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fast-burn · 11 hours ago

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me, a fool on my millionth reread of your stuck in a lift fic: maybe this time it has a happy ending :))

daniel, like always: “you’re not my type”

me: :(((

(and i’ll reread it a million more times)

stuck in a lift fic || i'll change it for you anonstie ♡ new part in blue

Max’s sweat smells the same.

It’s something Daniel only notices after they’ve been sealed in the elevator for a half hour, like fruit ripening and softening in tupperware. He smells like five years ago. He smells like meetings in stuffy rooms, like podiums, like that time on his couch when Daniel unzipped his fly and took his dick out of the slit of his boxer briefs because he thought it would be less gay if he didn’t see Max’s balls.

He wants to say, “Remember how I jerked you off half a decade ago and we didn’t talk about it until now?” or “Hey, funny story. Every time I see a new dick, I compare it to yours.”

Maybe it’s cabin fever. Lift fever.

Max speaks before Daniel can say something psycho, thank fuck. He says, “It is very nice having you around again, Daniel. It makes me happy, you know? Just to know that I might run into you in the paddock. To know that you’re in your car behind me.”

Daniel laughs. “Or in front of you, before you lap me.”

Max grins too. “Everything is nicer, knowing you are there, that you are close.”

“Aww, shucks.” Daniel taps his shoe against Max’s bare foot. Max has stripped down to just his boxer briefs. They’re the same kind as that time they don’t talk about. He’s sprawled with his back against the wall of the elevator, thighs open. It’s probably what’s making Daniel psycho, even more than the being trapped thing.

Like, not just cabin fever. He’s got thigh fever.

He’s keeping all his clothes on.

Max laughs at the footsie game, traps Daniel’s shoe between his feet. When Daniel tries to wiggle out of it, his foot slips out of the shoe and his sweaty no-show sock rolls down.

His feet probably smell disgusting. It’s really hot in here and he’s been on his feet all day. Maybe his foot funk will cover up the smell of Max’s sweat and then he’ll stop thinking about shit he shouldn’t be thinking about.

Max presses his foot into Daniel’s, curls his toes around the tips of Daniel’s toes.

Daniel laughs. “Freak.”

Max laughs too. He fiddles with the metal bracelet he’s always wearing.

“A gift from the missus?” Daniel asks, stupid. He thought saying it would be better than saying her name, but it turns out it’s worse because then he’s picturing Max marrying Kelly.

Max grins, crinkly-eyed. Ouch. “Yeah. You know she tried to give me this crazy one with all these gem things? It was too much.”

“Ha,” Daniel says weakly. Since he’s got cabin/lift/thigh fever anyway, he goes for it. It’s part of his dumbass resolution to be more authentic or whatever. To tell someone on the grid. He figures the guy who jizzed all over his fist in 2018 is a safe enough bet. He says, “Yeah, like. I’m kinda seeing this guy who did some modeling for the clothing line, yeah? And he must have taken one of these beaded Enchanté bracelets we have, cause he was, like, wearing it when I came over? And it was hot. So. Like, I get it. She wants to give you the old razzle dazzle, Max. You should let her.”

Max’s jaw has dropped open. He looks, like. He looks gobsmacked.

Fuck.

When the first and then-only guy Daniel had ever kissed came out as gay in 2008, Daniel felt fucking ill. Like Tyler had made the entire no homo incident homo as fuck. He deleted every picture containing Tyler off his digital camera and removed him as a Facebook friend.

Maybe that’s what’s happening to Max right now. Maybe Daniel is homoing their no homo.

“I’m bi?” Daniel says, rushed and insane and like it’s a fucking question.

Max’s lips finally shut, but they go taut and hard, angry.

“I sleep with women still,” Daniel adds, desperate to salvage this. “Don’t love pussy any less, hey. Gigigigi!”

He’s lost his fucking mind.

Daniel thinks about how they play elevator security cam footage on those fucked up true crime documentaries. Victims always seem to take an elevator 20 minutes before their untimely demise. If Daniel dies from this, they’re gonna play elevator footage of him talking about being bi and loving pussy.

Max takes out his phone again, gets up and paces around the small space, climbs up on the rail and lifts it up high.

It’s useless. No service.

