moment before poking his head into the hallway, having a quiet discussion with someone else, before he steps back in, closing the door gently.

"You're flagged as an anxious omega, so they said we can try something different this year, yes?"

Max watches him step closer, and then he's unlatching Max's collar, gently setting it on the counter.

This is new. Max almost always has his collar on outside- his neck is too vulnerable otherwise. He'd hated it at first when he was younger, but it's somewhat comforting now, and having it removed doesn't help the stress at all.

Charles leans over him, kissing him chastely as he smooths his thumb over Max's scent gland, pushing into it enough that Max squirms, sensitive. He's getting mixed signals- his alpha is edging into foreplay, but they're at the health clinic, which is always bad in a scary way, but-

Charles licks into his mouth, fingers pressing into Max's neck, scent thick in his nose, and Max's whine cuts off, head dropping back to expose his neck. Charles doesn't always spend time just trying to make Max feel good, but when he does...

He's got long, clever fingers, knows exactly how to push Max's buttons, deepening the kiss as his other hand settles high on Max's thigh.

Max tries to flex his legs, stopped by the straps, but before he can get worked up about it Charles is rumbling against his chest, fingers brushing against Max's cunt.

Max whimpers, feels himself getting wet even though that's never happened at the clinic before, and then Charles is pressing two fingers inside, spreading them slowly.

Charles gives him a moment to breathe, lowering his head by Max's neck and nosing at his scent gland as his fingers work deeper, bracketing Max's body with his own.

Max is confused, because he hates the clinic, and he's not exactly turned on, but he's getting wetter the longer Charles spends working him up, kissing him and nipping his scent gland, pushing him into his instincts. His alpha wants something, Max just doesn't know what.

Charles pushes his fingers up inside of him, thumb rubbing gentle circles over his clit, and Max squirms, orgasm building. He doesn't want to come in the clinic, that's not- he doesn't like the thought of it, why they might want it.

Charles isn't giving him another option, kissing him again as his fingers keep their relentless pace, pulling Max higher and higher-

Max cries out into his mouth, squeezing around his hand as he comes, shaking on the table. He's wet, and he can feel the cool air of the clinic between his legs, whimpering softly.

His alpha leans back and swings the door open a crack, before coming back to Max and withdrawing his fingers, pressing a chaste kiss to Max's mouth.

One of the beta workers comes in, so quiet Max almost doesn't notice him until he's pushing two gloved fingers inside of him, ignoring the way Max's hips buck up on the table.

Charles presses a hand down, palm flat over Max's stomach.

"Behave, Max."

The Command locks his limbs up, even as Max trembles, whines trapped in his throat. The beta scissors his fingers a few times before pushing in a third, pressing at Max's walls.

It doesn't feel good- it never does- but Max is getting his wires crossed with Charles' scent so strong around him, and his own slick across his thighs.

The fingers press deeper, enough that it's starting to hurt, and Charles presses another soft kiss to his lips, running his thumb across Max's mating mark.

Max looks up at his alpha with pleading eyes, but Charles is watching the beta closely.

The door opens again, and an alpha walks in, scent patches carefully applied over his neck and wrists. It doesn't matter- Max knows an alpha when he sees one.

He crouches by the beta, snapping his own gloves on, and Max squeezes his eyes shut, nails digging into his palms as he clenches his fists. He doesn't want his arms held down, so he's going to behave.

"Good news is the fertility results came back solid across the board, so he's perfectly healthy in that regard. You did mark on the appointment that you'd like us to replace that implant though, correct?"

Charles nods, one hand brushing through Max's hair.

"Yes, not quite ready for pups yet. I was worried the long term back to back implants would cause fertility issues, so I'm glad to hear that is not the case."

The alpha makes an affirming noise, pushing all four fingers into him, and Max squeezes his eyes shut again, tears building at his waterline.

"He's got good numbers all around. Well taken care of, good condition. He'll carry well, whenever you decide to do that. I'd refer you to a fertility clinic when you make that decision though, since it's the first time."

The alpha pauses, looking at up Charles with a shrug.

"Just because you seem to care about how he's doing upstairs, is what I mean. Studies have been showing that omegas who feel supported by their alphas carry healthier, stronger pups. If you're hoping to go the athlete route it might be worth it to do a little spoiling."

Charles' thumb brushes across the bottom of his lashes, wiping away the stray tears.

