Chapter Text
Charles knew what he was doing. He knew what buttons he was pressing. And the worst part was… he was damn good at it. Well, it was the worst part depending on who you were. For Charles it was the best. He loved getting Max riled up, absolutely thrived on it. He could live for months off nothing but the way Max’s breath hitched in his throat whenever he did something to drive him crazy.
For Max, on the other hand, it was in fact the worst part. Having Charles find ways to discreetly press his hard on into his hip was both a blessing and a curse. When they were out partying after a win it could be a great way for Charles to urge things along and get Max what he wanted faster. However, when he found a way to let Max know just how turned on and fucking impatient he was in the middle of the paddock surrounded by cameras… that was slightly less convenient.
Max hoped that surrounding himself with Red Bull personnel would dissuade Charles from approaching him in the paddock between practices.
He could not have been more wrong.
Charles took it as a fucking challenge. He found every possible window he could to press himself right up against his boyfriend. He would manipulate time and space so they were walking next to each other, he would turn his body in on Max making sure that he could feel the semi hard bulge hidden in his race suit.
The worst, though, by far, had to be when Charles waltzed right up to him after quali was over and pressed their bodies together shoulder to knee. Max had just taken his fourth pole position of the season six races in and yet he could not remember a thing about how close Q3 had been. All his brain was producing was a moderate freakout about the feeling of Charles’ more-than-semi hard cock pressing into his hip.
“You’ve had me hard since you drifted through turn five,” Charles whispered. Max only half heartedly hoped there was no one on the other end of their radios at this point because if GP had heard that he would crawl into a hole and die in his own soul.
He blinked blankly at Charles as they broke their hug. He could see his smirk beneath his helmet and felt his own cock start to take interest. It slowly took over his brain, pushing out the fact that Charles would be lining up right behind him on the front row tomorrow afternoon. That is, until he saw him sitting on the couch in the media room.
He sat down in the middle after accepting a microphone. Charles tilted his head back and to the side, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. Max stared straight ahead, probably boring a hole into some poor reporter’s head. He cleared his throat as Lewis sat down on his other side.
Charles took advantage of the momentary distraction of the moderator getting things started and shifted a little closer to Max. Max’s heart skipped a beat. He knew Charles wasn’t ballsy enough to try and get away with what he had in the paddock. But he also knew that Charles was tenacious. And that he would stop at almost no lengths in order to get under Max’s skin.
He let out a sigh of relief when the only thing Charles did was press their toes together and almost immediately retract his foot. It was momentarily distracting but that was about the extent of the damage it did.
Charles behaved for the vast majority of the presser. He tapped their toes together occasionally but nothing more than that. Max had almost forgotten about the plan that had been simmering in the back of his mind since they got out of their cars.
And then Charles had to take things a step further. With all the attention on Lewis (Max could not have told you what they were talking about), Charles shifted closer still. He widened his legs, his knee pressing into Max’s thigh. He made the mistake of glancing over and catching Charles just as he was resting his microphone on his thigh, the head of it resting just over his dick.
Max cleared his throat and faced forward again. Charles’ bright red suit was too much to resist, though, and he gave him another glance. His own dick took significant interest in the way Charles was running his fingers up and down the handle of the microphone. He swallowed hard and shifted away from him, a little closer to Lewis. Lewis who, thankfully, was none the wiser to what was going on to his left.
Max was on his feet not even a full second after the moderator concluded the interview. He could hear Lewis and Charles chatting casually behind him. He would never understand how Charles could be an absolute minx one second and casual as could be the next.
“Good luck tomorrow, man,” he heard Lewis say to Charles before feeling a pat on his shoulder. “You too, Max.”
“Thanks,” he gave Lewis a tight lipped smile and stopped walking, waiting for Charles to catch up. Instead of stopping beside him he just gave Max a look and kept walking. Max reached out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him back to stand in front of him.
