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“Come on, baby, you can,” Max says gently, Charles’ body arching into his hands. “You can, baby, come for me.”
“Max,” Charles sobs, belly jumping as Max draws soft circles just under the head of Charles’ flushed, denied cock.
“You’ve been so good for me, baby, so very good. I love you so much,” Max murmurs, bending down to run his mouth over the insides of Charles’ marked-up thighs, red crop lines standing up from his skin. Charles whimpers high, trembling, undoubtedly sensitive and just starting to smart properly. Max would feel guilty, really, for leaving so much colour on his husband’s body, except Charles asked for it for the first time years ago and hasn’t stopped asking since.
And who is Max, to deny the love of his life something that he himself enjoys providing?
“Please,” Charles whines out, quiet and quivering and sweet, his legs twitching around Max’s waist. “Please, Max.”
“But you’re allowed, baby,” Max tells the dip of Charles’ hipbone, leaving soft kisses there and then up to the sides of Charles’ ribs to feel how each breath Charles draws hitches before it arrives to his lungs, how Charles’ ribcage jumps with the gasp Max pulls out of him by stroking up and down his cock and pressing under the head again.
“I can’t, please,” Charles chokes out, his fingers spasming on the sheets before clutching the fabric tight. “Please make me, I’ve been good, so good, please.”
“You have, baby, always,” Max reassures, smiling to himself. Charles’ eyes are firmly shut, so Max can enjoy the emotions passing over his face in peace. There’s pleasure, lots of it, hiding in every warm, moaning exhale. There’s frustration, of course, in the purse of his lips, and a little bit of fear in the pinch of his brows. He’s probably wondering whether Max will carry on torturing him for much longer; whether maybe he’ll change his mind and not let Charles come after all.
And Max is allowed to do that, purely because Charles gets off on it and Max gets off on having Charles whimpery, wet-eyed and desperate.
Or maybe Max just gets off on Charles, really.
“I won’t stop until you come,” Max reassures; lovingly threatens. “I won’t stop until you spill all over your pretty self, baby.”
“Max,” Charles sobs, hips arching up again, rutting into Max’s fist, and Max lets him, fascinated by the play of muscles, the bliss on his love’s face.
“So good for me, baby,” Max murmurs, tightening his grip. “You’ll be so gorgeous, all painted white, come on, let me see.”
“I- I want to, please. I want to, Max, Max-”
“I know you’re close,” Max hums, swiping his thumb over the head of Charles’ cock, then pressing in. Charles groans, twitching in Max’s hand. “So close, aren’t you, baby? You’re dripping all over me.”
“I- ah!”
Charles mewls when Max strokes a palm over the crop marks again, setting off a violent tremble that has more pre-come pearling on Charles’ cock, so delectable.
Max leans in and licks it off.
“FuckfuckfuckMax-”
Suckling softly at the head, Max lifts his gaze just in time to catch Charles’ for a split second before his head falls back and he comes on Max’s tongue.
“That’s it, baby, just like that,” Max rasps, heat rushing through his body down to his soft cock; he can’t go again, not this soon, but god, Charles is really doing his best to get him there.
The taste of Charles lingers while the rest spills over Charles’ belly, a lovely contrast to his tan skin and the red marks on his thighs.
“Max,” Charles moans, shaking, breathing still coming quick. Max drags his palms up said thighs, letting Charles bask in the conflicting feelings of good and too much and more, stop, more. “God, fuck yes-”
Max laughs, elation burning bright inside him as Charles melts into the bed, his body loosening and opening up, no more tension held anywhere.
“Good, baby?” he checks, pulling himself up to see Charles’ face clearly.
Humming his assent, Charles blinks his eyes open long enough to spot Max and give him a sweet smile before he’s back to settling in his own skin. Max watches over him, as he’s supposed to and wants to, waiting for any signs of distress or discomfort. It wasn’t the heaviest scene they’ve ever done; but it’s better to be sure.
Charles breathes in deep, chest rising off the bed as he stretches.
“Can I take care of you now?” Max asks, stroking his fingertips along the outside of Charles’ knee.
He likes this part. After all the intensity of the play, it’s nice to put Charles - and himself - back together.
“Kiss first,” Charles demands, voice still breathy and unsteady, pink high on his cheeks, and Max leans down to kiss his pretty mouth silly.
“You were so good for me, baby,” he whispers right after, lips brushing lips with familiar, comforting sparkles. “Can I, now?”
“Mhm, yes please.”
“Thank you, baby.” Max presses a kiss to Charles’ temple, his shoulder, then pulls himself up, his own muscles slack and soul pleased with how everything went. He gets the warms, the colds, and the cream and shuffles back between Charles’ legs.
Warms first.
Carefully, he pats a flannel dampened with warm water over Charles’ marks, getting rid of sweat and maybe a bit of Max’s come, and then swipes it over Charles’ tummy to get him clean there, too. Charles purrs and hums in contentment, the very picture of satisfaction.
“Up, baby,” Max requests, patting Charles’ left leg to prop it with pillows, then does the same to the other one, elevating them.
The colds next.
