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Monte-Carlo, Monaco
The windows are cracked open, letting the salt-and-warmth smell of Monaco drift through, but neither of them cares about the outside world. The sheets are half on the floor, pillows kicked aside. Charles lies stretched out on his stomach, hair damp, skin still flushed from the slow, drawn-out sex that left Max boneless and satisfied.
Max lies on his side, propped on an elbow, fingers idly playing with the dog tags resting on Charles’ bare back. They clink softly as Max lets them fall, picks them up again, runs his thumb over the engraved surface.
“You know,” Max says, voice thick with sleep but edged with mischief, “I still haven’t seen your precious flight simulator.”
Charles hums into the pillow. “Mm?”
Max lets the dog tags dangle and bounce against Charles’ skin, watching the brunette arch faintly. “I let you try the simulator at the Red Bull factory, remember? Milton Keynes. You crushed it, by the way.” He grins. “But I still haven’t seen yours.”
The alpha turns his head slightly, one eye opening lazily, green and drowsy. “You’re very persistent, baby.”
Max leans down, brushing his nose along Charles’s jawline, teasing. “What, scared I’ll be better at it than you?”
A soft laugh rumbles from the brunette's chest. He rolls onto his side, facing Max now, hand sliding up to rest on Max’s waist. “It’s not the same, Max.” His voice drops, quiet, coaxing. “It’s not a game.”
The blond kisses him, slow and sweet, but when he pulls back, he’s still grinning. “Come on. I race cars for a living. I can handle a little flying.”
Charles’s fingers tighten slightly at Max’s hip. His eyes flicker over Max’s face, fond, amused, but with a glint of something deeper — protective, knowing. “Flying is discipline,” he murmurs, voice like velvet. “Not just instinct.”
the omega snickers, cocky. “You don’t think I have discipline?”
“I think,” Charles says, leaning in, pressing a slow kiss just below Max’s ear, “you like testing limits.” Another kiss, lower, over his neck. “And one day…” His lips brush the pulse point at Max’s throat. “…I’ll show you what it really feels like.”
Max shivers, a thrill running through him.
Charles smiles against his skin, whispering, “But not tonight, baby.”
Max huffs a soft laugh, curling closer, fingers still tangled in the dangling dog tags. “You’re just stalling.”
The alpha laughs quietly, gathering Max into his arms, the tags cool between their chests. “Sleep,” he murmurs, kissing Max’s temple. “We’ll see.”
And Max, still smiling, lets his eyes drift closed — already planning how he’ll bring it up again.
The sun is slipping low on the horizon, painting the Monaco sky in molten streaks of orange and pink, the kind of soft, impossible light that makes even concrete and steel glow warm.
Max practically bounces at Charles’ side, their fingers laced together, his grin sharp and cocky. “You’re really doing this,” he says, voice buzzing with excitement. “You’re really letting me try it.”
Charles huffs a quiet laugh, squeezing Max’s hand. He’s in his green flight suit, half-zipped over a white undershirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edges of muscle, sunglasses perched casually on his nose even as the light fades. He looks, Max thinks with a little flutter in his chest, obscenely hot.
“Not letting,” the alpha murmurs smoothly, “supervising.”
“Ohhh, supervising,” Max teases, tugging their hands as they walk across the quiet base. Most of the cadets are gone, the place hushed except for the occasional distant voice or clatter of equipment. “So you’re gonna boss me around? Give me orders?”
The brunette smirks, tilting his head slightly, the sunset glinting off his sunglasses. “Would you listen?”
Max’s grin widens. “Mmm… depends what kind of orders.”
They reach the simulator building — a sleek, low structure with wide doors and matte glass, the inside already dimming under artificial light. Charles pulls open the door, guiding Max inside with a hand low on his back, his fingers brushing deliberately just above the waistband of Max’s jeans.
Inside, the air is cooler, the space still and quiet. Charles’ voice lowers, more focused now as they walk through. “No bravery here, baby,” he murmurs near Max’s ear, calm and smooth. “You listen to me. You follow.”
Max shivers slightly, heart flipping in his chest — not from nerves (okay, maybe a little) but from the way Charles’ voice settles under his skin like a promise.
“You’re serious about this, huh,” the omega mutters, glancing around, trying to keep up the cocky act.
