Chapter Text
He ran down the corridors, the sharp echo of his shoes hitting the floors sounding too loud in his ears. His heart thumped so violently that it felt as if it would burst out of his head. His breath came in ragged, quick gasps, and his rain scent thickened instinctively, sharp with fear and urgency. People gave way before him.
Carlos waited outside the room when Charles reached the end of the corridor. His arms crossed, jaw set, expression controlled, but the tension in his posture gave away his anxiety.
“Hey,” Carlos said quickly, stepping forward.
“What happened?” Charles asked. His voice was low and tight, each word clipped. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready for something catastrophic.
Carlos exhaled carefully. “He had an allergic reaction,” he said seriously. “The school medical team administered epinephrine immediately. We continued with oxygen therapy and IV fluids once he got here.” Charles’ pulse roared in his ears but Carlos held his gaze. “He’s stable now,” he added. “You can go in.”
Charles’ touch on Carlos’ arm was brief, a gesture of thanks, and then he was stepping past the man. He pushed open the door.
Max was sitting up in the bed, surrounded by the sterile white of the hospital bedding, which made his pale skin seem even more pale. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the allergy he’d experienced or the medication he’d been given, and his blue eyes were wide and slightly glassy as he met Charles’ gaze.
The pout of his lips, the hitch in his breathing, made something inside Charles twist painfully. His omega, small and vulnerable in the large bed, surrounded by the cold glare of the hospital lights, in pain and suffering.
And in a brief, fleeting moment, Charles thought the world had shrunk to the image of Max, his blue eyes looking up at him.
*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ
When Max heard the door open, he expected a nurse, he didn’t expect Charles.
The moment he saw him, standing there with a deep frown carved into his features and worry darkening his eyes, Max felt his heart sink. He hadn’t meant to scare him. He didn’t even know how Charles had found out so quickly, but the sight of him like that, made Max’s chest ache.
Charles crossed the room in two long strides. His hands came up immediately, cradling Max’s face, thumbs brushing gently over his flushed cheeks. “How do you feel, mon amour?” he whispered.
Max’s lips trembled slightly. “I’m okay,” he whispered back — but the pleading in his eyes betrayed him. “Hug me. Please.” His voice shook.
Charles’ hands slid down and he pulled Max into his arms instantly, holding him carefully — not too tight — as if Max were something fragile that might shatter under pressure. Max clung to him without hesitation, his arms locked around Charles’ waist, his face pressing into his chest.
“Please, schat,” Max murmured into the fabric of his shirt, desperation soft but real. “Scent me.” He needed grounding, he needed home and Charles smelled like home.
Charles froze a little, but then he let it happen. Charles’ scent spread through the air, a crisp rain scent, soothing but sharp, surrounding Max in a warm, safe embrace. Max couldn’t stop his purring as his entire body relaxed into Charles’ embrace.
Charles held him tightly, burying his face in his hair and pressing soft kisses to his temple.
The world stopped. Charles whispered soft words into his hair, French, English, Italian, a mix of languages blending together in a warm embrace. He reached over to the tray on the bedside table, unwrapping chocolates, and coaxing Max to eat something sweet. He pressed kisses to his temples, his cheeks.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, voice still careful. “Please, tell me chéri.”
After a moment, Max swallowed and took a slow breath. He left Charles’ arms and looked up at him. Charles’ eyes were full of patience, love, and a kind of softness that made Max’s throat constrict painfully.
Max’s lips twisted into a pout. Charles leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips. It was a soft kiss, a grounding one. Max was still shaky from all the things that had happened to him, but the fear was gone.
He didn’t want Charles to be worried about him, but he knew he had to explain. With a deep breath, he prepared himself to talk.
Max moved a bit from the hospital bed. He patted the space beside him. Charles hesitated for a moment. Max saw the worry in Charles’ eyes, the silent question of whether it was a good idea to get into the bed because it might hurt him.
Charles moved carefully, slowly, and sat down in front of him on the bed. He sat down but didn’t get too close.
Max wanted to snuggle into Charles, to bury his face in Charles’ chest and forget the smell of disinfectant and the beeping machines. But they had to talk, so instead, Max held out his hand. Charles didn’t hesitate this time. He took it at once, kissing the back of the hand lightly before holding it between them.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Charles asked quietly.
The softness in his voice only made Max feel worse. He took a shaky breath, trying to keep it steady, and squeezed Charles’ hand.
“I know we haven’t talked about this,” Max began, sniffing lightly. “Actually… that’s what I wanted to tell you after class. At dinner. I—”
“Is everything okay?” Charles interrupted gently, a faint frown appearing between his brows.
Max nodded quickly. “Yes.”
He inhaled again. “When you were in your rut—”
“Did I hurt you?” Charles cut in immediately, worry flashing across his face. There was panic there too — controlled, but real.
“What? No!” Max said, startled. “Of course not. I told you everything that happened.” He swallowed. “But…” He forced himself to look into Charles’ eyes. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about…” His voice trailed off. He looked away. Saying it out loud felt vulnerable in a way that made his stomach twist.
Charles’ free hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently over his skin. “You can tell me anything,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”
Max nodded. After the rut — after everything — he trusted Charles in a way that felt deeper than before.
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s just… this topic isn’t something I like talking about.”
Charles nodded slowly. “Okay. Take your time. I’m here.”
The patience in his voice almost undid him. Max bit his lip hard, trying to stop the tears from forming. He took another steadying breath. “I think I’m ready to be…” His voice trembled. He cleared it and tried again. “I mean, if you want to, and if you’re ready too, of course.” He rushed the last part, nerves overtaking him.
This was not coming out the way he had planned, but he had already started and now was no turning back now. He squeezed Charles’ hand again and stared at their intertwined fingers.
“I think I’m ready to be together,” he finished quietly. “Intimately.” The last word barely left his lips — spoken almost into the space between their hands.
But since Charles didn’t say anything, panic suddenly erupted in Max's chest, his cheeks flushing red as he thought maybe Charles wasn’t ready, maybe he had rushed it.
Max tilted his head up, about to apologize, and froze as Charles remained motionless, his eyes wide open, his mouth open as if he was trying to say something, but the right words were not cooperating.
“I— you— can—” Charles muttered incoherently, voice barely functioning.
Max blinked. “If you don’t wa—”
“No!” Charles interrupted, a little too loudly. Max startled — not frightened, just surprised. “I of course want to,” Charles rushed out, breath uneven. “And I’m ready. Whenever you want, tomorrow or in a year. Just say the word.”
