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Lewis couldn’t point out a single specific moment which led him to realize Ferrari had signed him on as a very expensive trophy. Instead, it had been a series of realizations, chaining into each other like a pitlane crash as the season unfolded. It didn’t seem possible at first, he told himself he was letting his insecurities take the wheel whenever he felt like his concerns were dismissed or his suggestions on how to improve the car and the strategy were brushed off. Surely, no one paid 80 million to sign a guy they didn’t expect would win them anything.
It wasn’t until he had a meeting with his management team that he realized how likely that scenario was.
“You bring double that in sales and sponsorships,” Jaxon told him, the numbers on his screen glancing off the lenses of his glasses. “It wouldn’t be a gamble for them, more like a sound investment. You are a solid investment, regardless of your on track performance.”
Everyone in the video call agreed, putting forward figures that showed just how much money Lewis could make other people just by existing. He supposed he should be glad he was such profitable stock, he was making himself richer in the process too, along with all these people who had advised him on, and drafted, his contract with Ferrari and at no point seen fit to warn him that this might happen.
“We are going to have some problems, if things stay as they are,” Lewis said.
No one ever seemed to understand how much winning the eight meant to him. It wasn’t about pride, it was about leaving a mark that could never be erased. Because in this sport he could never afford to be anything short of exceptional. They didn’t get that it wasn’t just another trophy for him, it was vital. He couldn’t be tied with Schumacher, he had to beat his record. He’d spent his career breaking records and setting milestones, too many to count, but the eight would be his crowning jewel. Should have been, in 2021. He would have done one more season afterwards, enjoying his roses, driving the number 1 car, to close it all off, and then retired in glory in 2022.
The FIA had ruined all of that, so they had to put up with him until he got what he wanted. Except lately he felt like he was the one putting up with them, with everything. If the team didn’t want to listen to him they would be hearing from his people. Lewis would send them into the garage like drones, buzzing around until whatever little hair Fred still had deserted him too, along with his patience. He could sic Marc on them, he really could.
If they thought he was going to seat pretty while they made money off of him and gave him a shitty car and useless engineers they had another thing coming. He had fought harder wars with less grace.
Still, it rankled. Race after race, the results weren’t there, and no one cared. Charles wasn’t doing vastly better, but he had found his niche. He didn’t need to win anything to be adored, an existence entirely alien to Lewis. Something—he had no problem admitting—that made him look down on him. Which in turn made it easy to be friendly.
“It hasn’t been the season either of us expected,” Charles said, toweling off the sweat from his face with a smile. “But there’s been progress, no?”
That kind of optimism in the face of such enormous mediocrity left Lewis at a loss for words, which he covered up easily with a tight grin and a nod. “Sure, we’re making progress.” In which direction remained to be seen.
Lewis couldn’t make sense of the car, it didn’t respond how he expected it to. It wasn’t fine tuned enough where it mattered for him, like the brakes, and any attempt to add some flexibility to the frame just broke something. He tried not to let frustration get the best of him, but at the end of the day he needed to get the car do to what he wanted him to. It wasn’t a horse, it wasn’t Lewis’ job to anticipate its changes of moods.
Also, he wouldn’t drive an illegal car. The shitshow in China had stunk up the whole season, and Lewis had yet to find a way to clear the air. He didn’t care if McLaren were doing it, he didn’t care if Red Bull had done it, he wasn’t going to associate himself with an illegal car and put everything he had built in jeopardy. That had soured everyone’s mood in the team, but it seemed they didn’t understand that Lewis had a reputation to defend, if Charles was fine driving whatever they gave him maybe that was why the only thing he had to his name was a chess winning streak.
But that still left Lewis without understanding where he was going wrong with the not-illegal car he had now.
He couldn’t get the pace, he couldn’t get the speed, he couldn’t even begin to anticipate how the car was going to behave from session to session. And looking at the telemetry wasn’t making anything clearer except how much he wasn’t getting the performance he needed.
He was so lost in thoughts that it took him a while to realize that Charles was asking him a question.
“Sorry what was that? I spaced out.”
“Do you want to go somewhere. We’re done with practice, and we’re in Monaco, so…” He shrugged and tilted his head in a way that made it obvious that he saw it as a casual invitation to hang out some place they both considered home. Except that wasn’t what Monaco was for Lewis. It never had been and never would be anything more than a tax haven. Part of him wanted to feel worse about it than he did.
“Ah, sorry, that sounds nice, but I have plans.” He fished his phone out of the waistband of his fireproofs, and fired a quick text to Max. ‘Mine tonight?’. “But actually, let me see, maybe they want a raincheck.”
Charles’ eyes widened in surprise that Lewis’ would change his plans for him. Lewis held his gaze and returned the smile while he waited for Max’s answer. ‘Sure. I’ll bring dinner.’
Lewis clicked his tongue and gave Charles’ a close approximation of a regretful grimace. “Seems not. But hey, thank you for the invitation, we’ll definitely hang out soon.”
---
While he waited around the apartment for Max to arrive, fiddling with the sound system, Lewis reflected on what a dumb move it had been to introduce Miles to Charles. Last season he’d had hope for this one, he had genuinely expected to be in contention for the championship because that was what Fred had promised. That meant playing nice with Charles, and introducing him to his boyfriend had seemed like the perfect show of trust. Charles had acted appropriately flattered, and Miles and Alex had actually gotten along, so it hadn’t been a hardship to get through the day.
The problem was that now Charles thought, or at least behaved, like that made them friends. Lewis could be friendly with teammates, but he would never be friends. That was a line he was never going to cross again. And since at the moment the only thing they were in contention for was first of the losers, he didn’t even have the wherewithal to pretend. For weeks now he’d been trying and failing to come up with a reason to stop fucking playing virtual chess with Charles.
Actually, his problem was that he’d been so busy stressing over the car and working with the engineers that he hadn’t taken the time to meditate. He was sick of the Monaco apartment too, he needed to go somewhere and connect with nature. He needed to realign something, the word for what escaped him, but something needed realigning, especially the car’s abysmal steering.
Max rung the doorbell, and Lewis let out a relieved sigh. He was looking forward to getting all the thoughts fucked out of his head. He left one of his mellower sex playlists on, something full of smooth rnb about driving, and riding, and driving and riding.
He opened the door to Max’s smiling face, scrunched up in that goofy grin that made him look like he’d learned how to do it from copying other people, and not because that was how his face naturally moved. He thrust two paper bags into Lewis hands. “Dinner. I got you something from that vegan place you like, and some real food for me from the place next door, hope it’s good.”
Lewis took the bag into the kitchen with an airy, “I’ll get us plates. We can eat on the sofa.”
He wondered if Max realized he always made the same ‘joke’; he ate real food, while Lewis ate ‘plants’, ‘vegan shit’, ‘rabbit feed’, and whatever else he came up with along those lines. Lewis never laughed, or remarked on it, he just ignored it for the juvenile bullshit it was. But privately, he enjoyed the breezy window it provided into Max’s inner workings. He knew all about that kind of insecurity, that bone-deep fear that someone would look at him and find him lacking. Not man enough.
Somewhere along the way Lewis had gotten over himself. All those championships helped, but they wouldn’t help Max. His insecurities didn’t come from being an outsider trying to prove to people who wanted him out that he belonged. The opposite: Max was trying to live up to expectations. Lewis had built his own road, but Max was stuck following a fixed path.
When he returned to the living room, Max had made himself comfortable on the sofa and was trying, and failing, to choose something for them to watch. None of their races this season were particularly worth revisiting, and watching past victories was just sad.
Max took the plate and cutlery Lewis handed him with an excessively grateful smile. “Did I get your order right? I remember you saying you liked that dish.”
“Yeah, you did.” Lewis said, sitting down sideways from Max, tucking his knees in, so they could look at each other. “Don’t bother looking up anything, let’s just talk.”
That pleased Max to no end. “You know, I was shocked you invited me over, I think I’ve only ever been here once before.”
Lewis hummed while he ate. “’Think so too.”
“It’s nice,” Max said, his eyes shining.
“Yeah, it is.” Lewis returned Max’s loaded gaze with a smile.
Like all lonely people, Max had a great capacity to fill up Lewis’ side of the conversation in his mind, which was why he made such good company. He shot off into an anecdote about GP and the other engineers, gesticulating with the knife as he spoke. Lewis let the raspy drone of his voice wash over him, he smiled here and there, and laughed when Max did, but listened to none of it. It was nice to just be, he could never tell him that, but Max’ presence was very soothing. Perhaps not in the ways he wanted, or hoped for, but at times like these, he was exactly what Lewis needed.