Charles turns to face him, unhurried, reaching out to brush his knuckles along Max’s jaw. His eyes, when the sunglasses come off, are soft but sharp, all at once. “Flying is discipline,” he says again, quietly. “You trust me?”
Max’s throat tightens a little, but his grin flickers back. “Yeah,” he says, low and sure. “I trust you.”
The alpha's mouth twitches into a small, satisfied smile. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing a brief kiss to Max’s lips. “Let’s get you changed.”
Charles unzips a storage locker smoothly, pulling out a crisp, green flight suit — nearly identical to his own — and holds it up, giving Max a slow once-over with a grin.
“Strip, baby,” he murmurs, soft and dangerous.
Max snorts, lifting his brows. “Oh, you want me naked for this?” But his fingers are already pulling at the hem of his T-shirt, peeling it over his head with a little stretch that makes the alpha's mouth twitch faintly, as if suppressing a smile.
“Efficient,” Charles murmurs approvingly, stepping closer, brushing a hand down Max’s bare chest — light, teasing, just a drag of knuckles over skin before shaking out the flight suit and helping Max step into it.
The touches linger just a bit too long: palms smoothing over Max’s shoulders as he guides the sleeves on, fingertips grazing Max’s ribs as he helps tug the zipper up halfway before leaving it loose, the suit hanging low around the blond's waist. Charles leans in to adjust a strap, brushing against Max’s jaw deliberately, stealing a soft kiss near his ear.
“Mm, not complaining about this uniform,” Max murmurs, voice husky, shifting on his feet just to brush a little closer. “Gonna make me wear it more often?”
Charles laughs quietly, his hand smoothing over Max’s lower back. “Careful,” he warns, low and fond, “I might.” He straightens slightly, tapping Max’s bare chest once with two fingers. “Next room. Heart monitoring.”
The blond smirks, cocky as ever, but he lets Charles guide him into the next room, where soft lighting glows over sleek equipment. Charles’s expression shifts — the warmth still there, but a cooler, steadier focus slipping in as he pulls out the heart-monitoring plasters.
“Arms up, baby,” Charles murmurs, voice calm, smooth, slipping fully into supervisor mode now as he applies each sensor with careful precision. His touch is still gentle, but his words sharpen — steady, instructive. “You listen to me on comms. No guessing, no hero moves.”
A plaster goes over Max’s ribcage, the brunette's thumb brushing the skin there, slow and purposeful.
“You follow instructions, no delays.”
Another sensor, this time on Max’s collarbone, the brunette's breath warm as he leans in close.
“You tell me immediately if you feel lightheaded or off-balance. Understand?”
Max shivers slightly, a wicked little grin curling at his lips. He leans in, just close enough that his mouth brushes Charles’ ear, whispering, teasing: “Just to make sure I get the rules right…” He lets his voice drop, obscene, almost a purr. “…you want me to tell you if I’m dizzy, or you want me to just sit on your lap and let you check for yourself?”
Charles draws in a slow breath — a beat of stillness — before his mouth curves into a small, dangerous smile. He presses one last sensor to Max’s chest, palm resting there a moment longer than necessary. “Careful, baby,” he murmurs, his voice so low it’s almost a growl, “or you’ll be on the floor before you ever touch the controls.”
Max’s heart thuds under the alpha's palm, cocky grin softening just a little. He laughs breathlessly, shaking his head. “God, you’re hot when you’re bossy.”
The alpha huffs a soft laugh, tapping Max’s chest once more. "Zip and I brief you, mon amour. Let’s see if you can back that up.”
Charles moves to the console at the side of the room, fingers flying smoothly over switches and keys. A soft beep comes alive on the main monitor, green lines dancing across the screen, Max’s pulse flickering steady and quick.
The other glances sideways, a slow grin curling on his lips. “Hmm,” he hums softly, eyes flicking back to Max. “You’re nervous, baby.”
Max crosses his arms over his bare chest, the flight suit still loose and half-zipped around his waist. “Am not.” His grin is sharp, but there’s a flicker of color at his cheeks, betraying him.
Charles comes closer, gaze fond but teasing, reaching out to lightly brush a knuckle down Max’s sternum where the heart rate monitor glows faintly. “Your pulse says otherwise.”
Max huffs a small laugh, shifting on his feet. “I’m excited, okay? Not nervous.”
