#charles won Monaco so i speedran this
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sinofwriting · 6 months ago
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Never - Charles Leclerc
Words: 705 Summary: Charles finds out she’s never had an orgasm. Note(s): Mentions/Talks of Sex, Bestfriends to Lovers, part of a kind of series that explores certain drivers finding out that reader has never had an orgasm.
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“What?” She asks, smiling around the words as she catches Charles staring at her, his head propped by his hand. “You are just very beautiful.” She shakes her head with a small laugh, eyes falling back down to the coffee table covered in sheet music. “You are.” He insists, giving her a nudge. She looks at him from the corner of her eye. “I think you have to say that. I’m your best friend after all.” He laughs, hand coming up to rub at his chest for a second. “I think Joris would have a problem with that. But I don’t have to say it.” Charles' face turns serious, though a smile is still pulling at his lips. “You are gorgeous. I still don’t know how you are alone.” “Just,” she sighs, the inside of her lip catching between her teeth. “No one’s caught my eye.” She tells him, hoping he doesn’t catch the lie, but he does.
She can tell from the way he sits forward, nearly pitching off the couch in his hurry. “Someone has caught your eye.” “No.” “Someone has. Who? Tell me about them.” “No.” She laughs, shaking her head. “It’s never gonna happen, alright? That’s just not in the cards for me.” “C’mon, they are an idiot if they don’t feel the same way about you.” Her lips press together as she swallows a harsh laugh. “That’s not it. I mean sort of,” she corrects. “But there’s a reason I don’t date and I don’t have one night stands and I don’t have relationships. I’m a nightmare, a horrible, lousy, stupid excuse of a woman.” The words are easy as they fall off her tongue, things she’s heard before. There’s more than wants to fall, but Charles is looking at her, horrified, and she winces. “I’m sorry, Charles. I just, I’m not interested.” “Why would?” He pauses, brows furrowed, jaw starting to clench in anger. “Why would anyone say that to you, about you? You are not those things.” “Not all of them.” She allows. “But a stupid excuse of a woman, absolutely.” She laughs. He says her name and she stops laughing, her smile dimming.
“Charles, I’m not being mean to myself. I’ve come to accept it. There’s a certain something a good majority of people want from their partners, and I can’t deliver it.” “Deliver what?” She stands up with a laugh, shaking her head. “No. I said too much. I shouldn’t have entertained this any longer. New subject.” He pulls her back down on the couch, uncaring of the way she protests, his eyes boring into hers. “Deliver what?” She stares back at him, hoping that for once Charles Leclerc will know when to back down, but he doesn’t. “Orgasm.” She finally says and watches confusion spread across his face. “I can’t orgasm. I’m twenty-four and I’ve never cum once in my life. That,” she laughs. “Happens to be a bit of a turn-off or an ego bruiser.”
Charles looks at her, the confusion gone from his face and instead determination is there. “Then today will be the day you do.” She rolls her eyes, scooting a bit away from him as she tries to ignore the way her heart seems to be beating double time and the burn that is starting between her thighs. “Very funny.” “I mean it.” “Charles.” She tries to continue but can’t. Not at the way he’s looking at her. It’s more than the set of determination lining his brow, the near glare in the squint of his eyes. It’s the combination with the set of his jaw and parted lips, the lean of his body into hers.
“Before,” he speaks, knowing she’s about to say he won’t be able to. “You say something about me not being able to. Let me try.” He then smiles, a giddy, disbelief filled thing. “After all I just did win Monaco.” It makes her laugh, the comparison of him winning Monaco after seven years of trying, with her trying to achieve an orgasm for the same amount of time. “Are you saying you can break another curse?” She jokes. “Monaco was never a curse and this,” his fingers dance across her covered thigh. “Isn’t either.”
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