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'It can't hurt to ask,' his dad said (by now a bit removed from that very pain). 'If he says he's not interested, hey, we'll think of something else. Every sponsor and every outlet can't say no, right?'
Well. Every sponsor and every outlet certainly seemed determined to. Beyond the initial rush of media attention, HybridV10 was really struggling to get and keep sponsors and positive press coverage. Everytime it seemed like they were getting somewhere with a new possible sponsor, or maybe a network deal or even just an outlet interview, the other side would suddenly back out. And the more bad press they got, the more gun-shy new potential sponsors became - like some endless cycle.
THINKGREEN, an Austria-based EV battery charging station company, was just the latest company to leave them in the lurch. And time was of the essence when it came to cultivating new talent - how could they convince drivers and their families to invest their time and skill in a series that no one else in the motorsport world seemed to want to take a chance on?
It was his father's project, yes, but Lewis would do anything so it did not fail. Just like his father had done for him. Even if it meant-- Lewis waiting around the Dutch hotel where Max was last seen, hoping to ask him if he'd do some press talking about the new series. Max wouldn't even need to say anything positive; just a neutral mention would do.
... Knowing Max, though, he'd probably say some bullshit. Lewis scuffed the bottom of his shoe on the pavement, freshly cleared of snow. Now why'd he gone and done that? Shoes were brand new, and a bit too slick on the bottoms, besides.
It wasn't that Lewis was nervous, mind. Just. It had been-- a while since they'd spoken face to face. And knowing Max ... he'd probably tell Lewis no. Max had made his thoughts perfectly clear on racing with hybrid vehicles and EVs. Had made his thoughts on Lewis perfectly clear, last they'd spoken.
And it wasn't like Max found being asked for help in-person particularly persuasive...as Lewis knew very well.
A violent shudder seized him, unexpectedly. Quick, he turned up his coat collar against the wind. The scarf his nephew had knitted for him was more ornamental than functional, as it turned out. He let out a harsh sigh - his breath came out like smoke in the air. He felt little pricks of cold and wetness against his skin - he squinted out over the little shopping centre, up at the cloudy evening sky.
It was starting to snow again.
What was he even doing. Even if he wasn't freezing his balls off - and he was - this was a stupid idea. He could just have his people ask Max' people. Forget about blackmailing Max with the stuff his attorney had dug up; Lewis would just get his no's over email, like God intended. And get over himself and just ask Seb whether he would be interested in helping out. Somehow it felt harder to ask Seb to help him than it was to try to manipulate Max into doing so. Because how did you sort out debt between friends when the need was so one-sided? He no longer had the hang of it.
Whereas he and Max-- well. They owed each other nothing, now, didn't they.
Yea. It was time to go. Lewis tugged his beanie further down over his head, ignoring the porter glowering at him from the other side of the hotel lobby glass. Now to get out of here without being spotted. He turned to the right, in the direction of where he'd parked the rented car--
'Lewis?' Fuck. Max. Somewhere behind him. Lewis ducked his head down further and kept walking. 'Lewis!' Closer now. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Lewis sped up, walking straight into a gust of wind.
That was when his shoes - his nice new shoes - so nice, so new, so stupidly slick on the bottoms - slid straight on a bit of ice.
His reflexes were not at all what they used to be - he could not right his balance in time - he reached out as he slipped backwards - his hands slicing through the empty air - his eyes went wide toward the sky - preparing for the fall, preparing for the pain--
but Max caught him.
...
Dazed, Lewis breathed in and out, his whole body juddering with each thump of his heart. Blinking back the tears that wind brought; staring up into Max' startled gaze.
The snow was already falling in earnest now, landing in thick white clusters on the top of Max' hair. He'd had a haircut sometime recently... but why wasn't he wearing a hat in this weather? Lewis wondered.
With clumsy hands he reached for the circle of Max' arms; with clumsy hands he held on.
He felt Max tighten his grip around his body. Melting Lewis' balance with his own. Matching Lewis' every inhale - his lips open with each gasp Lewis made. The smoke from their mouths ... becoming one breath.
'Got you,' said Max.