“Mm,” the brunette murmurs, his voice dipping into something warmer, steadier. He cups Max’s jaw lightly, tilting his face up, brushing a kiss over the corner of his mouth — soft, anchoring. “Breathe for me, Max.”
The omega lets out a shaky breath, smiling helplessly. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but he obeys, pulling in a slow inhale as Charles watches the monitor.
“Better,” the other ignores him and says softly, tapping a few more buttons. The simulator behind the glass wall starts humming to life, the faint sound of systems warming up, a low vibration underfoot.
Max’s blue eyes go wide, a grin flickering back onto his face as he turns to watch. “That’s it? That’s the beast?”
The aviator laughs quietly, walking over, his boots silent on the floor, pulling Max’s flight suit up over his shoulders and zipping it slowly, deliberately, until it fits snug across his chest. “It’s not a beast,” he murmurs near Max’s ear. “It’s a machine that obeys discipline.”
Max shivers, his cocky grin faltering just for a second, breath catching. “You’re so dramatic,” he whispers back, but his voice has softened.
Charles steps back slightly, adjusting the headset in his hand. “Briefing time, baby.” His tone shifts, cool and steady, slipping into protocol as naturally as pulling on a glove. “This is a single test flight load — basic takeoff, maneuvering, controlled climb, landing approach. You’ll be strapped in fully, following comms, no solo moves. If you get lightheaded, disoriented, or panicked, you tell me.”
Max nods quickly, licking his lips, excitement flickering bright in his eyes. “Got it.”
The alpha raises a brow. “Repeat it.”
Max smirks. “No solo moves, follow comms, tell you if I panic, listen to the hot pilot at all times.”
Charles huffs a laugh despite himself, shaking his head. “Mon Dieu.”
The blond beams, practically bouncing on his heels. “Come on, you love it.”
Charles leans in one last time, pressing his forehead briefly to Max’s, his hand at the back of Max’s neck. His voice drops, soft and steady. “I do love it, baby. Now go impress me.” His hand stays low on Max’s back as they cross the simulator room — the sleek cockpit sitting under a domed display, lights blinking softly, monitors flickering as the systems finish booting up.
The omega's grin is sharp and bright, eyes wide as he looks up at the machine, bouncing just a little on his feet. “Fuck, it looks cooler than I thought,” he says under his breath.
Charles hums softly, glancing sideways at him. “Wait till you’re in it.” His hand squeezes lightly at Max’s waist, guiding him forward. “Come on.”
The cockpit opens with a hiss of compressed air, the seat and harness gleaming under the low light. Charles turns Max gently, helping him step backward into the seat, smoothing the flight suit over his shoulders, checking the straps.
“Seat all the way back, hips centered, legs under — good,” Charles murmurs, voice slipping back into that smooth, professional calm. His fingers work efficiently, but they keep brushing Max’s skin, tugging gently at the edges of the flight suit, tightening the harness a little too slowly, grazing fingertips up Max’s sides.
Max shifts slightly, eyes flicking up with a smirk. “You enjoying this, Captain?”
The pilot laughs softly, leaning in to press a brief kiss just under Max’s jaw. “Behave, baby,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over his skin. “Or I’ll tighten these straps so much you’ll have marks.”
Max shivers, breath catching — but when Charles steps back, the smirk is still firmly in place.
The alpha picks up the helmet, lifting it smoothly, fingers brushing Max’s blond hair as he eases it over his head, checking the fit, adjusting the chin strap. “You’re on internal comms now,” Charles murmurs near Max’s ear, voice threading through the headset. His hands settle at Max’s shoulders for a moment, grounding. “You hear me?”
Max’s voice crackles through, a little breathless already: “Yeah.”
Charles taps the mic lightly. “Say it again, baby.”
The omega grins helplessly, heart fluttering even as he tries to keep up the bravado. “Yeah, Captain, I hear you.”
Charles huffs a quiet, affectionate laugh. “Good.” His hands slide down the control panel, fingers flying across switches, booting the last of the systems. The simulator hums louder, the cockpit lights flickering on, the display stretching out in front of Max — a stunning, hyperreal landscape blurring into focus.
“Basic handling only,” Charles says smoothly, his voice now fully pilot-calm, slipping into briefing mode. “You’re going to follow my instructions, one at a time. Stick is center-rested, throttle smooth, no jerking — it’s not a race car, Max.”
