Work Text:
Charles loved his job.
He loved the precision of it, how gratifying it felt when a customer left his shop satisfied. He loved the sleek velvet of the suits that lined the walls of his shop, the high ceilings that felt like they could go on forever. Any partially average person might call it stuffy or gloomy, but Charles loved it. Loved how the patterned wallpaper was almost pristine aside from the one corner behind the tall counter where the dark polished wood met the wall.
He could spend hours behind that counter, coming up with new ways to pinch the waist, to create a style that will emphasise the muscles in the arm, or even to draw the eyes attention to the jawline. He loved the process of measuring, the numbers all lined up one after the other, categorising and creating meanings that Charles understood like his own language.
But right now his easy translation was beginning to falter.
He stared again at the two numbers on his computer screen, his brows furrowing and his eyes squinting. They had stumped him, stopping him in his tracks. It couldn’t be right, it just couldn’t. But Oscar, even as young as he was, never made a mistake. It was unheard of from Charles’ youthful assistant, regardless of his experience. That was the key reason why Charles had handpicked him out of all the applications. And, Charles abashedly thought, there had been many applications, and it would be a lie if Charles said that he wasn’t the most well known and respected tailor in Monaco. He looked back at the numbers and took his glasses off, leaning back in his chair to shout over his shoulder.
“Oscar! Do you have a minute?” He called, fiddling with the tape measure in his hand.
“Yeah?” The Australian said, poking his head around the corner of the workshop door.
“Have a look at this please,”
Oscar frowned, obviously confused. Charles rarely asked for assistance, aside from needing opinions on end products. Oscar leaned over his shoulder and looked at where he was pointing to the screen with his ball-point pen.
“…I don’t understand what you want me to look at.” Oscar said, sounding lost. Charles huffed. He hated explaining things.
“The numbers! They’re off! Look at the chest to waist ratio, does that look remotely right to you?”
Oscar frowned once again.
“That’s just what his measurements were,” he said with a shrug.
“That can’t be possible though! That would be- it would look- well-“
Charles knew what it would look like, had thought about it for the last ten minutes. How a waist and chest ratio like that would be so unlikely, and the only reason it would ever be able to happen was from amazing genetics and if someone was- well- incredibly fit.
Charles tried to fight the blush down as he pulled his tape measure into his other hand and measured out the waist number in the air. He knew what it looked like, of course, but just for Oscars sake he brought it up.
“35 inches, Oscar. That is tiny, especially for a man. And look-“
He brought it to where the chest measurement was, bringing the other end of the tape measure around so that Oscar could see it in a circle.
“The chest is 50 inches! That’s absurd! 35 to 50 ratio?! Are you completely sure you measured it right?!”
Oscar let out a few vaguely confused and partially annoyed sounds.
“Well, I thought I did- I’m almost certain-“
“You’re almost certain.”
Oscar sighed, admitting defeat.
“Well- yes.”
“Ok. Well, he’ll need to come in again. You’re off in an hour right?”
“Yeah, I am, but Pierre’s sick though, so shouldn’t I-“
“No, no don’t worry about it, I’ll handle the evening shift. You go home, Thursday nights are usually quite uneventful anyway.”
“Oh, ok then.”
Oscar looked like he was considering saying something as he half-turned to leave.
“Well, tell me when you get his measurements. I’ll be waiting to say I told you so,” He said cheekily and turned to leave. His voice was still monotone, the joking manner not conveyed through his voice as always.
That made Charles laugh as he spluttered, trying to come up with a response, to no avail. That was one of the many things he liked about having Oscar as an assistant, he had a very unexpected sense of humour that surprised you every so often.
Charles got back to work, looking at the ungodly numbers one last time before scrolling to the phone number standing next to them.
Why the fuck was he so nervous?
He had never been nervous calling a client before, and he had been doing it his whole career, so why now. He pushed down his feelings and dialled the number, pressing the green call button.
It rang three times before it was picked up.
“Hello, this is Leclerc Tailors, I’m calling to enquire about a recent order made?”
