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Opening the door, Max breathes out a sigh of nervousness. Lewis and he hadn't gotten the chance to talk outside of the stewards' office, and he had a feeling Lewis wasn't feeling particularly like talking, either. The eye contact he held with Max during the discussion felt cold, unlike the kind look he had always given him prior. Safe to say, Max was anxious about coming home to Lewis, anxious about what would happen. And yeah, he's certain the Instagram post did not help the situation whatsoever, but Max is nothing if not impulsive, and he does not go back on his actions, even when he maybe should.
The house is seemingly empty, Roscoe sleeping next to the living room sofa, dimly lit, but Max can almost feel Lewis' strong presence, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He's fully aware of how much danger his boyfriend was in, how much danger he put his boyfriend in, and the twinge of guilt in his stomach grows every single time he thinks about it. Maybe he should've checked on him after all.
After a few minutes of walking around the place, tossing shoes, clothes and bags left and right, Max finally gets to their bedroom, opens the door, and isn't surprised that he immediately feels Lewis' eyes on him, before he can see them properly. Lewis still seems cold, not hateful, but cold, even though Max sees a bit more in his eyes, and he double checks that he's not hallucinating, but no - Lewis is looking at him, eyes primal, like a predator of some sort. Hungry, demanding.
Still, the want he sees does not soothe Max's anxiety fully, and he can't stop himself before the words leave his mouth.
"Are you mad?", his tone is but a whisper, loud enough to hear, quiet enough to ignore if Lewis chooses to do so.
"Mad? I don't know. Should I be?", the words feel like a slap to Max, and he breaks eye contact, looking down. Lewis inches closer, Max feels like he's about to choke on the air.
"I'm sorry", apologizing feels like a dumb thing, especially after everything he's already done - the team radio, the walking away, the Instagram post, but that was all in public, that was all on track, at least to Max. This is different, these aren't two title rivals talking about an incident and whose fault it is.
A hand comes to touch his cheek softly, and Max's eyes snap up, meeting Lewis' gaze again, and he's surprised to find that, while the hand stroking his cheek seems comforting almost, the look on Lewis' face is worse than before. He seems feral, full of something Max can't name. Rage, maybe.
"Max", his name is spoken out sternly and it makes him want to run from the headspace he's currently in, makes him want to close his eyes and just feel Lewis around him, however he's allowed to.
"Yeah?", leaning into Lewis' hand calms him slightly, but not much. The tension is still there, and he's not afraid of Lewis hurting him, more the opposite. He's afraid of Lewis giving up on him, leaving. Most people have, after eventually being on the receiving side of one of his angry tantrums. Max doesn't blame them.
Lewis leans in, presses a kiss to Max's lips, incredibly short, but further shocking him. What?
"Color", he simply states, demands, and Max feels... relieved? He can't say he hasn't exactly noticed the way Lewis' eyes have been scanning his entire body. They usually don't scene after races, especially hectic ones like Monza, never have, but Lewis is asking, and Max feels the comforting hand on his cheek, feels Lewis' presence, and allows himself to drift off. Lewis needs it, and so does he.
"Green", he breathes out, and then, "daddy".
A smirk breaks out on Lewis' face, eyes softer for a mere moment before the sternness is back, hand dropping to Max's shoulder.
"Good", voice, velvet, surrounds Max, and the praise already goes to the bottom of his stomach, breathing heavy. Lewis continues speaking, simple orders leaving his lips. Max wouldn't have it any other way.
"Kneel for me, then. Clothes off."
And so he does, takes his clothes off without much hesitation, Lewis watching his every move from a distance, not helping whatsoever, and Max almost feels like he's getting judged - not for his body, he knows Lewis adores his body, but for something else. Max neatly folds all his clothes to the side, no rush, but no dragging the process along, just how he knows Lewis likes it. He kneels, his daddy letting him get comfortable on the floor, yet Max knows he can't do anything without Lewis' permission so he just kind of... sits there, on his knees, not moving - Lewis looks him up and down and simply smiles before sitting on the bed in front of him.
"You're gonna stay like that, for as long as I deem necessary", Max's eyes go wide as Lewis speaks and he barely suppresses a high noise in the back of his throat, but Lewis pays him no mind, continuing, "if you move or make a noise, you're getting cuffed, gagged, and spanked, and you're not coming until the end of the night. Have I made myself clear enough for you, my stupid little boy? Speak."