Max took the dishes back to the kitchen when they were finished. He came back smiling, running a hand through his hair and asking Lewis if he wanted something to drink, a pleased flush high on his cheeks. Lewis sat up on his knees on the sofa and pulled Max down into a kiss.
They fucked right there, despite Max’s suggestion to move to the bedroom.
But the moment they got naked and he realized Lewis’ had gotten himself ready while waiting for him, all higher brain function deserted him. He could be single-minded, both on track and off it, it was a weakness Lewis had exploited in the past to great advantage.
Max always looked like he was experiencing some kind of religious ecstasy when his cock was inside Lewis. It was flattering, and the excitement made up for the inelegance.
“Just like that, you’re so good,” Lewis said, squirming when Max got him right where he wanted it on a particularly vicious thrust. “Fuck, baby, like that.” Max’s grip around his waist tightened, his fingertips dug bloodless indents into Lewis’ skin while he held him in place to fuck into.
It wasn’t hard exactly, Max didn’t have the presence of mind for that, but it was rough, and desperate. He drove his hips into Lewis like he wanted to leave marks on both of them, his grip was always just shy of cruel. Lewis could be tempted to think it was on purpose if it weren’t for the desperation in Max’s eyes and the tears clinging to his lashes like pearls.
They had never talked about it, and Lewis’ would never ask. He liked it though; he liked the heavy drag of Max’ cock inside him contrasted with the brittleness of his expression. It made him feel generous and indulgent; all the praise that made Max buck like a stallion flowed easily from his lips. It cost him nothing when he was being looked at like that.
If they both worked at it they could make Lewis come just on Max’s cock, which had nearly blown Max’ mind the first time it happened, but Lewis felt lazy, he had no interest in engaging his core muscles after a day of training. He wrapped a fist around his cock and rode the waves of pleasure with a sigh, looking at Max through half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of his overwhelming lust, enjoying the sheen of sweet on his body, the proof of how hard he was working to make Lewis feel good. He came with a drawn out moan, hissing through his teeth and biting down on his bottom lip for Max’s benefit. Max watched entranced while Lewis rubbed the cum streaking his abdomen into his abs like lotion, and came inside him with a penitent whine, the orgasm milked out of him by the rhythmic contractions of Lewis’ hole.
As always, he buried his face into Lewis’ neck and cried, Lewis would give him the dignity of pretending the moisture left on his skin afterwards was just sweat. He relaxed in the afterglow, petting Max’s sweaty hair until his sobs subsided and turned into kisses that migrated from Lewis’ neck to his lips. He was like a big cat, a lazy lion, after sex, almost purring in contentment, smiling dopely like he couldn’t believe how good he felt. It was enough to break his heart, if Lewis could afford that.
“I’m so comfortable I could fall asleep right here,” Max said, muffling the words against Lewis’ skin.
Lewis disentangled himself from Max’s limbs. “We should shower then. It’s getting late and we both need sleep.”
Max was nodding along until something clicked and he understood the full meaning of Lewis’ words. “I thought I was going to sleep over.”
“Not today, and you should go home to your kids,” Lewis said, but added, to soften the blow, “It’s actually not a good time right now, but I really wanted to see you anyway.”
Max deflated, but some of his disappointed had flattened into acceptance. “Is it about the car?”
Lewis shrugged. “When is it not?” He got up from the sofa and reached out to take Max’s hand. “But come on, I have some new body wash I want to try on you.”
Max followed after him with an indignant scowl. “Why ‘try’? I don’t like the sound of that, what’s that wash supposed to do.”
Lewis dragged him along without answering, wearing nothing but a smile as they both padded naked through the darkened apartment.
---
Max had been gone for no more than twenty minutes when Lewis’ mobile rung. He answered the phone one-handed, without looking at the screen. “What is it, Max? I know you didn’t forget anything here.” He was surprised to find himself sounding fond.
There was silence from the other end of the line, until a familiar deep rumble asked, “Am I calling at a bad time?”
Toto wasn’t the last person Lewis wanted to hear from, but he was up there. He especially didn’t want to accidentally reveal too much, as he just had. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to catch up with you, commiserate.” His throat made a sound as it worked. “It’s been a rough season for everyone.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to say about it.”
“Don’t be like that, Lewis, we were always able to talk. Not matter what else was going on. Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not, but it sounds like you called me late at night for no reason at all.”
“Maybe I just missed hearing your voice.”
Lewis sighed and turned around in the bedsheets, getting the topsheet tangled around his legs. He wished he could fall asleep between one breath and the next and leave Toto hanging. “Stop this, you see me on the paddock every week, man. We talk.”
“You know it’s not the same thing. You’re not wearing my colours.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Toto chuckled on the other end of the line like he’d won something. “I thought it was always your dream to drive for Ferrari?”
“Yeah, when they were worth driving for.”
The thing was that Toto had left him with no options, and Lewis hated feeling cornered. Ferrari had come calling plenty of times over the years, but he was forced to accept at a time when his bargaining power was at its lowest, and Ferrari hadn’t been competitive in almost a decade. He was already not happy with the Mercedes contract for 2024 and 2025, and when the conversations started in 2024 in anticipation of the 2026 season, Lewis knew it was only going to get worse. Toto was the world’s most miserly man, and he needed to feel like he was winning the negotiations or he got nasty.
Maybe if Lewis were coming off the back of a couple alright seasons he wouldn’t have taken things so personally, but everything Toto had said and done to convince him to drive his own value down just further cemented in his mind that there was no longer a place for him at Mercedes. And then when the 2024 season rolled around and he finally put an end to the humiliating win dry spell, he’d been left feeling like the whole thing had been rushed. The apology tour Toto went on in the second half also helped.
And now this season. Mercedes’ constructors’ only a glimmer in Toto’s eye, and Lewis yet to step on a podium, let alone win a race.
Lewis tried to tell himself that he might be having a shit season anyway if he’d stayed at Mercedes, which would have made things even worse for himself; Toto would have wanted to sign him for a kiss and a dream, and get him into so many media and sponsorship commitments he’d be lucky to get in three hours of sleep each night. Hard to imagine Ferrari willing to commit to him for 80 million either.
But the truth was that he felt that if anyone put him on a Mercedes he’d be driving that car to a podium every race, and winning at least half of them. The SF-25 made him appreciate the reliability of even the shittiest Mercedes, which at the very least behaved like machines instead of wild animals.
“You were rash,” Toto said, his tone smooth, almost lulling. “You used to enjoy our games. You used to like fighting me every step of the way. This time you changed the rules and just left.”
“It all got a little stale for my liking.” And it had, but mostly he’d gotten tired of being taken for granted. Toto never fully realized that something had broken between them after 2021 and that he hadn’t done enough to put it back together. “It got old fast hearing you bemoan how much better than me Max was doing.”
He knew he had made a mistake the moment he heard Toto’s sharp inhale. “Did it? Is that why you’re inviting him around to your place?”
Fuck it, in for a penny in for a pound. “Maybe I decided to see for myself what the fuss was all about.”
“What’s the verdict?”
“I don’t know about me, but he’s doing better than you. He has the stamina to keep up. You let yourself go.” There was a beat of silence and Lewis saw the perfect gap to put an end to this pointless conversation. “Goodnight, Toto.”
Before he could hang up Toto said, “Wait, Lewis, before you go, I just wanted to say, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Lewis bit down on the urge to ask what he meant by that and let him keep talking, “It’s to be expected that you’d have trouble adapting. You’ve always driven a Mercedes engine, even in your Mclaren days. It’s all you’ve ever known.”
Lewis took in a breath and held it, he let it out away from the speaker. “If that’s all, I need to go to sleep.”
“I won’t keep you. Sleep well, Lewis.” His tone was mellow, almost sultry even through the lilting Austrian accent. Lewis didn’t say a word and waited for him to disconnect.
And just like that, his night was shot to hell, the state of languid relaxation Max had fucked him into gone and replaced with a nervy anxiety Lewis knew wouldn’t let him rest.
---
Toto’s words haunted him throughout the next races, proving themselves ever more prophetic. What if Lewis had spent so many years driving Mercedes technology that he was now virtually incapable of driving anything else? He didn’t doubt his skills, but he had honed them around a specific set of responses, a machine that changed every season but didn’t suddenly become alien to him. No matter how rough he conversation, they were always speaking the same language.
