charlewiss - Tumblr blog

charlewiss · 16 days ago

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mistletoe meetings | d. ricciardo

merry smutmas - day 1: mistletoe

warnings: 18+ content, pwp/porn with plot, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), light praise kink, slight cliche fluff part-way through.

w.c. 3.5k

the cold-white christmas lights twinkled against the frosted windows of the cozy chalet, casting a glow over the party inside. the air buzzed with laughter and the occasional sound of a beer cap being popped off the glass bottle. the host had outdone themselves; garlands of greenery lined the mantelpiece, candles flickered on every surface, and the star of the show was the 7ft tall christmas tree.

admittedly you hadn’t planned to come to the party tonight, but a persuasive friend insisted this would be the christmas party, and you wouldn’t want to miss it.

the sound of a deep, easy laugh broke your train of thought, and you turned in the direction it came from. a man you hadn’t seen before was leaned against a counter, holding his beer with his other hand, his face glowing with amusement at something the person in front of him had said. his curls framed his face, and his smile was so genuine it seemed to light up the space around him.

your heart skipped a beat when his gaze suddenly moved onto you. it was brief, nothing major, but it was enough to send a light blush onto your face. you turned your face down, the lip of the bottle suddenly became fascinating.

“looking at someone?” your friend teased, magically appearing at your side. jesus.

“no,” you replied a little too quickly, the warmth on your cheeks becoming hotter.

your friend smirked knowingly at you, “riiight,” she dragged out, rolling her eyes. “well he’s single, but you don’t care about that so..”

the way you perked up wasn’t at all subtle, made obvious by your friend snicker at your reaction.

before you could tell her off, a burst of gasps came from around the kitchen. you both turned to see two people caught under a mistletoe, looking at each other bewildered. there were cheers, and a few ‘you know the rules!!’ shouted, in case they had tried to walk off.

it took them a moment, but everyone cheered when the two leaned in to kiss each other. your friendly smiled at the sight, but you rolled your eyes.

“remind me to avoid that doorway,” you spoke up, causing your friend to give you a gentle nudge as she shook her head.

“nuh-uh!” she scoffed, winking at you. “it’s a christmas party, and some fun! plus, i think i know someone you’d like to be under it with,” she raised her brows, causing you to glare at her.

you made a mental note to avoid that doorway at all costs, reminding yourself every time you were near it.

though as the night wore on, and despite your best efforts to avoid the kitchen, it was almost impossible. especially when your bottle was empty, and you needed another. if you were fast enough, you were sure you’d be able to avoid walking under the mistletoe with someone.

you continuously looked left and right as you neared the kitchen, making sure nobody was heading for there at the same time as you. however, you were so caught up that you didn’t see the man standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

“woah there,” a deep voice spoke, holding you by the shoulders after you had walked into his chest. “careful where you’re walking.”

you glanced up startled and— oh, there he was.

the man from earlier, with the loud laugh and bright smile was right in front of you. and the signature smile was on his face once again, and one could argue it was wider this time. the scent of his cologne filled your nose, captivating you in a trance as you stared up at him. his curls were a little messier now, and his cheeks were a little pinker from his alcohol consumption.

“sorry! shit, i’m sorry. i clearly wasn’t..“ you started to ramble, but you trailed off when you noticed his gaze wasn’t on you anymore. you followed it up and shit.

the mistletoe. hanging right above the two of you.

“oh,” you muttered with a gulp. your eyes moved back to daniel’s face, and he was already looking at you with a light smirk.

“looks like we’ve got ourselves in a little situation,” he spoke up, one of the hands on your shoulders giving it a squeeze, as the other had his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

daniel could see the nervous look in your eyes, and he gave you a wink. “hey, i’m not going to traumatise you with my technique,” he laughed lightly, moving his face closer to your own. as soon as his lips were hovering yours, he muttered a “promise,” before closing the gap.

the kiss was over quicker than you anticipated, and you couldn’t believe it but— you craved a longer one. his soft, plump lips felt amazing against yours, and the tease of his tongue running against them was a pleasant surprise.