“What?” he asked innocently. Max looked at him blankly for a split second before scoffing. He glanced around them. They were alone in the corridor. He grabbed Charles’ other wrist and spun him, pinning him against the wall. The breath left his lungs in a single gasp as his back hit the wall. Max laughed darkly and crowded into his space.
“You’ve been bad all weekend,” he said, voice low. Charles swallowed thickly, his pupils expanding and hiding the watercolor green of his eyes. “You’re not going back to your hotel. You’re coming back to mine with me.”
“Y-you still have to debrief,” Charles stuttered, his hips squirming on their own accord.
“Then it looks like you’re just going to have to meet me there,” Max smirked and let go of Charles’ wrists, taking a step back. He trailed one finger along his jaw before adding, “You have a key to my room, schatje. Use it.”
He walked away with that, leaving Charles breathing heavily against the wall.
Checo, for his credit, clocked something was up the second Max walked in. Also to his credit, he said absolutely nothing. He stayed quiet, only giving Max an occasional glance out of the corner of his eye to make sure he hadn’t spontaneously combusted yet.
He made it through alive, much to Checo’s surprise. And he booked it out of Red Bull hospitality as fast as he possibly could the second the debrief was over. Not to Checo’s surprise.
He stared out the window on the drive back to the hotel, not taking in any of the sights of the city. His mind had wandered to what he would find when he walked into his hotel room. He wondered if Charles would have started without him. He was already firmly in the doghouse, he might as well have doubled down. Or perhaps he would be waiting patiently. Unlikely, considering how much teasing he had done as of late.
Max thanked the driver as he climbed out of the car. He was greeted with cheers and screams from fans lining the walkway in. He smiled and waved to them and barely paused for a handful of pictures before pushing open the front door and stepping into the sweet air conditioning of the lobby.
He beelined straight for the elevators, not stopping on his way. The little red numbers slowly ticked upwards, almost like they were taunting him. He was okay with it. It was just building up more and more inside him until it was threatening to bubble over. By that time the elevator was arriving at his floor and he was in front of his room. He fished his keycard from his pocket and pressed it to the keypad.
Breathy moans greeted him. His jeans tightened quickly as he pushed open the door all the way. Charles was spread out on the bed, one hand playing with his nipples and the other palming the bulge in his boxers. Red, Ferrari red boxers. Because of course. Max smirked to himself and closed the door loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. Charles jumped but didn’t move his hands.
“Hey,” he smirked, squirming his hips a little more. “Couldn’t wait. Sorry.”
“You have been absolutely insufferable lately,” Max hummed as he walked over, already undoing his belt. He ripped it from his belt loops and dropped it to the floor with a clatter. He didn’t miss the shiver that went through Charles’ body. “Pressing your cock into me in the middle of the paddock? That’s bold, Charles.”
“Yeah but you liked it,” Charles smirked. “We both did.”
“Did we?” Max raised an eyebrow before pulling his Red Bull polo over his head. It joined his belt on the floor. His jeans were added shortly after, leaving him in just his black, normal black, boxers. “I remember being a little… frustrated.”
“Frustrated?” Charles repeated, raising an eyebrow. He still hadn’t stopped touching his dick. “Hmm.”
“You need to be punished, schatje,” Max hummed as he crawled up the bed. Charles’ thighs parted automatically to accommodate him. His hand fell away from his dick. Finally. Max grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the pillow beside his head. “Did you really think you were going to get away with all that?”
“No,” Charles answered honestly, shaking his head. He leaned up off the pillow, putting his face in Max’s. “I was hoping you’d come punish me.”
“Oh really?” Max raised his eyebrows. “Well, over my knee, Charles. This needs to be spanked out of you.”
Max grinned as Charles wriggled out of his grip. He moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He grabbed Charles’ wrist and yanked him over his lap. Charles shivered and squirmed again. Max gasped as his dick pressed into Charles’ ribs. Charles just giggled and pressed down onto it.
Cheeky fucker.
