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It’s the Miami GP this weekend. And Max gets that it’s the first one ever and kind of a big deal or whatever but he really really just wants to race already and get back to his apartment in Monaco.
He’s not one to love all the press and paparazzi on a normal weekend but this… Miami is just a-whole-nother level.
Max doesn’t think he can walk further than five paces without passing somebody famous in the paddock. He keeps getting introduced to them all and shaking their hands but he can’t remember all their names.
The number of sponsorship events almost all the drivers have to take part in has doubled. Max would normally try to find the time to hang out with people he doesn’t see so often outside of race weekends, but he hasn’t had the chance to even suggest any meet-ups yet.
He’s just finished up filming a video for Red Bull’s YouTube channel with Checo and, with a heavy sigh, is hurriedly making his way through the paddock attempting to draw as little attention to himself as possible.
Max keeps his head low and is darting quickly towards the door of Red Bull hospitality when he suddenly realises that something else seems to be causing a stir on the main paddock walkway, dragging the crowds of photographers and pit crews alike away from him.
Hovering halfway up the steps to the door, Max is torn between disappearing into his drivers’ room and revelling in sweet, sweet silence, and the curiosity tugging at his chest as to just what exactly is so interesting to have drawn such a large crowd.
Slowly, he makes his ascension backwards up the stairs, stretching his neck upwards in an attempt to catch a glance over some of the photographers heads.
As he reaches the last step, Max almost collides with someone coming out of the door. He automatically turns to mumble an apology, but when he turns back to the scene before him he notices a small gap has formed, finally allowing him a view into all of the commotion.
And then Max has to steady himself on the doorway.
Because Daniel is the centre of attention, as he always is, but he…
Daniel’s wearing a bright orange crop top.
And he’s wearing it so fucking well.
Max can’t stop himself from staring. There’s cutesy stickers dotted over the bright fabric and a large ‘#1 Driver’ situated across his chest.
From looking more closely Max can now tell that it’s a Mclaren team shirt, although that information doesn’t really make his mind start functioning properly.
All Max’s eyes can see are the deep groves of Daniel’s adonis belt leading down beneath his jeans that are so, very low waisted, barely gracing his hips, his boxer waistband peeking out over the edge.
Daniel’s skin is gold all over, glowing in the sun as he always does, as bright as his smile. He’s obviously fine with whatever’s going on because he’s drinking up the attention and loving it, posing for the cameras jokingly and having a good laugh with his pit crew. His radiance infectious.
Max can’t take his eyes off of Daniel. His tanned midriff, his tattoos, more on display than ever, and his slim waist. And Max… Max doesn’t know what’s wrong with himself because he’s seen this man shirtless countless times.
His own thoughts are interrupted when someone wolf-whistles loudly causing a pattering of light laughs. Daniel twists round as Max watches him continue to walk by, flashing whoever the culprit was a huge grin and pointing his finger at them in a kind of ‘you know it’ way.
And Max thinks that’s it.
He’s getting ready rip his eyes away, recollect his breath, and finally disappear behind the door when his presence seems to catch Daniel’s eye where he’s elevated above everyone else on the stairs.
Shit.
Max knows he’s been caught staring.
He didn’t even know his mouth was hanging open slightly but the eye contact with Daniel finally makes him press it into a thin line of neutrality. His hands suddenly feel too empty with nothing to do and the nylon of his team shirt is sticking uncomfortably to his back.
Max watches helplessly as one corner of Daniel’s mouth pulls upwards into his cheek, smirking, but also quizzical.
When Max’s stubbornness halts him from breaking contact with Daniel’s gaze, that grin widens even further and makes his breath catch in his throat.
Just before he turns back around to keep walking, Daniel levels Max’s gaze and fucking winks at him, making him immediately feel all sorts of not normal before he finally turns back around and resumes walking the paddock like it’s his own catwalk.
Max almost trips in his hurry to press his pass to the door and slide himself out of the heat, and only then does he feel as though he’s finally able to breathe.
Max doesn’t let himself think about it again until he’s back in his hotel room.
And how can he not when all the photographs taken of Daniel today are already pasted all over his timeline?