The hotel had a little cafe inside of it, and much nicer waiters than it did porters. Lewis was not hungry. Max ordered drinks for them both in Dutch - he and the server shared some joke that Lewis did not understand. Still he smiled politely when they glanced at him; he fiddled with his hands beneath the table. He took off his beanie and gloves; he did not take off his coat.
'The hot chocolate is quite good here,' Max said cheerfully, once the server left. He had quite the healthy flush on his face. Photos could never quite capture what he looked like in person when he was happy like this. One wrong angle and -- oof. 'If you want something stronger, I can order, but you will kick yourself if you do not have this, Lewis, I tell you.'
'Sure,' Lewis said, indifferent. The server came back with a wide smile and their drinks: two mugs of hot chocolate, so rich he could smell his before it was set down before him, with cocoa whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top. Certainly it looked decadent; certainly it had dairy in it. Well, Max had probably forgotten he was vegan. No need to make a fuss over it. He'd just--have a drink and leave.
'It is made with real Belgian chocolate,' Max gushed, already several gulps deep before Lewis so much as took his first sip. Real Belgian chocolate, Lewis thought, grown for real somewhere else. 'And yours is made with almond milk, by the way - and the whipped cream is vegan, too.'
'Oh,' Lewis said - warmed by his thoughtfulness. 'Thanks.'
'It is nothing,' said Max, his tongue darting out to lick a bit of whipped cream on his top lip. Lewis smiled at him without intending to - Max beamed back at him.
Oh, Max was being so sweet... and he seemed so happy just to see him... Lewis began to feel a bit guilty.
Carefully, he lifted his mug - he licked a bit of the whipped cream, and took a sip of the hot chocolate.
Ah, it was hot! Well - obviously. And that whipped cream was, uh, definitely not vegan, haha... but it was good. Very good. 'It's good!' he said diplomatically. He would just not say anything else.
Max made eye contact with the server - when she came back over, she said something - again in Dutch - with the intonation of a joke. Her smile quickly faded as Max responded in Dutch, gesturing to Lewis' mug.
A bit confused, Lewis sent a tentative smile her way. 'It's very good,' he reassured her, gesturing to his mug. But she quickly took his mug from him and walked away without saying anything, her face going red.
Lewis frowned - he turned to Max. 'What did you say to her to make her so upset?'
Max rolled his eyes. Yea, that was more the reception Lewis had expected, coming here. 'I did not say anything wrong,' he said. Not the question Lewis asked. 'I only asked her to make it again, this time without dairy. If anything, it is your fault - you make the same--,' Max lowered his voice, '--annoying smile when something you get is not vegan. Like it is some test the world failed.'
Lewis' eyes drifted after the server. He had not known he was so transparent. '--I'm less strict about it these days,' he admitted. Keeping things calm, keeping things relaxed. 'It was partially a weight thing during the season.' Partially also a control thing.
Either way: by now a moot point.
'But still it is important to you,' Max insisted. Hm.
'--Not so important that you need to worry about it,' Lewis said, sitting back in his seat.
Max let out a low laugh. 'Right,' he muttered, shaking his head. 'Because the world will end at once if I ever worry about you.'
Lewis looked around. There were two elderly women in the far corner talking to each other; one other server - their hair shaved, their gender unclear - was stood behind the bar, cleaning. None of them seemed to be paying attention to Max or Lewis.
Max made a scornful noise. Lewis flicked his eyes over at him; he watched Max as he tipped his mug back and started drinking the rest of his hot chocolate. He looked at Max' wedding ring.
'So,' Lewis said, changing the subject. No need to circle back and dredge up all that old history. 'How's it feel?' He let out a small smile. 'Your last winter break? Last year in F1?'
He still couldn't fully believe it - Max had so many more good years ahead of him in F1. And he'd threatened to retire so many times, Lewis hadn't actually ever believed that he would do it.
But here they were.
Max looked at him from over his mug. He finished drinking - he put the mug down. He licked his lips while still looking at Lewis. Lewis looked down at the other man's mug instead of in his eyes.
'--it will be a year like any other, I suppose,' Max said, sounding a bit tired. Lewis glanced back up again - wait. Was Max wearing a little concealer beneath his eyes? The thought was so surprising that he nearly missed what Max said next: '--Though I have no plans to spend it like you did your last.'