Not a super reassuring sign that his bisexual confession was met with Max doubling his escape efforts, hey.

After a while, Max thrusts his phone under Daniel’s nose. “This is him?”

Daniel takes the phone. It’s a screenshot of the Enchante website.

“What–you got service?” Daniel laughs, giddy. “Oh my god, use it to call someone, you maniac.”

“No, I. These are just in my texts with Victoria. I was asking to her which one would look better on me.” Max frowns. “You don’t send out the ones this fucking guy wore, do you? To customers?”

Daniel wrinkles his nose. “Max, I wouldn’t ship off sloppy second clothing. What kind of business do you think I’m running?” He crosses his arms. “You know you can’t, like, catch gayness, Max. Jesus. Don’t be a fucking asshole.”

Max’s face goes flat. His eyes are still mad, though. He says, “What.”

“Did you really buy something?”

Max’s never worn it around him, not like Lando or George. Probably for the best, so he won’t be tied to Daniel’s gay brand or whatever the fuck he thinks.

Max’s face flushes deep red. “It must be so surprising to you that people who look regular can wear your clothes as well, Daniel. That we are not all models, like these people you are dating.”

Daniel doesn’t know what his face is doing, but it’s something strange that hopefully conveys, what the fucking fuck?

Max scoffs.

Daniel says, “Well, this fucking sucked.”

Max bangs on the elevator door like they were doing a half hour ago. He tries to pry it open with his bare hands. He shouts, “Hellooooooooo!”

Daniel says, “First person I come out to outside my inner circle and he’s a fucking homophobe.”

Max whips back around, face shocked and hurt. “I am not in your inner circle?”

“That’s the part you’re worried about? I’d think you’d be, like, grateful to be in an outer ring of my gay ass solar system, Max.”

“I’m not a homophobe,” Max waves a hand through the air in sweeping motions like he’s physically dismissing the thought.

“Sure, Max.”

“Does he even know about racing, this guy?” Max says guy like other people would say bacterial infection.

“Bisexual people can enjoy racing, Max. Fucking case in point.” Daniel gestures to himself in tight, snappy motions.

“Obviously. What do you anyway have in common with him, Daniel?”

“Well, we both like dick, for one.”

Max starts throwing his clothes back on even though the elevator is like 40 fucking degrees.

“Wow, Max. Wow. Afraid I'm going to perv on your body?"

Max's shoulder's jolt. He gets tangled up in his shirt, sweaty hair sticking out of a sleeve in lethal spikes. Over the slopes of his shoulders and the soft of his chest, his skin is Jolly Rancher red.

Fuck, maybe Daniel is perving on his body. He presses his back into the wall of the lift, knees up to his chest. He kneads the heels of his hands into the bulges of his shut eyes. They make creaky sounds, maybe allergies or maybe a fucking cache of unshed tears over this claustrophobic cataclysm of a conversation.

"You think I wouldn't be safe for you?" he asks, voice nasally and nightmarish, too pathetic to even make the true crime last seen alive footage.

"Safe?" Max demands.

"You think I'd--what--do something you didn't want, Max?" Daniel makes himself open his eyes.

Max is looking down at him, fully dressed, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh god." Daniel's stomach roils. His blood feels too fast in his veins, hitting walls and frothing up. "Did I do something you didn't want? Jesus, fuck. Max, fuck. That was nothing, okay? It meant nothing, it was nothing. Fuck, I wasn't---I thought you--"

Max looks furious. He says, "No."

The elevator kicks back on with a lurch.

Max says, "No. Fuck you. You don't get to take that away." The doors open and he takes off into the empty corridor.

The doors shut behind him and Daniel's trapped again.

#SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#THIS HURTS JUST AS MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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fast-burn · 24 hours ago

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Max’s voice says his name, and there’s a hand on Daniel’s shoulder blade, and when Daniel turns around, Max is right there, eyes hazy and smile loose.

“Maximus,” Daniel says, grinning back at him; at nothing; swaying into him and cheersing their drinks together. He loves drunk Max.

Max laughs, quick and loud. He’s so close Daniel can feel heat coming off his skin.

“There is a girl I was talking to,” Max half yells, voice hoarse. “She says–she asked if we both want to fuck her."