He’s now eventually learned that this was all for some late night talk show that McLaren are featuring on to promote the Grand Prix. It also means that Lando was wearing the exact some outfit apparently, which, as his friend, Max finds entirely hilarious.
But that also does make him reconsider the way he’s been thinking about Daniel in that damn top. With Daniel, it’s different…
Max isn’t able to make himself find it funny and laugh it off. Daniel just looks really fucking hot.
It’s complicated. The two of them.
In their very early Red Bull days, there had certainly been a few instances in which they danced dangerously close to crossing the line with each other.
There was kisses. Mostly drunk after double podiums.
There was Max sucking Daniel off on his own birthday once in Monaco when he was way too high on having a good time and infinitely too handsy.
Daniel had invited him for more on multiple occasions. Max always made up an excuse, too scared and too ashamed to admit it.
By the time he’d worked up the nerve to take the older man up on his offer, Baku 2018 had come around and something between them shifted.
God. He hates thinking of that time. One of his most valued relationships in F1 was swept out from under his feet, leaving him feeling more than lost.
Of course it didn’t help that Daniel also decided to leave the team. Max can’t help but postulate as to whether he’d played a part in that, but it would hurt too much to know.
They get on better now.
Maybe distance was good. It helped.
Daniel got used to celebrating small victories with Renault and congratulated Max‘s every win. But his previous offer was never put back on the table. And Max has always been too scared to ask.
Max stares down at his phone, trying not to feel too guilty as he allows his hand to slide around his cock, jerking it up and down.
He lets his eyes gorge on the photo it displays; Daniel looking as self-assured as ever, his washboard abs fully exhibited as his arms reach up to adjust his sunglasses.
Max moves his hand faster.
There’s more and more skin revealed the longer he looks. The ‘V’ trailing down below his jeans so prominent that Max’s mouth feels dry.
He wants to take his tongue and run it down each and every crevice.
He wants Daniel’s hard and long dick back in his mouth again, pressing against the back of his throat as he uses him to get off.
Max thinks Daniel would like him to swallow, but then again, the other man has told him before how pretty he looks with his cum dripping down his chin, a large and firm hand cradled against his face.
The thought has Max spilling over his own fist, gasping loudly as he chucks his phone on the bed to find a tissue.
Once he’s cleaned himself up he flops back against the pillows and wonders how on Earth it can still only be Thursday.
His only hope is that finally getting out on track will help dissipate some of the wound-up energy Daniel’s crop top seems to have instilled in him.
Otherwise, he’s thoroughly fucked.
———
Max has dinner with his sister and his mum after his win because they came to see him race (and because he misses them more than he’ll admit).
He shows his face at the Red Bull after party for long enough and then makes his way back to the hotel claiming exhaustion, which honestly isn’t too far from the truth.
Only once slumped in the back of the car does Max properly check his phone for the first time that evening. He has two texts.
23:48 daniel: hey
23:48 daniel: can i come see you?
Daniel sent them about an hour ago, but the light buzz of alcohol in his system makes Max’s fingers move to follow his offer up as he always does. Because, it’s Daniel.
He doesn’t even know what the other man wants. Sometimes they meet to have drinks together, if he or Daniel have done particularly well, but never in each other’s rooms.
He texts back ‘yes’ anyway, followed by his hotel and room number, and is surprised when Daniel likes his message almost immediately, assuredly meaning he’s on his way.
Max pulls up Google Maps to check how much longer it’s going to take him to reach the hotel, finding the answer to be only a matter of minutes. As he slides the tab away, however, Max catches a glimpse of Daniel splashed across his Instagram feed once again. Tanned skin for all to see.
Max locks his phone quickly after that. Instead diverting his gaze out the window in an attempt to shake all the previous thoughts from his mind.
He’s got to stop thinking like this when Daniel probably just wants to congratulate him on his win. Max doesn’t let their encounter earlier enter into his mind; not when the Aussie was clearly joking at him when he’d winked. That’s what Daniel does.
Max beats Daniel back to his hotel, at least. Sliding his room key into the door, the happy buzz of the lock allowing him to enter inside.
Rummaging around the fridge informs Max that he has at least two beers they can share together. After that it might have to be a strange combination of vodka shots and cider, unless Daniel brings his own.