Max stared at him for a second, then he giggled. It was so sweet, so earnest and so very Charles. He nodded, tension easing from his shoulders.
Charles’ expression softened immediately. He cupped Max’s face gently. “But—” he added, pressing a kiss to his nose, “you still haven’t told me how you ended up here.”
Max’s smile faded slightly. He looked down at their joined hands, then back into Charles’ green eyes. “It actually… has to do with what we just talked about,” he admitted quietly, he bit his lip. “I’m allergic to most contraceptives.”
Charles’ mouth fell open and the flicker of fear in Max’s chest returned — a sudden, irrational dread that Charles might rethink everything. Before that thought could spiral, Charles spoke. “You didn’t know you were allergic?”
Max looked down again. “I did,” he admitted softly, shame creeping into his voice. Then he rushed to explain, “But I thought maybe it wouldn’t be that bad if it was just once. I just… I don’t think I’m ready for a pup yet.”
Charles blinked. “Chéri…” he breathed.
“I’m sorry,” Max interrupted quickly, eyes filling.
“Don’t apologize,” Charles said immediately, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.
“But please,” he continued more seriously, thumb brushing beneath Max’s eye before a tear could fall, “never put yourself at risk like that again.” Max’s lower lip trembled but Charles kissed it softly. “I’ll take the pill religiously,” he promised firmly. “Every day. I’ll take it in front of you if that makes you feel safer. Seven-thirty a.m., when I drive you to class. You’ll watch me take it.”
Max let out a small, watery chuckle, the sound catching slightly in his throat as he wiped at his tears. “You don’t have to,” he said softly. “I trust you.”
Charles’ grin softened into something warmer. “Let me do it,” he insisted gently. “That way I have an excuse to see you every morning.”
Max laughed properly then, head tilting back as warmth flooded his chest. Charles chuckled too and cupped his face again, pressing the lightest kiss to the tip of his nose.
“I’ll buy condoms too,” Charles added, thoughtful and serious again. “And just to be safe, we can both get tested right now. That way we’re sure. No risks.”
Max’s heart thudded painfully in his chest at how carefully Charles was thinking through everything. Not just about himself — but about him.
“I promise,” Charles continued quietly, “I’ll make sure we’re safe. Pup-free for a few years.” Max giggled through lingering tears. Charles smiled, then grew more serious. “I won’t risk hurting you or losing you. I’ll wait as long as you need. For a wedding. For pups. For a life together.”
The tears slipped down Max’s cheeks freely now. Charles gently brushed them away with his thumbs.
“I love you, Max,” he said. There was no hesitation in his voice, it was steady and real. “You set the pace,” Charles added softly. “You lead us. I’ll follow.”
Max blinked at him, overwhelmed. An alpha — Charles — saying that so openly. So willingly. In a world where alphas were raised to dominate, to decide, to lead.
“I’m yours,” Charles finished quietly.
Max reached up shakily and held his face, a knot tight in his throat from the emotions pressing against it.
“I love you too, Charlie,” he whispered.
Charles blinked, like he hadn’t really expected to hear it. Like he still couldn’t really believe it. Before leaning in and kissing him. It tasted like rain and comfort. But Max pulled back, even though all of him wanted to stay there. Because there was something he had to ask.
“How did you know I was here?” he asked quietly.
Charles blinked, then scratched the back of his neck, almost sheepish. “Carlos is doing his medical practice here,” he admitted. “He saw your name on the intake list and called me.”
Max’s chest tightened at the thought of Charles dropping everything and rushing to him.
Before that thought could fully settle, Charles added quickly, “I’m sorry if that’s too much.”
Max shook his head immediately. “No,” he said softly, almost breathless. “It’s not too much.” His cheeks warmed slightly. “Thank you for being here.”
Charles’ smile softened, the tension finally easing from his features. “I’m happy to be here,” he said quietly. “But I’m even happier that you’re okay.”
Max felt warmth bloom through his chest again. He squeezed Charles’ hand gently, grounding himself in the contact.
“I would like, though,” Charles continued, brushing his thumb over Max’s knuckles, “a full list of your allergies. I need to make sure you’re safe. And far away from anything that could make you sick.”
Max pouted slightly, cheeks flushing pink. “I’m just allergic to contraceptives,” he admitted. Then, after a small pause, he added sheepishly, “And… I kind of lie and say I’m allergic to seafood.” Charles raised a brow. “I just don’t like it,” Max clarified quickly. “And if people think you’re allergic, they don’t try to force you to ‘just taste it because this one is the best.’”
Charles laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Okay,” he said. “I will absolutely keep contraceptives far away from you and I’ll support your seafood lie.”
Max giggled. “Thank you.” He hesitated, then added more thoughtfully, “I can’t have too much lactose either. It gives me a stomachache.”
Charles nodded seriously, as if receiving strategic information. “Alright. We’ll monitor our lactose intake.”
Max chuckled at the phrasing. “Our?”
Charles grinned. “If you suffer, I suffer.”
Max shook his head fondly. “Thank you.” After a moment, he glanced around the hospital room, the sterile walls, the steady beeping machines. “Do you think we can go soon?” he asked softly. “I don’t like hospitals.”
Charles squeezed his hand again and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss there. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll ask Carlos about your discharge and the prescription. And I’ll have him add the best contraceptives for me.” He paused, looking back at Max more seriously. “I’ll start taking them immediately,” he said gently. “But you don’t have to rush. You don’t have to feel pressured. Whenever you’re ready… you tell me.”
Max felt his heart flutter painfully at that. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“No need,” Charles replied with a small smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek, he pulled back, thoughtful. “Do you want us to take the tests now? To check that we’re both healthy?” he asked. “Or would you rather wait?”
Max blinked, cheeks turning red again. “Let’s do it now,” he said quickly. “Please. I don’t want to come back.”
Charles laughed softly. “Sure.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll ask Carlos to bring everything.”
* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* * ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ
They took the tests, and the nurse explained everything in a calm, professional tone – blood samples taken, signatures given…
“You’ll get your results by email within a few hours,” she said with a polite smile before leaving them alone once again.
Max felt strangely shy standing there with Charles afterwards, as if taking these tests together had somehow changed things between them – made things more real.
A little later, Max was officially discharged. He went up to the counter to ask about his bill, already reaching for his wallet – but the receptionist smiled. “It’s already been taken care of.”
Max didn’t need to ask who, he turned slowly to look at Charles, who was pretending to be very interested in a plant in the corner of the waiting room.