Now though, he couldn’t figure out what the car was saying. He pestered Fred with this, who had known him since he was a child, and liked him with the affability of a kindly grandfather and twice the condescension.
“You are imagining things, you just need time to get used to the car.”
“I don’t know if I can, nothing about it makes sense. It’s not just unreliable, it’s unstable.”
“You’re thinking too much about it, just drive.”
That was the worst kind of advice. It meant nothing, and Lewis didn’t have the kind of relationship with Fred that allowed him to call him out on it. He supposed the condescension went both ways.
He changed gears and went to the engineers instead. He reckoned he was making progress in letting them know what he needed the car to do so that he could drive it, but it was slow going and he wasn’t a patient person at the best of times. Meanwhile, Charles was constantly getting the most out of the car, which wasn’t a lot but was enough for the occasional podium. Lewis’ resented him for being Seb’s replacement and doing nothing in the past seven years to help Ferrari develop a championship worthy car. It was clear he didn’t know how. His feedback was all “that felt good”, “that felt jumpy”, “slow on the straights” there was no specificity to any of it, nothing about the unresponsive power steering, the loose brakes, the loss of speed in the corners when the car clearly lost downforce.
Lewis reckoned Charles had been perfectly fine with driving an illegal car, but in his most uncharitable moments he wondered if he had even noticed. Meanwhile their plank was disintegrating every lap. Perhaps that was his secret, while Lewis was busy thinking about all the ways the car was falling apart, Charles just drove it.
Complaining to Seb about this yielded mixed results.
“Why are you being a bitch about Charles, he’s not the problem, you know?” Seb asked, staring at Lewis through the phone screen, perilously balanced on a stone bench while he worked outside in his garden.
Lewis curled himself up into a ball in the motorhome’s sofa, hugging his knees to his chest. The red Ferrari hoodie hid almost all of his face. “He’s part of it. This car was built with his feedback and it’s shit.”
“Well, that’s why they brought you in, isn’t it? Imagine how he feels, from what I’ve seen he’s been gracious.”
“Seb, come on, man, you’re supposed to be on my side, let me bitch.”
“I am on your side. Which is why I’m telling you, focus on endearing yourself to the team. You’re very charming and good looking, it should be easy.”
That got a laugh out of Lewis. “You’re the most charming guy I know, so that means a lot coming from you.”
“See, like that, you’re a natural.”
“It’s tough, you know,” he sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to dislodge a piece of lyrics half-remembered. “These halls don’t know my name, these walls don’t sing my praises.” He wasn’t sure if that was how the song went, but it conveyed his mood well enough.
“Then teach them. You can fall into these recursive spirals, seeing doom in every corner, but there’s nothing there, it’s just pattern-seeking.” He turned to look right at Lewis through the screen, his nose was streaked with dirt and his grin was blinding. “Light some candles. That always makes you feel better.”
“Man, fuck you,” Lewis said, but his grin was as wide as Sebastian’s.
---
Lewis knew it was a bad idea to fly out with Toto and the rest of the Mercedes team, but he also knew he was going to say yes the moment the invitation was out of Toto’s lips. He missed being in familiar territory so much. He sprawled on the jet seat while George showed him a video on his phone, all the while Kimi talked excitedly about the same things Lewis had done a thousand times, and George about a hundred. His honking teenage laugh made Lewis nostalgic for the time of his life when he also thought that all his days would be spent in carefree banter with friends, all his troubles small and in the rearview mirrors, all his glories not yet hard won.
Toto kept watching him from across the aisle, smiling around a thumbnail. He looked like a father glad to have all his children together for Christmas after a long absence. The thought ping-ponged around Lewis’ mind, with all its many implications. Meteoric early success had insulated him from some ugly things. Some, but not all.
George’s smile was so open and genuine while he over-explained the video to Lewis, something he tended to do when he was excited, eager to make everyone else share in on it. Here was a guy who didn’t hold an iota of resentment, even over things he probably should. Lewis could be gracious, generous, but he wasn’t nice. And he wasn’t friends with teammates. The tightness around George’s eyes made him wonder if he could have used a friend. Lewis didn’t think he had left a sinking ship, but Toto’s wrath could be biblical.
He caught Toto’s gaze over George’s shoulder and held it. Lewis knew when he got up to go to the loo that Toto would follow after him. He knew also that no one would comment on it, or make any untoward assumptions. Everyone minded their business in the house of Mercedes.
The door closed behind Toto with a smooth whoosh, he grinned down at Lewis in anticipation, but was met with a level glare. “Why did you ask me to fly with you? What’s your real angle.”
Toto rolled his eyes, like Lewis was being dramatic. He’d done that often, sometimes tacking on a ‘you’re becoming hysterical’. Lewis had no idea why he had put up with it, except Toto did it with everyone. Nico had maybe gotten the worst of it.
“Can’t I just miss you? Must you make everything ugly?” He backed Lewis against the wall, his expression drawn.
Lewis used to feel a frisson of excitement whenever Toto pulled his height on him, but then he’d gotten a boyfriend even taller than him which made him realize that had been pretty much Toto’s only move.
It hadn’t impressed him since. “I don’t believe you, man. There’s always an angle with you.”
Toto’s permanent smirk slipped. He looked older than Lewis remembered, tired. “How can I have an angle, Lewis? What leverage do I have against you? You’re not my driver any more.”
“You never had any leverage, which is why you always became such a vicious prick when I didn’t let you have your way.”
“Let me?” Toto’s mouth was a thin line.
“Let you. You heard me.”
“You’re painting yourself in a very magnanimous light.” Toto’s right hand came up around Lewis’ bicep, ostensibly massaging it, feeling its thickness, but he was pinning him in place too. “I think there were a lot of things I had to take, because you never made it easy for me. And it hurts, Lewis, because everything I ever did was for you.”
Lewis let out a disbelieving breath. “Everything you did was for you.”
“For you! For this team.”
“Then why did you make sure to tell me I wasn’t good enough for it?”
“Maybe I didn’t expect you to believe it! Maybe I wanted you to prove me wrong.”
They were getting loud, Lewis wondered if their voices carried outside. The next words he whispered, craning his face up towards Toto’s ear, “You should have known that after 2021, I would expect only the worst from you.”
Toto’s expression darkened. “I did everything I could, Lewis.”
“Yeah, it really looked like it, when you were partying with the Red Bull team.”
“This is a funny conversation for the two of us to be rehashing when Max Verstappen is fucking you.”
There it was, Lewis had wondered why it was taking Toto so long to bring it up. “Max had nothing to do with it. The FIA wanted anyone besides me to win, they would have been happy with a plastic bag driving the other car, provided it was white. Max was just in the right place at the right time.” He took in a sharp breath, he hadn’t always felt that way. It had taken a lot of radical acceptance and meditation, actually. “So, no, I don’t blame Max. I feel sorry for him.”
Toto chuckled. “Does he know that?”
“Are you going to tell him? Go ahead, you’d be hurting him a lot more than me.” Lewis clicked his tongue. “Seems like a bad move for the guy who wants him on his team.”
“Are you jealous? Is that why?” Toto brought their faces closer, his breath tickled Lewis’ upper lip. He always did give himself far too much credit.
“It’s been happening since last season. Like everything else in my life it has nothing to do with you.”
“Last season?” Toto’s grip on Lewis’ upper arm tightened. “Did your boyfriend know about it? Is that why you broke up?”
Lewis had to laugh at that. “Do you want to tell him too? God, Toto, you’re pathetic.”
Toto’s eyes shuttered closed, he nuzzled Lewis’ neck and whispered into his skin, “Say that again.”
“You’re pathetic.” Lewis couldn’t help grinning around the words. So maybe Toto had two moves.
He expected the kiss, Toto’s bruising grip on him, and the violence of his lips sharpened by the teeth behind them, but he hadn’t expected his own answering longing. At the time, he’d had no idea that that ‘good luck’ kiss before the race in Abu Dhabi would be the last he and Toto would ever share. Toto’s urgency made Lewis wonder if he hadn’t either. His belief in a betrayal wavered, but then he remembered the years that followed and shoved Toto away with enough force to send him stumbling into the opposite wall.
“Do that again and next time it’s a punch,” Lewis said, his chest heaved as if he’d run a great distance.
Toto clutched the side of his face, as if he’d been slapped. Lewis would have done it in the past back when they were still fucking, but a slap between men was an invitation and Lewis didn’t want Toto to entertain any ideas.
