Chapter Text
In hindsight he shouldn’t have agreed to it. It seemed like such a minor thing, “no skydiving”, alright, fine, whatever, they were giving him everything else. The Ferrari contract was close to a blank cheque, he couldn’t risk being branded ‘difficult’ over leisure activities. He still got the motocross, at least, if only because they hadn’t mentioned that and neither had he, so, a loophole. The “no skydiving” was in writing though.
He should have taken into consideration that there was fuck all to do in Monaco, and that he’d lose his mind trying to keep busy without a release valve. It wasn’t like he could ride his bike on the barren Monaco hills, either, so the only activities he had available were the home gym, and swimming with a choice of the building’s pool or the ocean, and he needed something more high intensity than that.
Crucially, he didn’t want to admit that he needed something strong to stave off the nerves of starting a season in a completely new team after 12 years at Mercedes. So he didn’t admit it, but the thought poked at him from time to time, disrupting his meals, and his meditation, his training, his business commitments. It was Miles who told him, “You’re fidgety as hell, there’s no living with you when you’re like this,” before getting up and getting dressed after Lewis had spaced out while Miles had been actively trying to eat him out.
The worst of it was that Lewis knew sex was a great distraction, the problem was that he and Miles had fallen into what he called the ‘boyfriend-zone’ which meant they had settled into a comfortable routine, which he appreciated, and didn’t want to disrupt with requests for the kind of sex that could really shut his mind off. Those would invariably come with conversations, and discussions of boundaries, and limits, and the kind of stuff in general that took all the fun out of it. Which would leave Lewis right back where he started: bored.
No, what he needed was a real bastard, a genuine first rate tosser, a piece of shit of the highest caliber. Naturally, he thought of Max.
He thought it over through the next few days, trying to think of alternatives, but really there was no one else. No one who would be both up for it, and committed to secrecy. He waited for Miles to leave and go back to the US, sending him off with plenty of promises to visit him during the off-season and video chat in the interim.
The flat was quiet without Miles around, the silence was only broken by Roscoe’s intermittent snoring. Lewis wouldn’t normally spend so much time in Monaco, he much preferred the UK or the USA, but it had the advantage of being close to Italy, and he was constantly being called for all kinds of in-person meetings, and fittings, and who knew what else. He had the nagging suspicion that Ferrari was perhaps disorganized, they gave him the impression of being hectic, poorly-optimized. Yet another thing he didn’t want to be worrying about. He knew it wouldn’t be a field of roses, he was well aware of how they’d treated Seb in the last couple of years he was there.
He could get stuck in circular patterns if he didn’t get his mind out of the doom spiral, so one morning he woke up, felt like shit, and decided enough was enough and reached for his mobile. Max was way down in his chat log, on account of they barely talked.
Lewis didn’t bother explaining himself. “Can you come over today? Whenever you’re free, I’ll be home.” He sent a ping of his address and waited.
He went about his day, but Max didn’t make him wait long.
“What for?”
“I’ll tell you once you’re here. It’s not a good idea to talk about it via text.”
That got Max curious. He tried to needle an answer out of Lewis with rows of texts about how he was “a busy person”, “didn’t have time for this”, and “wasn’t one of the millions of people willing to drop everything to kiss his ass” all of which Lewis thumbs up reacted to, without saying anything else. He had fun imagining just how red Max’s face must have gotten by the point he texted,“I’ll be over in 15.”
Lewis replied back only. “Wear something that isn’t Red Bull merch. Try not to be recognized.”
Max arrived at his door exactly 15 minutes later, looking like a Red Bull supermarket refrigerator, drinking from a Red Bull can. Lewis rolled his eyes at him and led him into the flat.
Max whistled. “You really lucked out, getting this place so early on.” He looked around the open-plan living room, his narrowed gaze lingering on the marble island. “I probably paid the same for a shoebox. With cheaper fittings too.”
Lewis let himself drop lengthwise on the sofa with a sigh. “That’s a real tragedy, man, I feel for you, honest.”
“Well, we’re having another kid, so the extra space would be good,” he said, placing his empty can on the marble island with an audible clink.
“Congrats, or sorry that happened, I’m not trading you, though.”
“Yeah, I figured that wasn’t why you called me here.” He gestured expansively. “So, get it out.”
Lewis rubbed the bridge of his nose, gathering his thoughts. “Right, so you’re the craziest bastard I know, and I need someone who is as addicted to adrenaline as I am, to help me get my head on straight ahead of the season, and not overthink every little,” he stopped himself before saying ‘concerning sign’, “thing.”
Max scoffed, arms crossed in front of his chest, dumb smile stretching his wide face wider. “Why the fuck would I help you? You’re competition.”
“Because I’m contractually forbidden from doing one of the few things that would actually help me relax. And you’ll get something in return, something you’ve always wanted.”
Max eyes narrowed a fraction, he was suspicious, the only thing Lewis had ever given him was a concussion. Remembering made Lewis smile into his palm, Max’s eyes narrowed further. “You don’t have anything I want.”