“Charles,” Max started quietly.
Charles only lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said easily.
Max tried to insist, pulling out his card anyway. “I can pay you back.”
Charles stepped closer, gently pushing Max’s hand down. “It’s not a big deal,” he repeated, softer this time. “Please, Carlos gave me a discount.”
Max swallowed. It wasn’t about the money—it was about feeling like he wasn’t contributing enough. But Charles’ face wasn’t patronizing. It was protective and kind so, Max let it go.
Next, they went to the pharmacy. Max waited in the car, looking through the window to see Charles talk to the pharmacist. He looked intent, serious—the smell of rain lingering in the car.
As Charles got back into the driver’s seat, the paper bag in his hand was much fuller than it should be.
Max raised a brow. “That doesn’t look like just contraceptives.”
Charles started the engine casually. “It’s not just that.”
Max leaned over to peek into the bag, catching sight of antihistamines, a small inhaler refill, and something for stomach sensitivity.
“You didn’t have to, I have medicine for the allergy at my dorm and—”
“I know,” Charles interrupted gently, eyes still on the road.
Max frowned slightly. “Charles, I can pay you back.”
“I know,” Charles whispered. He reached over, taking Max’s hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles without taking his eyes off the road. “But let me take care of this… of you.”
Max felt his heart flutter painfully at the words because there was no ego in it, no ownership. Just quiet care and love.
He knew if he kept arguing, Charles would only grow more stubborn — and honestly, Max didn’t want to fight it so he nodded softly. “Thank you.”
Charles squeezed his hand once before letting go.
* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* * ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ
When they reached Max’s apartment, the door barely had time to close behind them before Lando was on his feet.
“Why didn’t you call me?!” Lando demanded, standing up from the sofa so abruptly that Oscar looked startled beside him.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Max said immediately, rolling his eyes to downplay it. “Hi, Oscar.”
“Hi, Max,” Oscar greeted with an amused chuckle.
“I swear I almost had a heart attack when Carlos told me,” Lando continued dramatically, pointing accusingly at Max.
Max blinked. “Carlos told you?” Genuinely thrown. “Since when are you two besties?”
“Since YOU,” Lando snapped, pointing again, “decided to practically move in with your boyfriend.”
He nodded pointedly toward Charles. Max felt heat crawl up his neck and into his cheeks. “I haven’t moved out.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” Lando shot back.
Oscar snorted quietly from his position on the sofa. Max crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive position, but his eyes flickered to Charles, who was standing by the door, rain scent steady, his eyes unreadable but amused. And Max hated how that look made him feel.
Finally, after a number of dramatic accusations from Lando, most of which were exaggerated and accompanied by wild hand gestures, and after he had inspected Max like a worried mother hen to be absolutely certain he was all right, they finally settled.
Charles ordered pizza for everyone, insisting on it without discussion. They ate in the living room, boxes on the coffee table, Oscar laughing occasionally at Lando’s comments, Charles quiet, his eyes on Max, his hand resting almost unconsciously on his thigh under the table.
Eventually, the night quieted. Lando dragged Oscar toward his room with a muttered, “We are NOT listening to whatever happens next,” and Max rolled his eyes while grabbing Charles’ hand.
“Come on,” he murmured softly, while he led him to his room.
Max climbed into his nest first, adjusting a pillow before reaching for Charles, pulling him down with him. Charles did not resist, and he easily followed.
He settled in, Max snuggling into Charles’ chest, his cheek resting just below his collarbone. Charles’ arms immediately went around him, strong and steady, the scent of rain on him faint but comforting.
“I need to tell you something,” Charles whispered after a few minutes.
Max hummed softly, tilting his head back slightly to look at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains. Charles’ features were half-shadowed, green eyes softer than usual.
“I have to go to Gaufre for a few days,” Charles said quietly. “Work.”
Max felt it immediately — that subtle drop in his chest. The idea of waking up without Charles there, of not smelling rain in the mornings.
Charles cupped his face gently and made his thoughts stop. “I know spring break is next week,” he continued. “Do you want to come with me?” Max blinked while Charles brushed his thumb along his cheek. “We can stay in one of the apartments we just finished. You could visit the lake, meet Nico in his ‘mayor era,’ drive to Vaud if you want, or just rest.” His voice softened further. “I’ll save time for the two of us.” He leaned in slightly, lips brushing near Max’s. “To relax,” he added quietly. “And to kiss.”
Max let out the softest gasp — barely a sound, more like a breath catching. He hadn’t expected that. Not the invitation, nor the certainty that Charles wanted him there.
“You’re sure it’s okay?” Max asked softly.
Charles didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I want you there.”
The way he said it left no room for doubt. Max’s chest warmed, something blooming inside him, something dangerously close to belonging. Charles leaned in and kissed him softly, short and sweet, a promise rather than a demand.
Max smiled against his lips. “I’d love that,” he whispered when they parted.
Charles’ smile widened, pleased in that quiet way he got when Max agreed to something important.
“Perfect,” he murmured, kissing his cheek. “I’ll make the arrangements.” He paused, then added casually, “You can invite Lando and Oscar too.”
Max blinked at him in surprise. “You don’t mind?”
Charles shrugged lightly. “If it makes you happy.”
Max felt his heart melt all over again. “I’ll ask them,” he said softly. “Thank you so much, Schat.”
“You’re welcome, mon petit gaufre,” Charles replied warmly. (My little waffle)
Then he leaned down and kissed him again — deeper this time, slower, still careful. Still sweet. Max curled closer into him afterward, heart full, mind already imagining Gaufre — the lake, the quiet, the chaos.
* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* * ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ
Gaufre was beautiful. Charles drove them there in his silver Ferrari Purosangue, the purring of the engine low and smooth.
The journey took about an hour and a half, though it didn’t feel like it was taking that long at all. Charles had one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting loosely on Max’s thigh, thumb making distracted circles.
They took the scenic route, and when they arrived at Lausanne, Charles suggested a small detour. They strolled through the Olympic Museum grounds for a while, their hands intertwined, though Max found himself staring at Charles more than the exhibits. The way he navigated the space, confident and not arrogant at the same time. The way he instinctively guided Max away from the uneven pavement. The way he glanced at him every now and then to make sure he was still smiling.
Later, they stopped to have sandwiches from a small café near the lake, the breeze off the lake cool but no longer biting, like winter was finally beginning to loosen its hold and spring was starting to seep into the air, the sunlight not so harsh, the grass not so frosted.
