Work Text:
Fuck, Daniel doesn't even remember what her name was. She batted her eyelashes at him and was game for a laugh, and her dress was pretty goddamn low cut. That's all it really took these days.
Anything to take his mind off P13, or the fact that his ex-teammate and supposed best friend had preferred to be shoulder to shoulder with fucking Leclerc all night of all people. Weren't they supposed to hate each other anyway?
Not that any of that mattered now as he fruitlessly pulled at the metal handcuffs tethering him to the hotel bed, the girl from last night long gone, probably along with some of his possessions. And, as if to add insult to injury, he can see the key gleaming on the desk across the room, devastatingly out of reach. Fuck.
“H-hey Siri?” he croaked, his voice bouncing around the empty room with the familiar gravelly tone of a big night out. “Call Max Verstappen.”
There was literally no one else to call. Most people had quickly had enough of Vegas and its fake air and plasticine buildings, and dipped the evening of the race. Not Daniel, no he wanted one night to blow off some steam before he had to drag his ass back to McLaren and explain himself. And not Max either, choosing to stay out and party with the Monégasque and promptly ignore Daniel except to hand him a jagerbomb early on in the night.
His phone rang out for what felt like an eternity, and Daniel’s stomach sank that he might have to ring Charles, or worse, reception. But then a bright voice answered the phone, one that was younger and not plagued with the kind of hangovers you get in your thirties. “Daniel?”
“Hey buddy, listen, can you do me a favour?” He tried to keep the nerves out of his voice. The more normal he can make this sound, the less of a big deal it will become when Max finally has to enter the room faced with a butt-naked Daniel chained to the bedposts like a degenerate.
“Of course.”
Max's voice sounds so innocent, so full of promise to help his friend that Daniel almost feels guilty. Almost. But he needs out of these cuffs so friendship be damned, they'll just have to be awkward for a few weeks. It'll be fine.
“Can you go down to reception and get a key to my room, 406? And let yourself in. I've, uhm, I've got a bit of a situation over here, mate.”
Max doesn't even question it. Doesn't ask why, just simply agrees and tells Daniel he'll be as quick as he can.
And he fucking is.
Not even five minutes later there is a knock on the door, which for a second, terrifies Daniel into thinking some poor hospitality woman is going to walk in to clean the room, but he distinctly remembers putting on the ‘do not disturb’ sign last night with whatever singular sober brain cell he had left.
The door opens and relief floods Daniel as Max's voice rings out in greeting before he rounds the corner and is abruptly cut off.
“Daniel.” Max cleared his throat, but didn’t divert his eyes at all from Daniel, mostly flicking up from his face, to the cuffs and then back to his face as if he was silently demanding an explanation.
He knows it must be one hell of a sight to walk into; his best friend, stretched and taut, entirely naked and lying flat on the bed with his head propped up on a bundle of pillows while his arms are pulled up and chained to the metal bedframe.
Max's stance and facial expression gave absolutely nothing away about how he felt about this, and Daniel wasn’t sure whether to be pleased he wasn’t outwardly disgusted, or hopeful that…no.
Daniel might be bi, but there are some lines he refused to cross, and that included fooling around with his best friend and ex-teammate, even if they have both flirted around the idea for years.
“Yeah, like I said mate, bit of a situation,” he laughs self-deprecatingly hoping that soothes everything. Make it into a joke, that always worked. “Keys are over on the desk if you could just be a hero and unlock ‘em?”
He had hoped Max would do this quickly and end this nightmare for both of them, but despite how quickly Max got to Daniel’s room, he seemed to have no plans to move as quickly to the desk. Or to move at all, actually.
“Why?” Max asked plainly. If Daniel wasn't stuck, he would throw something at him.
“Why?!” Daniel repeated a bit hysterically. “Because I want to not be chained to the bed and end up missing my flight!”
“No,” Max replied, softer this time. “I mean why are you handcuffed?”