He turned to leave, but Toto held him back by the elbow. “Lewis, come back, let’s put this stupid season behind us and start fresh next year. Just come home.”
Lewis shook his grip off and left the bathroom without a look back, letting the door slid shut behind him. As expected, everyone was busy doing their own thing, if they’d overheard anything they weren’t letting it on, and if they were wondering why Lewis and Toto had gone to the loo together they were keeping their opinions to themselves. A relief, after the Scuderia’s garage, where any random comment brought in a chorus of “Che cosa?” in every direction.
It wasn’t that he was surprised by Toto’s offer, it stood to reason that all the profit he was making Ferrari was money Mercedes was bleeding. And Toto had made the situation worse for himself, his lack of commitment to George didn’t exactly drive up merch sales, or convince any team fans to bet on his future. He had overhyped Kimi to the point of actively damaging his prospects. Looking at it cynically, Toto had created a problem he now expected Lewis to fix. And yet.
‘Come home’, was a powerful lure. Lewis didn’t know what Ferrai was, but it wasn’t home.
Toto came out of the bathroom some five minutes later, and took his seat across the aisle. He seemed unruffled, and didn’t send another look in Lewis’ direction for the remainder of the flight.
---
Lewis was resting in his motorhome after free practice when Charles knocked on the door with a breezy, “It’s Charles, can we talk?”
That sounded ominous, so Lewis let him in, smiling tightly to avoid showing his apprehension. Charles shot him a pleasant smile and walked past him to sit down on the sofa. “Carlos told me something interesting.”
That was extremely hard to believe, but Lewis humoured him with an, “Oh?”
“When did you break up with Miles?”
Lewis froze. “How would Carlos know about that?”
“He doesn’t, but he went up to Max with his suspicions about the two of you and he confirmed it,” Charles’ frowned. “I really like Miles, he’s a great guy. I think if the two of you had a fight you should try to fix things.”
There was probably a universe out there where this conversation made sense, but it wasn’t this one. Lewis chuckled, like he expected Charles to reveal he was just teasing him. “Charles, listen, I don’t know what Carlos told you, but it’s not...it’s just letting off steam. It’s not a distraction, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” another chuckle, a smile meant to be disarming, “well, I suppose I could be, about Max. We’re friends you know.”
“Alright, well, nothing to worry about so…”
Charles hummed and scratched his neck where his beard was coming in. “This is an uncomfortable conversation, isn’t it?”
“For sure, man,” Lewis said with a chuckle, almost relieved that Charles was acknowledging it himself.
“Right, so I’m going to stay out of your personal life, and I’m going to ask you to do the same.” He looked up at Lewis’ with a hard stare, his pleasant smile gone. “That thing you did at the fanstage, suggesting that me and Alex are going to get married soon? Never do that again.”
His vehemence surprised Lewis. Charles had never been anything but exceedingly polite and friendly with him. He felt like he was being allowed a glimpse under a carefully constructed veneer, it grabbed his interest immediately.
He crossed his arms and shot Charles a playful smirk. “Relax, man, it was a joke, I don’t think she’s expecting you to go down on one knee tomorrow.”
Charles got up from the sofa and walked towards Lewis, stepping a few scant centimeters away from him. Lewis had never noticed that Charles was taller than him, he tended to slouch. He was wondering if he did that on purpose, to make himself look smaller, harmless.
“She gets on my case enough as it is, so please don’t give her any ideas. I’m not marrying her, or anyone, until I retire.”
That remark felt pointed. Lewis sized up Charles, reconsidering his assessment of him. Perhaps there was more to him than someone who had lucked into a comfortable seat at a major team without anything but some great photoshoots to show for it. “Good for you, man.”
Charles grinned, he licked his lips with a little shake of the head. “Seb told me about your thing.”
“My thing?” The idea that Sebastian had talked about him to Charles made him feel a little seasick. Had they been close? He couldn’t recall. He just remembered Seb; he had barely any memories of Charles as his teammate. He tried to pay more attention to the rookies now, he knew most of them dreamed of meeting him, but back when he was fighting for championships every season he really couldn’t have been bothered.
“You don’t think anyone with kids and a wife can win championships.”
Lewis went still. “That’s just a random quote, man.”
“No it’s not, you really believe it.” He leaned in close, bringing his lips to Lewis’ ear to whisper, “but it can be our secret.”
Lewis took a step backwards, putting some distance between them. Charles was trying to lead him somewhere, and the only thing Lewis knew was that it was nowhere he cared to follow. “I believe it when it comes to my own life.”
“Please. Seb noticed, you know? He realized you only got close to him after 2013, when his first kid was born, the last time he ever won the championship. He had the confirmation with Nico, who nearly killed himself trying to prove you wrong, so much that he had to retire afterwards, right? Because he won the championship but you won the war. It’s a kind of weakness, a mediocrity that contaminates everything else, and in the end he knew it.”
Charles was grinning and his eyes were shining like this was fascinating information he’d picked up from a book and not Lewis’ life.
“I never, I--” Lewis searched for words, he felt the need to explain himself to Sebastian, who wasn’t even there. “I’ve always admired Sebastian.”
“Of course you did, for all his previous achievements. But it was easier to be his friend, and generous after his wins, when you knew he was never going to beat you again.”
The pleasant smile was back in place, but Lewis was seeing Charles in a whole new light. Actually, he was sure he was seeing him for the first time. Sebastian had never mentioned anything to him, he had never brought up anything about any of this.
“He never… Is that why?”
He couldn’t finish the sentence, he could only let it hang limply in the air, like everything he had ever wanted to tell Sebastian and had been too cowardly to. But he wondered now, about all those ‘almosts’, those moments that stretched heavy and laden with possibility between them but never seemed to go anywhere. All the nights that ended in ‘good night’, instead of ‘do you want to go upstairs?’ He assumed there had been a lack of opportunity, a lack of bravery on his side, but now he was forced to consider there might have been lack of interest too. Perhaps if he had been brave enough to bridge the distance the only thing Sebastian would have done was let him down easy.
“That you’ll have to ask him yourself,” Charles said, forcing Lewis to contend with the fact there might be a side of Sebastian that Charles was more familiar with than him.
Charles smiled again and squeezed Lewis’ shoulder in what passed for ‘goodbye’ as he walked past him, but he stopped himself at the door. “Just out of curiosity, how soon after you learned that his girlfriend was pregnant did you start sleeping with Max?”
“I reckon you were about to leave.”
Charles showed his palms in surrender. “You don’t need to worry about me bringing it up to him.” He gave Lewis a meaningful look. “But I think you should stop writing me off. I’m not going anywhere.”
Lewis nodded. “No more wedding jokes, got it.” He smiled tightly. “Does Alex know, though? That you think marrying her is career suicide.”
“I keep your secrets and you keep mine.” His smile was almost blinding. He was having a lot of fun, and the part of Lewis that knew it was at his expense bristled at it, but there was something else, Charles was genuinely glad to drop all pretenses. “Cheer up, Lewis, I think we’re going to be really good for each other.”
---
Lewis knew he had to break things off with Max as soon as possible. First Toto and now Charles, sooner or later it was all going to blow up in his face. Max further convinced him of the urgency of this, by showing up not long after Charles had left, apparently unaffected that ‘some people had found out’. He was being too affectionate, which Lewis didn’t like at the best of times but especially not when he was feeling this on edge.
It was Toto who had advised him to always seek out men with families, because they had something to lose, and would be less inclined to give him trouble when he wanted to get rid of them. They had gotten into a huge row when Lewis first brought Miles around the Mercedes garage in 2022. Toto called him reckless, accused him of being too obvious, but half of it must have been that he understood then that it was truly over between them.
But with all the upheaval of last season, Lewis had fallen back into familiar habits. Except Max wasn’t following the script, he kissed like he wanted to take up space.
Lewis needed to end it, but he could let him down easy. He was going to show Max a good time before telling him they had to stop seeing each other. They were going into the two week break before the last two races of the first half of the season, and then there was the three week summer break. Lewis didn’t have plans for the off-season but he wanted to tie up all loose ends. Perhaps his luck would change and the car would finally answer back, perhaps Toto would come up with something more concrete than an indecent proposal in a private jet’s bathroom.
Either way, he didn’t have room for Max, and it was for the best if he told him that sooner rather than later.
“Hey, you want to go back home with me, after the weekend? You could stay over.” An apology of sorts, for sending him on his way so unceremoniously the last time.