“Hi, uh- yeah this is Max Verstappen? I had an order for a… black three piece suit?” Fuck, his voice was deep, although it was layered with a permanent rasp, giving it the effect of a higher pitch. And his accent, vaguely Dutch, caused some of his words to have a lisp. Charles desperately tried to stop his face from heating up. He cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, we will need you to come in again for some more measurements as our last ones were found to be unreliable. So sorry for the inconvenience, but we want to make sure we make the best fitting suit for you.”
“Oh, yeah sure- um, what time?” Charles breathed in his voice, swallowing it down like it was a drug. He knew it was stupid, that the ratio was wrong and he was being delusional, but he just couldn’t stop imagining-
“Anytime today, and we don’t have any appointments until 10 tomorrow.”
“Sure, uhhh I can come in about an hour? So at… 6:30.”
“Sounds good.” Charles hung up the phone and sat there for a moment.
He was being ridiculous. Why was he so worked up about this? The measurements were so very obviously wrong, and this guy was probably just an average looking guy anyway. There was no need to overwork himself about it.
He busied his mind with another style of tie that he had recently been working on, willing his mind to stop crawling its way back to those few numbers open in the computer next to him. He shut the laptop and pushed it as far away as he could without it falling off the desk. Toying with the pencil in his hand, he put his head in his palms and got back to staring at the numerous drawings scattered across the page.
•••
Oscar had left ten minutes ago, and Charles was here alone.
Thursday nights were often the most boring, but the shop was still open, even if almost no one ever came. The guy, Max, could be coming any time now, and Charles was bursting at the seams. He felt like his clothes were too tight, and he was fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.
All too soon the bell above the door jangled, and a large silhouette shrouded the doorway with darkness.
It only lasted a moment until Max awkwardly stepped forward into the light, making his way past the racks of clothes to the front desk. Charles couldn’t see his face, as it was blocked by endless fabric, but he could see his legs behind the rack, and shit.
Those thighs.
It must be the light- or just his eyes playing tricks on him, or-
Max rounded the corner and came up to the desk, staring expectantly with wide, lashed eyes.
No, it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light.
He had gotten a glimpse of his thighs closer, seen how they filled out his jeans, and he was trying so very hard to not start salivating. He didn’t get to see much else before Max stepped in front of the counter. He cursed himself for deciding to make it so tall, as all he could see now was his shoulders and up.
He dragged his eyes away before he could be caught, trying to ignore the hint of a surprised smirk that he could see on the guys face.
This is a customer, this is so unprofessional, get on with your job.
He cleared his throat before starting to talk.
“Hello, thank you for coming in so late, we just need to redo some of your measurements. I think the arms and legs are fine, it’s just the torso and crotch area that need some checking.” Charles tried not to blush at the words. He knew it was awkward, getting measured by a complete stranger, but he should be professional enough to not get embarrassed by it, seriously-
“Yeah, cool. So, you’re Charles right?” The man looked up at Charles with a polite smile on his face. His lips were red and Charles noticed that they had a freckle on them.
“Yes, I am. So, we just need to go to the measuring room, if you would follow me.”
He walked out from behind the desk, purposefully not turning around to see Max. He’s going to prolong that moment as long as possible. He could feel Max’s gaze burning into him from behind, and he knew he looked good, had been told so and proved so by many recent partners and the time it took for him to get ready just solidified that evidence.
That didn’t stop his face from going beet red when they got to the room so he turned around, admitting defeat.
Max was taller than him, only by one or two inches, but the height difference still had a giant effect on him. His shoulders were so broad, fuck, and they stretched his shirt widely, showing off his pectoral muscles. His arms filled out his sleeves, obviously strong, and his eyes trailed down to where his chest met his waist. It was mostly covered by his shirt, but. Shit. No no no.
Charles tried to gulp down the lump of sand in his throat, knowing that that ratio could very well be right. It was obscene.
He looked shyly back up at Max’s face, knowing that he had been staring for three seconds too long. He was met with sharp, deep eyes, half lidded and amused. But under that amusement there was something else- something akin to-
No, Charles refused to go there.
