17 Works by Perfectbluesea
Listing Works
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Max was an Alpha, and not just any Alpha—he was top-tier. Unlike other Alphas who struggled through their ruts, Max never had to take days off to wait for the fever to pass. He was a man of cold composure, and he had always been that way.
But not this time.
For the first time, Max had to request a leave of absence, though he wasn't sure for how many days. He locked himself in his room, struggling with the burning fever of this rut. His throat was parched, and his mind screamed incessantly for a scent—a sweet, addictive vanilla fragrance.
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"B-but... if it’s not perfect, I’ll be so embarrassed..." Charles trailed off, his cheeks and ears turning a deep shade of crimson.
"Isn't that even better? I love seeing you flustered."
Ah yes, it was this pathetic, pitiable face. Whether on the street or in bed, Charles was always breathtaking to him. That innocent face with watery eyes truly made Max want to both cherish him and push him to the edge. He felt so lucky to have him.
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"Don't," Charles stopped him, placing a hand over the hand trying to unbutton Max's shirt. He whispered, "Keep your clothes on while you fuck me."
Max paused, stunned. Before he could react, Charles said, "I like how you look when you're standing in court."
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That day, Max Verstappen woke up while the mist was still clinging to the treetops. He checked his gear in preparation for a hunt. He had made a deal to bring back a thick bear pelt in exchange for gold, enough for him to live comfortably through the coming winter. He wasn't greedy, but the price was too good. He tied his shoelaces, slung his gun over his shoulder, and stepped into the forest, telling himself he had to find the prey before sunset.
The deeper he went, the denser the forest became, and the familiar trails gradually disappeared. Then he saw a serval cat emerging from a small cave, its fur a striking golden-yellow patterned with black spots, so smooth it shimmered under the weak light of the forest. It was small, agile, with upright ears, and a long bushy tail that swayed gently with its every step.
OR: A folklore about the hunter and the mythical creature.
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"Seriously, Charles? You're twenty, you live in Monaco, you drive in F1... and you're still a virgin?"
Charles could only give a shy, awkward laugh, having no idea that the person who would break that purity was sitting right next to him. Max said nothing; he simply let out a faint smirk, a calculating glint flashing in his eyes. A plan to do just that was already taking shape in the Dutchman’s mind.
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"Look at you, Charles," Max hissed, his voice thick with a mix of desire and lingering competitive vitriol. "Moaning your rival's name so sweetly? We’re still in the paddock area, you know. Your engineers are probably fifty feet away, wondering where their pole-sitter ran off to."
On the track, they were the bitterest of enemies, two unstoppable forces of nature that refused to yield even an inch. Every corner, every straight was a battlefield, fueled by a decade of rivalry that had only grown more volatile with time. They were the narrative the media craved: the cold, aggressive Dutchman versus the elegant, calculated Monégasque.
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Max Verstappen was a notorious drug lord and a trafficker of forbidden substances, hunted by the entire world. And today, that criminal had found something that made him more addicted than any substance he had ever held in his hands.
"My poor policeman, you've fallen into the trap."
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10 – J – Q – K – A of Hearts – ROYAL FLUSH
Max clicked his tongue, not caring about collecting his winning chips, and immediately stood up, walking straight to the dealer's spot and pulling Charles toward him. Ignoring the jealous glares around them, he wrapped his arm around Charles's waist, placing a kiss on his soft, sweet lips.
"Now then, time to enjoy the prize, isn't it, Charles?"
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Charles was sixteen years old. He had his family, a dog, and a little one who had been adopted just two days prior.
The boy’s name was Max, and he was thirteen years old, three years younger than Charles. His mother had told him that Max was an orphan. Having a younger brother felt quite nice to Charles; he didn't mind it at all. In fact, Max was adorable, full of energy, and incredibly obedient toward him.
It was just that, for some reason, the boy was a bit too clingy.
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Max was too caught up in the sim, so Charles decided to take matters into his own hands.
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"I’m fine. Please, carry on with the tire strategy for the next stint. Don't let me disrupt the flow."
With that, the pressure subsided as the team moved on, returning their focus to the technical data and leaving Max to his private struggle. The scrutiny faded, and Max finally allowed himself to breathe. Finger hovering over the mute icon, he silenced his end of the call. Every second the meeting dragged on was a second wasted; he needed to get offline and confront the man hiding under duvet.
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"What made you wear this lewd thing?" Max looked up and breathed heavily against Charles’s heaving chest.
"Waiting for you to come back to be played with." He planted a kiss on the corner of Max’s mouth.
"Damn it!" Max growled low in his throat. "So that's why you hid my car keys?"
"Caught red-handed."
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One look at the massive files on his neighbor's phone was all it took for Max to realize that hacking his neighbor was the best decision he’d ever made.
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Max had lost his mind without even realizing it. That invisible power was consuming him. Lust had overwhelmed his entire being.
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"Head Chef, the finest dish in the house is here. Are you just going to stare, or do you actually intend to taste it? Hmm…"
"If you want the best experience, you have to be patient during the preparation. I intend to savor every single step of this process."
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"P-professor, I-I only meant to tease you a little..."
"Are you satisfied now?" Charles’s chest ached excruciatingly, and tears wouldn't stop falling.
Max’s heart felt like it was being squeezed. Seeing the person in front of him cry, he didn't have the heart to be rough or tease him any longer.
Max wanted to say he liked Charles, but there was never a right time.
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"You can kiss me anywhere, but not the lips, okay, Maxie?"
The voice was soft, somewhat whining, ringing in Max's ear. The warm breath of the other person hitting his earlobe made Max unable to hold back a heavy exhale. But the way he was called by name... it seemed someone used to call Max that. Both his voice and laugh felt incredibly familiar.