Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 2
Masterlist
plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.
pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader
warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing
authors note: part deux, enjoy. sorry this took so much longer than anticipated to write. also, excuse the darker tone to this chapter, it'll get lighter from here xx
word count: 5.2k
taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia
If you couldn't read Charles' expression before, you most certainly couldn't now. For the first time this evening, it was Charles who was stumbling over his words.
"Wha... Wait... what?" was all he could muster up.
There weren't many times when you had been with Charles where he struggled to find his words. Even if he was angry, like the last time you saw him all those years ago, he still managed to say something. But tonight, he couldn't. He was speechless.
To relieve him from his pain, you repeated what you had said a few moments before. You too were struggling to string a few words together.
"Charles, I never went to New York".
Even by repeating yourself, Charles still couldn't find the words and it looks like the wheels inside of his head are trying to turn and make some sort of sense but everything is just breaking down and failing to work cohesively. And so, rather than having to respond, he looks out of the window of the taxi, taking in the Parisian sunset. His hand is no longer on your thigh but is now clawing at his facial hair.
The rest of the taxi ride is quiet, aside from the taxi driver's radio playing lowly in the background. But at one point you think you hear Charles whisper to himself, "Je ne comprends pas".
I don't understand.
The sound of Charles' keys rattling breaks the silence between you and Charles as he leads you upstairs to his apartment. He still hasn't said anything since the taxi, aside from thanking the driver. You haven't made much of an effort yourself to fill the silence because in all honesty, you're not really sure what to say or what Charles' reaction would be to whatever you did have to say. He was clearly stunned at your revelation that you in fact never went to New York and you were stunned yourself - by his question, his reaction, hell, this entire date. None of this made sense.
In the space of an hour, you went from being clueless about your blind date, to finding out that out of the +3 billion men in the world you just happened to be set up with your ex and to now, with Charles asking you to come to his apartment. Your mind was working overtime to catch up. Those two Aperol Spritz' were clearly not enough to numb whatever your brain was trying to process right now. You clearly needed something stronger.
You tried not to laugh but you couldn't help think about the fact that as much as Pierre poked fun at you for your messy love life, even this situation that you now found yourself in would even be too much for him to process.
The two of you quietly make your way into Charles’ apartment before staggering off. He muttered something about getting you a drink and so you take the opportunity to take in his apartment. Your heels are the only thing that is making a sound as you slowly walk around his living room. It’s a lot more sophisticated than his apartment in London that he shared with Joris and Riccardo. Gone are the Ferrari prints and in their place are pictures of modern art, strategically framed across the walls. It feels too classy to be a bachelor pad, if that was what Charles used it as. Your mind briefly lingers back to Pierre's comment about Charles needing to fuck a lot of girls to get over you.
With Charles still in the kitchen, you slowly make your way over to the large bay window and admire the Parisian streets outside as the sun slowly begins to set across the city. You let out a little sigh. It feels like no matter where you call home these days, chaos seems to follow you. Well, everywhere apart from Singapore, life felt so easy there. No expectation, the only pressure being your job. Was it too late to go back?
Your attention is finally pulled back to reality as Charles hands you a glass of white wine.
“Thank you,” you say, taking the glass from his hand. You can’t miss that his own glass of wine is practically shorty. Charles’ notices this and dryly chuckles.
“I drank it on the way, let me get some more”.
He’s flustered, his cheeks turning slightly pink out of embarrassment. He doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he turns away and heads back to the kitchen. You can’t help but find it a little funny how you’re now the composed one, especially in comparison to Charles’ entrance during your date.
As Charles re-enters the living room, you take a seat on the edge of his sofa, you’re not too comfortable yet for you to treat it like a welcomed or returning guest. Charles follows suit, taking a seat on the arm chair across from you.
It’s still quiet between you both, neither of you know how to start this conversation. Whatever game plan Charles had previously has now gone straight out of the window while you never had an opportunity to even create a game plan, you were just thrown into the deep end without any arm bands.
You watch as Charles’ slowly runs his index finger along the rim of his wine glass while he stares at his own movements. Deciding to break the silence, because any conversation is better than this, you begin with some small talk to ease yourself into the conversation.
“Your apartment looks great,” you say politely as you look around the room once more.
“Thanks,” Charles mutters, his eyes still fixated on his wine glass.
“Did you decorate it yourself?”
Charles shakes his head.
You let out a little laugh. “Interior design was never your strong suit,” you joke, hoping to lighten the mood but it doesn’t anything but.
“A friend did it,” his words almost come out like a grunt.