Max has only just settled himself into one of the armchairs across from the TV when there’s a knock on his door. It shouldn’t, but the noise jolts something electric into his veins.
He shouldn’t feel like this already; he’d barely had a glass of wine with his dinner and his can of beer is still yet to touch his lips.
Despite the humidity in the air, Max can feel his hairs stand on end as he curls his hand around the door handle, pushing down on it slowly as if that’s going to help ease anything.
“Max!”
Daniel inclines his head in greeting as Max finally shifts open the door, and shoots him a stellar grin.
His hair isn’t just curly, but fluffy, as if recently blow-dried and left to bounce against his forehead. He’s also wearing one of his merch hoodies, Max notes upon further inspection, which he finds strange because the corridor still feels sweltering to him, but Max supposes perhaps it’s his freakish Aussie genes making him cold.
“You gonna let me in? Or has Christen banished me to the corridors?”
Max blinks before realising he’s still blocking the gap in the doorway, wordlessly turning himself to the side to allow Daniel to amble past. He gives him what he hopes is an acceptably friendly grin.
“Not yet,” He jokes as he shuts the door and stares at the lock for far too long deciding whether he should turn it or not, “Even if he did I would not listen.”
“Yeah?” When he looks over to Daniel the older man is regarding him with the same smile he greeted Max with, his voice light.
He scoops the beer Max’d left out for him from off of the table, opening the can with an easy and intricate twist of his fingers that Max knows he follows too closely.
“Yeah.”
Max just agrees as he finally moves his feet to join Daniel in the corner of the room, locking the door behind him.
“There is not a lot.” He tells Daniel apologetically as he shakes his own can of beer.
“It’s okay,” Daniel shakes his head and shrugs nonchalantly, “I’m here to see you anyway.”
Daniel’s eyes watch him, looking to catch his expression, and then Max suddenly knows exactly what he’s here for.
Oh.
Max thinks. And then begins thinking harder because this is mostly unhallowed ground.
They do this. Get tipsy together and laugh the night away. Although normally there’s a larger number of friends involved.
They don’t really… talk. Not about the things that matter anyway. They can talk for hours and hours about cars and stupid sports and vacations, but they don’t talk about this.
They never have.
“Max.”
Daniel says placatingly. He must be able to see Max’s mind attempting to keep up, old gears turning and grinding under the strain.
“No, um. This is, yeah— that’s fine,” Max really tries his best, but his mouth won’t seem to zip shut, “I’ll just… it’s just that—“
It takes Daniel’s quick movements to stop him spluttering. The older moves so suddenly that Max finds himself startled into abrupt silence as he takes emergency evasive movements from Daniel’s flailing arms by leaning back in his chair.
When Max finally refocuses, he realises Daniel’s attempting to wrestle himself out of his hoodie.
He looks a little stuck for a second and Max’s fingers itch with the instinct to help. To guide the Aussie’s arms gently through the hole in the garment that he’s searching for. He asks hesitantly.
“Should I…”
“No, no. I’ve— I’ve got it.”
Daniel tells him, voice muffled from somewhere under all that material. He takes a dramatic gasp of air when he finally emerges from the pink material that makes the corners of Max’s lips twitch into a grin despite his confusion. Daniel’s smiling and chuckling over to him in return.
“Damn, I pictured that going a lot more smoothly.”
Max is about to ask him what he means when he notices what Daniel’s wearing.
A crop top.
Another crop top. Simple black, and not the bright orange, fuck off in your face McLaren one. Which means that Daniel bought it especially and is wearing it because he wants to.
And he… he’s wearing it here, in front of him.
Daniel wanted to show him.
Max can do nothing but continue to stare at the other’s exposed midriff. The chiseled lines on his stomach; the V shape inviting his eyes down, down, down just like they had a few days ago.
“What d’you think?”
Max is sure his brain is short circuiting.
Unlike the McLaren crop top, this one is body fitting, hugging tightly against the taunt muscles of Daniel’s arms and the curve of his chest.
“Mmm?”
Max hears himself hum noncommittally, eyes, mind and everything in between thoroughly distracted. When he flicks his gaze back upwards, he finds Daniel watching him intently.