Charles hisses when Max places a couple of cooling pads over his thighs, reducing and preventing swelling.
“Mean,” Charles grumbles, as he does every time, even though he’d much rather have the marks fade quickly. He is always happy that Max does what he does right after impact play; but only in retrospect, never in the moment.
“Love you,” Max quips back, heart swelling when Charles’ mouth twitches into a smile.
“Love you too,” Charles mutters, pushing his cheek into his pillow as blush sneaks from his face to his chest.
“Precious baby,” Max teases, then stretches himself up to kiss Charles again, which Charles is much happier about than the post-impact care. His fingers wind into Max’s hair, settling on the back of his head, and Max feels taken care of and warm all over.
“I am a precious baby. Cute, too,” Charles says, grinning, and that’s how Max knows he’s fully back. If he’s snarky, he’s back.
“I wouldn’t dare disagree.” Brushing their noses together before resting his forehead against Charles’, Max quietly breathes, stroking up and down Charles’ side.
“Are you good?” Charles whispers, his words grazing Max’s chin.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Max sighs happily. Charles wraps an arm around him anyway. They both make a content noise. “Gotta leave that on for a while. Do you want something to drink? Eat?”
“Juice box?” Charles asks hopefully, jewel eyes shining, and Max can’t help his snort.
“Sure, baby,” Max says, leaving a kiss on Charles’ forehead before he draws off.
“And Biscoff?” Charles adds with a pout, and Max pretends to roll his eyes.
“And Biscoff.”
“Thank you,” Charles singsongs, wriggling to get more comfy on the bed, repositioning the cooling packs to go where he needs them. “You’re the best and I love you.”
“Mhm,” Max says as he walks off to rummage through their post-scene snack drawer.
“Hey!”
“Yes, I love you too,” Max grumbles playfully. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, the light of my days. Apple, orange, or strawberry?”
“Apple,” Charles tells him, self-satisfaction very audible in his voice.
“There, baby,” Max says as he sits down next to him, handing over the goods. Charles cuddles up immediately, laying his head on Max’s chest while Max wraps an arm around his shoulders, and then frowns. Charles is still shaking a little, which is unusual for him.
“You cold?”
“Hm?” Charles intones, fully focused on getting the straw into the box. “Oh. Maybe a bit?”
Snatching a spare blanket from the floor, Max unfolds it and tucks it around Charles before letting him lie back down on him.
“Better?”
“Mmh, yeah.” Charles presses a kiss to Max’s pec, then takes a sip of his apple juice. ”Thank you.”
“Anything, baby,” Max murmurs, resting his chin on the top of Charles’ head, and just- luxuriates in the moment for a bit. Charles makes little hums and slurping noises as he keeps sipping, his body growing heavier against Max’s by the minute. He’ll fall asleep soon, Max knows, and get his twenty-minute power nap before he’s ready to face the rest of the evening. There’s one last step, though, of their impact care routine, and the pot of it is sitting on their bedside table.
“Baby,” Max calls gently, rubbing his cheek into Charles’ hair. “Cream.”
“No,” Charles whines, head dropping lower on Max’s chest. “No moving.”
“Yes moving,” Max corrects, squeezing Charles under his arm just to annoy him a little. “Sit up, please.”
“Awful. Cruel. Terrible,” Charles grumbles, continuing his muttering in French under his breath while Max picks himself up. His side is cold without Charles pressed to it, and Charles pulls the blanket tighter around himself, like he misses Max too.
“Just another minute, baby,” Max soothes. Carefully, he pulls off the cooling pads. Charles’ skin is still very much red, but the initial swelling around each mark has gone down. “It’s looking good. Does it hurt?”
“Not more than usual,” Charles sighs, pointing his feet and then relaxing. It makes his calves tense around Max, and Max can’t help petting him.
“Good.”
Unscrewing the lid, Max dips his fingers into the cream and then spreads it gently over the insides of Charles’ thighs. He makes sure not to press too hard, not to massage in; handling the marks makes them heal more slowly, which is not what they want. Charles enjoys the process of Max creating them, but he’s not too fond of wearing them.
“All done,” Max announces, closing the pot and setting it back on the table. “Do you want your biscuit now?”
“Not really, actually,” Charles mumbles, barely able to keep his eyes open. “After the nap?”
“You’ll be eating dinner with me after the nap,” Max informs him, stretching himself out against his side again. Charles makes a move like he’s about to curl up into Max, but then thinks better of it, letting the cream sink in.
“After dinner, then.” Charles nods a little, his eyelids definitively falling shut. “Cuddle with me.”
“Wasn’t planning on going, baby,” Max says tenderly, pushing Charles’ legs closed so that he can spread a blanket over them both without getting any of the salve on it. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he whispers then, wriggling closer to Charles so that he can rest an arm over his stomach.
“Good, good,” Charles mutters, lining his arm alongside Max’s, fingers wrapping around his elbow.
“Good,” Max echoes, more to himself than anything else; Charles is out like light. Max presses a careful kiss to his temple. “See you in a bit, baby,” he adds quietly and settles in, too.