Silence falls onto the room once more.
Something chaotic begins to brew inside of you. You know you’ve got nothing to lose, and out a stupid sense of curiosity, you carelessly throw out your next question, “Was it a girl that did it for you?”
Charles instantly tenses up at your question and you know you're playing with fire. You notice his jaw twitch in irritation. His shoulders now hunching forward and his hand is how clenched around his wine glass. And by the tension in his fingers, you’re amazed that it hasn’t cracked from the pressure.
He’s debating whether to say something or not. And he does, but not before taking a large gulp of his wine.
“Why don’t we just skip the small talk and get straight to fucking shall we?”
And as he says it, he’s finally looking into your eyes. The pendulum swings once more and it's your turn to be nervous again.
“Excuse me?”
He lets out a little chuckle but from the expression in his eyes he’s not joking around.
“Listen, [Y/N], I didn’t invite you back to my apartment so we could exchange interior design tips. So, let’s just skip to what we’re good at which is sex,” he continues with a condescending tone. “We can either do it on my sofa if you like, or by the big window so you can take in the Parisian skyline as I fuck you from behind. But my bed also works, your choice”.
You can’t help but scoff, “And that works for all the other girls you’ve taken here, right?”
You want to slap the smirk that Charles’ is giving you right off his face.
“No,” he responds sarcastically. “I let them finish their glass of wine, or two, maybe even play them a song on my piano before I ask them to take their clothes off”.
Oh, so I'm not even worthy of even getting through my wine? you think to yourself.
It's your turn to laugh but you know it’s hiding what you really feel. You’re confused but most importantly, you’re disappointed in the way that Charles is speaking to you. He had never spoken to you like this before.
“And what makes you think I’d want to fuck you anyway?” you retort, hoping that you sound assure in what you're saying, but you're not, your voice trembles. And Charles doesn't miss it.
And my God, he looks so arrogant as he looks you up and down. He’s so obvious with his gaze as his eyes become fixated on your boobs before making their way down to your thighs, which are now more exposed than before thanks to your dress riding up from sitting on the sofa.
“You’re wearing that dress aren’t you?” the smugness practically oozes from his tongue.
You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Well, if I’d of known that you were going to be my date then I definitely wouldn’t have wasted this dress on you”.
Charles throws his head back as his smile grows even bigger.
“It's such a shame that you’ve lost your sense of humour since I last saw you, amour”.
You scoff once more. His use of amour is no longer a term of endearment but a way to mock you. But you can't let him know that he's winning, so you somewhat fight back, "At least I’ve managed to grow up in the last three years. Unlike some”.
“And yet you’re still here”.
Your eyes meet his and you gulp. His piercing green eyes are glistening as he enjoys seeing you squirm. He’s been waiting for so long to see you again and he’s not going to let you forget how you made him feel. And he doesn’t care that he’s coming across as a dick when he’s doing so. You broke his heart, and he’s willing to be petty about it.
Despite your disgust in how he’s speaking to you since you arrived to his apartment, you know he’s right. Why are you still here? What sort of resolution are you going to get from this? And you remember how naive you were earlier to think that Charles had moved on when he was being nice to you. Oh how wrong you were.
“Well, now that we’ve established that you’re staying-“
“Who said I was staying?” you growl.
“Well, as I said before, you’re wearing that dress and I think it’s pretty obvious that you planned on getting fucked tonight, so I’m happy to cut to get to it,” Charles continues nonchalantly, “Pierre, as well intentioned as he is, did drop the bomb that you’ve been having a bit of a dry patch when it comes to your love life so I can’t blame you for getting your hopes up”.
You’re growing more irritated by his sarcasm and attitude by the second. Your jaw can’t help but twitch as he drops the truth bomb on your pathetic love life. And so you retaliate, unknowingly falling right into his trap.
“And Pierre was ever-so-kind to let me know that you’ve been so miserable and bitter that you’ve had to fuck anyone with a pulse to get over me”.
You see a flash of anger fall onto Charles’ face but it’s gone as quick as it came. You wouldn't be sure it even happened if he didn't respond the way he does next.
“Better than whatever pathetic shit it is you’ve been doing,” Charles responds. "Random hook ups, pathetic tinder conversations. Are you scared of commitment or something?"
You say nothing but you're breathing heavily. You're the one who is now gripping onto their wine glass for dear life, holding onto whatever composure you have left.
"There was one thing that Pierre didn't tell me though. How did you and Lewis end things, amour?"
What a little...
Who the fuck does he think he is?