Lewis shifted in his seat. 'That seems wise,' he said, smiling wanly.
For a moment they simply gazed at each other. It was a nice sweater Max had on, Lewis thought. It was nice he knew how to dress for cold weather now. One time, Lewis remembered, Max had gone out in the snow wearing just a tee shirt and jeans, haha, insisting he did not get cold. Of course he'd then immediately caught a cold...
Lewis blinked the memory away. He lifted his head and looked up - from the speakers above played some vaguely festive Dutch music. Leftovers from the holiday season.
Beneath the table, Max' trouser leg brushed against Lewis' ... one of his shoes pushed its way between both of Lewis'.
A heat rose to Lewis' face. He looked away, out at the glass wall beside their table, past their reflections in the golden cafe light, out at the dark and windy world outside: the stark white snow swirling down - the cyclists, the pedestrians, the handful of cars, their many noises muffled... all of them on their own separate paths.
Sometimes ... sometimes Lewis felt like he was in the midst of a great circle, and all he could do was watch everyone around him move out of his orbit.
He blinked - he pulled his gaze back a bit; he saw in the glass that Max was staring at him.
In that warm reflected world, their eyes met. Lewis' left elbow began to throb.
'But you did not come here to discuss my retirement,' Max said quietly. 'Did you, Lewis.'
Lewis turned back to him - they both went quiet at the server coming back with a freshly made mug of hot chocolate for Lewis.
'Oh, thank you so much,' Lewis said to her, smiling gently. No way was he consuming anything sent back in anger. He looked for a nametag - she did not have one - then he looked her in the eye. From the way she blushed, he assumed that she knew who he was. 'You really didn't have to do that. And if that guy,' gesturing to Max, 'tries to give you any more grief, you just talk to me, ok?' He winked.
On the other side of the table, Max grumbled: playing it up.
The server laughed a little - relieved. 'Ok,' she said, smiling back. She did an aborted-- bow (?) at them both before rushing away.
Lewis watched her retreat. Max' shoe shifted; his calf rubbed up against Lewis'. Lewis looked to Max, still smiling politely. Without blinking he kicked Max in the shin. People walking by could see under the table! Fucker.
Max didn't flinch, though he did pull his leg back - all while staring intently at Lewis, the smallest of smiles starting on his face. Right - Lewis had forgotten that he was a freak.
'Don't get any ideas,' Lewis warned him. 'I just happened to be in the area.'
Max' smile widened even further. Ugh. 'Oh? And the area you just so happened to be in was mine?'
Lewis hated proving Max right. Stubbornly he insisted, 'I had a meeting with a potential candidate for my father's new series. HybridV10? You may have heard of it...'
It was the perfect transition. Lewis avoided it entirely. Instead he picked up the little metal spoon and used it to poke at the mound of whipped cream atop his hot chocolate. Watching it shed chocolate shavings onto the table; watching it start to melt from the bottom up...
'The meeting did not go well?' Max pressed.
Well, it had gone nowhere, as Lewis had suspected it would; and the agent had been a nightmare even just to talk to. His instincts were improving about this sort of thing. Whether that meant it had gone well or it had gone terribly, he could not tell. Instead of saying any of that - instead of saying anything at all - Lewis simply shrugged. With a plop, he dropped the spoon down in his mug. A frothy line of cocoa dribbled down the side of the mug.
'Listen, Lewis,' said Max, lowering his voice and leaning forward on folded arms, 'do you need my help with, with press or contacts? I have been hearing some-- not very good things about the series through the great vine--'
Great vine? 'Great vine?' Lewis repeated, confused. 'What great vine?'
Max blinked back at him - clearly confused as well. 'Through the great vine,' he said slowly. 'You know, from the-- that song you always used to play? I heard things through the great,' here his voice cracked, 'vine - Lewis! Stop laughing! Look, you know I cannot sing.'
Lewis took in a breath - and kept cackling. 'No, I, hehe, I always loved your voice,' he said without thinking. 'But the song is I Heard It Through the Grapevine. (Heard! it through the grapevine),' he sang in an undertone, leaning his body toward Max, '(not much longer would you be-my-baby).' He realised he was smiling only when Max reached out, pushed his mug to the side, and took his hand.