He shook his hands out and reached for the measuring tape, guiding Max to the right spot. He brought up the laptop and sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to delete any of those numbers today. They were standing behind a velvet curtain, sectioned off from the rest of the workshop for privacy, and Charles knew there was no one here. He knew there was no one here, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop feeling on edge.
He let one end the measuring tape fall a bit before catching it in his other hand and bringing it out.
“So, what do you do for a job?” He asked, just as a distraction. He brought the end of the tape to his chest, bringing the other end around.
“I’m a lawyer, I work just down the street,”
Charles held the two ends together.
“This isn’t too loose, too tight?”
“No, it feels perfect,” Max rumbled, glancing over his shoulder at Charles behind him. He had a soft smile plastered on his face, his eyes crinkled, and Charles couldn’t bring his eyes to stop looking at his full, red lips. They were just begging to be kissed.
Fuck.
“Ok, uh- good, and what’s the occasion for the suit? A party, a wedding?”
If Max was about to be married Charles would probably cry. He let go of one end of the measuring tape and moved to Max’s side, bringing it around his waist. His hands were still circling around one side, almost hugging Max, when he replied.
“No, just for work. And the only weddings I’ll be going to for quite some time will be ones I’m invited to, that’s for sure,” He chuckled. Charles looked up, realising too late that they were incredibly close in proximity, and he could feel the staggered breath from Max’s laugh on the side of his face and neck.
“Same here mate, same here.” His desperate attempt at humour surprisingly worked, and Max let out a few barks of laughter, his head thrown back. Charles was mesmerised by the long column of his throat, the day old stubble that left his neck rough and sharp.
He wanted to bite it.
He realised he still had his hands around Max’s waist, god his waist, and pulled the measuring tape back to record the measurement.
They were exactly the same as what Oscar had measured.
Fucking hell.
Now was the part Charles had been dreading.
“Okay, I’m measuring your thighs now, and then we’ll be done.”
He looked up at Max’s face, which startled before it pulled itself into a small smile.
“Leaving already? We were just starting to have fun!”
I could show you something more fun than this.
Shut up, brain, shut up. He let out a laugh at what Max said, pushing down the thoughts that followed.
Charles held his tape measure tightly, hesitating. Just do it, it’s normal, it happens with all customers-
He sank slowly to his knees, taking the measuring tape and slowly bringing it around Max’s thigh. He blatantly ignored the area inches away from his face, and recorded the measurement.
He typed in the last bit of data and looked up, seeing Max staring down at him from above, his cheeks red. He looked flustered, his eyes blown out. Charles couldn’t see the colour in them anymore.
His hand was still resting against Max’s thigh and he cursed his legs for not being able to move. He cleared his throat loudly, trying to hold on to any last threads of professionalism.
“Well, that’s all the measurements done, so- well- the suit will be done in a few weeks, approximately, and other than that you’re free to go- I mean… well… unless you want-” Charles didn’t know what he was going to say. Didn’t know what he was thinking Max might want.
He also had no idea what he was about to say, because his mind went blank as a hand buried itself in his hair and pulled.
“Get up here,” Max’s voice was low, and Charles eyes fluttered from where he was knelt. His legs suddenly decided to start working again, and he pulled himself up from the floor to heavily stumble into Max’s chest.
“Merde.”
Charles brought his hand up to Max’s face, dropping the measuring tape along the way. Their faces collided with such force that their teeth clacked together, but Charles couldn’t bring himself to care. His lips burned as the heat of Max’s tongue tested the seams of his mouth, pushing past at the smallest welcome from Charles. He had been kissed numerous times in his life, but never like this. Never with this burning passion, the rush of wanting more. He opened his mouth further for Max, revelling in the feeling of his hand pulling on his scalp.
Charles brought his hands down to make their way under his shirt, curling their way around his waist. Charles groaned into his mouth, holding onto his tiny waist like it was a lifeline.
“Putain, how is your waist so small?” Max only looked down, mouth wide and red, and let out a small whine. Charles choked out a gasp at the sound, his eyes fluttering closed, and brought their lips back together.