This conversation has taken a dark turn and it’s enough for you to want to get out of here. Something you should have done before. You slam your wine glass onto the coffee table, before standing up to make your way towards the front door.
You hear Charles get out of his seat, closely following behind before he grabs onto your arm.
“What’s wrong, amour?” his voice is sickeningly sweet as he taunts you once more, pulling you back towards him.
“I’m not going to sit here and let you talk to me like this,” you spit. But your voice cracks as you can feel ears form in your eyes. This whole evening has been humiliating and now Charles is hanging your desperate love life in front of you, like it's a toy that can be poked and prodded at for entertainment.
And if you thought that by leaving that Charles would retreat, you were completely wrong.
“Sorry, baby, thought you were into men who treated you like shit”.
Slap!
You're not sure who's more surprised by the slap you've just given Charles, you've both been stunned into silence. The hand that he had on your arm immediately removes itself from you, now finding itself pressed against Charles' cheek. He winces at his own touch, the flesh that was met with your slap is beginning to sizzle.
One of your tears spills over as you make eye contact with Charles, your expressions matching one another. Horror. It takes you a few moments to realise what you've done. Unwilling and unable to accept the consequences of your actions, you decide to bolt for the exit. But as soon as you open the front door, it's been slammed shut. Panicking, you turn around to see that Charles has followed you, his hand is above your head holding the door closed.
You're not sure why you feel scared, but you press your back against the door. You're pressing into it so hard that you hope that it creates some sort of portal to take you somewhere far, far away from here. Anywhere but here.
But your dreams are cut short because Charles is standing in front of you, still holding the door closed while the other hand caresses his cheek, marked with your handprint.
"No, you don't get to just run away from me again," he barks as he hovers over you.
"What?" you ask in confusion.
"You've done it to me once before and I won't let you do it again," he replies. His breathing his heavy, chest rising and falling dramatically as he looks into your eyes. "You've left me once before without an explanation. You're not doing that to me this time".
His tone is much more gentle this time. The last few moments have made him feel vulnerable. His find flashes back to the last time he saw you and how he watched you walk out of his front door, never to be seen again until three years later. Despite his bitterness towards your break up, he wasn't going to make that mistake again. No, it was time for some answers. Ones he had been waiting for for three long years.
He removes the hand that's above your head on the door and places it back down by his side. "Can you just stay, please? I think you owe me that much".
You nod.
"Okay," your voice barely a whisper. "I'll stay but at least let me get a cold towel for your face".
It's Charles turn to nod.
He makes his way back to the sofa while he waits for you to return with a cold, damp cloth. When you return, his eyes never leave you as he watches you sit down beside him. He watches you as you gently places the damp cloth against his cheek. He hisses out your touch.
"I'm sorry," you whisper as you begin to dab his face gently, this time your touch hurts less.
Apart from your very brief apology, the two of you say nothing for a while. Charles' eyes are still on you as you take care of him. He gulps as you take your other hand and brush away a strand of hair that's fallen onto his cheek. His mind goes rushing back to all of the times that you touched him before. But now it's in such different circumstances and you both feel like strangers to one another now. He wants to touch you again, to see if it still feels the same. If your skin is still as soft as before. It always used to be so warm and silky, it felt like satin beneath his touch. But he's too scared to try, after all you did just slap him a not so long ago, because of shitty words that he said to you.
"Charles," you say before pausing. You look at him briefly as he nods, waiting for you to carry on. He's looking at you with such puppy dog eyes that you can't help but feel guilty as you see that he still has some redness on his cheek. But you carry on. "I'm sorry for hitting you. I... I shouldn't have done that".
Charles chuckles a little, "It's okay, amour".
"No, no, it's not okay. I shouldn't hit anyone," you protest, this time holding the cloth against his cheek.
Charles smiles at you, "Honestly, it's okay. I deserve it, I was being nasty."
You let out a little sigh.
"I really am sorry," you say as you look into his eyes.
"I know, amour".
It's all the two of you say for a few more minutes before you finally remove the cloth from Charles' cheek. The redness has calmed down, but he still feels a sting from your touch.
As you place the cloth on the table, you reach for your glass of wine, realising that it's been untouched. You take a sip before handing the glass to Charles. He smiles before taking it from your hand and taking a sip himself.
As your wait to find something to say, you begin to pull at the hem of your short dress. How do you carry on the conversation from here? The last time you tried to speak it went from being petty to nasty and to, in your case, being violent. But Charles' demeanor is different this time, he seems a lot calmer and he doesn't want to make your life a living hell any more. He watches you fiddling with the hem of your dress and pulling at a loose string. He places his hand on top of yours to stop you from pulling at the material any more.
