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Chapter Text

Daniel's in the middle of getting out of his race suit to shower when the door to his driver room opens.

He's angry – angry at the car, angry at his engineers, angry at Zak for telling him, "Better luck next time," as he'd pushed past him on his way to the paddock.

Daniel turns, ready to cuss out whoever's intruded on him, obviously not expecting Max to be there. The words die on his lips before he can even get them out – how is Max here, in the middle of the McLaren motorhome, still in his race suit? How had he made it past everyone without being caught? Daniel's about to ask him when Max sinks to his knees in front of him, pushing his race suit down around his thighs, dragging his fireproofs and underwear with them.

Max pushes his face into Daniel's crotch, and Daniel's mouth drops open. He knows he's gross right now, he's dripping sweat all over the room, and Max is fucking nuzzling his sweat-damp pubes like it's the best thing on the planet. "Max," he whispers, "Max, let me shower, you've got an interview still, we can go back to the hotel after and-"

"No," Max says. "No," he repeats, softer this time, and he licks a messy stripe down Daniel's cock. Daniel drops a hand to Max's head, grabbing the brim of his hat and taking it off, dropping it to the floor. Max noses against him, breathing deep like he wants to commit the smell of Daniel's sweat to his memory, and Daniel pushes his fingers through Max's hair, making it stick up a little.

"Max," he says, "You have an interview to get to."

"They can wait," Max says, mouthing at Daniel's cock a second later, and god, Daniel wishes that wasn't doing it for him. Daniel thinks about Max, showing up to the interview, his lips red and swollen from his cock, if they'll ask where Max was, why he took so long. Max wraps his lips a second later, around the head of Daniel's cock, and Daniel closes his eyes.

"Fuck, Max," he breathes out as Max blows him.

He imagines Max being asked, imagines what would happen if Max smiles slyly, like a cat that got the cream, and imagines Max saying in a rough, fucked-out voice, "Well, I was just on my knees in the McLaren motorhome."

He knows it won't happen, but he does know how fast it would spread.

It would be milliseconds before the stories come out about it, about Max Verstappen, World Champion, giving head to someone who'd almost finished dead last.

But then Max is pulling off his cock, pushing his nose against Daniel's balls, and he breathes, "Come on my face." Daniel stares down at him. "Do it," Max tacks on a second later, and Daniel grabs his cock, immediately jerking off. He thinks about Max, doing his post-race interview with jizz all over his face, and he shouldn't find the idea as hot as he does, but it makes his cock hard, and that's enough for him. Max buries his face between Daniel's thighs, and then- oh.

Daniel's breath hitches. He shouldn't be turned on by this, by Max rubbing his face against his pubes, smelling him and lapping up his fucking sweat like there's nothing better.

Daniel's jizz ends up on Max's hair, his forehead, and a blob lands on his cheek when Max goes to pull back a little.

"Shit," Daniel whispers, grabbing a McLaren-branded towel and hurriedly wiping the jizz off Max's face. He's about to start cleaning it from Max's hair when Max backs away, grabbing his hat from where Daniel had dropped it.

"I'm going to be late," Max says, his voice rasping a little on his words. Daniel watches, dumbstruck, as Max stands and puts his hat on.

"Did you," Daniel starts, and Max smirks at him, unzipping his race suit. He grabs Daniel's hand, shoving it into his underwear, and Daniel suddenly feels sticky, hot jizz under his fingers. "Jesus," he breathes out. He pulls his hand out of Max's underwear, his fingers covered in Max's jizz, and Max zips his race suit back up so he can make his way to his interview.

"See you at the hotel," he says over his shoulder as he leaves, and Daniel has to sit down.

Eventually, he pulls up the live stream from the interview on his phone. If Max's voice sounds hoarse to anyone, if his lips look too red, too full, if they can smell Daniel all over him, no one says anything, and Daniel turns off the live stream, satisfied that they weren't caught.

He needs to shower.

Chapter Text

Max ditches his bodyguard after padel.

He'd known for a couple weeks that Daniel was doing some pop-up thing for Enchanté, but they hadn't agreed to meet up until a couple nights ago, when Max had been packing his suitcase and had stumbled across one of Daniel's shirts, still in his dresser.