Max snapped the elastic waistband of his obnoxiously red boxers against his hip. The whine that slipped past his lips made Max’s cock twitch in the confines of his own boxers. He did once more before sliding them down, leaving them around his thighs. He pinched the sensitive inner skin of his left one, enjoying the broken whine it got out of him.
He flattened his palm over his right ass cheek, moving it ever so slightly. The touch was so gentle compared to what his mind was screaming at him to do. He needed to wait. He needed Charles to be hanging off the edge of anticipation before he gave him what they both wanted.
“Max,” Charles whined, wiggling his hips and pressing his dick, still trapped by the elastic of his boxers, against his thigh.
“Shh, patience, Charles,” Max responded in an even tone. Charles whined again and dropped his head. He nipped at Max’s knee, causing Max to hiss and swat lightly at the back of his thigh. “Ah, none of that.”
“Or what?” Charles challenged. “Or instead of spanking you I won’t let you cum until the next race weekend,” he could practically feel Charles’ eyes widening. The next race was two weeks away. Charles would sooner die before going two weeks without cumming.
He settled down, relaxing into Max’s lap. Max smirked to himself and lifted his palm off Charles’ ass, raising it in the air. He let it hover for a second before bringing it down hard against the pale skin.
“Merde!” Charles squeaked, jumping away from the contact.
“That’s one,” Max said, voice growing darker. “I think you deserve a few more, don’t you?”
Charles whimpered in response. Max spanked him again, the sound dampened by the heavy curtains.
“Words,” he hissed before repeating, “I think you deserve a few more, don’t you?”
“Yes, Max,” Charles gasped.
“Good,” he hummed. He spanked him again, harder, leaving a red handprint in his wake. Charles jumped and moaned. Max brought his hand back down three more times in quick succession.
“Max,” he gasped. He delivered one more sharp blow to his left asscheek, taking the extra time to enjoy the way the red bloomed darker on his skin, before answering.
“What is it, Charles?”
“My… my dick,” he mumbled, face squished against Max’s thigh.
“Your dick?” he repeated. “What about your dick?”
“Trapped… hurts,” he whined, wiggling his hips. Max hummed, remembering he hadn’t pulled his boxers all the way down. Charles’ cock was still tucked close to his body by the elastic waistband.
“Oh baby,” Max cooed almost condescendingly. “Do you want me to help you?”
“Mhm,” Charles nodded, his eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheek. Max spanked him again before lifting him up and tugging his boxers down hard. Charles moaned as his cock was freed. Max grabbed his wrists and held them in the small of his back before pushing him back down over his lap.
“Just a few more, schatje,” he hummed, rubbing his hand over the red, hot, angry skin of Charles’ ass before smacking him again. There was no way he wasn’t going to feel it when he got into his car tomorrow.
The thought alone made Max laugh darkly again.
“You’re going to have fun driving tomorrow,” he said, almost as a promise before squeezing Charles’ ass hard. It made him whimper loud and high pitched and Max wasn’t sure if it was the pain coming from the squeeze or his words. Either way, Max was done.
He let go of his wrists and helped him off his lap. Charles’ mouth was hanging open ever so slightly and his eyes were closed, still fluttering as Max laid him down on the mattress. He kissed between his shoulder blades before reaching into his bag for the bottle of lotion he kept stashed there.
“Max,” Charles whimpered, his muscles tightening at the cool lotion being rubbed into his skin.
“Shh,” Max cooed. He squirted a little more into his palm and rubbed it against the red marks on his wrists. “I know, schatje, you did so good for me.”
“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, voice obstructed by the pillow.
“Sorry?” Max asked, putting the lotion away. He sat down beside him and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his sweaty forehead. “What are you sorry for?”
“I teased you too much, took it too far,” he answered.
“No, baby,” Max shook his head. “That’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m not mad at you.”
Charles reached over with a shaky hand and rested it on Max’s thigh. He took his hand and intertwined their fingers.
“Get some rest, Charles,” he hummed and leaned down to kiss his temple. “You’re going to need it for tomorrow.”