"Hey, don't do that. Your dress is beautiful, I wouldn't want you to ruin it," his tone is so gentle. So much so that you tears begin to form in your eyes again. You can't even look at Charles as your eyes remain fixated on your lap. You hadn't realised your tears had spilled over until landed on the bottom of your dress, leaving the smallest of damp spots.
"Hey, hey, please don't cry," Charles whispers as he wipes your tear with his thumb. But by him telling you not to cry doesn't mean that you stop. If anything, feeling his hand on your face only makes it worse. "Please don't cry, [Y/N]".
Charles cups your face in his hands as he lifts it up so you're looking at him. "Charles," you begin but your breath catches in your throat. The evening is beginning to overwhelm you and you can't seem to be digesting anything that's happening in a reasonable way.
"Tell me, amour," Charles says as he wipes your tears once more.
Amour.
Fuck, even the way he's saying it now is so confusing. It's so gentle and so kind and you don't deserve any of this.
"Did you mean it earlier? When you said you only invited me back to have sex?"
Charles sighs as he shakes his head.
"No! No, I was being an asshole, okay," he tells you. "I didn't mean it."
You nod but you're not sure if you believe him. You wouldn't blame him if he fucked you and then left you because in Charles' eyes, that's what you did to him three years ago.
"Hey, hey, look at me," his voice is more commanding this time that you can't help but look at him. He hesitates for a moment, before he leans in to kiss your forehead. "I didn't mean it, amour. I was just angry, that's all".
You nod but you still feel overwhelmed with his touch and so you lean back on the sofa to give yourself a little bit of a break. Charles follows suit.
Silence falls on the room once more but this time, the two of you taking turns drinking the wine from your glass, hoping that the two of you find the courage to address the elephant in the room.
This time, it's Charles who breaks the silence.
"You... you said in the taxi that you never went to New York," he begins. The volume in his voice is much lower this time.
You nod slowly.
"What happened? Why did you change your mind?"
He nervously awaits your answer and he doesn't miss the little sigh that you let out.
"Charles, I... I was never going to New York. It was never the plan. Lewis kept asking but I always said no," you tell him.
Charles' scrunches his forehead at your confession.
"But you told me-"
"No, that day when I came to see you. I planned on telling you that everything was over between Lewis and I but I don't know what happened. I just couldn't get the words out, after everything that happened it should have been easy but it wasn't. Because I'd never been able to say out loud that my marriage was over. And when I told you that Lewis asked me to join him in New York, I didn't tell you because that's what was happening. I told you because I was scared and confused. You talked about moving in together and I panicked. For the first time in seven years he wasn't going to be in my life and I just didn't have time to process it," you tell him, "And so when you asked me if I was going, I just froze. I... I don't why I did. But by the time I got over my panic you thought that I had basically confirmed that I was going with Lewis but I never was. I don't blame you for reacting the way you did, hell, I would have had the same thoughts. But he was never an option any more, Charles, it was always you".
Charles stays silent as he lets all of your words sync in. He had been so wrong this whole time and he spent so many days and months hating you. Was he so wiling to believe that you were leaving him to stay with Lewis because he couldn't believe that it would finally be true? He'd always heard that the spouse never leaves their martial partner when it comes to having an affair. But you and Charles never had an affair. You had a relationship, and one that Lewis knew all about. So why had he gotten it all so wrong?
"When you told me to leave, I... I took the cowards way out. I don't blame you for not believing me. We were both tired and I gave up. I'm sorry that I gave up, Charles," you say. It's your turn to wipe the tear from Charles' cheeks.
"No, I pushed you away," he says quietly.
You shake your head. "No, you didn't. You did nothing wrong," you tell him.
The two of you take a few minutes to process your confession to Charles. The tears have now dried up for the both of you but the weight of the conversation rests heavy on your hearts.
"If you didn't go to New York, where did you go?" Charles asks.
You let out a little sigh. "I went for a job opportunity in Singapore. And I took it, so I moved about three months after things ended between us".
Charle lets out a light-hearted chuckle. "Singapore, that must have been nice," he says, "How did you manage in the heat?"
"I didn't," you laugh, "I basically lived a nocturnal lifestyle. But it was nice, I enjoyed my time there. I think I grew up a lot while I was there".
You pause for a moment, your smile falls a little as you carry on. "I do think about what would have happened if I'd stayed in London though..." Your sentence trails off as you begin to think about the what ifs.