He mouthed down Max’s strong neck and sunk his teeth in, hips shuttering at the whine Max made. He soothed the bite with his tongue, loving how it made Max squirm and hold his nape tighter.
“Fuck,” Charles said, grasping with his hands and trying to make them cover the entire expanse of Max’s back. He wanted to feel the muscles ripple underneath his fingers, but also wanted to hold his thin waist at the same time. It was all too much and he decided on just hiding his face in Max’s neck, wanting everything all at once.
“Shit, baby,” Max said, holding the side of Charles head and bringing him closer by the waist.
Baby.
Charles moaned. It was his favourite pet name, it had always been, but he was usually the one saying it to other people. A shiver went down his spine as Max walked him backwards, his legs bumping against the table sat next to the wall.
His eyes were half closed, the ecstatic feeling slowly coursing through him. He looked up to see Max staring at him, his eyes heavy and searching.
“What’re you doing?” Charles slurred, fitting them together against the table.
“Trying to commit your face t’memory.”
Max’s reply was barely audible, said under his breath, but Charles managed it make it out, and he could feel his face heating up. Fuck. They were in the middle of a make out session. When had it gotten so romantic?
Max’s eyes were soft, looking back at Charles.
“Oh my god,” Charles said, bringing him closer, connecting their lips.
This kiss was immediately softer, less rushed.
He opened his mouth slowly and let Max slip his tongue inside, the hot heat seeping into the rest of his body. His dick was straining against his pants, and he groaned softly as Max brought his thigh between Charles’ legs. He rutted against it, grinding his hips down and Max held onto them tighter, stopping the movement.
“Max, no,” he murmured swatting his hands away. He wanted to do it.
Max immediately stepped back and Charles looked up, confused.
“Sorry, sorry if you don’t want it I can-“
“No! Wait, that’s not what I meant!” Charles grasped Max’s wrist to stop him from getting too far away.
“I just meant I want to- I want to do it myself. I want to-“ he stopped himself, a blush crawling it’s way back up his cheeks. He was pretty sure he hadn’t blushed this much in years.
Max’s face changed and he smirked at what Charles was trying to say.
“What do you want baby?”
Baby.
Fuck.
Charles looked down at Max’s thigh, at the obvious tent of his jeans, and groaned.
“Don’t make me say it,” He said, hiding his face in his hands.
“But I don’t know what you want liefje,”
And Charles didn’t know what that meant, but god, did it turn him on.
“I-“ he paused, peeking out from where he was hiding behind his fingers. “I want to use your thigh- I- fuck, I wanna ride it.”
Max let out a strangled moan and pressed Charles back into the table, shoving his thigh back in between his legs.
“Then ride it Charles.”
Charles whined embarrassingly, taking his hands away from his face to bring them to Max’s waist just to be quickly taken back.
“Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to touch,” Max said, taking his hands and resting them on the table behind Charles, heavily pinning each of them with his own.
“Fuck,” Charles said, starting to grind against Max’s thigh. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life, and the friction against his dick was simultaneously too much and not enough. He rutted frantically against Max’s leg, feeling his hard dick against his own, wanting more.
“More, please,” He said, hating how needy he sounded.
“More?”
“Yes, merde.” Max unbuttoned Charles pants, shoving his hand into them. Charles let out another choked moan as he palmed his dick through his boxers, wanting more, more, more.
He didn’t realise how close he was until he was shuddering, feeling spurts of precum slide against his leg, Max pushing his hand into his boxers. He was still rutting against him, head flopped into Max’s neck, resting where his collarbone juts out of his shoulder. He suctioned his mouth into Max’s sweet skin, loving the taste. Max moans, circling his hand around Charles dick, and the precum helped the drag, making the pleasure rip through his body until Charles’ hips were stuttering, his body convulsing as he came with a cry into Max’s neck.
Max pumped him through it until he shudderd with overstimulation, bringing his hand down to guide Max’s arm back around his waist.
He stays there for a bit, collapsed against the table and Max’s collarbone, until he looked down and realised Max was still hard.