“Yeah, I could do that,” Max said, he was trying to keep it cool, but Lewis could see the tops of his ears had gone red when he turned his head.
Before any of them could say anything else, Lewis got a call from Sebastian, an answer to his last text, he hoped, which had been a very pathetic: “I miss you. When do you think we can hang out?”
Lewis got up to answer his mobile some ways away from Max. “Hey,” Sebastian said, his voice sounded soft. “You know I always have time for you. Are you free in the next couple of weeks?”
“No plans,” Lewis said, hoping Max hadn’t noticed how he had just said the opposite to him or how giddy he sounded. “Are you coming down? I could go to you, inspect the Alps to make sure they haven’t moved them.”
“I’ll let you know, but maybe I could go to Monaco for once. Get a tan.”
“You know you can’t tan, mate.”
“Don’t say that. Maybe this is my year.”
“Sure.”
“Whatever, if I get a sunburn you’ll rub aloe on it. You’re nice like that.”
“To you.” Lewis cast a look behind his shoulder but Max was already gone.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Sebastian said, determined to ignore how Lewis always gave him special treatment. Well, Lewis reckoned he knew why now.
Speaking of, “Charles sends his regards.”
“Is he there? Let me say hi.”
“He just left.” Lewis wanted to test out a theory. “I didn’t know the two of you were so close.”
“We were teammates.”
“Come on, Seb, he was no Kimi.”
“What do you want me to say?” He chuckled, Lewis could almost picture him running a hand through his hair, smiling bashfully. “You know I like a pretty face.”
Lewis hummed, already regretting having brought it up. “Ok, then, I guess I’ll be seeing you. Let me know which day you’re coming down.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Come on, Lewis, don’t be like that. No need to be jealous, you’re the prettiest, you don’t need me to tell you that.”
“Pretty is a small word, man, I’m gorgeous,” he said, relieved when Sebastian laughed.
“Of course, my mistake.”
They stayed on the line for a few more minutes and then Seb said he had to get going, but not before adding, “I’m glad you and Charles are getting along.”
“Sure, he’s more shrewd than I gave him credit for.”
“Alright, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I really need to run, keep an eye on Charles for me. Love you.”
“I’ll keep two. Love you more.” He meant it, now he just had to learn to live with it. No one had everything, not even him.
---
Lewis kept going over the script of how he was going to tell Max they had to stop seeing each other. He couldn’t tell him over dinner, as that obviously defeated the purpose of inviting him over, especially when Max was cooking for them. Cooking was perhaps an exaggeration, he was making a honey, tofu and walnut salad. “The honey is organic,” Max said, showing the label to Lewis’ who nodded encouragingly while privately wondering if there was even another kind for sale in Monaco.
The salad was good though. “You know that’s really not bad, I wouldn’t mind eating it more often.”
“Yeah? Maybe I can come over and make it for you.”
Lewis steered them away from dangerous waters with another forkful of lettuce and a pleased hum. “It’s so good I think you should make it at home, too.”
If Max noticed the dismissal he didn’t let it show, but Lewis thought his smile had dimmed. He felt like a bastard for about five minutes before switching gears to being cross with Max instead for reading too much into an affair between colleagues. Even if casual weren’t just what Lewis wanted, it wasn’t as if they could have anything else.
Lewis put the dishes away in the dishwasher and took Max by the hand towards his bedroom.
“I thought we were going to fuck in the kitchen,” Max said, “closer to the door.”
“I invited you to sleep over, didn’t I?” Lewis asked, sighing.
In the bedroom, Max pushed him down on his back onto the bed and climbed on top of him with a scowl. “Don’t act like you haven’t changed your mind before.” He ran both hands beneath Lewis’ t-shirt, feeling the muscles of his abdomen and chest twitch and jump at his soft touch, before pushing it all the way off of Lewis head, but leaving it trapped behind his neck, restricting the movement of his arms. “I’m not the brat here,” he added, with a squeeze to Lewis’ nipple.
Lewis’ cock strained inside his boxers. Max looked good when he was angry, it was as if it allowed his less than harmonious features to finally settle into a configuration that suited them. It wasn’t going to last though, Max’s anger outside the track was fleeting. In a way, Lewis got the impression he was relieved when the race was over, and that he could be done proving the Jos who lived inside his head either wrong or right.
It was incomprehensible to Lewis, who never felt as much himself as he did when he was racing. It was all the other times he struggled with, which demanded constant reinvention and movement, lest the horror of standing still paralyze him.
Max kissed him while pulling his joggers down his legs, and his boxers with them. His grip around Lewis’ cock was loose, perfunctory. He stopped kissing to look down Lewis’ abdomen, their chests pressed together. He was still wearing all his clothes.
“You know, we could do it the other way around too.”
Lewis struggled to keep his expression neutral. This was not the first time Max had brought up the matter, and like last time Lewis had to come up with a reason that wasn’t “you aren’t one of the three people I’d actually get off on fucking.” Instead he spread his legs invitingly and curled an ankle around Max’s calf, toppling him over so that he had to brace himself on his forearm above Lewis’ head. “I thought I was a brat? You want to reward me for misbehaving?” His expression turned thoughtful. “Or am I supposed to interpret it as a punishment? What’s the script, Max Emilian?”
Max sighed. “There’s no script, you’re impossible.” He kissed Lewis with a frown, his eyebrows drawn. Lewis smirked into it, pleased at having succeeded in keeping Max Mad, and his head in the game.
“Never call me that again,” Max, said, unbuttoning his jeans one-handed.
“Emilian? You don’t appreciate your dad’s creativity? Harsh.”
“Stop it.” His cheeks were blotchy red.
It was almost impossible for Lewis to resist teasing him, but he held back, it should be a special night. All things considered.
“Get this t-shirt all the way off me, I want to touch you too.”
Max’s frown smoothed out into a shy little smile. Lewis pulled him down into another kiss as soon as he had full use of his arms, reluctantly charmed despite himself.
---
The problem, Lewis reflected, while Max thrust inside him at an angle that had him seeing stars, was that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a lover this tireless about making him lose his mind. Whatever else was going through his own head, Max always fucked Lewis with the abandon of someone who was finally allowed a full meal after years of starvation.
Lewis was no stranger to being desired, but the men who fucked him often got off on what fucking him said about them. He could always tell when their gaze turned away from him and inwards, when it stopped flattering him and started flattering them. He didn’t mind it, but he appreciated how Max completely dissolved. He fucked Lewis like he hoped there would be nothing of him left afterwards.
It made Lewis greedy, it made him run his mouth too. He clung to Max’s shoulders and begged for more, constantly and shamelessly, because he welcomed adoration, and was generous enough to reward it.
It was easy to get used to good sex and good company, and Max was both. Even with the crying, even when he turned maudlin and clingy, and despite always always, coming inside even when Lewis told him to do it outside because he wasn’t in the mood for the clean up and just wanted to go to bed afterwards.
“It’s like you’re a kid,” Lewis said, pushing Max’s hips away, wincing when he pulled out and cum trickled out after his cock. “Every time, man, come on? No wonder you had a kid at what, twenty-six?”
Max shrugged, rubbing his stubble with a thumbnail. “You’re too hot, I can’t pull out fast enough.”
Lewis reached over for the wet wipes and started wiping down his stomach and chest where his own cum had landed. “No, there’s no point, I won’t be able to fall asleep feeling this gross.” He threw the packet of wipes at Max and got up from the bed. “I’m going to shower, grab me a bottle of water from the kitchen.”
Lewis was already out of the shower and relaxing in bed by the time Max got back, he wanted to ask him about taking the scenic tour but refrained. Seb had texted him about his plans. He was taking a train into Italy and then Monaco. Lewis both appreciated Seb’s commitment to the environment, and was jealous that he couldn’t give up his own comfort to that extent. Mostly he was pissed that it meant that Seb would take longer to reach him.
As usual, Max was clingy, he wanted to hug and make out, teenager-like, sticky with sweat, but Lewis humoured him because it was the last time they would be doing any of it.
They talked about nothing at all, Ferrari and Seb and how it was the kind of chaos one had to see to believe, so there was no point in talking it out with Max despite his offer to lend an ear.
“Toto keeps calling me,” Max said, suddenly.
Lewis stopped typing. He hadn’t heard from Toto since the flight, so he guessed there really hadn’t been anything to his offer, beyond, what, nostalgia? Realistically, could he ever have accepted it? After a single season? “Just kidding, worst experience of my life, let’s ignore that happened.”