'Well. That explains why I could never find the song, then,' Max said, grinning all the way up to his eyes. His thumb started stroking over the back of Lewis' hand.
Lewis felt his smile start to fade. This rose-coloured glasses thing was ...a bit odd, yea? Max had never been like that with him-- all doe-eyed and romantic. Not without getting an orgasm or two out of him first. If anything ... if anything Lewis was just the fuck between phone calls to his fiancée.
Well. That was not fair, exactly.
It was Lewis' fault, really. If anyone had known better, he had, and yet he'd initiated it all anyway. He'd figured - if fucking one's main opponent to fuck with them had worked on him in 2016, it would surely work on Max a decade later.
And Lewis had gotten his 8th WDC.
But Max had known he was fucking with him and had still... Max had still wanted more. Or maybe he'd been pretending! Maybe he'd thought it had all been a new stage in a game the two of them would continue the following season.
But of course there had been no next season for Lewis; and Lewis had gotten what he needed out of Max, regardless.
So it would not have been right-- for Lewis to... to ask for more - or promise it - when he knew he was planning to retire.
Lewis pulled his hand back - out of Max' grasp - and folded it beneath his other in his lap.
Max let out a low sigh. '...And again you retreat,' he murmured, 'without telling me why.'
Retreating? Lewis smiled politely. 'I'm not retreating. Just wondering: why would you help me?' he said, eyeing Max closely. If anything ... if anything Max should still hold a grudge against him.
Lewis knew full well how fucking awful it felt to be blindsided by the retirement of someone you-- someone you felt--felt... ah.
Quite strongly about.
He didn't like to think it from either end, really; so he didn't like to think of Max.
Besides: Max had more than moved on.
Max gave him a look like he was oh-so-hurt. Lewis narrowed his eyes; he noticed belatedly that Max had missed a spot shaving on his right side.
'I like your dad,' Max claimed. 'He's always been kind to me, and I want to support him.'
Mm ... no, that wasn't it. Lewis simply shook his head: not buying it.
'And I have missed--being around you,' Max said, scooting his seat closer to the table. He bumped into the table slightly, nearly knocking over his mug - Lewis' eyes darted to his own mug, which luckily remained fully upright. More of the whipped cream had melted down; a thin crust was forming where the cocoa had dripped and started drying down the sides. 'I do not like-- not knowing what is happening in your life, not knowing what is truth and what is lies in the news. I would like to know the truth again for myself.'
Mm ... that was sweet, and it certainly felt closer to the truth; but that wasn't it, either.
'Try again,' Lewis said, bland.
Max sat back and crossed his arms - he'd bulked up a bit, hadn't he - shaking his head as he stared across the table at Lewis in clear irritation. Lewis smiled with his dimples.
'How about this, then,' Max said, roughly: 'if I help you, you will go up to my room with me right now and fuck me for it. Because I will not help you otherwise. How about that.'
The room snapped into startling focus. After a pause, Lewis put both of his hands on the wooden table. He leaned forward, unblinking; his heart pounding hard in his chest.
'And why would I do that,' he said, only a little breathless.
Max made an almost painful expression that Lewis did not understand. Wordlessly Lewis slid his left hand, palm up, across the table - Max uncrossed his arms, the stark emotion in his face softening as he leaned forward again and held Lewis' hand between his with a sigh.
He ran his finger up and down the middle of Lewis' palm, sending a low buzzy spark up the inside of Lewis' arm, beneath the wool of his coat sleeve. As if he were playing the harp ... with all of the nerves there.
Lewis swallowed hard when Max was not looking.
'I have thought about it a lot,' Max murmured - evidently addressing their hands instead of looking at Lewis. 'And I believe that you need a reason to let me fuck you. It has to be a game to you, or--it needs an imbalance. Someone has to pay, or someone has to pay back.' Well, that was just patently untrue. Lewis tried to pull his hand back, but Max held onto him, eyes snapping up to Lewis'. 'It is not enough that we both want to.' He said this with full confidence - without even asking whether Lewis still wanted to. Fuck. 'So now I have to give you the excuse. When I give you the choice, you do not come. You pretend you have lost my number, you pretend you care I am married--'
'I do care that you are married, actually,' Lewis said, playing along.