Rather than sitting at a table, Charles leaned back against the hood of the car and drew Max in between his legs, offering him half of his sandwich. They ate there, looking out over the water, the lake stretching out endlessly blue in front of them, the sky pale overhead.
Max laughed at something Charles said and almost dropped his food, and Charles leaned forward to wipe a little bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then brought it to his lips without thinking. It was simple, domestic, and intimate.
By the time they made it to Gaufre, the sun was lower in the sky, shining down over the construction cranes and the buildings that were still under construction.
The town was alive with possibility. It wasn’t fully formed yet, scaffolding surrounded the pale stone buildings, the streets were still being paved, and the construction workers in their reflective jackets moved in a smooth, choreographed rhythm. But there was something about it, something promising. Charles slowed the car as they went through.
“That’s where the hotel will be,” he said, pointing toward a structure near the lakefront. “Five floors. Rooftop terrace.” He pointed again. “Police station was inaugurated last week.” Then another direction. “That building will be offices. The hospital is almost done — just interior finishing now. The school starts construction next month.”
Max listened intently to this, observing the change in Charles’ voice when discussing the subject. It was more animated, more focused.
Following his circuit of the main district, Charles headed towards a quieter part of town near the lake where several apartment complexes had already been completed. The style of the apartments was very elegant. They were made of light stone and had tall windows. They were understated but refined.
The apartment was airy and bright. It had a balcony overlooking the lake. The water sparkled gently in the afternoon sunlight. The kitchen was small but very modern. The living area was open and warm. It smelled of Charles.
Max stepped onto the balcony, hands resting on the railing as he looked out at the water. “This is where you stayed during your rut?” he asked softly.
He felt Charles approach before he heard him. Strong hands slid around his waist from behind, pulling him back until his body pressed flush against Charles’ chest.
“Yes,” Charles murmured near his ear. He kissed Max’s cheek, slow and soft. “I stay here every time I come.”
His arms tightened slightly. “I like the view.”
Max hummed in acknowledgment, eyes still on the lake. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “It feels… peaceful.”
There was something about the quiet here — no city noise, no dorm walls, no rushed schedules. Just open space and possibility.
Charles gently turned him in his arms until Max was facing him. Up close, his green eyes were softer than the lake.
“You’re beautiful,” Charles said simply.
Max felt something tighten in his chest at the sincerity. It almost hurt — how easily Charles said things like that. How deeply he meant them.
He reached up slowly, cupping Charles’ face between both hands. Then he kissed him. The kind of kiss that felt like standing at the beginning of something that didn’t scare him anymore.
* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* * ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ
Gaufre didn’t only bring peace, it brought drama, laughter, noise, and friends.
And because Nico was there, newly appointed mayor of a city that barely existed, and yet managed to look both tired and overimportant at the same time. Max saw him every day for lunch, and every day, Max ended up laughing so hard, he cried.
Nico had taken the job way too seriously, coats tailored, a leather folder clutched tightly in his arms, dark circles around his eyes, but the way he complained about it was completely dramatic.
And Lando had shown up yesterday, with Oscar, and the chaos level had multiplied by two right away. Four of them, driving for twenty minutes to get to Vaud, where Nico insisted on “inspecting local businesses,” which meant shopping, coffee, juice, and Lando almost fighting a boutique owner over a jacket.
The previous day, Charles had organized a dinner, and they all met at a restaurant near the lake, long table, dim lighting, the lake sparkling in the sun outside the windows. Carlos, Pierre, Lewis, all impeccably dressed and calm, Nico already in a bad mood, Lando and Oscar making out at the end of the table.
And Charles had invited Daniel, the newly appointed police captain, a man with a mischievous grin and a humor that danced on the thin line between inappropriate and brilliant. Max had immediately taken a liking to him, they all ate too much, they all laughed too loudly, and at some point, Pierre almost choked on a glass of wine because of something Daniel said about traffic regulations being “just a suggestion.”
But right now, Max was on his third day in Gaufre, and his third chaotic lunch with Nico. They sat outside a small restaurant near the lake, sunlight shining on the water, construction sounds humming in the background.
“I swear,” Nico groaned dramatically, dragging both hands down his face, “Lewis is the most stubborn, controlling, insufferable person I’ve ever met.”
Max giggled, already anticipating where this was going. “Worse than your dad?” he asked innocently.
Nico froze. “Do not,” he said slowly, pointing at Max across the table, “bring that topic to this table.” Max burst into laughter. “Maybe,” Nico continued dramatically, “they should work together and kill each other... or kill me. Honestly, both scenarios are appealing at this point.”
Max laughed so hard he had to lean back in his chair, head tipping toward the sky. “You’re not real,” he managed between breaths.
“He’s insane!” Nico shot back. “He’s always hovering like I’m incompetent. And he has that stupid smile — that one that makes everyone think he’s nice? He’s not. He’s an asshole.”
Max bit his lip to contain himself. “Want me to tell Charles you quit?” he offered lightly.
Nico’s head snapped up. “What?! No!” he said instantly, horrified. “I need this job. I cannot go back to my father.”
“Okay, okay, relax,” Max said, raising his hands. “I was just suggesting alternatives, seeing how miserable you are.”
Nico made a face that could only be described as tragic. “Can’t you ask Charles to fire Lewis instead?” he muttered.
Max laughed outright. “No, that’s his friend and business partner… or something complicated. I don’t interfere with his empire-building.”
Nico let out a dramatic sigh and dropped his forehead onto the table with a thud. Max reached over and patted his head affectionately, trying not to laugh too loudly.
And then — as the realization struck — Max’s grin turned wicked. “Wait,” he said slowly. Nico lifted his face just enough to glare at him. “Is this drama because Lewis is hot?”
Silence. Nico stared at him like he’d just committed a crime. “What?” Nico asked, dangerously calm.
Max leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You think he is hot,” Max concluded. “And you like him. And that’s why you’re here pretending you hate him because you don’t know what to do about it.”
“I hate you,” Nico replied flatly.
Max burst into laughter again. “Oh my God,” he said between giggles. “You like him.”
Nico looked like he was contemplating homicide. And Max had never been happier to be in a city that didn’t officially exist yet.
* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* * ꕤ ˚･ﾟ☼*･ﾟ* ꕤ ˚･ﾟ
After lunch with Nico and spending a languid, sun-soaked afternoon at the lake with Lando, his bare feet digging into the sand, the crumbs from their shared sandwiches still stuck to his fingers, Max finally made his way back to the apartment.