He didn’t tell Max any of that, instead he told him the decision was up to him, all the while thinking to himself that the pit crew was going to pour sugar in his fuel tank, and he would never have hot tyres a day in his life. But perhaps he was being too sentimental, Mercedes had bled people since 2021. Toto wasn’t miserly just with his drivers, and the things people put up with to belong to a winning team weren’t the same they were willing to endure in a losing one. Perhaps there was no home for him to return to at all.
Max wanted advice, but Lewis couldn’t tell him the truth which was that there was nothing for him in Mercedes. That if he went there, he would be chasing him but Lewis was no longer there. And he had taken all of his achievements with him, they didn’t stay behind. And what Max most wanted from him, which was an admission of rivalry, proof of challenge, Lewis would never give him.
There were three names under the rivalry field of his wikipedia page: Fernando Alonso, Nico Rosberg, and Sebastian Vettel. There might one day be a fourth entry, but it would never read ‘Max Verstappen’. The thing about rivalries is that they had to be mutual.
Lewis didn’t blame Max for Abu Dhabi 2021, and perhaps truly never had, but that didn’t stop him from taking his revenge, and continuing to take it, even while he played with Max’s sweaty hair. Firm principles had to account for something, and all his rivals were people he respected. Whether a pawn or not, Max had been used. That left a stain.
He let Max kiss him with far too much spit, and wished things could have been different. In another life, perhaps, in a parallel universe two degrees to the left.
---
When Lewis woke up he was alone in bed. Max’s side had long gone cold. In the end they’d gone for round two instead of breaking up, with Max none the wiser that that had been in the cards at all. Lewis put on some clean underwear and padded barefoot to the kitchen, wondering if he was getting sentimental. He got a text from Miles with a photo of the two of them together captioned “I miss us”, to which he heart reacted, for lack of something to say. He supposed he missed them too, but he was going to be hanging out with Seb so he didn’t have time to think about all that.
His doorbell chimed, he thought Max might have forgotten something and opened the door without looking through the peephole, only to come face to face with Nico, who was carrying a bakery box and a tiny yappy dog by the lead. He barreled through a stupefied Lewis and walked into the apartment.
“I found Max in the elevator,” he said, by way of greeting, making his way to the kitchen. He set out the bakery box in the island and started looking for plates. He’d gotten croissants and a raspberry danish. “It’s all vegan,” he said in answer to the question Lewis wasn’t asking. “Can you make us some coffee, I am getting everything else ready, it’s the least you could do.”
Lewis got the coffee machine going, he waited a second before pouring in the beans for it to grind. It had been at least a year since the last time Nico had come by to his apartment, even longer, since Lewis had gone upstairs. Seeing him taking control of his kitchen wasn’t entirely surreal but it was a little unexpected.
“I hope you know you have to break up with him,” Nico said, cutting the croissants in halves. “That has disaster written all over it.”
“Good morning, Nico,” Lewis said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Nico’s dog was sniffing his ankles, he bent down to pet him. “How come you got one of these little gay dogs too? They’re everywhere now.” He was thinking of Charles and Leo, who he took everywhere and lavished more attention on than on his girlfriend. “Is it some kind of compensation for closeted men? Look, I’m still gay on my dog’s side. Ignore the wife.”
Nico shot him a withering glare but accepted the cup of coffee Lewis offered him. “You’re closeted.”
“Not in any way that matters.”
“Believe it or not, some people can just choose. They’re calling it being bisexual,” Nico said blowing a breath over the cup’s rim.
“And they choose the path of least resistance,” Lewis said, taking a seat across from Nico. “Let’s start giving out awards.”
Nico shot him a tight-lipped grin. “Someone has to think of the commitment averse gay men. Where would you be without bisexual men in heterosexual marriages, Lewis?”
“Oof, good point,” he made a face, “I’d have to beat them back with a stick. Good God, no, you’re right.”
“About most things.”
There was no point in arguing with him. For a while they ate in silence, it was companionable. The great injustice of what had happened between him and Nico was of course that they still felt entirely at ease with each other, even if they no longer had anything to say, or any relationship to speak of. Decades of intimacy couldn’t be erased, a childhood best friend was someone you never truly outgrew. A first love would always be the measure of all that followed it.
“Listen, I didn’t just come over to give my opinion on your private life,” Nico said, tearing chunks off the croissant and making a mess that Lewis would have to clean up. “We’re moving out.”
“Of Monaco?”
“Of the building. Actually, we’re not going far.”
“Yeah, it’s a microstate, impossible to go far, Nico.”
“You know what I mean, maybe we can see each other from the balcony and wave,” he said, laughing at his own joke. “So I guess, one of these days I’ll drop by and give you back your spare key, and take back mine.”
“I can give it back now,” Lewis said, half wondering why saying that made him feel funny.
“No, hold on to it, it’s still a couple of months away.”
It was going to be weird, not living in the same building as Nico. They’d been neighbours for nearly half of their lives, and friends, well, either for longer or less than that depending on which direction one was looking at it from. Cycles, man. They always hit you in the chin when they came to a close.
He wanted to say something, but just then his mobile vibrated and he cut his eyes across to it, just in time to see the beginning of one of Seb’s texts: “So sorry…” He scrambled for the phone to read the rest of it. Basically, one of Sebastian’s daughters had taken a bad fall from one of their garden trees and broke her leg, she was fine in the hospital now and would be cleared to go back home, but he couldn’t in good conscience go visit him and leave Hannah alone with their two daughters when one needed extra care. Half of that Lewis got from the transcripts of three voice messages he would listen to after Nico left.
“Sebastian?” Nico asked, raising an eyebrow. “Still trying to climb that tree?”
Lewis couldn’t help letting out a nervous chuckle. “Don’t even joke about trees, man, also he’s pretty average height, not much taller than us.”
“I’m taller than you.”
“Sure.”
“Bad news?”
“Yeah, uhm, he was supposed to come over and hang out for a few days. Something came up.” He wished he’d lied as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
“Ah, well, I’m sure you can reschedule.”
“Fuck me, Nico, it’s not like I have 24 races all over the world, plus a million other commitments.”
Nico sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Lewis, come on, you know it’s not fair to expect people to make you their priority when you won’t do the same.”
“That’s fucking...don’t even start, Nico.”
“I’m not starting anything, but you have that look on your face! I’ve seen it a million times, like you can’t believe you thought it could have been any different. And it’s so shitty, Sebastian doesn’t know how lucky he is that he isn’t here to see it.”
“I’m not even saying anything! Don’t I have a right to be disappointed?” He grabbed their empty cups and got up from the island bar. “You’re projecting,” he told Nico, while loading the dishwasher.
“I’m not!” He got up from his stool with a sigh and leaned against the counter. “But you do this, you take things to heart. Do you think he would have gone to the trouble of making plans with you if he didn’t want to go through with them?”
“I’m not saying that, who is saying that? His kid broke a leg.”
Nico gaped at him. “Then why are you mad? You are so insensitive.”
Calling him insensitive was rich coming from the man who’d spent the night of his first daughter’s birth fucking him, and crying, worried he was making a huge mistake and wasn’t ready to be a father.
“Does Viv know you were dropping by, or did you forget to mention, for fear it might bring back some specific memories?” He grinned when Nico’s expression turned ugly. “Insensitive? I never made you do anything.”
“This is just like you, I make a harmless comment and you bring out the nuclear arsenal.” He made his way to the door, looking behind his shoulder to make sure Lewis was following, which he was.
“And it’s just like you, to step up to the court and then not handle the heat.”
Nico opened the door with a wrench, stepped into his loafers and crossed the doorway, but turned to face Lewis again. “Those American idioms you keep using are very annoying, no one likes them, you’re British.”
“Stop changing the subject,” Lewis said, leaning against the doorframe. “Just admit that you love judging other people but don’t like having the same scrutiny turned on you.”
“Me and everyone else on the planet!” He lowered his voice and hissed out,” we shouldn’t have this conversation out in the hallway, this is why the neighbours never liked us.”
Lewis leaned closer to Nico, whispering with a smirk, “I thought it was because we used to fuck loud as hell whenever your parents, and later, Viv were away.”
Nico met his gaze and held it for a moment. Lewis was remembering too, a lot could be said with a look, decades could fit inside a blink. Lewis wished that revisiting memories were like drinking spring water from cupped palms instead of chipping away at rock with a chisel; but the past was a solid thing and it crumbled in chunks.