"Yes, daddy", Max's eyes are downcast while he speaks, and maybe he shouldn't have been so relieved, shouldn't have thought for a moment that Lewis wasn't angry with him. If this was anything to go by, Lewis was furious, but Max was still thankful he made it clear that this wasn't him giving up, wasn't him leaving, just- just something that Max probably deserved, and he was more than on board with. "Good, maybe now you can actually have a chance to think things through, and who knows, one of these days you might even learn to shut your fucking mouth", every single one of Lewis' words contributed to the tears welling up in his eyes, the red on his face, and yet he couldn't help but feel the familiar heat in his groin at them. There was something about fighting so hard to be the best, to be perfect and unbeatable, and then to come home and let Lewis strip all of it back, all of his defenses, and just slowly take him apart - with words, hands, dick - that Max would never get enough of.
So he would take it, take whatever Lewis gives to him in the moment, whatever Lewis thinks he deserves. He would make his boyfriend- his daddy happy and then it'll all be okay. But as it turns out, as long as Lewis deemed could be quite a long time and Max starts feeling all the effects of it in his body - the soreness in his knees, stiffness in his shoulders and neck, the loss of focus. Max tries to focus on Lewis, but even still, his thoughts start slipping. He's calmer, though, the anxiety washed away by being in Lewis' comforting presence for what must've been at least half an hour, maybe more. His breathing has steadied, and his eyes and head do their best to remain balanced, looking straight at Lewis, who's just scrolling on his phone like nothing's going on around him. It adds to Max's shame, and promptly, his arousal as well.
He wants desperately to be good for Lewis, to do everything right, make everything right, but it's so difficult not to follow the Brit with his eyes as he stands up, barely sparing Max a glance and leaving his sight immediately. Even so, he somehow forces himself not to, but his desperation grows stronger by the second, and then suddenly, he feels something around his neck, and not just something - it's his collar, Lewis carefully securing it into place, but it feels so good to have it back on his neck, and oh god he feels so happy all of a sudden-
And then a wave of anxiety rushes through him again when Lewis' hands freeze, Max's brain processing that the groan he just heard somewhere in the back of his mind was, in fact, his own. He doesn't dare to move and look at Lewis, all he feels is the collar and Lewis' presence behind him. Lewis says nothing before there's a strong hand in his hair, pulling him up roughly and shoving him on the bed. He's fucked up.
"You really can't do anything right, can you?", tone dark where it's usually caring, eyes feral where they're usually calm, "here I was, thinking you could manage to be good enough for me, and then I could collar you and make you cum over and over again like the good boy you should be, but I guess not. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised, you're the same way on track, baby, a disappointment."
At that, Max can't help but let out a choked up sob, and Lewis pauses for a moment. A crying Max isn't anything new in their scenes, it's the only time he feels he can let out any emotion he has and not judge himself for it, but he thinks Lewis is also still not fully grounded from the incident before. It's understandable.
"Color, Maxy?", the voice is still stern, but Max can hear the affection in it, and he sobs again before muttering out a shaky, yet certain green into the room. Lewis says nothing, disappears again for a moment, and then he's back, hands full of items before he places them on the bed and lowers himself next to Max, paying no mind to the mini breakdown in front of him, knows it would only make it worse.
Lewis maneuvers him into sitting with his back facing Lewis, hands behind his back again, only this time he can feel the unique cold of metal around his wrists, somewhat resetting his thoughts for a moment, and then Lewis is ordering him to open his mouth, gagging him with the ball gag he knows Max hates the most, but Max takes it the best he can, and almost groans again when he hears Lewis' voice next to his ear, almost in a throwaway tone, telling him to not make a fucking mess.
Afterward, he's being thrown over Lewis' lap, strong hand on the backside of his thigh, soothingly (and teasingly) running up and down, other holding the handcuffs for leverage, and the contact drives Max insane, Lewis drives him insane. Max loves it, loves the feeling of being directed in every way, pushed around without reservation and knowing he's good and safe in the process, knowing he's loved. Still, this was a punishment, so Max supposes he's not particularly meant to enjoy it anyway.
"Let's think, baby, how's 26 for a number? 26, you know, for the 26 laps you managed to go without fucking my race up and then throwing a tantrum after? I think that'd be enough - if you can stay quiet, of course. If you don't, we'll just have to start over and over again until you can manage to do it, easy", Max almost starts shaking, precum leaking from his painfully hard dick and tears steadily streaming down his face, when Lewis brings his hand down for the first time, right on the backside of his thigh, where he held previously. He jerks and shakes and mutely sobs, but no noise leaves. Lewis lets out a satisfied hum, and continues.
After 10, Max's breathing is erratic and his entire body is shaking, but he keeps quiet. Lewis rewards him with a quiet so good, Max before his hand comes down again, now on already painfully red skin. After 15, everything hurts and his arousal has lessened from the pure pain he feels, but Lewis is there, alternating between soothing rubs and painful, but very controlled hits, and Max feels mindless. He keeps quiet.