The door closed behind him, and the silence was unlike the vibrant, chaotic day that had just passed.
He took his time in the shower, the water washing away the smell of sunscreen and lake water, the steam rising up around him as he tried to calm the buzzing under his skin. When he came out, he didn’t bother getting properly dressed, just something comfortable and easy, and went back to the bedroom.
The nest was still there, the blankets tangled, the pillows piled up in the shape that was so familiar, the smell of rain, waffles, and cotton. He curled up in the nest, pulling the throw blanket over his legs, and curled up on his side, his phone glowing in his hands as he mindlessly scrolled through it, not really reading the words on the screen.
Everything was fine, more than fine, and yet... something inside him was restless. He needed Charles, not just the kisses, not just the soft touches, not just the promises whispered in the fevered afternoons. He had told him that, and they had done everything responsibly, and the results came back clean. Charles was even taking the contraceptives, serious and careful about it. There were no real barriers, only the emotional ones.
Max could not bring it up again, every time he thought about it, his chest tightened. It was awkward now, too deliberate, too heavy. Especially knowing how careful Charles had been, how he never pushed, never even hinted at it unless Max had first.
Max loved the fact he didn’t feel pressured, but somehow, it made it all the more difficult. Because it was now his turn. He would have to be the one to say it, to open the door fully. And it was like stepping off a ledge.
The bedroom door opened quietly, Max looked up. Charles entered the room, and for a second, Max forgot how to breathe.
His cheeks were flushed, his curls slightly damp at the temples, a hint of sweat at his collarbone. His fitted shirt clung to his arms in a way that made them look unfairly broad and strong. He looked warm and stupidly handsome.
“Hi, chéri,” Charles said with an easy smile as he approached. “How’s your day been?”
He leaned down carefully, being mindful of the nest, and gave Max a soft peck on the lips.
But he had no chance to back off or step away because Max’s arms immediately wrapped around his neck, and he pulled Charles back down.
The kiss continued immediately, this one deliberate. Max’s fingers intertwined in his curls, holding him close as if he thought he might back off.
Charles let out a soft groan into the kiss, his hand settling on Max’s waist, his other hand pressing against the bed to ensure he didn’t crush Max or the nest he’d carefully built. His thumb found Max’s hip almost involuntarily.
Charles attempted to back off a little, his breathing hitched in his throat—but Max didn’t allow it. He shifted his position, his leg loosely wrapping around Charles’ waist, holding him in close.
Their mouths met again, it was a slower, deeper kiss. Their tongues touched, their breaths mingled, and their mouths moved together in a hungry, but not urgent, kiss.
When they broke apart, it was because they had to, because they needed air in their lungs. Their foreheads were together, their noses touching, their chests heaving in and out in a rhythm that wasn’t quite synchronized.
“Fuck,” Charles breathed, voice low and shaken. Charles closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, his pupils were blown wide, green nearly swallowed by dark. He looked undone in a way that made Max’s stomach flip. “I love you,” Charles whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to Max’s cheek. Then he leaned back slowly, almost reluctantly. “I’ll go shower,” he added quietly.
But Max didn’t let him go. Instead, he tightened his arms around Charles’ neck and drew his leg more firmly around his waist, holding him there.
Charles blinked down at him, looking momentarily stunned, a little confused, a little breathless and devastatingly handsome. He opened his mouth. “Wha—”
But before he could finish—and more importantly, before Max could lose his nerve—Max interrupted. “Can we do it?” he blurted.
The words hung between them, fragile and electric. Charles’ eyes widened instantly. For a split second, he just stared at him, as if trying to determine whether he was still half-asleep, whether this was another dream layered over reality.
“You mean…” Charles began carefully, voice softer now, cautious in a way that revealed how much this mattered. He didn’t want to assume. Didn’t want to push.
Max felt a nervous giggle bubble out of him despite the intensity of the moment. He nodded. “Yes.”
Charles blinked again, throat bobbing visibly as he swallowed. “Now?” he asked, almost breathlessly, like he was afraid the answer might disappear if he spoke too loudly.
Again, Max nodded, his cheeks on fire, his heart thudding in his chest to such a degree that he thought Charles could hear it.
For a fraction of a second, Charles stopped, and in this moment, Max wondered if he had pushed too hard, too fast. Had he pressured Charles? Was Charles hesitating?
But then Charles moved, his mouth came down on Max’s, warm and certain, kissing him with a passion that wasn’t frenzied or desperate. Charles’ body was on top of Max’s, but he wasn’t holding Max down or trapping him, he was surrounding him. One arm held his weight against Max’s head to prevent himself from squishing Max, and his other arm reached from his waist to his hip, his hand gripping firmly but carefully.
Instantly, Max’s fear vanished because Charles obviously wanted this. Max’s hands went back into Charles’ hair, pulling on his curls, grounding himself in their texture and warmth. Max’s hips moved up against Charles without thinking about it, seeking contact.
A moan rose up in his throat, but Charles swallowed it as their mouths met in a hot, wet, messy kiss. Charles’ hand on Max tightened a little at his hip—not enough to hurt, just enough to hold him in place. When their mouths parted, it was because they had to breathe. Their breathing was labored, mixed together. Max’s chest rose and fell beneath Charles’ shadow, his lips red and puffy.
Slowly, Max let his hands travel down from Charles’ hair to his shoulders, then across his chest. His fingers ran across the fabric of the shirt, feeling the muscles beneath the material. As he got to the top button of the shirt, he stopped. He looked up to find Charles was gazing at him with an unnerving level of focus. His eyes were dark, his jaw clenched.
Charles gave a slow nod. Max took a deep breath and popped the first button of the shirt, then the second and third, until Charles’ shirt was open. Warm skin was visible beneath the fabric. Steady breathing rose and fell with each inhalation. Max’s fingers rested there for a moment on Charles’ chest. Feeling the strong beat of his heart.
Charles leaned in slowly. His mouth pressed to Max’s cheek. Then he moved down. His lips followed the line of his jaw. Down to the base of his neck. When his mouth found the spot of warm, sensitive skin just beneath Max’s ear—over his scent gland—Max shivered. The feeling of Charles’ wet lips on the spot sent a shiver down his spine.
“I love you,” Charles whispered against his skin, voice low and full. “Mon petit gaufre.” (My little waffle)
The nickname made Max’s breath hitch. A soft moan slipped from his lips when he felt Charles’ hands slide under his t-shirt, palms warm against bare skin. His entire body reacted instantly—goosebumps rising, muscles trembling.