“Oh some woman from last night, it doesn't matter. Can we just-” he shakes his wrists demandingly, making the metal on metal ring out.
“Do you like it? Being-” Max swallowed, and it’s the first time Daniel has noticed he has been anything other than stoic with a faint air of confusion. “Being restrained?”
Lust curled around Daniel’s stomach, and he pushed it down. “Can we not do this now, Maxy? I've got my fucking balls out, mate.”
But treacherously, his dick twitched under the hard stare of Max that swept over the expanse of his body. They've seen each other naked before, it's hard not to when you're teammates and every layer clings to your skin in a way that makes you want to rip it off after a hot and humid race. Not to mention the skinny dipping in Italy.
This is different though - Daniel is out on display, no hands to cover his groin, no way of turning out of sight out of politeness. And Max is watching, like he's a starved man and Daniel is the three course meal.
His cock is half hard now and he resists squeezing his eyes shut. That would be acknowledging it.
Not that it matters when Max speaks again.
“You're getting hard. And I am very curious why you like this. Do you not like to touch people?”
Max of all people should know that's not true, with all of the embraces and, dare he say, cuddling they've done over the years when there was an hour spare in between media duties and they were both exhausted. If there was only one couch, it just made sense to spoon, okay?
“No no, it's…” Daniel sighs. He knows Max, he's not getting out of these cuffs until he is satisfied with the answer Daniel gives him. “Fuck, okay, so I like other people to take control. I like that I can't touch them.” He sees the frown on Max's face, still not understanding and he lets out a resounding sigh. “Isn't there something you always, like, wanna have or do, but you can't. So when it finally happens it's even better?”
Max stared for a moment, blue eyes piercing into Daniel’s. “Yes. This. You, like this." Max replied, and stepped forward with a resounding bravery to trace the handcuff with his finger, letting his little finger skate delicately over the sensitive skin of his outer wrist, tracing over the ‘Free’ tattoo that Daniel now begrudgingly sees the irony in.
Daniel gasped and instinctively pulled on his wrists only to find them not going any further than an inch from the bedframe.
God, it’s just a simple touch from Max’s little finger, and yet Daniel’s whole body feels like it is on fire, vibrating all the way down his arm and sending goosebumps in its wake.
"I can of course undo the cuffs if you want.” Max's voice sounds deeper, huskier than normal, and it's going straight to Daniel's cock. ‘Or I can touch you.”
There's probably a lot of reasons why this is a bad idea, but Daniel can't think of a single one while Max is tracing his skin with soft fingers and a hum of desire is burning through his veins.
Daniel let out a stuttered breath. "Y-yeah okay Maxy, you can touch me.”
Max settled himself on the edge of the bed and started stroking his fingers down Daniel's chest, taking an exploratory path down the hardened planes of muscle that left Daniel choking on little gasps.
A pinch of his pebbled nipple made Daniel's back arch off the bed, and Max let the flat of his thumb soothe over it before rolling it between his fingers again.
“You like that?” Max asked, throaty and deep.
This is what Daniel had needed all weekend. Maybe he'd needed it for years. “Yeah, fuck. You're so good at touching me.”
His cock is achingly hard now and leaking onto his stomach. A quick glance over tells him Max is in a similar state based on the bulge in his skinny jeans, and he kept shifting his hips to deal with the discomfort.
“You should take those off you know,” Daniel panted, nodding to Max's jeans. “Doesn't look all that comfortable.”
Max seemed to toy with the idea, weighing it up in his head, before agreeing and shucking off his jeans. There was a small dark patch that was spreading in on the front of the grey fabric of his boxers, and Daniel almost whined at the urge to mouth over it.
“So you're into this too, huh?” Daniel asked huskily.
Max cocks his head to the side and shrugs, not dismissively. Just in a way that is so Max that Daniel melts a little bit. “Not really. I'm more into you.”