“see? harmless,” he said, pulling away with a pleased expression. he extended his hand out, with a “the name’s daniel, by the way,” dropping from his lips.

you shook his hand in return, giving him your name. he repeated it softly with a soft squeeze to your hand before he let go.

“well, i’ll see you around,” he grinned, nodding before he brushed past you and back into the crowd of the lively party.

you finally exhaled, not realising you had been holding your breath for so long.

the next time you saw him, it was almost too coincidental to be true. a cliche, some might say.

you had moved to a quieter corner of the party, chatting with the friend you had came to the party with. you zoned out of the conversation when daniel entered your vision, a grin on his face as he walked towards you.

“there you are! my mistletoe buddy,” he laughed, chasing a small giggle to escape you. you seen your friend gawking in your peripheral vision and oops, you hadn’t told her about it. well, at least she knew now.

“funny seeing you here,” you smiled with a raised brow, and daniel gave you a small shrug.

“well, i’d say it’s funnier for that guy up there,” he told you, causing you to frown in confusion. you looked up and— shit, really?

another mistletoe. there it was— a fresh sprig of mistletoe hung directly above you.

“now, you know it’s a tradition,” he winked, making you pout at him. you tried to jest, muttering how traditions were made to be broken, but daniel shook his head. “nope, they’re made to be honoured.”

you rolled your eyes at him, taking a step closer. daniel took a step closer too, his hand moving to cup your cheek, tilting your head up towards him.

“pucker up, buttercup,” he muttered, making you burst into a fit of giggles as you pulled away. “huh— what?”

“really? pucker up, buttercup?” you laughed, and daniel started laughing along too.

“hey! i’m trying to ease the tension,” he muttered, pulling you back in to him again, his thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek softly.

the kiss was a little longer this time, daniel tilting his head after a few seconds to get a better angle, trying to memorise your lips. he cheekily nipped at your bottom lip, a surprised but soft whine escaping you before daniel pulled away. he didn’t pull away fully though, leaning in and placing a chaste peck on your lips before stepping back.

“well, you know what they say,” he says as he licks his lips, eyeing you up. you tilt your head, beckoning him to go on.

“third time’s the charm, right?” he winks, taking a few steps back. “and lucky for you, three’s my lucky number,” he finished, before doing a 180 and delving back into the crowd.

“so, when were you going to tell me about this?” your friend exclaims, after struggling to stay silent the full time.

and then, it wasn’t long before fate— or the host’s mischievous decorations— brought you together again. admittedly you were trying to leave the party unnoticed, slipping into the back hallway towards the coat rack, when daniel rounded the corner.

“going somewhere?” he asked, causing you to jump on the spot, head turning to him. you let out an exhale when you seeing it was only him, your body becoming less tense.

“well i was— shit nevermind,” you mumble, knowing there was no point lying now you were caught. “it’s getting late, i was going to head.”

“well, not before one last kiss i’d hope,” he let out, voice pitching up at the end. you looked up and your body slumped when you seen the mistletoe above you, again.

“how does this keep happening?” you ask, half laughing but half seriously asking— because how?

“hey, i told you three was my lucky number. maybe the universe wants to show you,” he teased, walking to your side.

you bit your lip at how close he got so quickly, his cologne once again filling your nostrils and hypnotising you with thoughts of daniel and only daniel.

“maybe.. maybe it is,” you mumbled, taking one more step before there was no more space. your noses were right in front of one another, and you could feel daniel’s hot breath against you. his gaze flicked to your mouth before returning back to your eyes.

“will you let me show you?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. you didn’t even respond, closing the gap between you both instantly.

this kiss wasn’t short or playful like the other two had been, this one was different. this one truly meant something. it deepened quickly, daniel’s hand moving to your waist as he pulled your front against his own. you lost yourself in the kiss, his lips moving against yours with such ease and confidence that your knees started to feel weak.

when you finally pulled apart, daniel’s head rested gently upon your own, his breath warm against your cheek.

“don’t leave yet,” he muttered, his voice husky. “stay, and i’ll show you a good time. i know you haven’t had one tonight,” he finished, licking his lips.

you pondered for a few moments, before you gave in and nodded. “okay, okay. i’ll stay,” you agreed, cheeks heating up at the smile he gave you.