“Do you think it looks good on me?”
The other’s voice is low and rumbles through Max’s veins. Daniel isn’t even doing anything, for God’s sake, he’s just sitting there! How can Max have let himself become such a mess already?
“Yeah.”
Is just about all Max manages to utter out before he’s scrambling to his knees in front of where Daniel is sat.
He’s pretty sure, but he asks hurriedly anyway, “Daniel. Is it… do you want—“
“Fuck yes. C’mere, Maxy.”
Daniel’s watching him as he slips a hand past the waistband of his joggers, cupping himself as Max leans himself so far forward on his knees he feels like he’s going to fall.
Placing tentative hands to either one of Daniel’s thighs, Max steadies himself. The soft material of Daniel’s trousers about the only thing keeping him grounded as he watches Daniel move his hand under the fabric. Teasing.
It doesn’t help that Daniel looks even better from this angle with Max gazing up at him. Up past the tent in his trousers, the tanned plains of his skin and the sleek material of the crop top stretched out across his pecs.
“I’ve thought about this.”
Daniel says, voice hitched and strained as he lifts himself slightly up from the armchair to push his joggers and boxers down to his knees in one. Max barely hears him because he’s too busy staring at Daniel’s cock but he makes a noise to let him know that he heard him anyway.
“Thought about you on your knees for me again, Maxy,” Daniel’s words turn breathy as Max takes him into his hands, looking up at the older and watching his face, “You were so goddamn eager for it last time and I didn’t—“
Max runs his thumb across the head of his cock, mixing in Daniel’s pre-come to ease the slide of his hand. He darts his eyes upwards again, “Didn’t what?”
Daniel’s head is lolled back against the chair now, eyes screwed shut from the pleasure, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. When he releases it to speak it bounces back, deep red.
“I didn’t even get to fuck you. Not before we—“
Max doesn’t get to hear the rest of what Daniel was going to say because he uses the distraction to slide his lips around Daniel’s dick.
In his mouth, it bigger than he remembers.
Even though he’s ever only sucked Daniel off one other time, Max has every sensation committed to memory. The pleasant stretch on his lips, the weight against his tongue. The way Daniel had loved it when he’d sucked gently on the head of his cock before swallowing it back down again.
Max tries to emulate his first time sucking Daniel’s cock as convincingly as possible. If he’d finished then, splattering his cum across Max’s face as he’d pulled out, then it’s likely Daniel will soon finish again if he does the same.
Slotted between Daniel’s legs, Max’s knees are already aching against the carpet; the little stripy pattern surely imprinting itself into his skin. Max takes one hand from Daniel’s cock, to brace himself against the older and splays out his fingers on the warm skin there.
It’s dizzying, the way Max can feel Daniel’s muscles clench at his touch. The way his breaths quicken and a large hand finally, finally, finds its way to the back of Max’s head, gripping pleasantly into his hair.
Max’s chin already feels wet and sticky with saliva when he feels Daniel’s dick in the back of his throat. He gags slightly but manages to soon get his reflex under control, telling himself to relax so it’s good for Daniel. So he can fuck into his mouth like Max knows he wants to.
Daniel’s hold on his head is surprisingly light compared to the vigorous movement of his thrusts, like he’s letting Max know he can move away if he wants to. Which is nice to know, but Max hasn’t held out on his urges for so long to not allow Daniel to completely fucking ruin him now.
He glances up at the older man from under his lashes and just hopes Daniel gets the message from the way his grip gets tighter on his hips and Max starts producing choked moans around his dick.
The hold on his hair gets tighter and Max is pleased. His hair’s a little on the long side at the moment, due a haircut, and Daniel’s certainly making the most of having something to grab on to.
Max doesn’t have to look upwards this time to know Daniel’s watching him, feeling the stutter in his rhythm once he gets another glance of his cock stuffed in Max’s mouth.
“Fuck, Maxy,” He manages between breaths, “You take it so fucking well, God.”
Max can’t help the pleased hum that escapes him. He likes praise. Of course he does. Everyone likes praise.