“Max, lemme help you-“ He slurred, fumbling with Max’s pants.
“No, no, it’s fine, you’ve come, I-“
“Max.”
Max looked up, his eyes all pupil, and Charles couldn’t stand it.
He dropped to his knees, pulling the zipper on Max’s pants along the way.
Max gasped and groaned, settling a hand in Charles’ hair.
“Charles, you don’t have to-“
“Stop talking.” Charles said. He wants to give Max the same pleasure he gave Charles.
“Fuck,” Max sighed, his head thrown back as Charles nosed at his crotch, pulling his unreasonably tight jeans done to his knees.
“Exactly.” Charles said, breathing in once before taking down Max’s boxers and taking him in his mouth.
Max gasped, strangled and broken, and Charles took him deeper. He licks around the head before going down again, loving the heat and musk of Max in the back of his throat. He moaned, the vibrations causing Max to lean his free hand on the table to stop him from falling over. The hands Charles was using to hold Max’s waist drop and he holds them behind his back, making his mouth go lax and open.
Max looks down through squinted eyes, seeing what Charles is insinuating.
“What do you want Charles?”
“I want to help you,” he says, taking his mouth off Max with an obscene pop. His mouth was red and his throat was sore, but still not enough to make his voice rough. He wanted to sound used.
“How are you gonna do that Charles?”
“I think you know.” Charles had the upper hand here. He was below Max, but that wouldn’t stop him from bossing him around. He smirks as Max admitted defeat, his eyes drooping and his jaw relaxing as his pupils somehow dilated even more.
“I want you to fuck my mouth.”
Max moaned, the grip on Charles’ hair tightening. He brought the hand resting on the table to Charles’ head, joining the other.
Charles opened his mouth wider.
He sees Max’s eyes flutter closed before his own follow suit, and he smiles slightly at the feeling of Max’s member entering his mouth.
He starts off slowly, pumping shallowly in and out until Charles whined, urging him to go faster.
He sense the exact moment Max snapped, his instincts getting the best of him, and he jolted his hips forward, driving his dick deeper into Charles throat.
The room was a mess of moans and whimpers, indistinguishable of who they came from. The wet sounds of Charles mouth were amplified by his groans, his closed eyes watering and his jaw aching from staying open so long.
“Fuck, Charles, I’m gonna- shit,” Charles took this moment to grasp Max’s hip again, reaching a hand around to press the pad of his finger into Max’s hole.
That does it for Max, and he moaned brokenly as his hips stuttered in to Charles mouth. He tried to pull out but Charles kept him there, his come going down Charles throat as he pressed his nose into Max’s stomach.
Charles let go of Max’s hips reluctantly and leant back on his heels. If he didn’t just come he knew for sure he would have been hard again from that.
Max collapsed in front of him, sitting down and holding Charles’ cheek in one hand. With his thumb he wiped the corner of Charles’ used mouth where a drop of come had escaped, bringing it to his own mouth and licking it off.
Charles was almost hard again.
“Fuck,” he said chuckling. “How the fuck are you so hot?”
Max laughed, his head tipping back lazily. Charles couldn’t bring himself to hold back, kissing the column of his throat once again. He felt Max’s breath stutter, and he looked back down when Charles brought his head up again.
“You’re saying that,” he said, his hands wiping Charles’ tear-streaked face. His eyes were sparkling, looking fondly at Charles’ expression. The fond look turned into a small frown though, and he averted his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Charles said, confused.
“This isn’t just going to be a once off thing, right? Like, it wasn’t just a hook-up, or something.”
Charles smiled, his expression softening.
“I sure hope it wasn’t,” he said, bringing his hand up to Max’s cheek. Max nestled into it, a smile taking up his whole face.
“Ok, that’s good.”
They kissed again, post-blowjob taste be damned, and it was the single best moment of Charles life.
It felt like they had all the time in the world, and they knew less to nothing about each other, but it didn’t matter. He knew Max was a lawyer, had an ungodly chest to waist ratio, and that he was possibly Charles’ soulmate.
And that was enough.