It's not like they haven't seen each other since September, but FaceTime calls and texts can only go so far, and Max wants to soak up every second with Daniel that he can. Max steals glances at Daniel on the drive back to the hotel, still not entirely believing that Daniel is here, in Melbourne, in the days before the race week.

His phone dings with a text, and Max looks down at it. It dings again, and again, and he unlocks his phone to be met with a series of worried and angry texts from his bodyguard that he immediately replies to.

No, he's not been kidnapped. Yes, he's fine. Yes, he's with Daniel. No, please don't come looking for him.

Daniel flips on his turn signal, and Max turns off his phone, closing his eyes as he tucks it into the front pocket of his backpack.

He doesn't notice, not at first, because Daniel's hand on his knee isn't anything new. He's teased Max before like this, getting nervous giggles from him during interviews and the live streams they used to do, so Max opens his eyes and looks over at him with a single eyebrow raised.

Daniel retaliates by moving his hand pointedly up Max's thigh, fingers pressed firmly against the seam of Max's shorts. Max swallows thickly – Daniel can't seriously be doing this here of all places, in the turn lane two blocks before the hotel, where anyone could look in and see what's happening. Daniel still has his eyes ahead, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the song playing over the radio, but now his hand is over Max's dick.

The light turns green.

Max can feel his face heating up, and he knows they'll be caught the second they get back to the hotel, and he inhales sharply. Daniel's moved his hand up to his waistband, and he slips it inside Max's shorts, inside his underwear, wrapping them firmly around Max's cock.

"Daniel," Max whines, and Daniel licks his lips.

The light before the hotel is red, and Max closes his eyes – he's not sure he can make it through another block like this.

But then they're back to the hotel, they're leaving the car with the valet, and they try to keep a somewhat respectable distance as they share an elevator with an older couple, who ask them if they're in town for the race. Max stumbles through answering, still flustered from the car, and Daniel looks like he's about to start laughing when the woman says, "You know, you look just like that one Dutch driver."

The doors ding open to Max's floor, and Daniel is quick to say, "He gets that all the time," before he follows Max out into the hallway.

They're barely inside the hotel room when Daniel walks Max over to the chair in the corner and sits him down. Max's head is spinning as Daniel tugs his shorts and underwear off, tossing them away. Sinking to his knees, Daniel drags his hands over Max's thighs before wrapping one around Max's cock, stroking him until he's hard and leaking.

Daniel looks up at him then, and Max knows he's not going to last long. He can't, not when Daniel is looking at him like that, replacing his hand with his mouth and sinking down on his cock.

Fuck, he's missed this.

Max drops a hand to Daniel's hair, pushing his fingers through Daniel's dark curls, and that's when he feels it – Daniel's beard, rubbing against his thighs whenever he gets close enough. Max closes his eyes, unable to stop the noise that leaves him, and it's enough to make Daniel pull back a little.

"Don't stop," Max chokes out. When Daniel doesn't move, Max opens his eyes to see Daniel looking up at him, his eyes dark and glittering. "Daniel," he finally says, "Daniel, please."

Daniel immediately dives back in, changing the angle of things so his face is firmly between Max's thighs when he gets his mouth back on Max's cock. Max groans at the feeling of Daniel's beard against his thighs, and he isn't able to get the words out before he's coming, his cock still in Daniel's mouth. He feels bad for not pulling Daniel off him, but then Daniel is standing up, one hand cupping his cock through his shorts, and Max breathes out, "Do you need me to-"

"No," Daniel says, his cheeks pink in embarrassment – he'd just come in his shorts like a fucking teenager – and Max stares up at him, wondering how fast both of them can be ready for a round two.

Chapter Text

Max feels gross as he peels himself out of his race suit.

His fireproofs are clinging to him in an uncomfortable way, and he could really use a shower. He tosses his balaclava onto the chair in the corner of the room, the fabric landing in a soft lump that slides off the hard plastic chair and to the floor. He sighs, deep and frustrated, his runaway balaclava the tipping point. Max leans forward to retrieve it, fishing it out from between the chair and the wall.