But it’s different coming from a man you’ve looked up to most of your life, and Max can’t help but think that it possibly means the most to him.
The thought makes him double his efforts, sucking harder, longer, wanting to please Daniel, but then the other is suddenly pushing Max off and holds him back when he attempts to lean back in.
“What?”
Max questions, his voice raspy, annoyed and confused. Daniel huffs out a breath, still holding onto Max’s shoulders.
“If you keep going I’m gonna fucking finish.”
Max gives him a look kind of like, ‘duh, that’s the point’, which makes Daniel chuckle and Max feel horribly warm on the inside, but then he says, “I can’t just— I wanna finish inside of you. This time.”
And suddenly Max is vividly aware of his own cock straining against the tight denim of his jeans, trapped uncomfortably between his thighs where he’s still on his knees.
Daniel’s hands fly back to grip into his hair when he rises to bring his face level with Daniel’s abdomen instead of his crotch and proceeds to press an all-too-intimate kiss to the dip above his thigh. Max tries not to notice how Daniel’s touch against his head gentles in return.
“You are very mean.”
Max mumbles against Daniel’s stomach as he moves to the other side, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.
“Wearing this in front of me and not letting me touch.”
He can see the shiny patches his lips leave against Daniel’s skin as he stares across the tanned plain. On impulse, Max bites down lightly on the flesh at Daniel’s side before licking at the red mark it leaves and bringing his hands to bracket Daniel’s waist.
His fingertips graze lazily at the hem of Daniel’s top as he continues to litter the other man’s skin with wet kisses, revelling in the sounds he’s causing Daniel to produce as he runs his hands through Max’s hair.
“I have wanted to do this all weekend,” Max admits shakily, speaking against Daniel’s stomach, “Wanted you. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. This.”
Ever so slightly, Max allows his fingers to slip under Daniel’s top, making sure his gaze is fixed upwards to catch the pretty way his lips part and gulp for breath.
“Max,”
He pants out, removing his hands from the depths of Max’s hair and smiling down at him when he captures Max’s visible displeasure at this occurrence. Instead, Daniel follows his touch along Max’s arms to close over the hands settled at his waist.
“Come up here, baby. I wanna see you.”
Gladly, Max alleviates the pressure off of his aching knees and stands, wobbling a bit as he does so, using Daniel’s knees to steady himself.
The armchair is wide enough, thankfully, to allow Max to plant his thighs either side of Daniel as he straddles over his lap, breathing in a shaky breath as he feels the warmth of Daniel’s skin bleed through his jeans and he grips on to the older man’s shoulders.
And Max knows that he’s physically bigger than Daniel now, more built, having finally outgrown his own gangly body. But he can’t help but feel like that starry-eyed teenager all over again when Daniel lays his hands either side of his waist, kneading into the flesh there.
Then they’re face to face, finally, and Max watches Daniel’s gaze trail downwards until it lands on his lips; his expression suddenly morphing into something more mournful.
“Shit Max, I haven’t even fucking kissed you yet.”
Max’s hands are still bracketing the juncture between Daniel’s shoulders and neck. He squeezes his fingers in some sort of reassurance as he feels the corners of his mouth twitch up. Daniel’s eyes are wider now, like everything is rushing back to him.
“Fuck. I had this plan and everything. It was gonna be this whole fucking thing where I woo you and shit but I—“
Max kisses him.
And he doesn’t think he’s ever done that first amongst the brief times their lips have touched before but all Max knows is that he wants to do it again.
So he does, because no one is stopping him. Because Daniel’s lips are pressing back against him with an enthusiastic, elated hum. And because Max would kill anyone who tried to rip this away from him now.
Daniel’s arms slide easily around his waist like they belong there, giving in to the need to pull Max closer and take more of him in. He kisses fast and then slow, to savour the whimpers Max can feel himself producing, and smiles broadly into the kiss.
Feeling rather pleased with himself, Max slides his hands from Daniel’s neck down past his collarbone and over his sternum before he rubs his hands over the other’s still-clothed chest.
The noises Daniel produces against his mouth are magnificent, and Max can feel the way his hips cant upwards despite his weight weighing the other man down.
“Yes.”