'If you cared so much, you would have come to my wedding,' Max said fiercely. Lewis startled - now truly taken off-guard. Max took in a deep breath. He squeezed Lewis' hand gently: once ... twice. 'I am sorry - I am sorry. I do not mean to be curt at you.'
'But we already talked about this - you said you understood,' Lewis said, baffled. There was no way he could have attended Max' wedding and it not end up front page news?
Max appeared to stew on this for some time - he had a better handle on his anger, it seemed. Hmph. Eventually, he set his jaw and said, 'I did understand ... and I do understand. But I do not care anymore. Alright? So those are my terms - and you must take or leave them.'
But Lewis looked at him closely - and he sensed the weakness beneath Max' resolve. If Lewis pressed, he suspected that Max would just help him anyway.
He'd always liked Lewis a little too much to be mean to him for very long. Mean by his own standards, at least; some of the most disrespectful shit Max had ever said to or about Lewis, he hadn't even said with any intention of being mean: he'd simply believed it to be true.
This, too, was part of their history.
'I can't believe you, man,' Lewis said, low, standing to his feet without letting go of Max' hand. Max looked up at him with all of his heartbreak in his face - oh, he thought Lewis was leaving. If they had not been in public, Lewis might have kissed him. Instead Lewis pulled him up on his feet, tugging at his arm pointedly - watching the realisation bloom on Max' face. 'I cannot believe you could do something so awful and so manipulative - which way is your room? - oh, you're just so used to getting whatever you want, aren't you.' This he did say with a certain level of irony.
But Max disarmed him. For he used the link of their arms to come and stand close to Lewis; his free hand came up and touched the middle of Lewis' left arm - as if he remembered that Lewis was sensitive there. Lewis looked up; Max tipped his head down.
'... yes,' Max said softly. Answering a very different question. 'Always.'
He'd upgraded his cologne, hadn't he? Mm. He smelled good.
Before he did something stupid, Lewis let go of Max' hand to search his pockets for his wallet. Of course, Max - now yanking on his own coat, which he'd draped over the back of the seat beside his - tried to stop him: 'They charge it directly to my room, Lewis, do not worry about paying.' Ah - so that was why Max had waved that card when they'd first come in. Lewis did not care much for automated hotel service, really - the whole point of staying at a hotel instead of buying a flat and staying there alone was for the human touches. But Max (at least in his experience) had always preferred convenience and speed.
It seemed there were still some things he was too impatient to care about. 'If you don't want a detailed play-by-play of everything we just did in der deutchen tabloiden tomorrow, we need to leave a little extra,' Lewis said under his breath, leaving a wad of euros on the table.
'A little extra!' Max hissed, indignant. 'You did not even drink your drink! Lewis! And der deutchen tabloiden is nonsense!'
Lewis peacefully ignored him, leading the way out of the cafe.
'Why do you still leave a big tip for bad service?' Max groused. It was comforting to know that he still exaggerated: the service had not been bad at all.
But why leave a big tip for bad service. Hm. Well, it was half habit, half pettiness. Perhaps it was stupid to pay someone for their potential ignorance, but he liked the idea that someone who had served him would forever be lying to themselves and to others if they kept quiet whenever someone else started in about how cheap black people were. It was like he was hypothetically paying for the price of their own denial. And if he wasn't doing that, hey, he was at least giving someone one of the largest tips in their life.
But someone like Max would not understand; to him there was only ever the listed price to worry about. There was no point in explaining.
Still - Lewis had sort of missed Max' fussing at him.
'Dunno,' he replied, shrugging cheerfully. He did not kiss Max in the lift up, but he did knock their shoulders together on their way out. He slowed down a little in the third floor hallway, letting Max go ahead of him. It was then that he noticed the back of Max' trousers were wrinkled. Hmm.
He followed Max toward his room, either hand stroking his beanie (left pocket) and his gloves (right pocket). They paused in front of the room - hm? - Max turned to Lewis, his face very flushed.