"Damn, I lucked out."

Max immediately straightens up, turning to see Daniel standing just inside the door, his green hat and white t-shirt practically a beacon in the Red Bull motorhome.

"Daniel? How-"

"GP slipped me a pass." Daniel takes a step across Max's driver room, then another, until he's up in Max's personal space. Max reaches up, pulling Daniel's hat off and tangling his fingers in Daniel's curls for a moment before tracing them down his cheek, over his beard, eventually rubbing a thumb over Daniel's lower lip. "He mentioned something about-"

Max silences Daniel with a heated kiss, but then seems to come to his senses, pulling away and whispering, "We shouldn't, not here."

"Max," Daniel starts, "you've got time."

Max hesitates. Is this how Daniel had felt, that first time in the McLaren motorhome?

"I have-"

"Max."

Max quiets when Daniel gets his hands on him, and for a second he forgets every single thing he's supposed to be doing. Daniel slips searching hands into his race suit, grabbing handfuls of Max's ass and squeezing. It's to the point, and Max instantly melts under Daniel's touch – he can't believe just how much he's missed Daniel these past few months. Daniel tugs Max's sweaty fireproof top off, depositing it ungracefully on the floor before turning his focus towards Max's fireproof bottoms. Max isn't entirely sure how far they're going to get, surely someone will come looking for him. They'll get interrupted, and-

Daniel drags Max's race suit, fireproof bottoms and underwear down his legs, until they're a tangled mess around his ankles.

"Daniel," Max huffs out as he's spun around and bent over the mini fridge in the room. Daniel sinks to his knees, and Max is confused for a moment until he feels Daniel kissing up his thighs, his beard brushing up against Max's skin.

"You have to be quiet," Daniel whispers, and Max swallows thickly.

"Yes."

He can hear people outside the door, heading to other rooms, to the paddock, unaware of what's about to happen behind the door to this room. It shouldn't make things hotter, it shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but when Daniel spreads him open and licks into his hole, Max has to bite down on his lips to keep from crying out. It's been too long since Daniel's done this, and Max thinks for a second he could do it, he could come just from Daniel's tongue in his ass, just from Daniel's beard rubbing his skin raw.

For the briefest second, he's grateful that he doesn't have to drive a car for the next three weeks.

Daniel wraps a hand around Max's cock, jerking him off slowly, dragging a thumb across the tip of Max's cock in a way that has Max panting into the top of the mini fridge. "Daniel, fuck," Max breathes out, and Daniel speeds up his hand until Max is coming, jizz splattering against the glass door of the mini fridge. Daniel leans back, and Max wants to whine – he wants Daniel's mouth back on him, wants him to fuck him with his tongue until he can't take it anymore. But then Daniel's standing, unzipping his shorts, and Max can feel his cock pressing up against him.

They can't – not here, not when they don't have lube or a condom – but then Daniel's hands are back on his ass.

He humps Max, his cock slipping over Max's spit-slick hole, and Max pushes himself up a little. Daniel bites back a groan, losing his resolve a second later. "Fuck, Max," Daniel groans, a little too loud for the space, and Max hopes no one heard him. Daniel comes, making a mess of Max's ass, and Max closes his eyes, savoring the feeling.

Daniel moves a second later, his cock slipping free, and Max is about to push himself up off the mini fridge when Daniel goes to his knees again, dragging his fingers through his jizz.

"Daniel," Max breathes out, "Daniel, please."

Max feels Daniel's thumb pressing against his hole, and his breath hitches.

"Later."

Daniel cleans Max up, tucks his cock back into his shorts, and Max gets dressed. He's almost out the door when Daniel pulls him in for a kiss, and Max melts into it.

Daniel hangs back, letting Max leave first so they're not caught, and he looks around the room, making sure it doesn't look like they were just having sex in it. His gaze lands on the mini fridge, on the jizz that's already dried on the glass door, and his lips quirk up in a smile.

He grabs his hat and heads out, not meeting Christian's gaze as he walks down the hallway, his paddock pass dangling from his middle finger.