“let’s start with getting out this hallway, hm?” he winked, reaching out for your hand and taking it.

daniel guided you further into the back, head dipping into rooms to make sure they weren’t already occupied. thankfully, it didn’t take him too long to find a free room, and he stood to the side to allow you to enter first.

“much better,” he mumbled, locking the bedroom door before turning round to see you. you were perched on the end of the bed, staring up at him and keeping your gaze on him as he slowly stalked towards you.

daniel’s hand moved to your hair, gently pushing it back, with a little force so that your head tilted back along with it. “you’re gorgeous,” he broke the silence, causing your cheeks to blossom with warmth. “i wasn’t expecting to meet anyone here tonight, and then i bumped into you. and admittedly, i was hoping we’d keep meeting under that mistletoe.”

you giggled and shook your head, moving your head to the side, but daniel’s hand slid down to catch you by the cheek, making you look at him. “don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he let out quietly.

daniel’s thumb brushed against your cheek again, the touch warm and deliberate. his eyes searched yours momentarily, and the intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch. slowly, he leaned in so his lips were hovering your own.

when he kissed you, it was soft and unhurried, now that he finally had you to himself. his lips moved against yours with gentle confidence, his hand still cradling your cheek as he did so. you melted into him, your hands finding their way to the fabric of his sweater, curling into the wooly fabric as you pulled him closer.

“you’re incredible,” he murmured between kisses, his words making your cheeks burn hotter. his other hand slid to your ass, sliding his arm under to lift you further up onto the bed. the pressure of his lips and the way his tongue teased you sent heat right to your core.

as your bodies grew closer, the world outside the room disappeared entirely. there was nobody else, no christmas party— just daniel. just daniel with his scratchy stubble, warm hands, and his soft, heart-shaped lips.

when you pulled back for the first time, you moved so your head was against the pillows, titled right back. daniel moved accordingly. legs at either side of you as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“i can’t stop looking at you,” he admitted lowly, eyes mapping your body. “you’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, but that wasn’t the only reason. daniel moved onto your neck now that you had given him easy access, placing wet kisses all against your skin. your eyes fluttered shut, soft breathe escaping you as he continued to give your neck the attention it needed.

his hands trailed down your body slowly, fingers running in different directions before they all ended at the same destination; the hem of your sweater. daniel placed one last kiss to your neck before he pulled back, and you tilted your head round to see him.

“can i?” he asked softly, gently tugging on the hem to give you an idea on what he was talking about. you agreed of course, nodding as you lifted your arms up, allowing daniel to get your sweater off with ease.

his eyes raked over you, resting on your chest for the most part but they trailed down your stomach, eyeing the clothed area that was his final goal. he placed a soft kiss on your stomach, before leaving a trail of them upwards and the final one was placed upon your sternum.

suddenly, his hands were on each of your breasts, pushing them closer to his face as he littered kisses over each of them. he started with your right, soft lips running over it as he placed the lightest kisses over your skin, moving up towards your nipple before he placed a soft, teasing kiss atop it, moving to your left breast.

you shined whined out at the light tease, but you had no reason to fear, as he took a different approach with your left breast. the kisses were a little harsher, there were more biting this time around, and when he trailed his tongue up to your nipple, he swirled his tongue around it in a circle before sucking on it gently.

the moan you let out in return was satisfying enough for him, and he pulled back to watch your flushed face. his hands squeezed your breasts softly, and daniel admired you as you writhed at the pleasure that coursed through your body.

“perfect.. you’re so perfect,” he told you, thumbs running across your hardened nipples gently. “i can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me all my life.”

you flushed at the praise, but tried to distract yourself with helping daniel pull off his own sweater. it took a moment to get off his head, his curls bouncing around from the roughhousing which made you both giggle. you only had a short moment to admire his chest, and eye his prominent happy trail before daniel’s lips were back on yours.

daniel unloosened his belt, throwing it off to the side as he slid his trousers off, and while he done that you got your bottom half undressed too. when you both met again face-to-face on the bed, you were both stark naked, yet your eyes were still glued to each other.

he moved closer, his nose rubbing against your own before he placed a soft kiss against your lips. “i want to make you feel so good, sweetheart.”

your hands moved to his head, fingers threading through his curls and tugging them gently. his lips landed on yours again, kissing you softly, delicately— as if you’d break, otherwise.