“Be seeing you, Nico. Good luck with the move.”
Nico nodded, smiling faintly. “Good luck with Ferrari. I hope you get it.” No point in specifying what, Lewis returned the smile, and was about to close the door when Nico struck his arm through the gap.
“Wait, the dog,” he made kissy noises and called, “Lulu, içí, vien à papa.”
The sound of tiny nails on tile echoed through the apartment before the dog came along, dragging his lead behind him. Nico picked him up and kissed the top of his head, in a move extremely reminiscent of Charles and Leo.
“It’s just a name, don’t read into it.”
Lewis scratched the dog’s chin. “Wasn’t going to. Send Viv and the girls my love.”
Nico blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, I can’t, can I? She doesn’t know I was here.”
They shared a laugh, and just before he shut the door, Lewis wondered if maybe they were the two stupidest men on earth, and wasting about a dozen’s people time, but the thought was gone before it could take root.
---
The problem was that now Lewis had a lot of free time suddenly open and nothing to fill it with. He spent his morning meditating, stretching, watering the few plants he had around, listening to his playlists while he ran on the treadmill and promptly realizing that he needed to diversify his activities over the next two weeks or he’d go crazy.
When he walked up to the fridge to grab himself some lunch he found a note stuck to the door with a magnet from one of the many places he got delivery from. “Have to run to relieve Kelly of babysitting duties. Didn’t want to wake you, you looked cute. Let’s hang out during this break and the next.” At the bottom of the note Max had drawn a weird heart, looked almost like a triangle. Lewis spent a long time looking at the note and wondering why he felt seasick. He probably hadn’t drunk enough water.
He heated a bowl of soup and ate on the sofa while listening to Seb’s audios instead of just reading the transcripts. There were a lot of pauses and sighs, he sounded disappointed too. Lewis thought about calling him, but in the end he just sent him an audio saying that he understood and that he hoped his daughter made a quick recovery. He didn’t mention rescheduling.
The day passed sluggishly, Max texted him, clearly baiting him into conversation. Lewis ignored him. Spinz and a few other friends wanted him to come out to LA, he couldn’t be arsed and told them that, but he didn’t want them around either. Miles sent pictures of the two of them in Japan. Lewis heart reacted to all of them and then sent only a “Miss u too ❤️” but he didn’t know how honest he was being.
He was getting ready for bed when he got a call from Toto. He was curious enough to answer him right away instead of making him call a second or third time.
“I hear you’ve been calling Max.”
“And now I’m calling you. What do you think about coming with us on the yacht down to Sardinia?”
“Who is us?”
“Me, Susie, George and Kimi.”
He was about to say no, but then it struck him that it was the perfect solution to the weeks of boredom that stretched out in front of him, and he’d have to do nothing but come along. “Alright, when are we leaving?”
“Tomorrow at ten in the marina, you remember where we’re parked, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good, pack light. We’re staying on the boat. See you tomorrow.”
---
Lewis had no idea what had possessed him to take Max’s note with him, he was sitting on the deck talking with George and thinking about the note stashed inside the beach bag in his bedroom below deck.
“Sorry, can you repeat that again?” Lewis’ asked, gesturing vaguely towards the waves as source of noise, even though the sea was calm.
“I was just wondering how you’re finding, the SF-25? I know it’s been giving you trouble.”
“My issue is that I’m not finding it at all.” He rubbed his chin. “You know, Toto said something a few weeks back, about how I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, because I’ve always driven a Mercedes engine…”
George interrupted him with a scoff, “but Toto would say that, wouldn’t he?”
“Sure, he likes getting into our heads, but he’s not lying. It’s got me wondering...”
“You know that’s his goal.”
And of course George would say that. He wouldn’t want Lewis back any more than he would want Max in. Even if Toto demoted Kimi, which would be a bad gamble, George’s life was easier with a rookie teammate. That was just racing, that was just doing business. Lewis didn’t blame him for it, he’d made the same call many times.
“I’d give my left bollock to have Bono back,” he admitted with a sigh.
George chuckled. “Maybe if you auctioned it off you could pay for the absurd raise Toto gave him to keep him on the team.”
That was new information, but not surprising. “I thought he might do something like that, that fucking…”
George turned to him, crossing his ankle over the knee, as he always did when he was in the mood to gossip. “You know he has been bragging, that you keep visiting our garage.”
“Toto?”
George nodded. “He was saying ‘Lewis knows he made a mistake. He knows now how good he had it here.’”
A kind of bubbling anger started to climb up Lewis’ throat. “He’s unbelievable, just fucking unbelievable. You should stop fucking him.”
George who had been nodding along froze, his eyes wide as saucers. “I’m, uhm…”
“Don’t even try to deny it. I’m just saying, he’s taking you for granted.”
Of course he didn’t tell George that he would continue doing that regardless.
They sat in silence for a few moments, and then George took off his sunglasses, and Lewis was surprised to find his eyes rimmed with red. “I think I love him.”
“George, you can’t mean that. No way, mate, no way.”
“No it’s the truth, and it’s awful because we haven’t even been fucking. That’s the worst part, you’re giving me advice that Toto has been following for a while.”
Lewis didn’t have anything to say, just then Kimi climbed up from below, and waved at them on his way up to the upper deck where Toto and Susie were sitting. Lewis turned to look at George and found him already looking in his direction. He knew they were sharing the same thought.
---
Toto was giving Lewis a wide berth, in fact, it was almost as if he was avoiding him. They’d been in Sardinia for two days and barely exchanged two words, it was an obvious play, but Lewis was getting anxious to know what Toto’s next move was going to be.
In the meantime, Max kept texting him, wondering where he was and when they could hang out. Lewis’ fingers hovered over the text composer but the right words didn’t come to him.
It was Toto who finally approached him. He cornered Lewis while he was going down into his bedroom to shower after a day spent swimming, tanning, and doing very little else. Kimi had kept him company for most of the time, talking about everything that came to his mind at length while needing very little prompting. Lewis was relieved that sleeping with Toto didn’t seem to be traumatizing him, but then neither he nor George could agree on whether it had actually happened yet.
“I have a problem, Lewis.”
Lewis wasn’t in a mood to listen, but he could make a few educated guesses. The team wasn’t bringing in new money for investors since he had left. Toto’s broadly broadcast lack of confidence in George and Kimi wasn’t endearing them to team fans, who didn’t know what to expect. Toto owned 33% of the team but the other investors were getting on his case, wondering perhaps, if someone else shouldn’t be Team Principal. Maybe someone who hadn’t alienated the most successful formula one driver in history, and was trying to do the same to the team’s current homegrown loyal drivers. The list could be hypothetically infinite.
“So do I, and I think you can help me with it,” Lewis said, interrupting Toto before he could continue. “I need you to call Max and tell him I want to see him.”
Toto stared at him in disbelief for a second before his usual smirk slipped back in place. “Surely you can do that yourself.”
“If I do it he’s going to want to talk. It needs to be you, because he’ll ignore you and just show up.”
“I’m not a carrier pigeon, Lewis.”
“I’m gifting you a golden opportunity to discuss your contract proposal with Max face-to-face.” He shot Toto his best innocent grin.
Toto of course was familiar with all of them. “If I do this, I expect you to hear what I have to say.”
“You’re the one who’s been avoiding me, man.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve been giving you space!”
“Thank you, I appreciate it. Now please call Max.”
---
Max arrived far sooner than Lewis expected on account of also being in Sardinia, because on top of them all living in the same city-state they also all vacationed in the same spot.
Lewis had a speech planned, he brought up Miles, he had even prepd ahead for the eventuality of emotional goodbye sex, or better yet, angry goodbye sex. Max didn’t hear any of it, he was more concerned with Toto’s odd behaviour which Lewis glossed over, without bringing up how rich that was, coming from the guy who’d had Christian Horner as TP and had Helmut Marko as permanent garage spectre.
In the end the only thing that mattered was that when Lewis said he had no interest in open relationships Max answered with:
“Who said anything about that. I love cheating, and so do you.”
Those words brought with them such a surge of relief that Lewis almost got light-headed. He didn’t know if Max really meant it, or if the cold-shoulder had made him rethink his approach, but Lewis was grateful anyway. Since Max had been the one to bring it up, it meant Lewis could continue enjoying pretty spectacular sex without giving anything back and Max couldn’t complain. The ideal arrangement. Nico was right, where would he be without bisexual men in heterosexual relationships? Probably trying to come up with new and innovative ways to say “it’s not you, it’s me” to more guys than Miles.