'Euh,' he said, shoving a hand through his hair, 'wait here for a moment? Please? Do not leave!' And he stuck his card in the door and slipped inside before Lewis could reply or follow him in.
Ok. Lewis leaned against the wall, examining his nails as he listened to the sounds of Max hastily tidying up inside. Hmm. Smoothly he took off his coat - the collar once more laid down - and folded it in half over his arm with a slight sigh.
A few moments later, the door opened again. 'Ok,' Max said, sticking his head out. He no longer was wearing his coat. 'You can--'
Lewis pushed his way inside - intending to toss his coat anywhere and then move on to the bedroom.
Then he looked around. 'Max,' he said, concerned.
Despite the rush shove job, the place clearly had not been properly cleaned in a while. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and there was a concentration of trash near a table and outlet by the window, where a laptop and sims were set up.
'Yea,' Max muttered. Lewis waited until he looked up.
'I'm not fucking you when your place looks like this,' he said firmly.
One shared edible, one open window, and seven trash bags (left outside) later, and the place was looking much better.
The washroom was clean, and already well-stocked with cleaning supplies - Max was still strict about hygiene there, at least. The takeaway carcasses in the fridge had been laid to rest, and all the empty bottles of gin were bagged up; but the few dishes in the sink would have to wait until they'd picked up some dish soap. Max had actually bought laundry detergent thinking it was dish soap; this turned out to be a useful mistake. They'd separated the laundry by colour and wash re-stric-tion and put a load in.
In Lewis' experience, only, only--... uh? What was he saying? ... His experience! Right. In his experience: only extended stay hotel rooms came with washing machines. It was for that exact convenience that he used to have his team request such rooms earlier on in his F1 career, during back-to-back races, when he knew he'd be going through a lot of clothing.
He stripped the bed; Max gingerly threw out the personal pizza box on the side table, apparently from the night before. He was eating Dutch pizza? Tsk. Lewis shook his head sympathetically as Max put the new set of sheets on.
They did not move the body oil from the side table.
When Max was finished, Lewis toed off his shoes - he kept his socks on - and went down on the mattress with a sigh. He felt Max watching him. Funny how a bed became its separate compote--compost... components! when you weren't sure about whether you should sleep on it. Well, while he would have preferred that the mattress be vacuumed (and sanitised) (and checked for bugs) before he touched it further ... Max wasn't gonna feel comfortable unless Lewis made himself comfortable.
Anyway they'd been cleaning for a bit. They could take a break.
On his left, the bed dipped down: Max lying down beside him. Lewis smiled without opening his eyes. He felt Max take his hand. Mm. That was nice.
The sound of the washing machine was quite soothing.
'This edible is weak,' Lewis announced. He paused - he forgot what he was saying. He remembered: 'I don't feel anything at all.'
'Yea,' Max said. He did not sound very happy...? Hmm... ... ... '--Aren't you going to ask?'
Lewis startled. Had he fallen asleep? He turned toward Max; the colours of his face seemed unusually blotchy. Pink - white - brown - blue. Impressionim...ism. Impressionism. He blinked; he cleared his throat. 'Ask wha--?'
Max didn't look very happy, either. 'Ask how long I've been here. Ask why I'm here alone.'
Lewis blinked. Oh. 'Oh,' he said. 'No!' It was obvious Max had been here for some time; and it was equally obvious that he would only share why if he wanted to, and there would be no forcing him to that point.
'We are separated, alright?' said Max. Wait, who was separate? 'You were right. Go ahead and say I told you so.' Oh! He meant him and his wife ... oh.
Lewis turned onto his side - closer to Max. Moving the hand he held behind his neck till Max caught the hint and wrapped his arm around Lewis. He let out a quiet noise when Lewis touched him - Lewis resisted the urge to kiss him. Instead he nudged closer, laying his head on Max' shoulder - placing his hand beneath Max' chest ... rubbing back and forth over his abdomen. Breathing in Max' scent. And if he pressed his mouth briefly against Max' sweater, Max did not say anything.
In fact Lewis felt a bit too good to feel any guilt; but he knew it would wait until he was-- maybe more clearheaded to visit him again.