Charles paused immediately. He lifted his head, tilting it slightly to search Max’s face. “You want to slow down?” he asked quietly, eyes steady and present.
“No,” Max breathed, almost desperate. “Please.”
Charles studied him for another second, then nodded once. He pushed the t-shirt up slowly, peeling it off Max’s body inch by inch. The air in the room brushed over newly exposed skin, cool against warmth, and the sensation made Max shiver again—especially under Charles’ gaze.
Charles looked at him like he was something rare. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly.
When their lips parted, Max cupped Charles’ face between his hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “You’re so pretty too,” he whispered back.
Charles chuckled softly at that, shaking his head as if he didn’t quite believe it. Then he leaned back in, lips returning to Max’s neck.
This time the kisses were slower, wetter. His teeth brushed lightly over skin—not biting, just grazing—while his hands settled at Max’s waist, thumbs tracing slow circles against his sides.
His mouth traveled downward—over the hollow at the base of Max’s throat, along his clavicle, across his chest…
And then his lips closed around his nipple. Max’s entire body jolted, a sharp inhale left him as a shiver rippled down his spine. His cheeks flushed instantly, hips buckling slightly without permission, a soft moan spilling from his mouth before he could stop it.
Charles’ tongue moved with slow precision—kissing, drawing heat to the skin, coaxing reactions from Max that felt brand new. The world narrowed to sensation: warmth, pressure, the steady rhythm of breath against his chest.
Max had never felt this before. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, fingers tightening in Charles’ curls. A wave of warmth pooled low in his body, his underwear dampening with slick.
“Alpha,” Max breathed without meaning to, the word slipping free like instinct.
Charles groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating through Max’s chest. He lifted his head, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and darkened eyes, mouth slightly swollen from kisses.
“Please,” Max whispered, voice unsteady.
Charles nodded once, expression intense but controlled. His hands slid down slowly to the waistband of Max’s joggers, fingers brushing over fabric. “I’m going to remove this now,” he said quietly, eyes locked on Max’s.
Max’s breath caught. “Okay,” he answered—barely more than air.
Charles hooked his fingers into the waistband of Max’s joggers and underwear and pulled them down slowly. Fabric slid over flushed skin, over trembling thighs, until Max was left completely bare against the sheets.
The air felt cooler now, Max felt it everywhere. His cheeks burned hotter than the rest of him, a wave of vulnerability washing over his chest. For a split second, instinct made him want to cover himself—hands hovering slightly, unsure—
But then he saw the way Charles was looking at him, not hungry in a careless way, but soft. Like Max was something he wanted to keep and protect.
That look made it impossible to hide. Charles shifted, lowering himself to his knees in front of him. His head was suddenly very close to Max’s center, his presence warm and grounding. Strong arms slid around Max’s thighs, drawing him closer without force, just invitation.
He leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to Max’s inner thigh. The sensation made a soft moan slip from Max’s lips before he could stop it. The faint scrape of Charles’ stubble against sensitive skin combined with the wet warmth of his mouth sent a shiver through him.
“Schatje, I—” Max started, breath already unsteady.
But the words dissolved the moment he felt Charles’ tongue drag slowly over the slick heat of his entrance. Max’s entire body reacted, his legs trembled. His hips bucked involuntarily. A gasp tore from his throat as something electric shot straight through him.
“Oh mijn god,” he breathed, head tipping back against the pillows. (Oh my god,)
It was overwhelming and too good. His breath came faster, chest rising and falling unevenly. His fingers tangled into Charles’ curls, gripping instinctively as the sensation built low in his stomach, tight and coiling. He was so close. And God, he wanted to let go. But he also wanted—
“Wait,” Max whispered, breathless and soft.
Charles stopped immediately. He lifted his head at once, slick shining against his mouth, eyes wide and alert. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly, voice stripped of anything but concern. “You don’t like it? I’m hurting you?”
Max blinked down at him, heart squeezing painfully at how worried he looked. He shook his head quickly. “No, no. I’m good. I’m just…” He swallowed, throat tight—not from fear, but from how deeply Charles cared. “I want you,” he finished, voice shaky with want.
Charles searched his face for another second, then nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said gently. “Now?” he asked, giving him room to change his mind.
Max let out a soft, nervous chuckle and nodded again, cheeks deepening in color. “Yes.”
“Okay,” Charles repeated.
He shifted back onto his knees and reached for the button of his own pants. His fingers moved quickly at first—but then he paused. Max’s heart dropped instantly, panic flashing through him. Had he moved too fast? Was Charles unsure? But when Charles looked up again, it wasn’t hesitation in his expression. It was worry.
“I don’t have condoms,” he whispered quietly.
Max’s breath caught sharply at Charles’ words. For a split second, his heart lurched—but then he exhaled slowly through his mouth, tension melting from his shoulders when he realized what Charles was worried about.
Charles was already shifting, starting to rise from the bed. “I’ll go buy them,” Charles said, voice determined, trying to step away.
Max pushed himself halfway upright and grabbed his wrist before he could move. He shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We did the tests. And you’re taking the pills…” His cheeks flushed deeper as he felt the warmth spread down his neck and across his chest, over his completely bare body. “Can we…?” he added quietly.
Charles froze. His eyes widened immediately, something stunned and soft flickering across his face. “Yes. Of course,” he said at once, softer now. “Do you want me to pull out before I knot? Just in case?”
Max bit his lip. He didn’t even need to think about it. He shook his head. “No,” he whispered.
Charles studied him carefully for another heartbeat—making sure, truly sure—then nodded once. “Okay.”
He stood and removed his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, fabric falling away easily. Max’s breath left him in a slow, stunned exhale. He had seen Charles before. But seeing him like this—fully undressed, strong shoulders, broad chest, solid thighs—felt different now, more real, and bigger… much bigger. A small, nervous flutter opened in Max’s stomach at the sight of him.
“If you want to slow down, or if something feels wrong, you tell me,” Charles said quietly. His voice wasn’t teasing now. It was firm. Grounded.
“I promise,” Max replied.
Charles nodded, then leaned over him, guiding him gently back down onto the mattress. He hovered above him, bracing himself with strong arms on either side of Max’s head, careful not to press his full weight down. Max felt small beneath him.
Charles’ hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing softly over warm skin before he leaned down to kiss him. The kiss was slow and grounding—tasting faintly of Max’s own slick still lingering there. Too short.