The sex that followed was outstanding, and Lewis was in such a good mood he almost considered riding Max to show his appreciation. But he thought better of it and decided to save that move for when he needed to make peace after some future fight or another. Instead he opted not to complain when Max came inside without warning again, both times.
Max wanted him to join him on the shower, but Lewis was feeling drowsy. He stayed in bed dozing, but was vaguely aware of Max kissing him goodbye and telling him to start answering his texts.
Some time passed, night had already fallen outside the bedroom’s round windows when he felt the bed dip and a heavy hand land on his bare hip.
“Someone had fun.”
He cracked one eye open and found Toto staring down at him, that permanent shark’s grin distorting his lined face.
“Should I have asked for permission?”
Toto ignored him, his gaze traveled over Lewis’ body, as appreciative as it was appreciating, like that of someone who disliked having his belongings mishandled.
“Max didn’t seem inclined to discuss contract terms.”
Lewis clicked his tongue, hugging the pillow to his face with a sigh. “Too bad you couldn’t seal the deal. I can’t say the same.”
“You promised you’d hear me out if I called Max over.”
“If you recall that conversation you’ll realize I did no such thing.”
Toto’s fingers trailed up to the swell of Lewis’ ass. “Did you discourage him?”
At that Lewis had to laugh. “I didn’t need to. He thinks you’re a creep who wants to fuck his drivers.” He smirked up at Toto, whose hand was still resting on his ass. “Speaking of which, are you fucking Kimi, yet? Me and George couldn’t come to an agreement.”
“Is it George’s turn to be jealous, now? Like you were of him?”
Lewis scoffed. “You take yourself far too seriously, my god. Toto, fucking you was just a way to pass the time between fp1 and fp3, I thought you’d have realized it by now.”
Toto’s grip grew meaner. Lewis considered reminding him he hadn’t allowed him to touch, but he was enjoying needling him far too much.
“That’s not what it seemed like, when you came to me over every little cruelty Nico threw at you.”
“You’re right, back then I was fucking you to pass the time between fights with Nico instead of free practice.”
Toto’s fingers dipped between his cheeks, where he was still wet and open. “It meant more than that, for me.”
“I’m sure.” He shifted to dislodge Toto’s hand, but Toto gripped his thigh instead and lifted himself over him. “Let go of me.”
“Make me,” he said, pushing Lewis down onto the mattress by his upper arms. Lewis could feel his hard cock through his board shorts. “Put up some fight, like you used to.”
Lewis tried to buck him off, but he couldn’t get enough room to get his legs under him, Toto was much taller and heavier than him. They’d been in this position before, Lewis needed either to find an angle to punch or kick him. On his front with Toto pinning him down the fight was lost before it even started. Which was the only way Toto had ever won anything.
There was something he’d overheard at a party in Brazil that had brought about scandalized giggling. When he asked for a translation a guy told him, his eyes shinning with a mix of substances, and his grip firm on the back of Lewis’ neck, “If the rape is inevitable, just lay back and enjoy it.”
Why should he give Toto the satisfaction of a fight? He went still, he didn’t move as Toto got his cock out of his bathing shorts. He was still sensitive, but so wet and relaxed that he barely felt the drag of Toto’s cock carving its way into him.
“I guess you got all the fight fucked out of you already,” Toto said, driving his hips down into Lewis with a groan.
“I can just tell this means a lot to you,” Lewis said, turning his face into the pillow with a sigh. “So go ahead, enjoy.”
Toto let out a string of Austrian curses, his grip on Lewis’ arms was the most uncomfortable thing about the whole thing. Lewis’ raised his hips a fraction and slid a knee up the bed to get a better angle. He was determined to get an orgasm out of Toto’s power trip at least.
“You always do this, you always pretend you’re above everything.”
“I’m not pretending,” Lewis said, biting back a gasp when Toto’s next thrust got him where he wanted it. Toto was always better in bed when he was angry, when he wasn’t trying to be anything but what he was: a petty, selfish man who needed to get his way.
“I should have gotten at you when you were fourteen, maybe I could have taught you not to talk back.”
Lewis chuckled, open mouthed. “Yeah? How old would you have been, 27? 28? So about done pretending you were ever going to be a driver, right?” His words left spit trails on the pillow, he wanted to get a hand around his cock, but he still couldn’t move.
Toto solved that problem by hauling him up by the biceps into his lap. He banded one arm around Lewis’ waist and bounced him on his cock effortlessly. The humiliation was delicious, for a split-second, Lewis did feel fourteen.
Who had gotten to him at fourteen? Just one year after signing with McLaren. Ron, for sure, Marc almost definitely, Fred, of all people. Cycles man. In the end he supposed they all ended up in bed with the same men who’d patted their heads and told them ‘You’ll go far, kid’, one way or the other. “I’ll figure it out.”, “Don’t worry about it, just race.”, “That’s not up to you, right now.” And at the time he’d felt glad someone was always telling him where to go and what to do.
That was all he’d ever known. Someone always knew better. I’m braking as late as I can, dad. Dad, that’s too close, I can’t do that. I’m going to crash, dad. Dad, I can’t do it anymore. Dad I need to sleep. Dad, no, really, I can’t brake any later. Dad, I’m going to hurt myself. Daddy, don’t you care? Daddy it’s scary, I’m going really fast.
But he could brake later, and he didn’t crash, and when he crashed he survived, and he wanted to ride motocross bikes but where was the glory in that? He had a contract with a Formula One team at thirteen, what other thirteen-year-old kid could say that? Anyone could ride a motocross bike, only twenty people in the world at a time could drive a Formula One car. He was going to be one of them, he was one them, he was the best of them, he was the best there ever was.
Now could he say what he thought? Could he do what he wanted? Could he wear what he wanted? Could he fuck who he wanted? Surely now, someone would let him. Hadn’t he earned it?
Toto wrapped his other hand around his neck and turned his face sideways to kiss him. Lewis closed his eyes and kissed him back. At least it felt good, so many things hurt, but this felt good; the hand Toto wrapped around Lewis’ dripping cock felt good, the cock thrusting inside of him felt good. Toto kept bouncing him on his cock, rocking up into him like a boat on the waves. Lewis kept his eyes closed and drifted on the feeling, his orgasm crashed into him like the high tide on the shore, but he came with a sigh. Toto praised the tightness of his squeezing hole and pushed him off his cock, he came with a shout all over Lewis’ back, shooting up his tattoos like champagne spray.
Lewis made a face into the sheets. Maybe he would have preferred it if he’d come inside.
Toto dropped at his side on the bed, his chest heaving, even in the gloom Lewis could tell he was smiling.
“Do you want to come back? You know your place is in Mercedes.” He reached out across the bed, palm up to take Lewis’ hand.
Lewis used his hand as leverage to get himself up and off the bed. “I want a shower.” He ran a hand through his loose braids. “And tomorrow I want to go back to Monaco.”
“And after that?”
“I don’t know. But right now I want you to leave.”
He walked into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind him. He took a long time in the shower. When he came out someone had been by to change the sheets and Toto was nowhere to be found. He picked his mobile out of the mess on the sidetable and got into bed.
There was a voice message from Sebastian. “I was thinking, maybe you should come up here, instead, like you mentioned.” Suddenly the idea of going to Switzerland to stay at Sebastian’s house with his family disgusted him.
He sent out only a short text. “That’s okay, there’s always next time.”
Max had texted him, he wanted Lewis to go out to his own yacht and stay over. That was a better idea. Lewis could get a real kick out of getting fucked in Kelly Piquet’s bedroom. With any luck she’d catch them at it, and tell her dad, and the Brazilian courts would order him to pay Lewis some few more millions for the racist and homophobic tirades he would no doubt get into on whatever podcast would have him. Suddenly he couldn’t wait.
Maybe he could postpone his return to Monaco for another day. And once he was back in Monaco, he supposed he could take Charles up on that invitation. He wasn’t friends with teammates, but maybe it was worth letting him believe otherwise.
Just before he fell asleep, he texted George a contact information. “That’s Marc Hynes’ number, reach out to him, tell him I sent you, he’ll help you out with the contract negotiations with Toto.”
He set his mobile aside and pulled the sheet up over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and fell asleep between a blink and the next. In the morning he wouldn’t remember it, but like most nights, he dreamt of racing karts in Italy and a whole lifetime of glories still ahead of him, the kind that made all the pain worth it. In the morning he would wake up smiling and not know why.