Daniel doesn't have time to process that statement because Max drifts his hands over Daniel's sculpted abs, letting his fingers toy with the hair below his navel. It has Daniel bucking up off the bed.
“No.” Max said pointedly, and pinned Daniels hip down with one hand. It's not a big hand, more soft and delicate, but it's strong and Daniel feels himself being weighed down into the mattress, unable to grind upwards even if he wanted to. “You're not supposed to do that. You said I am in control.”
Fucking hell, if he was ten years younger he probably would have come untouched on the spot. Years ago, he couldn't imagine Max like this - but now, even when Max is out of his depth, he's still the driving force behind this whole scenario, touching Daniel exactly how he'd been desperate for.
Max's hands are still mapping out Daniel's skin, like he's trying to commit every inch of it to memory. And, the thing is, Daniel has tried the cuffs thing so many times, and maybe he's just bad at picking the right people, but they never do this; they go straight to the main course, straight to sucking his dick. Which, realistically, he knows he shouldn't complain about, who doesn't want their dick sucked?
But what Daniel really wanted, the part of it no one really understood, was that he wanted to feel worshipped, without being able to turn away from it, crack a joke and move on. To be displayed and flayed open unashamedly, letting them touch him in ways he wouldn't normally allow and use him for their own pleasure without him having to think.
And here was Max, reverent with every part of Daniel that he touched, taking more pleasure in the way Daniel's skin quivered through every brush over his chest, entirely ignoring his dick which is almost overwhelmingly sensitive. It's a relief and a breath of fresh air, and if Daniel wasn't tied up he would pull Max close and never let him go.
“You are in control, Maxy,” he breathed. “You can do anything you want to me.”
A look crossed Max's face that Daniel has seen before; when someone asks Max about a strategy plan, Daniel can see him calculating every possible scenario, every possible outcome to get what he wants. And this is no different. It's as if Max thinks this is the only chance he will get to have Daniel at his mercy like this, so he wants to go through every fantasy like some sort of sordid rolodex to make sure he's picked the right one.
And Daniel is watching him, the way his pupils darken as they drag along Daniel's torso. The way his chest heaves with each breath. Whatever it is Max wants, Daniel wants to give it to him over and over just to keep his eyes on him like this forever.
Max tentatively throws his leg over Daniel, straddling his chest. He settled there for a moment, taking the opportunity to skate both hands up Daniel's upper body until his fingers splayed across his collarbones and insistent thumbs dip into the divot of his neck, digging with enough pressure that Max can feel the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.
Daniel felt the way Max's cock twitched within the confines of his boxers, the wet patch spreading further. He wants to arch his spine off the bed, let the muscles of his abs roll against the underside of Max's cock. But he knows Max is enjoying this, being in control.
And, god, if Daniel isn't loving every second of being under him.
There's a moment of hesitation as Max seemed to lean down, eyes flicking to Daniel's lips before he stopped himself. Daniel wants to tell him yes, he wants to kiss him please, but the words die on his tongue immediately as the younger man shifted his body upwards until his clothed cock was so close to his face he could feel Max's body heat on his lips.
Max waited, hesitant, like he wanted permission. Daniel nodded.
When Max pulls down his boxers, Daniel thinks he's never seen such a pretty cock. It makes sense, to Daniel everything about Max was pretty; the way his cheeks and chest mottled the politest shade of pink, his soft full lips that he thinks would feel perfect against his own, the way his body has changed from angular and scrawny to full of curves and hidden muscle under his milky white skin.
Daniel's tongue is immediately out, seeking the sensitive spot under the head of his cock and lapping up the drops of precome that have beaded at the slit.
He can't do much more from the angle other than mouth desperately, sweeping his tongue out to reach what his lips can't, until max sits up properly and leans forward, resting his hands on top of Daniel's cuffed ones, using the bedframe as leverage to fuck into the older man's mouth.