After 20, Max thinks he wouldn't even be able to make a noise if he wanted to anymore. The crying has stopped, and he can feel the dry tears on his cheeks. He feels like he's floating.
Lewis counts to 25, and brings Max's hands up to place a soft kiss on his left before hitting him one more time. Max shakes again, but he's quiet.
"Good boy, Max, so good, you were amazing", Lewis whispers before just removing the gag, and then gently pushing him off his lap onto the soft bed, guiding Max's head to a pillow, hands still behind his back.
"You can talk, baby, you did so good, I'm so proud of you", there's a hand in his hair, scratching behind his ears and Max leans into it, feels pride swell in his chest at the words. He was good. He sobs, loudly this time, barely remembering how to speak, and then it's a ramble of thank you and I'm sorry and I love you, daddy and Lewis is looking at him, eyes happy, still wanting him, and Max thinks he could get hard again just from that. There's a kiss placed on his cheekbone, and Lewis' soft voice reaches him again.
"I love you too, baby. Rest like this, for a moment, I'm still not done with you", the tone is caring, but the words still send shivers down Max's spine, and at that he does let out a noise, but he knows Lewis doesn't mind that when they're taking a break. Max allows himself to doze off for a moment, safe and feeling Lewis' gaze on him, loving and caring, and it's like being surrounded by clouds to him.
The peace doesn't last long, obviously, when he feels lips nipping at his neck softly, where the collar doesn't cover, and he tries to move before remembering he's still very much handcuffed and unable to move, especially now that he has Lewis' body caging him in. He does turn around a bit to look at him though, and promptly lets out a groan when the soft bedsheets make contact with the pained skin on his thighs and ass, and he can feel Lewis smirk against his throat, and suddenly he lifts his head, looking at Max with the same hunger he had when Max first stepped into the room.
"Hurts, doesn't it?", he leans in and kisses Max, the smirk still present, and Max feels a tinge of annoyance at it, immediately replaced by arousal when Lewis' hand pushes against his chest, slowly coming up to his neck and squeezing against the leather collar, just right, and Max's head spins. Remembering Lewis' (technically) question, he lets out a clumsy mmhmmm sound, painfully muffled, and that's when Lewis pulls back just barely, their lips still brushing while he speaks.
"Good. That's what you get when you act like a brat, darling. Now, you're gonna stay cuffed for a bit longer, I'm gonna open you up and then you're gonna get your pretty ass plugged and suck me off like the good little slut I know you can be, yeah?", it's sometimes fascinating to Max how Lewis can get him hard just by talking in that voice, quiet and demanding, no room for disobedience. He whines and his eyes narrow from the thought and when Lewis whispers a stern that was a question, brat he remembers that this is the part where he actually needs to use his mouth for its intended purpose - talking. Funnily enough, Lewis is the only person to make him forget about talking, when usually people desperately just want him to shut up.
"Yes, please, daddy, just touch me, please-", and he's interrupted by fingers prodding at his entrance, flinching at the cold of the lube, but relaxing quickly, and then he feels Lewis' finger pushing in, feels Lewis' eyes on him when he shuts his own. A mistake apparently, because Lewis almost growls, grabbing Max's jaw with his free hand. "Eyes on me, always", and Max nods repeatedly, and the deep brown in Lewis' eyes piercing through him. Lewis opens him up agonizingly slowly, fucks him with a single finger long after he's able to take more, pace slow, yet he still manages to drive Max insane. Adds a second finger (fucking finally if you ask Max) and then it's the same thing again - curling his fingers just right, but not nearly enough to get Max anywhere, and the third- he goes just slightly faster, still deep and maddening.
It's been a while since Lewis had him like this with the triple header, the both of them only able to steal glances, sneaky touches disguised as just casual hellos and congrats between rivals, risque make-out sessions in places where they definitely should not be happening - Max has gotten pretty good at sneaking into Lewis' motorhome, and the Mercedes garage late at night (Lewis jerked him off against the W12 before the Dutch GP, fast and needy and hushed whispers of they're all here for you, baby, you did this, you're so amazing, I'm so fucking proud of you, hand over Max's mouth to keep him quiet because it was just so much), but they haven't had this for so long, and Max feels full.
So when Lewis pulls his fingers out, the Dutchman can only let out a pitiful whine, before he feels the silicone of the plug pushing into him, slick with lube, and he's full again, and- fuck, it's the vibrating one. His dick is leaking and he feels almost pathetic at how hard he is, it's painful, and he doesn't know how he'll be able to feel the weight of Lewis' dick in his mouth without possibly coming just from that.