"Yes, I have been thinking about that. He is somewhat spoiled already, but whenever we get to the pup stage I'll have to change some things."

Something cool and metal brushes against Max, and he whimpers again, pushing into Charles hand.

He hates the clinic.

------ ------

"You cannot seriously still be sulking."

Max hisses from where he's rebuilt the nest, lip curled at Charles where he's standing in the doorway, annoyed.

"Max, we got back from the clinic four hours ago, you can stop being bitchy about it now, it's over."

Max fluffs a pillow, seething.

"You had them check my fertility labs, seriously?"

Charles throws his hands up, stepping closer to the nest despite Max's threatening scent filling the room.

"I wanted to check! You have been on the IUD for years, Max."

Max chucks a particularly firm throw pillow at him, nailing him in the face as he snarls.

"And I'll stay on it! World champion pups or none, Leclerc!"

Charles growls, low and threatening as he takes a few quick steps, grabbing Max's collar and hauling him out of the nest, shoving him onto the bed.

One hand settles low on Max's stomach, pushing down roughly as Charles settles over him, pressing him into the mattress.

"I decide when we have pups. Not you, not the doctor, not any kind of arbitrary timeline. Me."

He hitches one of Max's legs up, nosing at his jaw before he nips at the skin, and Max is squirming, uncomfortable where Charles' hand is still pressing into him.

"We can go back to the clinic right now if you want, yes? Are you are acting up because that's what you are really wanting? A litter of pups to keep you occupied all the time? Maybe then you will stop harping on my driving constantly."

Max curls his lip, hips twitching. He doesn't want pups, but if he has to have them, they're going to be with a capable driver- Max's skills even as an omega are too good to be diluted.

Charles rolls their hips together, hot and heavy on top of him, scent thick in his nose. Max can feel that he's hard, and it's worse that he's getting wet in response. The scent always does it for him, wrapping around inside of him and making him relax, forgetting anything he's mad about.

He snarls weakly up at Charles.

"Do not disgrace my genetics like that, alpha."

He sneers the last word, twisting away from Charles as he feels fingers dig into his skin, hot breath fanning over his shoulder.

"I'm letting it slide for now."

Max tries to ignore the competing swirl of relief and disappointment inside of him.

Charles' teeth nip as he skin again before he sits up, swinging his legs off the bed and looking down at Max. He's probably a sight right now, rumpled clothes and pink cheeks, eyes narrowed defiantly.

His alpha backs up, giving Max to space to slink back into the nest without getting within arms reach.

"But when I bring that championship home, I expect you to remember that, yes? How about one litter for each championship?"

He's watching Max from the doorway as he starts fixing pillows again, mouth curled into a smirk. Max deliberately doesn't meet his eyes.

"Try bringing home a constructors first."

------

Max sits patiently, if slightly uncomfortably, as the makeup artist adjusts something across his lashes, stepping back out of his space with a satisfied smile.

"It looks very pretty- you're sweet, helping your alpha with press."

It's not Max's preferred way to spend an afternoon. He's trying not to adjust his clothes, even if they sit weird on his skin, silky and draped in places he's not used to, flashes of skin he keeps forgetting are exposed. He's wearing a thick leather collar, buttery soft against his neck. His stomach has been turning all afternoon as they get ready- he'd tried drinking a few sips of water earlier but had to set the bottle back down.

Charles should be getting finished here in a moment, and then they're walking the carpet for a premier of some movie Max doesn't care about. He slides carefully off the chair, following the tug in his chest back out to the hallway where his alpha is waiting.

It's frustrating sometimes to remember he's annoyed about something- especially when Charles looks as good as he does right now, smiling when he sees Max.

"You look good, baby."

Max's lips press into a thin line. Charles knows how much he hates press of any kind, but unfortunately being mated to a high profile alpha means Max has his own responsibilities.

"Thanks."

It's dry, and Charles laughs, kissing him chastely.

"Try to sound a bit more enthused if they ask questions on the carpet, please. You can take a nap when we're in the premier."

Half of Max's brand is built off of telling paparazzi to fuck off.

There's different expectations when he's hanging off his alphas arm though, so Max will play nice for the evening.

------

"And, one last question, for your omega- are you excited to have pups? It must be coming soon, you're both the perfect age, and I know the internet is gushing over how cute they're going to be!"