Max swallows, fingers flexing lightly over the controls, his grin sharpening again. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
Charles leans in one last time, mouth brushing the shell of Max’s ear under the helmet. His voice drops, low and velvety: “Breathe for me, baby.”
The cockpit seals shut, the outside world falling away.
Hhe alpha's voice fills his ear, calm and steady: “Let’s fly.”
He steps back slowly, eyes lingering on Max for just a second longer — the way Max’s figure sits snug in the harness, flight suit zipped tight, helmet settled over messy blond hair, hands flexing lightly on the controls. His grin is sharp, almost wicked.
But Charles can see the quick flicker of Max’s pulse where the flight suit dips at the throat.
“Comms check,” the brunette says calmly, voice sliding through the mic into Max’s ear.
“Copy,” Max breathes back, a grin in his voice. “Still here, Captain.”
Charles smiles faintly, flicking one last switch. His eyes stay locked on the screen in front of him, the simulator loading the test flight sequence, external systems syncing. The hum of the cockpit deepens, the visuals sharpening — Max’s world narrowing into the glowing dashboard and the endless simulated sky ahead.
“Alright, baby,” the aviator murmurs, soft and calm. “Throttle forward, smooth. Hold your line.” He watches Max’s hands on the controls, the slight tremble of anticipation in his fingers. “Easy,” Charles murmurs, voice rich and coaxing. “That’s it, just like that. You’re good.”
The simulator shudders faintly as the takeoff sequence kicks in, G-forces beginning to press subtly into Max’s chest. Max lets out a breathless laugh, grin tightening as he holds the controls.
“Shit,” Max breathes, “okay, that’s… okay, I feel that—”
Charles’ voice cuts in, low and sure. “Breathe, baby. Deep breath. In through the nose… good.”
Max sucks in a shaky inhale, his chest rising sharply under the harness.
“Exhale, slow,” Charles murmurs, eyes flicking to the monitor as Max’s heart rate ticks up. “That’s it. Stay with me.”
the omega's voice crackles back through the mic, still teasing even through the tension: “Fuck, Charles… didn’t think you’d make me pant for you in the cockpit…”
Charles huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head, fingers smoothing over the console. His voice stays cool, firm, wrapping around Max like a tether. “Focus. You’re doing good. Nose up a little more — smooth, Max, smooth.”
The cockpit shudders again, the simulated climb intensifying, the G-forces digging deeper, pressing Max into the seat.
“Holy shit,” Max gasps, laughing, half-winded now. “You… you do this every day?”
Charles’ mouth curves into a small, knowing smile. “Not like this, baby.” His voice dips lower, threading between command and affection. “But you’re handling it. You’re stronger than you think.”
On the monitor, Max’s heart rate flickers a little higher, breath rate climbing.
The alpha's voice softens, rich and velvety in his ear. “Stay with me, Max. You’re okay.”
In the cockpit, Max’s hands tighten on the stick, sweat beading faintly at his hairline. His grin is still there — crooked, breathless, electric.
“Okay,” the blond pants, “okay, Captain, what’s next?”
Charles leans forward slightly, eyes sharp on the screen, voice smooth as silk.
“Show me how you fly, baby.”
Max’s hands tighten on the controls, his breath coming faster now — little gasps and sharp exhales as he eases the throttle forward, feeling the simulated climb respond under his fingers.
“Look at you,” Max laughs breathlessly through the comms, “I told you — I can handle this…”
Charles’ soft chuckle crackles smoothly into his ear. “Baby,” Charles murmurs, voice edged with fond warning, “ease up. You’re riding it too sharp.”
The omega lets out a shaky laugh, sweat glinting along his hairline under the helmet. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it…”
But Charles is already watching the heart rate spike, the monitors flashing slightly as Max’s pulse thunders past the calm rhythm from before. His breath rate sharpens, chest rising and falling fast under the harness, fingers twitching slightly on the stick.
“Max,” Charles says, a touch firmer, slipping smoothly into his command tone, “ease back, throttle down. You’re pulling too many Gs.”
Max grits his teeth, a thrill sparking in his chest, a flush creeping up his neck. His vision narrows slightly, black creeping at the edges — not dangerous yet, but pressing.