Obviously, his boyfriend, well aware of how much he can affect Max, just enjoys the scene in front of him, the fucking menace, and Max loves him more than anything. Lewis unlocks the handcuffs, puts them somewhere out of sight (Max can't be asked to know where), and he rubs at his wrists and flexes his arms a bit, to feel comfortable again.
"There you go", Lewis' voice is a bit less composed than usual, and he's just as worked up as Max is, if not even more, and he stands up from the bed, "go on, love, get me naked". Max jumps at the opportunity because he's missed stripping Lewis' perfect body so much- and it's awfully unfair that he's been dressed the entire time. As much as he wants to get his mouth on Lewis' dick as soon as possible, ridding him of his clothes is a ritual Max would never give up for anything in the world.
So he takes his time, starts with the t-shirt Lewis has on, slowly slides it up and touches and kisses every part of skin being revealed to him, noses at the big compass on Lewis' torso, kisses the centre of it, leaves a hickey on the side of his ribcage, bites where he can, knows Lewis loves it - there's a hand in his hair softly pulling and scratching in encouragement, quiet groans and moans surrounding him, and he knows Lewis loves being worshipped just as much as he loves worshipping Lewis. The hand leaves his hair so Lewis can lift his arms, and then the shirt is gone, Max running his hands over Lewis' bare chest, religious almost, sacred. When he feels satisfied, he places a final kiss on the lion tattoo, and kneels, the plug in him shifting and forcing a moan out of him, light vibrations much worse to deal with on his knees.
The outline of Lewis' hard dick is painfully obvious against the pink sweatpants, but Max somehow resists the urge to touch - he doesn't have permission, and he wants to be good. His own arousal is killing him, the plug big enough so it's filling him up, and every time he shifts it just feels like it's getting deeper and deeper, but it's so hard to focus on anything except Lewis - his body, the sounds he's making, his dick - Max feels delirious. He kisses along the prominent v-line, bites at hips and when the sweatpants come off, Lewis kicking them in some random direction, Max is squeezing his thighs like his life depends on it.
"You should get a thigh tattoo or two", he mouths against dark skin, "daddy". Lewis laughs slightly, before it turns into another groan when Max bites down, hard, kissing the spot right afterwards.
"Yeah? Maybe I will", his voice is now significantly rougher, and Max shivers, "maybe you can choose what they are, if you're good".
Max's hands are now at the waistband of Lewis' (impossibly tight, he thinks) boxers, and he looks up, muttering an out of breath I'll be good, I promise before taking them off as well. They also get lost somewhere in the room, but Max can't pay attention to anything other than Lewis' dick in front of him, leaking precum and thick and he feels himself lick his lips on instinct, waiting for Lewis to say, do anything. The tattooed hand, still tangled in Max's hair, pulls slightly forward, and it's a quiet go on from the man above him that grants him what he wants.
He holds Lewis' dick with one hand, stroking languidly, trailing kisses down its underside, before he feels another pull in his hair, and oh, Lewis is impatient, that's new, and finally gets his mouth around him, hand still on the base, moving in tandem. Letting out content noises and barely coherent praise, Lewis keeps pulling his hair whenever he does anything that's particularly appreciated, tongue circling the tip or flattening against that one particular vein he knows the shape of by heart. If it becomes too much at one point, every single sensation he's feeling, and if Max has to mentally ground himself and force himself not to come from it all- Max doesn't mind, he just takes and takes and takes and would keep on taking Lewis in anyway without stop for the rest of his life, had he the chance.
When he can hear Lewis' breathing get more jagged than at any other point during the night, can feel the hand in his hair pulling harder and harder and can see Lewis' abs clenching, Max expects to be pulled off, which does happen soon enough, and he's staring at Lewis' eyes again before his lips are almost being devoured by Lewis, and at that point Max can see that as much as he's devolved, so has Lewis, calm demeanor and the control he had now all gone. Frankly, Max can never get tired of any side of Lewis, but this one, where he feels so powerless, like he's just the means to Lewis' satisfaction, makes him absolutely euphoric.
Lewis pushes him back on the bed, and in a second he's being caged by his body again, Lewis biting and kissing and marking wherever he feels like, before suddenly he feels the plug being pulled out quickly, moans at the sensation loudly, which grants him a particularly hard bite in the junction between neck and collarbone.