Max agrees as he trails his hands upwards from Daniel’s stomach. Slowly, he slips them under the tight material of Daniel’s top to rub his thumbs over the older man’s nipples, cupping at his pecs.
Daniel whines a little as he draws his lips away, but Max simply has to see the movement of his own hands; his fantasy from just days ago springing to life before him as he pushes breathy gasps out of the older man with a mere touch. The material of Daniel’s crop top is now bunched up under his armpits, his tanned and perky chest on full display.
Instincts getting the better of him, Max dives down to steal a taste, pressing kisses to Daniel’s chest before sucking a nipple into his mouth and exploring it with his tongue. He continues to grope at the other with a wandering hand, and then switches sides afterwards to balance the sensation out.
“Fuck. Max—”
Daniel’s voice is enough to drag Max back up to meet his mouth again, pressing his tongue hungrily inside, grinding his hips forwards where he’s well aware Daniel is hard and leaking between them.
“Max.”
This time the grunt of his name is more of a warning and is paired with a sharp squeeze to his waist. Max gets the message. If he keeps on like this, Daniel’s going to spill over himself instead of…
Oh.
“Bed,” Max says, “Now.”
———
Max insists on riding Daniel when he asks about position, making the older man’s eyes fly wide and then immediately darken with want at the idea as he vigorously nods his head, clamouring onto the bed.
And it’s the best idea Max has ever had, he thinks, as he positions himself over Daniel’s cock and sinks himself down onto the older man, slowly but surely filling himself up. Hissing through his teeth at the sweet burning sensation it brings.
This way Max gets Daniel’s cock in his ass, stretching him open, and he gets to brace himself against Daniel’s crop top covered chest.
“Nngh,” Max’s gasps catch on his breath as he digs his fingers into the other’s flesh, leaving little angry red lines, “Daniel… move— ah! Please. Need you to.”
With Daniel’s cock completely buried inside, Max feels so full and overwhelmed that he struggles to keep a good pace moving himself on Daniel’s dick.
Daniel gives in to him quickly, planting his feet sturdily on the bedsheets before he’s driving up into Max, his hands gripping tightly onto his waist as he pulls the younger back down in time with his thrusts.
“I’ve got you, Maxy.”
He huffs out between panted breaths, his eyes watching Max’s contorted face in wonder as he begins to push up against Max’s prostate.
Max is still holding on to Daniel’s chest for dear life, but has to lean forward to grab into the headboard once Daniel’s thrusts become so forceful Max feels as if he might topple over.
“Dan— Daniel, please.”
Max spills over himself shortly after, ecstasy washing over him as he grins happily down at Daniel and the concentrated furrow on his brow as he continues to chase his own release, his entire body jolting with each thrust.
He doesn’t last much longer, and then Daniel’s tugging Max back down to meet him in a bruising, desperate kiss, hands grabbing back into his hair and fingers tracing his lips while his dick softens inside of him.
“I was nervous earlier, because you’ve never wanted to before.”
Daniel says against his ear a moment later when they are no longer so sticky and Max’s bare chest is pressed against his own, legs intertwined.
“Of course I wanted to,” Max answers in a hurry, “Back then. Of course I did.”
Daniel’s brow furrows, his fingers absently stroking at a stray strand of Max’s hair.
“So why did you never…? When?”
Max at least has the audacity to look sheepish.
“It— just before Baku, I was going to—“
Daniel’s face falls. Max didn’t even need to say the year. A disbelieving laugh crosses the other’s lips.
“That’s some bloody timing.”
There’s nothing else Max can do apart from agree with a solemn nod.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Daniel seems to decide after a few seconds, adjusting his grip on Max’s body so that he slots even more perfectly against him.
Max hides his grin into Daniel’s neck as he agrees.
“I’m glad you liked it, tonight. My top.”
Max places a kiss behind Daniel’s ear to show his appreciation; in return he feels Daniel nuzzle closer towards him.
“What did you do with the other one?”
He finds himself asking out of curiosity, just before sniggering at the disgusted noise Daniel immediately makes at the garment’s mention.
“What’d you think?” He turns to place a kiss into Max’s hairline, tucking it away there and chuckling with him, “I burned it the first chance I got.”