When Charles pulled back, that same hand slid between their bodies. He positioned himself carefully, eyes never leaving Max’s face.
“Okay?” Charles asked softly.
Max nodded and Charles began to move forward slowly. Just the tip at first.
Max gasped—not from pain, but from the sheer newness of the sensation. He had used toys during heats before, he knew the feeling of fullness. But this was warm, alive, different… it felt heavier. More deliberate.
Charles paused immediately, watching him closely. Max nodded again, breath trembling.
Charles pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving Max time to adjust. The stretch was intense—slick, tight, overwhelming in a way that made Max’s fingers curl into the sheets. It didn’t hurt, but it was a lot.
The feeling of their bodies coming closer and closer with every slow movement made Max’s head spin. For a fleeting second, it felt endless—like Charles would just keep filling him and filling him until there was no space left inside.
His eyes fluttered shut as a wave of fullness sensation washed over him. Completely, overwhelmingly full. His vision darkened briefly at the edges as he adjusted to the pressure, to the heat, to the reality of it.
And then Charles finally stilled, breathing just as unsteadily as Max beneath him. Charles stayed still for a few long seconds, giving Max time.
Max’s breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling in shallow pulls as he adjusted to the sensation. Charles’ lips pressed gentle, grounding kisses to his cheek, then his temple. His hand remained firm at Max’s waist, thumb tracing slow, reassuring strokes against his skin. Their bodies were flush together—warm, slick, heartbeats knocking against each other through skin and bone.
The fullness was overwhelming. Slowly, the dizziness eased. The spinning in Max’s head dulled, though faint white sparks still flickered at the edges of his vision. He blinked, focusing on Charles’ face above him.
“Please… move,” Max whispered, voice trembling but certain.
Charles tilted his head, eyes searching Max’s carefully checking for tension, pain, doubt. When he found none, he nodded slightly.
He began to move, slow at first. He pulled back carefully, the drag of him almost completely leaving Max making his breath catch sharply. It felt so good—too good—the friction stretching and sliding in a way that made Max’s toes curl.
And then Charles pushed back in, deep… so deep. A broken sound tore from Max’s throat as his eyes rolled back, spine arching instinctively. It wasn’t rushed.
“Je t’aime tellement,” Charles whispered against his skin, his hand still caressing Max’s side. His lips brushed along his jaw, warm and reverent. “Je veux que tu sois à moi… s’il te plaît, sois à moi.” (I love you, I want you to be mine... please, be mine.)
Max didn’t understand every word—but the tone wrapped around him like silk and storm at once. It made his chest feel soft and tight at the same time. His legs trembled with every slow, deep thrust.
“I’ll give you anything,” Charles murmured before capturing his lips in a messy, breathless kiss.
Their mouths moved together without rhythm, without grace—just need. Just heat. Charles was everywhere—over him, inside him, surrounding him—and the sensation made Max feel impossibly full.
“You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever met,” Charles breathed against his lips, sweat-slick skin sliding against skin. His pace never faltered, each movement steady and sure. “I love you, mon petit gaufre.” (My little waffle)
Max wanted to say it back, he tried. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a trembling moan.
Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes without warning—not from pain, but from the intensity of it. It was too much in the best way. Each thrust found that perfect place inside him, sending sparks through his lower stomach as the pressure built tighter and tighter.
“You are my everything,” Charles whispered, breath uneven now. “I’m completely yours.”
Max’s body shook as the sensation peaked. The pleasure snapped through him all at once, and he came with a sob, tears spilling freely down his flushed cheeks. Charles kissed along his jaw as it happened, his hand steady at Max’s waist, holding him through the tremble of his legs wrapped around his hips.
“Marry me,” Charles breathed against his skin, still moving slowly. “Be mine.”
Max’s mind felt fractured and bright, but through the sobs and tears he managed to whisper it—felt it settle deep in his chest as he said it. “I’m yours.”
The words barely left his lips before Charles groaned low in his throat, the sound raw and undone.
And then he felt it, the sudden tightening of the knot forming inside him and the way they were locked together.
For a moment, Max's world had gone white. Everything had seemed distant, muffled, like he'd been underwater. The only thing he could quite hear had been Charles’ voice, low and shaking, whispering words in French, in Italian, in English... soft declarations poured into his skin. Max couldn't quite process what he was saying.
His mind had been too light-headed, too overwhelmed by the feel of being knotted, for real. Not with a device meant to soothe a heat. His body had felt claimed in a way that had been both instinctual and emotional at once, and he'd floated around in a world between reality and dream.
When the pressure had eased minutes later, when Charles’ knot had loosened and their bodies had relaxed slightly, Max had been aware of something else, warmth spreading through his insides.
It had been strange, unlike what he'd thought it'd be. Not unpleasant, but... new. Intimate in a way that had flipped his stomach around.
Max blinked slowly, clearing his mind from its haze. The world around him had snapped back into focus. The sheets. The soft light filtering through the curtains.
Charles was kissing his cheek gently, over and over, like he couldn’t stop. “You are so pretty,” Charles murmured. “I love you.”
Max let out a breathy giggle, still a little dazed. He cupped Charles’ face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and looked into his eyes. “I love you too, Schat.”
Charles’ eyes widened slightly, like something had just clicked in his mind. A dumb, boyish smile began forming on his lips.
“You’re really mine?” Charles asked, voice quieter now. Vulnerable.
Max nodded, still smiling. “Yes.” Then he lifted a finger, mock serious. “But no marriage until I finish my degree,” he added firmly. “And no marks. Not yet.”
Charles nodded immediately, eyes soft, completely earnest. “Okay. I promise.” He swallowed gently. “I told you. You set the pace and I’ll follow.”
Max’s breath hitched all over again. He still couldn’t get over the fact that there was an alpha out there who could say that, mean it, it wasn’t common.
But then again, Charles wasn’t common, either...
He hadn’t acted like other alphas Max had seen or heard of. From the time they met, and especially when he was in rut, Charles had been so gentle.
Max reached up and cupped Charles’ face again, and they kissed, long and wet and perfect. It tasted like rain and waffles, like the best thing in the world. When they finally came up for air, their foreheads touching, Charles ran a thumb over Max’s cheek.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” he suggested softly against his lips.
Max hummed thoughtfully, eyes half-lidded. “Hug me a bit more first,” he whispered, already sliding his arms around Charles’ neck.
“D’accord, ma petite gaufre,” Charles murmured with a smile. (Okay, my little waffle,)
He wrapped one arm around Max securely, the other braced carefully so he wouldn’t press too much weight onto him. Their bodies fit together naturally, warm and calm now.