"Such a good boy for me, so fucking good, look what you do to me, Max", the point is emphasized by Lewis almost rutting against the innerside of Max's thigh, and, god he just needs, needs, needs-
"Please", it comes out as a broken sob, "fuck me, please, Lewis, I need you so bad, I've been good, I've been so good for you, daddy, please, please-"
Then he finally feels Lewis' dick against him, and he feels like his breath has been punched out of him when Lewis enters and he feels so fucking full, loves it, whines and trashes around and Lewis has to grab his wrists and pin them down before bottoming out, a sharp stop moving so much, you needy bitch grunted out next to his ear, even sharper thrust accompanying the words. Max is crying again, looking up at Lewis' feral eyes, desperately just wanting more, wanting him to fucking move already, and when Lewis does, fast and hard, spouting pure sin next to his ear, Max thinks he's going insane, and wholly welcomes it.
The familiar knot in his stomach is already there, has been for a while now, and he's so close but he can't, isn't allowed to come, but everything around him and inside him is Lewis and it's driving him mad and Lewis is just so good- and he tries to communicate it but then all it does is make Lewis slow down and grab the base of his dick, mercilessly squeezing, and fuck, that's not at all what he wanted.
"Bit longer, yeah? I think you can take it for a bit more, I know you can", Lewis sounds just as rattled, but there's no mistaking the arrogance in his voice, the knowledge that he's in control and can and will do what he pleases behind it when he continues speaking, "after all, you wouldn't want to disappoint me again, would you, my pretty boy?"
Max can only sob further and nod, and Lewis is picking up the pace again, hitting that one spot over and over again and Max sees stars, is nothing but a puddle under Lewis, begging and whining, utterly incoherent, interrupting his own words with loud moans. Lewis' hand is still tight against his wrists, and he's begging to touch Lewis before he can even realize. As soon as his wrists are released, they wrap around Lewis' neck, tangling in natural, fluffy hair, pulling mindlessly and Lewis goes absolutely wild at that, Max doesn't think he's fucked him so hard since the first time they properly scened, but he's not one to complain.
Smashing their lips together, Lewis brings one hand around the black leather on Max's neck, the weight of it impossible for Max to bear when he's so sensitive, and he squeezes again, this time much harder, and Max almost loses any rational thought of where he is, just feels, and he feels Lewis mouthing come for me, baby against his lips and for a second, his mind doesn't process the words, but then Lewis is releasing his neck and Max is just hot white pleasure, spilling all over himself while Lewis continues fucking him like their lives depend on it.
Not long after, Lewis comes as well, filling Max up, riding his orgasm out sloppily, and Max feels so overly sensitive his drying tears come back, and then they're getting wiped off by dark fingers, lips peppering kisses all over his face, praise filling the gaps. "M'gonna plug you up again, darlin', and you're gonna stay just like that, full of me", is said to him when Lewis pulls out, authority in Lewis' voice replaced by affection and lazy, tired satisfaction, but Max still knows better than to disobey, so he just nods, a soft smile playing on his face.
Lewis pushes the plug back in, trying his best to keep as much cum inside Max as possible, and leaves right after for a moment, bringing back a soft towel, lotion and some water, cleaning Max gently, massaging the back of his thighs and ass, still sore from the spanking, while Max drinks the water, humming lazily. Max whines when Lewis goes to take the collar off, but he knows that he's about to pass out any moment, and sleeping with the collar on isn't something Lewis likes for Max to do, so he just sulks quietly when it's off.
"Come on, you can put it back on when you wake up, you big baby", Lewis kisses him, tone teasing, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the smile breaking out on his face gives him away. Lewis joins him in bed, pulling him close, soft kisses and affectionate words being exchanged.
Max suddenly looks down, away from Lewis, events of the same day coming back to his mind. "Lew, I'm- I'm sorry, for, the crash and walking away, and what I said-", and his eyes are teary again but Lewis kisses him again, promptly shutting him up. "I get it baby, I do, I'm just glad we were both okay. But, next time you act like such a child on track at your big age, you're gonna feel me in your ass for the following two races at least", Lewis sounds like he's teasing him, but Max somehow doesn't doubt it, thinks he already might. Instead of saying that, he opts to kiss Lewis again.
"I love you, baby, no matter how much of a brat you are sometimes", Lewis whispers when they pull away, and Max thinks he can tell the real meaning behind the words - I'm not gonna leave like everyone else, I don't blame you for how you are, I'm gonna stay until you can be better and beyond that and I will love you through all of it.
"I love you too, Lewis, so fucking much", his head is now in the crook of Lewis' neck, still doesn't know how to express vulnerability without feeling embarrassed, but it's okay, because Lewis understands.
They fall asleep like that, tangled up in each other, the next race nowhere in their minds.