“Holy fuck,” the blond gasps, voice cracking into a half-laugh, half-cough. “I—okay, okay, yeah, that’s… I feel that—”
Charles’ voice is in his ear instantly, calm, steady, velvet-smooth. “Listen to me, baby. Throttle down. Right now. Nose level. Breathe — in, slow. Out, slow. Come back to me.”
Max lets out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly, the edges of his vision fuzzing just a little. His chest feels heavy, every inhale tight under the harness, his arms trembling faintly.
“Good, baby,” Charles murmurs, watching the monitors tick down as Max’s heart rate starts to slow, breath starting to steady. “You’re okay. You’re doing so well. I’ve got you.”
Max lets out a breathless, shaky laugh. “Shit… Captain… okay, maybe you’re right, it’s not just… racing instincts…”
Charles smiles faintly, tapping the control panel. His voice stays low, warm, guiding. “Bring her down, baby. Landing protocol. You’re almost there.”
Max swallows hard, licking dry lips, hands carefully adjusting the controls, following Charles’s voice like a lifeline. The simulated horizon evens, the cockpit shuddering gently as the sequence transitions into landing mode.
“That’s it, Max. Beautiful. Hold it steady. You’re coming home, baby.”
Max’s eyes flutter closed for a second, breath spilling out in a laugh, chest still heaving faintly. “Fuck… okay… yeah… I’m coming home…”
Charles watches the final indicators flicker, the simulator powering down as the landing completes, the cockpit gently settling back to stillness. The omega slumps slightly in the harness, flushed, sweaty, breathless — but safe.
The alpha exhales softly, the faintest smile curving his mouth. “Good job, baby,” he murmurs into the comms. “I’m coming to get you.”
The cockpit opens with a hiss, cool air spilling into the enclosed space as Charles steps up, eyes sharp but soft, focused entirely on Max.
Inside, Max slumps in the seat, head tipped back slightly, sweat slicking his temples, his breaths shallow and rapid under the tight harness. His hands have slackened on the controls, fingers trembling faintly.
Charles moves fast but calm, unfastening the straps with smooth, practiced hands, his voice low and steady.
“Breathe, Max. Slow it down for me,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing Max’s cheek, pushing damp blond hair back from his forehead. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
The blond lets out a shaky exhale, his head lolling slightly as Charles eases the helmet off, setting it aside carefully. A flush stains Max’s neck and cheeks, his skin clammy under the alpha's’ touch, his body still struggling to adjust from the sudden drop in G-forces — blood sinking down, leaving his head light, his chest tight.
“Come here, baby,” Charles whispers, gently coaxing Max forward, slipping an arm around his waist. “Lean on me. That’s it.”
The blond lets himself be pulled upright, his breath hitching a little as he tries to steady it, his knees weak as Charles helps him out of the cockpit.
“Shit,” Max mumbles, a faint laugh breaking through the heavy breaths, “Captain, I think I… might’ve overdone it…”
Charles chuckles softly, but there’s nothing teasing in his touch — only warmth, steady hands guiding Max down onto a nearby bench, lowering him slowly until he’s sitting with his head tipped slightly forward, Charles crouched in front of him.
“Stay with me,” Charles murmurs, wiping a cool hand gently across Max’s sweaty brow, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “You’re alright. Just breathe, baby. In through your nose… good… out slow, that’s it.”
Max shudders faintly, his breaths slowly evening out as he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, forehead resting briefly on Charles’s shoulder when Charles leans in close.
“You did so well,” Charles whispers against his hair, pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m proud of you.”
Max lets out a hoarse, breathless laugh, mumbling into Charles’s shoulder, “You’re gonna tease me about this forever, aren’t you…”
Charles smiles, his arms tightening slightly around Max’s waist. “No, mon amour,” he murmurs, voice dropping tender. “You impressed me. That was better than the most first tries of my cadets.” He stays there, holding Max close, grounding him with soft touches and quiet words, his thumbs brushing along the small of Max’s back, his mouth whispering against his temple. “Next time,” Charles murmurs, smiling faintly, “we’ll take it a little slower.”
Max huffs a weak laugh, resting fully against him, letting Charles hold the weight of him for a long, quiet moment — sweaty, breathless, still tingling with adrenaline, but safe, tethered, home.