Charles pinches Max's side where the cameras can't see, right before Max is about to tell her to choke and die.

He bites his tongue for a moment, trying to find the patience somewhere inside of him.

"I am of course always thrilled to hear that the internet is speculating on our sex lives again."

Charles is probably grinding his teeth next to him, but Max didn't say anything explicit, so he's going to count that as a personal victory.

The reporter is still looking expectantly at him, and Max really just wants to go inside and sleep through this stupid movie, and then he wants to go home. If he behaves for the press, he might be able to convince Charles to order takeout- the only thing that's sounding good is the Indian restaurant near the flat.

He'd kill for some curry right now.

Charles' thumb presses gently into his waist, more concerned than anything, and Max remembers that he needs to respond.

"... And as soon as we know we will work on an announcement."

He even offers a slight smile, and Charles relaxes slightly next to him. It's the best media response Max has given all evening.

The reporter gushes again, goes on some kind of tangent, but then she catches sight of Hulk and his controversially young new omega, and Max has never been more grateful.

Charles tugs him inside away from the press, even though it's a few minutes early, eying Max carefully.

"What's wrong?"

Max sighs, and grants himself a somewhat uncharacteristic indulgence, leaning forward into Charles, hooking his chin over his shoulder as his arms settle around his waist.

"I am just tired, I think."

Charles rumbles, warm palm cupping the back of his head. Max feels a bit better like this, secure with his alpha, but they'll have to face the last few minutes of press before he can nap inside.

"I'm okay, Charles. We can go back out."

Charles brushes his wrist along the edge of Max's jaw, scenting him. He doesn't quite look like he believes him, but he's walking them back out anyways.

Max takes a deep breath, absentmindedly wondering if the paparazzi flashes will eventually damage his eyes.

------

He's half awake, surrounded by Charles' scent, head resting against something warm.

"-not been feeling well all night. I'm going to take the back way out, sorry mate. You will have to handle press."

"No that's okay, I hope he feels better!"

Max whines when he's jostled, although Charles' soothing rumble is much closer than he'd expected, vibrating through him. He must be carrying him, and when he noses into Max's hair gently, Max tilts his head up, cracking his eyes open.

It's dark out, and they're taking the employee exit in the back, avoiding the media swarm at the front steps. Charles is looking down at him concerned, and Max wonders for a second when he had time for an outfit change.

Charles laughs softly, and Max realizes he's said it out loud.

"You're in my jacket, baby. We're going back home- if you do not feel better in the morning we are going to the clinic."

Max pushes his head closer against Charles' chest. The jacket must be why he feels so surrounded, protected by his alpha.

He doesn't like going to the clinic, but a visit because he's sick is different than the annual wellness visits, so he'll try not to pitch a fit.

Mostly.

------

Max is feeling better in the morning, waking up curled entirely on top of Charles, face buried in the crook of his neck. Charles is awake already, one hand scrolling on his phone while the other has been running up and down Max's spine, but he clicks his phone off when he meets Max's eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

Max settles further on top of him, warm and comfortable. The nest is safe and secure, even if the rest of the flat probably needs to be worked on, and Charles is right here.

He's not hungry, but he's not nauseous.

"Better."

Charles presses his lips together.

"I want to bring you in, just in case."

Max frowns, nudging against Charles' face.

"I am fine, Charles. I am thinking I ate something bad yesterday."

Charles rumbles, arms wrapping around Max.

"We will get rid of everything in the fridge and replace it then."

Max snorts, dropping his head down against Charles' shoulder.

"I think that is maybe a bit much."

He pauses. He still really wants Indian food.

"...but maybe we could order some curry?"

The face Charles makes in response makes Max laugh, unexpected and unrestrained.

"No- no don't laugh, what is wrong with you- I just cannot believe you were feeling sick, and now you want curry."

Max shrugs.

"Is that a yes? With your world champion salary, surely you can afford some takeout."

Charles groans, fumbling for his phone again.

"Right now? It is ten in the morning Max, what if they haven't made it yet?"

Max whines- it's escaped his throat before he can stop it, genuine distress that he might not be able to get curry in the morning. Charles immediately sits them up, sighing at him.

"Fine, fine, I am ordering. If I have to pay for them to make it early I will do that too. You are spoiled, did you know that?"

Max makes a face.