“i need you danny,” you mutter as you pull away, giving him a pleading look. “please make me feel good,” you tell him, placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

daniel doesn’t need to be told twice, positioning his cock so that his tip was nudging at your entrance. he looked up to you, one last time to silently ask ‘is this okay?’ and when you nodded, he was given the go ahead.

daniel pushed himself into you slowly, stretching you out on his thick cock. you couldn’t help the string of moans that escaped you as he pushed further into you, filling you up with just him.

his eyes wondered to yours, light worry sparking in them. “you alright?” he asks, waiting until you reply before he dares to move.

it takes you a moment as you gulp before letting out a deep exhale through your nose, trying to get used to his size. “yeah i’m… i’m okay,” you confirm, giving him a soft smile to reassure him.

daniel began to move slowly, but not in a teasing way— moreso in a way to make sure you were alright, and could get used to his size at a steady pace. daniel’s head fell forward, forehead resting against yours as he thrusted in and out of you.

your whines and pants only spurred him on, and he had to hold himself back from going faster. you could tell he was holding back too, so you grabbed his face to pull him in for a kiss. “please danny, move faster,” you asked desperately, and how could he deny you?

daniel done so as soon as the words left your mouth, speeding up his pace just like you requested. daniel couldn’t stop himself from moving his head back to your neck, kissing over the skin as he breathed in your intoxicating scent. he groaned lowly after he inhaled, teeth sinking into the skin of your neck.

“you— fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters into your neck, nose pressed deeply against it as if he was entranced by the scent of you. “and you’re so beautiful. you’re perfect, and i can’t believe we just met,” he continues, kissing your neck and trailing it up your chin, moving to place a passionate kiss on your lips. “got so much lost time to make up on baby, and i’m going to be in you for most of it.”

daniel’s words were hypnotising, the deep grumble of his low accented voice, as well as the power of his words had you inching closer to the edge. you thrusted your hips up against him, desperate to feel more of him— all of him.

“please danny— shit.. need you, need this,” you plead, arms moving around his shoulders so your nails could scrape down his tanned, toned back.

“come on then sweetheart,” he encouraged you, forehead resting against yours again as he started to thrust into you faster, feeling himself get closer too. “finish for me, show me how much tonight has meant to you,” he whispered, lips crashing onto yours one last time before your orgasm came coursing through you.

your body trembled as you couldn’t do anything but moan, and whine out daniel’s name. your hips continued to buck up as you rode out your orgasm, and that only pushed daniel towards his own. the movements, the sight of you, the pleas falling from your mouth— it was all too much for daniel to keep it together.

daniel is a smart man, he pulls out just before the coil snaps for him. his hand wraps around his aching, bright red cock, stroking it up and down to help him with his orgasm. you’re still in a daze from your own, but through hooded eyes you watch daniel rutting into his own hand, head tiled right back as the cum came out of his cock, slicking up his hand just nicely.

after daniel’s was over, he slumped forward and fell onto the bed beside you. he turned to you, admiring you despite the flushed cheeks, messy hair and panting chest. he moved his hand— the clean one, obviously— up to your face, pulling you in to give you one last soft kiss.

“you’re absolutely amazing sweetheart,” he told you again, voice hoarse from the noises he had been making just moments before. “and i’m serious when i say i want to see you again, and make up for lost time. i’m drawn to you baby, won’t be able to stop thinking about you.”

you giggle at daniel’s words, nodding and moving your face to kiss the palm of his hand that held your cheek.

“i’d like that too, danny.”

smutmas taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart <3

#came out of my slumber just for this obviously #dr3 rec #(i dont remember my tags anymore its been too long)#THIS IS SO GOOD !!

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charlewiss · 1 year ago

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wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day.

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes.

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading.

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka.

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward.

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed.

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control.

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time.

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.”

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.”

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

#THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING #JSKFJEKXJ #NO WORDS #mv1 rec

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