“That’s such a lie, man, I have so much you want. And will never get, just so we’re clear,” Lewis said. Max made a disbelieving sound, gearing up to launch into a tirade about how full of shit Lewis was, but Lewis got ahead of him. “I’m giving you a chance to finally fuck me. Put those teenage fantasies to bed, literally.”
Max stood perfectly still, his mouth hung open for a split second before he wrapped his head around the situation and chuckled again. “Wow, okay, even if I had ever wanted to, what makes you think I still do?”
Lewis sat up straight on the sofa, and put on a look of fake consternation. “Oh, my mistake then.” He pointed towards the door. “You can go.”
Max shifted his weight from one leg to the other and crossed and uncrossed his arms. “No, hold on, now I’m intrigued.”
Lewis refrained from gloating. “Glad to have you onboard.”
Max raised a single finger like an opinionated student, “I didn’t say that,” and then beckoned for Lewis to go on. “Talk me through it and we’ll see.”
He told Max what he had in mind: dangerous sex in even more dangerous situations in which either or both of them could incur risk of serious bodily injury, or of being caught at it. He didn’t mention specific scenarios, although he had plenty in mind. It was the kind of thing that thrilled him just to think about. He liked extreme sports, but extreme sex wasn’t really the kind of thing he had ever dabbled in. Rough sex, furtive sex, sure, but nothing as deliberately dangerous as to put him at risk of being found out, or hurt.
Max liked the idea too, Lewis could tell from how glazed his eyes had gone, and besides his Red Bull sweatpants didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Alright.” He worked a hand down his jaw, moving it around. “But if we do this I’m calling the shots too. You don’t get to decide everything we do.”
“You call 10% of the shots,” Lewis offered, spreading his arms over the back of the sofa.
“How is that fair?”
“Who said it had to be fair? Take it or leave it.”
Max crossed the distance from the kitchen to the living room area and came to a stop on the rug in front of Lewis’ spread legs. “No, no, that’s not how it’s going to be. You need me. I’m the one guy who’d say yes to this.” He looked down at Lewis with a smug grin, too wide for his face. “Guys to fuck you could find a thousand. No you need me, Max Verstappen.”
“20%”
Max's grin took on shark-like proportions. “Fuck that, 60%”
Lewis shook his head. “Man, fuck you, these aren’t contract negotiations. I’m not going to bargain with you.” He was already going through potential alternatives in his mind. Who else could he call? There were some guys who were even worse ideas than Max, but maybe he could find a way to make it clear there was to be no emotional involvement and they’d still go for it. He had a boyfriend, he didn’t need another.
“What about giving me veto power? I can say no to anything you suggest, and then make a suggestion of my own, that you can accept or ignore. And if you don’t you just come up with something else.” Max must have noticed that he was running the serious risk of walking with nothing, because he sounded resigned.
Lewis considered his options. There was nothing stopping him from always shutting down whatever Max came up with. He could live with those terms. “Deal.”
On an impulse Max reached forward with his hand as if they were going to shake on it, but realising how stupid that was stuck it inside his jogger’s pocket at the last moment. “Right, so, what are we doing first?”
“I think we should start slow, and then raise the intensity.” Lewis gestured the steps of the ladder he was mentally envisioning. He had no idea what the top would look like, what would the ultimate daring sex act even look like? But the point was that they’d build up to it.
“Yeah that makes sense, build up to more challenging acts and scenarios. Do you have an attack plan? Should we study each situation before we do it?”
“You mean like a track?” Lewis chewed on his bottom lip, giving it some thought. “I think no, going in blind will probably make things more intense. You think you can handle that?”
Max scoffed. “You’re a bigger control freak than me.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Lewis said, grinning up at Max.
“I guess we will. Okay, start slow, what does that mean?”
“Public sex.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Alright, how public, how much sex?”
Lewis nodded towards the balcony stretching through the length of the living room. It offered a privileged view of the Mediterranean along with several other buildings and their respective balconies, terraces, and windows. “I was thinking out there, you could fuck me over the railing. But since we’re starting small, we wait for nightfall, and turn off all the lights inside. Less risk of being seen.”
The hand Max still had inside his pocket shifted closer to his hardening cock, Lewis tracked the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“That sounds good.” He cleared his throat. “Night is still a few hours away, though.”
Lewis got up with a languid stretch. “It is, that’s why I’m going to answer a few emails, and meditate a little. You make yourself comfortable, though.” He patted Max on the shoulder, but let the tips of his fingers linger against his nape.
Max shot him an incredulous look as Lewis walked past him and in the direction of his office.
“Are you for real? Am I supposed to just stand here with a hardon for three hours?”
Lewis shrugged without turning and then disappeared into a doorway.
“Come back here, Lewis! I’m going to jerk off on your sofa!”
“As long as you can get it up again, do whatever,” Lewis shouted back, and then closed his office door with a definite thud. He didn’t know about Max, but delayed gratification had always served him well. Lewis could pace himself through all manner of challenge as long as he knew there was a reward for him at the end of it. The time would pass, he just hoped it would be worth the wait.