Max sighed contentedly, fingers tangling into Charles’ curls. A soft purr slipped from his chest without effort.
*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ*⩩𓄼𓄼⩩*･ﾟ
Charles opened his eyes to the warmth, the soft body against his chest moving slightly against him. He made a low groaning sound – not threatening, just sleepy – to let his omega know he was not ready to face the day just yet.
Max settled back into immediately. Charles breathed a sigh and buried his face into the blonde hair that smelled like waffles and rain and the shampoo from the night before.
It felt like he was dreaming. The memory of Max saying “I’m yours” echoed in his head like a fragile thing. The look in Max’s eyes when he chose him.
After they had finally cleaned up from their encounter, Max had insisted on remaking the nest. Charles had helped him, providing him with blankets and pillows to arrange into the nest again while they waited for the burgers to arrive for dinner. Max had complained about him distracting him.
They had fallen asleep together again – until Max’s soft, lingering kisses in the middle of the night woke Charles up again. Charles had taken his time, careful and soft, making Max melt into his touch. Charles had learned the sounds Max made when he was feeling good. Charles had learned the way Max’s body would arch into him when he wanted more. The second time had been better. Deeper.
They had fallen asleep again together, this time too comfortable to bother getting up to take another shower.
Max’s warm naked body was moving against him now. Charles felt the familiar stirring of his erection when Max’s ass had rubbed against his dick.
“Charlie…” Max whispered sleepily.
Charles opened his eyes. Morning light filtered gently through the curtains, illuminating Max’s profile as he looked back over his shoulder. Blonde hair messy, blue eyes still heavy with sleep. Beautiful.
“Chéri,” Charles murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Max whispered, voice still husky. He turned his head slightly toward the window. “Can we have breakfast by the lake?” he asked, pointing lazily outside.
Charles hummed approvingly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Of course, mon amour. Anything special you want?”
Max shook his head slightly. “Not really.”
Charles could picture the pout even without seeing it. He smiled against his skin. “Okay,” he said softly, reaching for his phone. “I’ll order something.”
Still holding Max, he opened the screen and started choosing half of the breakfast menu, which consisted of pastries, fresh juices, and sandwiches, among many other items, much more than he needed. Charles was done ordering when a sigh escaped Max's mouth.
“You okay?” he whispered immediately, voice gentle.
Max hummed, nodding slightly against the pillow. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I was just thinking about how much I like this place.”
“The apartment?” Charles frowned faintly, already calculating layouts in Geneva, wondering how quickly he could replicate the balcony view, the light, the quiet.
Max’s giggle cut through his thoughts. “It’s a beautiful apartment,” Max said, “but I was talking about the city.”
Charles stilled, his mind went blank for a second. When he had taken on the Gaufre project, it had been nothing more than strategy — land, development, expansion, long-term profit. Another city, another investment, another increase in the family fortune. He had never once imagined it as a home.
“You like it?” Charles asked carefully.
Max nodded and reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together lazily beneath the sheets. “It’s beautiful,” Max murmured. “It’s peaceful. It has mountains and lakes… it reminds me of the Netherlands a little. But quieter.”
Charles felt something tighten in his chest at the comparison. “You’d like to live here?” Charles asked, voice quieter now.
Max shifted in his arms, turning fully to face him. He cupped Charles’ face with both hands, smiling — soft and unguarded. “If I didn’t have to go to class every day,” Max said honestly, “yeah… I think I would.”
Charles swallowed. He could see it suddenly. Not just scaffolding and contracts — but Max walking by the lake. Max in a house overlooking the mountains. Max building nests in rooms filled with light.
“I was thinking…” Charles began carefully, “after you finish college. When we get married. When I buy you the house I promised…”
Max blinked, startled. Then a small frown formed between his brows, and that familiar pout appeared. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “My first instinct is to say yes,” Max continued softly, “but we have to think about the future, your job, my job, taxes… reality.”
Charles chuckled softly at the seriousness in his voice, and Max’s pout deepened. Charles leaned forward and kissed him gently — not to silence him, but to soften the tension.
“If you want to live here,” Charles said against his lips, “or in the Netherlands, or in China, or anywhere else… I’ll make it work.” Max’s eyes searched his. “I’ll pay both our taxes,” Charles added with a teasing smile. “I’ll change my job if I have to.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “That’s not how life works.”
Charles laughed softly, completely unbothered. “That’s how my life works, chéri.” He leaned in and kissed Max’s nose gently. “I told you — you set the pace. I’ll follow. If you decide you want to move to the Bahamas tomorrow, I’ll pack a bag and meet you at the airport.”
Max huffed, rolling his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “You’re crazy.”
Charles grinned wider and pulled him closer, their legs tangling beneath the blankets. He brushed a stray strand of blonde hair off Max’s forehead with careful fingers. “I love you,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Max blinked at him, visibly softening. “I love you too,” he whispered, cheeks turning pink, voice almost shy.
The weakness in those words had an effect on Charles’ chest. He touched Max’s face and kissed him.
Even as Charles kissed him, his mind was already at work, planning. There was a beautiful house near the edge of Gaufre, just at the point where the city met the trees. It wouldn’t be difficult to buy and expand that sector a little. Get the property, reinforce the area, add the kind of garden Max would like. Lots of light-filled rooms, a good office for Max. Plenty of bedrooms for the pups.
And if Max decided later on that he didn’t want to live there, then it would simply be their retreat. A place for a weekend, a vacation, a place to get away to. It was not an excess, it was simply planning.
The kiss ended gently, taking him out of his thoughts.
“Schat?” Max whispered against his lips.
“Yes, mon petit Gaufre?” Charles murmured.
“I think we should get ready for breakfast,” Max said, pouting slightly.
Charles nodded, and before he could begin to sit up, Max’s hand on his stopped him, Charles looked back down at him.
Max’s cheeks had deepened in color, and that shyness was seeping back in, and his eyes darted away before refocusing on Charles’ face. And then, Max’s hand moved down, with a curious and warm intent, and Charles took a sharp inhalation.
All he could think of in that moment was just how lucky he was, to have this beautiful, soft, stubborn omega.
Every promise he made, every vow he took, feel utterly inadequate and small compared to the way he felt for Max.
And when Max looked up at him, shy and determined, Charles knew one thing with absolute certainty, wherever they lived, whatever their lives became, he would spend the rest of it trying to make the omega he loved the happiest person in the world…