"Well you know, London. Always busy and always expensive," Charles jokes. You smile at him softly.
"Kind of like Paris, right?" you say and he nods in response.
He takes a moment before asking his next question, "Do you regret going?"
Uncertainty takes over momentarily before you reply, "I don't know. I wish I kind of did things differently".
"Me too," Charles mutters.
Your eyes meet each others and this time it feels different. It feels like you're both longing for one another. You're not sure who initiated the first move as you both lean in for a gentle kiss which soon escalates as Charles pulls you onto his lap while you reach out to cup his face. The kiss deepens quickly as the two of your run your hands over any body part you can find on the other.
Charles' hands going from your hair on the back of your head to your waist. At some point, they end up on your ass which is now exposed due to the movements you've been making on his lap. Your hands too find themselves in his hair before making their way over his shoulders and down his clothed chest but you don't miss the tight muscles that sits below the thin material.
You hum as Charles' lips make their way to below your ear before making their way down your neck and finally to your chest.
"I wasn't joking when I mentioned this dress earlier," he says as he stares up at you, his eyes are full of hunger, "it was meant to taken off".
You can't help but squeal as he dramatically pulls your straps down to reveal your chest and it doesn't take long for him to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples. You moan as he begins to suck on the sensitive skin.
"Fuck," you let out as your hands grip onto his shoulders.
Tonight has been such a mind fuck that you feel dizzy at his touch. How the hell have you ended up in this situation where you've gone from slapping Charles for being an asshole to having him sucking on your tits. Maybe he was right and that you did like men that treated you like shit.
But that was baggage that you could unpack another day as you're suddenly brought back to your senses when you feel a flash of cold air on your vagina. You look down and see that Charles has pulled your panties to the side.
He looks up at you menacingly as his right hand makes its way down your body while the other holds your him in place. You can't help but yelp as his fingertips brush against your clit.
"Charles," you sigh in relief as he presses more pressure onto your sensitive bud.
"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't imagined this image over the last three years," Charles teases as he slides his fingers between your folds.
"Mmmm," is all you can say.
"I still have those photos you know and some of the videos that we took," he continues as he left hand makes it's way back up to your breast, missing the feeling of full flesh beneath his fingers.
"Charles," you whisper once more as you grip onto his hair.
"All you have to do is tell me how you want," he says and you're falling into his touch when he suddenly pushes two of his fingers inside of you.
"Shit!"
Charles takes your profanity as a sign to continue but this only sends you into overdrive. No, it's that dizzy feeling again and you suddenly feel light-headed. His fingers are moving in and out of you but all you want to do is push yourself off his chest and you do.
"Stop," you cry as you lift yourself of Charles' body.
Charles is stunned at your sudden change and becomes flustered, trying to understand why you're no longer wanting him to touch you.
"Amour, what's wrong?"
You're panting as you recover from the sensation of Charles while you're also trying to gather your thoughts at the same time.
"I don't think this is a good idea," you eventually say. You don't miss the look of disappointment on Charles' face. "It's not that I don't want to, I just think that... that we've gone through so much tonight. We haven't really processed anything and I don't want us to regret this".
Charles nods. He'd do anything to have you right now but deep down he knows you're right. The events of tonight have been chaotic, petty and at times toxic. This was the first time the two of you had addressed what happened and even then it was only a short conversation. He's only just gotten you back into his life and despite what his mouth was running with earlier, Charles didn't want to lose you again.
"You're right, I'm sorry," he says softly.
"Please don't be sorry. We both wanted it but it's not the best thing right now," you say. You want to break the tension in the air by cracking a joke, "If you want, we can both tell Pierre that we fucked to mess with his head".
Your joke works as Charles releases some tension by laughing before letting out a "Fucking Pierre".
At some point, you end up resting your head against Charles' chest as the two of you enjoy the silence for the first time this evening and for the final time, Charles interrupts a quiet moment between you two.
"Can you stay tonight? I... Nothing has to happen, I'd just like you to stay," he says quietly. You look up at him and nod.
The two of you eventually make your way to the bedroom and slowly undress each other as you get ready for bed, with Charles lending you one of his football jerseys.
And while he sleeps ever so soundly, his chest gently rising and falling as he lets out slow breaths, you find yourself not being able to sleep at all.
As the sun begins to rise on an early summer's morning in Paris, you find a pen and paper in Charles' kitchen before leaving him a note on his pillow:
' I promise I'm not running away this time, I just think that we both deserve the chance for a clear head in the morning.
I'm so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.
Amour xxx '
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