On the first real thrust, Max lets out a long groan so guttural and raw that it bounces off every surface of the hotel room. Daniel needs in a way he never has before. Just the simple touch of Max's hands on top of his own, being able to hook his thumbs over the Dutchman's fingers, it gives him the tiniest bit of relief that has his hips grinding up helplessly into nothing for more, some semblance of friction.
Max doesn't give him any. Instead, he focuses on his own thrusts, slow and steady, watching with lust blown eyes at the drag of Daniel's lips over his cock. It's wet and messy, and saliva is dripping down his chin but that only seemed to spur Max on to increase his pace and chase his release.
It’s making tears pool in Daniel’s waterline, but he ignores it, focusing only on meticulously swallowing down lungfuls of air and keeping his gag reflex in check so he doesn’t choke. He wants to ruin Max for anyone else who dares take his cock like this.
“Fuck, I'm goin- fuck, Daniel.” His hips stutter to a stop that feels extremely reluctant. There's a sheen of sweat gathering at his forehead and his body is trembling above Daniel’s, he looks so wrecked and undone that Daniel wants to memorise it forever so he can resurrect it on lonely nights in unfamiliar hotel rooms.“Can I, please?” Max asks, panting.
Max doesn't remove his cock, so Daniel can only nod. He hopes his eyes tell Max that he doesn't just want this, he needs it. He needs to watch Max unravel above him and hear every little moan and cry as he comes.
It doesn't disappoint. Max's pace becomes brutal and there are now permanent tear tracks on Daniel's cheeks as the younger man urges deeper down his throat. The noises Max is making are high and needy little whines that punctuate every thrust, and Daniel now hates the handcuffs. He wants to rip them off and grab two handfuls of Max's firm ass and pull him impossibly closer, to be utterly smothered and consumed by him.
Max comes with a choked off gravelly cry, letting his head fall forward onto the wall as he grinds feverishly through his orgasm. It floods all of Daniel's senses, the taste of the come hitting his tongue, the sound of his moans, the sweat of his body mixing with the smell of sex in the room. It was overwhelming.
He pulls out of Daniel's mouth with an obscene wet pop, and finally Daniel can swallow and breathe again. There's nothing but the sound of them both panting and Daniel lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment to recover.
He feels Max's hand cup his cheek delicately and use his thumb to swipe away the excess saliva and come, and Daniel sighs into the gentleness of it compared to the ferocity of moments earlier.
The sound of sheets rustling and the mattress dipping makes Daniel's eyes snap open at the thought that Max might leave. He can almost picture Max frowning, tugging on his jeans and grabbing the key, unlocking the cuffs without ever looking Daniel in the eye and leaving without a word.
Looking at the figure at the bottom of the bed, it's not quite that bad. But he sat between Daniel's parted legs looking dazed and shaken, boxers already pulled back up to cover himself. On instinct, Daniels tries to reach for him, put a hand on his shoulder and tell him it was amazing, but all he gets is a loud jangle of the cuffs holding him back.
Without the use of touch, Daniel goes with words instead. “Max, mate, that was so hot. Please don't freak out or anything, I swear I really enjoyed it.”
“Really? You don’t-” Max cuts himself off, but Daniel knows the end of that sentence was ‘hate me’. Because despite the years, the confidence, the championships, deep down Max's biggest fear was being hated by the people he loved the most.
Daniel starts to get worried Max will start to get in his own head too much to carry on if he doesn't say the right thing here. It's not just that he is aching with a need for his neglected cock to be touched, he wants this to be the first time of many, and that won't happen if it gets immediately shut away in Max's mental file of ‘things that are bad’. Things in that folder very rarely come back out, Daniel had learned from experience.
“You’re kidding me, right? You just did something right out of one of my wet fuckin’ dreams, you think I’m gonna be mad at you, Maxy?” Max blushes and his shoulders that were visibly taut slowly unwind. “Can you touch me again?” Daniel asks gently.