Honestly he'd just been talking shit, searching for the most hurtful thing to say. He hadn't actually thought anything would go wrong with Max' marriage.
But maybe Max had believed him; maybe that was all it took.
Well! No point in saying any of that now.
'I'm sorry,' he said simply. 'You could have told me, you know?'
'... but I know you would not like me as much,' Max said, 'if you did not feel I choose you over her.'
Max did not know him as well as he thought. But probably he would not like to know that Lewis felt less pathetic, needing Max, if Max was pathetic, too.
Lewis shrugged - he watched Max' chest rise and sink. Mmm-metronome. 'I mean ... if you'd like me to pretend to feel bad that I am here and she is not ... I can?'
'--No, no,' Max said, after a pause. 'I know how bad you are at acting.'
What! Lewis poked him in his ribcage, fighting down a smile when this made Max let out a yelp of a laugh. Hehehe. 'Glad you have been enjoying my ... body of work,' he said.
'Oh, I have enjoyed your body, alright,' Max returned. Cheeky.
Lewis tilted his head up; he caught Max smiling at one of those awful unflattering angles. He could see up his nose and everything. God it was gross - God he had missed him. And more than he'd let himself know ... even though it must have been easier for Max, to have that choice, between a fiancée and a-- whatever Lewis had been. A wife and wherver--whatever Lewis was now.
But maybe ... maybe Max had needed an excuse, too?
Maybe they wouldn't need excuses after this.
Lewis leaned up and kissed Max - oof, angle off, he kissed his chin. They re-arranged their bodies on the bed. Lewis went down on his back; Max went after him. They kissed close-mouthed at first, then much more deeply. Max still tasted a little of chocolate. Was that even possible? Maybe it was just Lewis' brain's way of saying how much he liked how Max tasted? ... Mmm ...
The world felt like water?, uhh--like the top of water? in the sun: bright and clear.
Max' hand came up and down the back Lewis' left arm - he murmured some soothing nonsense when Lewis shivered - fresh air came at a cost. He watched Lewis with a flush down his neck when his hands started to tug down at those wrinkled trousers of his.
'I do not have condoms,' Max said quickly. 'I did not expect you today, I was going to going to go the drugstore tomorrow.'
'Oh, were you expecting me tomorrow, then?' Lewis teased. Max blushed, and kissed him without responding. Leaned up with their mouths still pressed against each other and undid the buckle of Lewis' belt - tugging it out and tossing it away onto the floor. Somehow the flat sound of it hitting the carpet made them both crack up laughing. Max got his head stuck in his sweater he was laughing so hard. Lewis had to help him tug it the rest of the way off, ahahaha.
He looked so good in just his undershirt, hair all crazy, his trousers and briexers, uh!, boxers shoved half-way down his thighs. Wait? Where did Lewis' slacks go? Mm-- probably they were around... somewhere. For some reason, Lewis couldn't stop kissing Max - even when Max moved his mouth away to lick the palm of his hand, even when he licked the palm of Lewis' hand, even when he pulled Lewis' briefs down from the back, even when he used Lewis' hand to push both of their dicks together, Lewis just kept on kissing Max' neck ... gasping ... feeling like steam was lifting, lilting, licking from his head - one lick was not enough; but neither of them reached for the body oil. Max lifted his hand and spat into it, then started jerking them off together again. Lewis moaned. His hands felt like they were melting - he grabbed onto Max from the back - rocking his hips into it, rolling more to the side, pressing more of his body against Max' - Max' thighs were trapped by his trousers hahaha - Lewis' laugh turned into a hiss when Max' hand slid up and pressed up against his balls - '-hh!' - Lewis jerked up with his whole body - 'you still wax everywhere?' yes, yes, 'you still like the pain?' yesyesyes - his world narrowed down to that one hand, sweaty and squeezing his shaft, rubbing pre-cum rough up and over them both, the sound of skin against skin speeding up, 'c'mon, c'mon,' - impatient, like Lewis was wasting his time, god, Lewis shuddered in anticipation, he could feel it coming, he would not fight it, he gave his whole body to it, gave his whole body to--to--
'Mmmm... max,' he sighed.
The world felt liquid ... perfect and smooth. Ok, so maybe this edible was hitting.