He really isn't beyond begging at this point, but thankfully Max gives him a small smile that could almost be a smirk and slides his hands up Daniel's legs. His fingers trace over each tattoo, making Daniel shiver when he ghosts over his favourite that sat on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.
Max had drunkenly grabbed Daniel’s thigh one night, many years ago, when Max was still young and scrawny and chasing the sweet victory of a World Championship, and ran his fingers over every tattoo with such gentle curiosity. Daniel could only watch in reverence as the younger man took his time to look at each one individually, before declaring that the heart-sealed letter was his favourite.
When Daniel asked why, he'd smiled crookedly and said he felt like the envelope contained a secret letter only Daniel knew the words of, and he thought that was fun.
It was endearing at the time. But now, it was electrifying.
Max still isn't taking the direct route straight to Daniel's cock, even as his fingers reach the top of his thighs and ghost around the edges of trimmed pubic hair. Instead, he continues on a slow and steady path upwards to where his legs meet his groin, the v-spot he worked so hard on at the gym, and leaned down to press a chaste kiss there. Barely anything, but Daniel can't help but let out a moan so sinful he would be embarrassed if he wasn't so far gone.
“Fuck me, Maxy, you're gonna kill me doing shit like that.” Max moaned against his skin, the hot puff of air only making the coil in the pit of Daniel's stomach tighten. And, well, of course Max likes praise.
Sometimes, people forget when you’re at the top of your game that you still need the approval. Daniel has seen the way, even in first place, it’s never enough for Jos; How people don't tell Max he's going great, because he should know already, right?; How Max internalises it all, desperately wants to be so good for people only for it to backfire when he's too good, and no one thinks to tell him anymore.
When you're at the top, the only thing you have is mistakes. The only way is steady, or down. And no one ever really sees the way that eats at Max the way Daniel does, so used to only going up and pushing forward and achieving more.
Daniel always thinks Max is amazing, even when he's hated him, even as he was walking out the door of Red Bull for the last time. Even when jealousy viciously wound its way around their friendship and threatened to ruin it for good, Daniel still thought Max was incredible.
And right now, Daniel thinks he is the best fucking thing in this entire universe.
“Your mouth is so perfect for this, so soft on my skin- fuck.” Daniel curses just as Max drags his teeth along Daniel’s hipbone and then soothes it with his tongue.
He wants to thread his hands through Max's soft hair, pull him up his body and kiss him. Let Max taste himself on Daniel's tongue.
Pleased, Max continued laving kisses on his upper thighs, his face occasionally brushing accidentally on Daniel’s cock, and embarrassingly it might be enough to come undone. Just from his dick touching Max's flushed and mottled cheek. Images of coming on Max's face and seeing the streaks of white adorning his swollen lips has him dangling precariously on the edge.
He doesn't even know for sure if Max is into guys. Guessing by the gentle and trepidacious movements, Max's hands aren't those of experience. Apparently he's into Daniel, he's known that for a long time, but he's not entirely sure that covers Daniel coming on his face. But fuck it, Max was brave enough to take what he wanted.
“Max, god, can you…can I come on your face?”
His blue eyes widen and his hand falters where it's currently sat on his hipbone. It drifts slowly until it's wrapped around the full length of Daniel's cock, and when he gives an experimental tug, Daniel's toes curl from the pleasure of finally being touched. He doesn't even recognise the sound that is pulled from deep inside his chest and an embarrassing reality washes over him.
“Fuck, this is gonna be over so fast, Maxy, don't judge me. You're just- shit, you're really good at this.” Max puffs his chest out at the compliment, loosely stroking the length in his delicate hand. “You look fucking hot between my legs.”
Max never takes his eyes off Daniel's, he fists his cock until the older man can't hold back any longer, knuckles turning white as they balled into tight fists within the confines of the handcuffs. Max seemed to sense that Daniel is close and angled his face over the tip, and the force of his orgasm that has been held back for so long splatters across the mix of freckles and mottled blush on Max's cheeks.