He'd got cum all over his thighs from them both - some even got on his socks. Christ.
'Take them off,' Max demanded. Oh, his socks? Ok. Lewis simply lifted his legs, one after the other, and let Max do the work he demanded of him. Mmm. Max tossed his socks like they offended him. Hehe... Then he leaned down and licked the surgery scar on Lewis' left knee.
Lewis' whole body throbbed - he put his hand on the top of Max' head and pulled - he met his dark gaze.
He thought: I am not done with you yet.
'Tell me you need me.'
'Need you.'
'Tell me you want me.'
'W--, I want you.'
'Tell me you missed me.'
'Max - I alw--y! I always miss you.'
When it was too cold to continue, Lewis made Max close the window and turn up the heat. Max grumbled but went and did it - dick just hanging out.
Something about this made Lewis start laughing. He felt Max' focus on him, even from the other room. He met his gaze when Max came back into the bedroom. Max quirked his brow as he came over to the bed and lay back down on it. Lewis could not stop cracking up.
'What?' Max said, sounding confused. He shoved at Lewis a little. 'Lewis, what is it?'
'I was just thinking,' he said, when he could speak again without laughing. 'If you'd said no when I asked for help ... I probably would have gone to Seb and asked him.' Even that wasn't what was funny - what was funny was how awkward the image of him and Seb in the same bed felt, how bizarre it felt to imagine Seb stood over the same bed as him with his dick out, without any occupation in common. It would be very sweet if they fucked again, probably; very boring.
See, off of the track, Seb was a kind, funny, sarcastic guy; but it was Max who not only understood but anticipated the fucked-up parts of Lewis, no matter if they were on the track or not ... anticipated them and then still liked Lewis anyway.
It was this that Lewis had worked his hardest to forget.
But Max had not let him.
'But I would not have said no,' Max said, after a pause. '...and you like me more than Seb anyway.' Now that was funny. Lewis just looked over at him fondly. Max pursed his lips - clearly unamused, hehe - Lewis rolled over and kissed his sulk away.
He leaned up a little, afterward, but not away; and when Max spoke again their lips brushed against each other.
'At least,' said Max, 'you will ask me for things before you ever ask Seb.'
'... well, you don't know that,' Lewis said, languid. Disagreeing on principle. Loose all over; letting his eyes close; letting Max kiss him. Max' body, so close again against his ... the two of them together, in the midst of a circle of crumpled sheets and discarded clothes ...
'Hmm,' Max said against the side of his mouth. 'Call it an ... educated guess!'
...
Just as Max had predicted: several of the sponsors and motorsport news outlets had come crawling back as soon as they heard that Max would be participating in an unofficial race against Lewis to open up the series season. His dad was delighted - they'd actually run out of chairs in the media pen and it was SRO.
Still, Lewis thought the journalist from MotoRace seemed a bit... overly shocked to see Max there?
Terri, Lewis thought her name was? She'd been the most apologetic about not being able to cover any news about the HybridV10. After all, she'd gotten the furthest with setting up an interview with one of their star rookies before she'd just cancelled on them out of nowhere.
She didn't seem attracted to Max or anything... In fact she kept looking between Max and Lewis with a slightly bemused look on her face.
'Is everything ok?' Lewis finally asked, when his curiosity grew too great to ignore her anymore. He waved away her startled apology and introduction - her name was Kheri, actually. She smelled intensely of peppermint and nicotine. 'It's just--you keep looking at Max like--?'
He smiled; she smiled back. He waited politely for her to fill in his gap.
'Oh, sorry!' she laughed loudly, pushing her locs away from her face. She was younger than several of the other journalists present, and probably one of the least experienced. Lewis had liked the earnest tone in her fluff pieces, if he remembered correctly. 'I guess I was just surprised to see Mr Verstappen really here! Though I-I am glad to see you two seem to have patched things up!' Patched ... things up? 'I did think it was all a bit dramatic, you know, the way he kept threatening everyone and their mum by saying he'd never give them an interview again!, if they supported your father's new series, but, uh...I know how intense these sport rivalries can be, haha... Oh. Er! I hope I haven't surprised you? Did he--erhm. Did he not tell you?'