Daniel's back arches off the bed as he ruts languidly into Max's hand, letting the warm glow of aftershocks turn into whining overstimulation.
He revels in his orgasm, trying to put the pieces of himself back together, sinking deeper into the mattress and trying to keep his eyes from fluttering shut and failing. He's aware the hand has left his now softening cock, and he feels a washcloth wiping at whatever additional mess didn't make it onto Max's face, followed by the faint click of the cuffs being undone.
Daniel looks up, and it is heartwarming watching and feeling the way Max rubs his thumbs over the reddened marks on Daniel's wrists, massaging and soothing the angry skin where he'd pulled at the restraints. Max took the wash cloth away and reappeared with a glass of water which Daniel gulped down gratefully now his hangover had begun to hit with full force after the hum of lust kept it at bay.
Because Daniel was the man, no one ever gave him any kind of aftercare, and he'd always felt too shy to ask. He wasn't shy about a lot of things but lately rejection stung more than normal, so he'd dealt with being the one to look after the woman while he took a shower and felt wretched on the inside. A lingering feeling of ‘dirty and sad’ that not even the scalding water could wash off.
But not this time. Max curled himself up against Daniel's side and ran his fingers through Daniel's hair, scratching in the same way he did with his cats, and Daniel would tease him for that if it didn't feel so damn good.
He looks at Max, at his face that is no longer all acne and sharp lines. Now it's something that's grown into itself, handsome and gentle, confident, with small lines in the corners of his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”
Max doesn't reply. Instead he closed the distance between them, brushing his lips softly against Daniel's. It was gentle and honest, no sense of urgency now they were both spent and relaxed. Just a soft melding of lips with tongues making polite invitations, lapping delicately at the other’s mouth. After everything, it felt grounding.
Now Daniel's hands are free, they are roaming, not searching, but delicately cataloguing each mole and muscle of Max's body, and the younger man melts into it, humming contently.
“You are right, I think,” Max said, breaking the silence speaking for the first time since they both curled up against each other.
“I usually am,” Daniel grinned, brushing a piece of hair off Max's forehead. It wasn't in his face, Daniel just wanted to keep touching him. “But just to clarify, what am I right about this time?”
“I always want you to touch me. And I thought I wouldn't like it that you couldn't. But it was good being in control. And it feels extra nice, you know, you touching me now.” He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Daniel with wide, vulnerable eyes. “We are going to do this again, Daniel?”
“Oh abso-fuckin’-lutely. You think after that I'm going to let you go?” Daniel knows Max is asking more than that, not just another hook up, but something more meaningful. So Daniel swallows down the nerves stirring in his stomach, if only to quell the anxiety radiating off Max in waves. “I've liked you for a really long time actually, so I don't actually want to do this with anyone else.”
Max seems pleased and settles back down into Daniel's side. “Good. Because I do not like to share.”
“Yeah neither do I by the way,” he says playfully outraged and pinches lightly at Max's side. “Don't think I didn't notice you spent all last night cuddled up to Charlie-boy instead of your old pal Daniel.”
Max's lips quirk up at the corners. “You were jealous?”
Daniel felt flustered, expecting Max to be on the defensive, not fucking smug. “Well, kinda. Yeah…” he said lamely.
“Good. Charles said that would work. I will have to text him and thank him for his advice.”
“Oh my god…” Daniel looked at Max in shock. “You totally played me! This was all one big set up.”
Max grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Mostly yes. Not the handcuffs of course, but maybe you have the girl's number also I can thank her as well?”
Daniel shakes his head in disbelief, fondly, because okay, maybe Max trying to make Daniel jealous was actually kind of sweet. Either way, it worked, so who was he to complain?
“I think next time I would like to be the one restrained.” Max says it so matter of factly, that Daniel huffs out a laugh and pulls Max tighter into his side.
Definitely not complaining.