Daniel blinks at him, and then at the girl he points to, pretty and small with dark hair, and then back to Max, his face close and pink, his fat bottom lip pulled into his mouth. “Have you ever done that before?”

Max shakes his head.

Daniel’s never like that either, with another guy. He wants to tell Max that’s not really what guys are talking about when they brag about threesomes, usually, but Max looks so sweet and hopeful. And like–Daniel’s kind of always thought it seemed hot. It’s his, like, guilty pleasure porn, a little, but he’s never had any idea how to ask Michael or Blake if they want to without seeming like a freak.

He hooks his arm around the damp hot back of Max’s neck, smelling the sweat under his own arm. “Sounds fun, Maxy.”

—

Her name’s Ana. She kisses Max first, inside his hotel room. Daniel stands and has to just–watch, for a minute.

It’s weird. He’s seen Max kiss girls before, but he’s always looked away, obviously; he doesn’t need to see his teammate like that. But now, no one else around to watch him watching, just Max and the girl knowing he is, it’s okay. He’s about to see a lot more, so. He doesn’t stop looking.

Max’s hands are big on her waist, his knuckles sharp. Or, her waist is small.

She slips her hands under Max’s shirt, rucking it up around his stomach. Max’s lips are bigger than hers, both of their mouths pink and soft and wet against each other.

She pulls away from Max eventually, and steps over and kisses Daniel with lips he can see are still shiny. He licks into her mouth, shivering at how weird it is to think Max has just had his tongue here too. He wants to tell a joke about it.

She undresses herself as she walks away from them to the bed, and then lays down on it, naked and tan, one leg crooked up so they can see where she’s shaved bare.

Daniel glances at Max as they both strip their clothes off. Max’s eyes are on her, hungry. His body is lean and pale. His dick is–is bigger than Daniel thought. Would have thought. It’s nice, kind of, like. Better than in porn, guys with these giant veiny cocks.

Daniel blinks over to Ana, and she smiles and curls her finger at them.

Daniel goes. Crawls halfway up the bed and lands his mouth at her neck just so he can drag it down to her tit, tongue out and showy across her nipple so, like, Max can see if he’s looking.

He bites at her softly, sucks her, glances up when the bed dips to see her and Max kissing, her hands on Max’s chest.

Daniel slides down her stomach, licks through the wet of her.

He shifts her hips up, putting his mouth at her asshole.

"Woah," she says, touching his forehead, laughing. "Not tonight with that."

Daniel pulls away, licking at his lips. He glances at Max, and Max is looking back, neck craned around, eyes big, his face red.

Daniel smiles over to Ana, feeling drunk, hazy, and ducks back into the warmth of her. He eats her out for a while, glancing up over and over. They’re not kissing anymore; she has her head tossed back on the pillow, her hands on her own tits, and Max is kneeling next to her, watching Daniel–watching her pussy, jerking his nice dick,

"Come help me, Max," Daniel says, pulling back, and Max does, sliding down the bed and putting his face right by Daniel's. Daniel cups the back of his head for a second, his soft hair, and smiles, feeling how his mouth must look wet and shiny. He feels dirty; hot.

He presses Max in until their cheeks touching, Max's smooth and hot, and then takes his hand off him. Daniel can hear the soft noises of Max's mouth on her, can fucking feel Max's cheek hollowing out a little as he sucks at her, too hard for a second, while Daniel presses his tongue into her.

They take turns fucking her. Max first–"I'm smaller, so–maybe," he says, impatient and flushed–and then Daniel, into the wet warmth of her.

He hangs his head down on his neck, looking at where he's moving in and out of her. I'm feeling exactly what Max just felt, he thinks. It's like when Max describes a problem with the car exactly the way Daniel felt it, too. Like–like knowing there's one other person in the world who gets Daniel exactly, for a second.

He thinks about how Max’s body looked, straining over her. About the low sounds he made. He wishes they weren't using condoms.

It's the hottest sex he's ever had. He wants to never not have a threesome.

—

The next time they go out, Daniel picks up a girl who's up for it and finds Max; asks him if he wants to, again. Max is surprised the first time, but then Daniel just keeps doing it, and then eventually they just. Both stop pretending they're not going to end up going home together. Daniel will ask Max who looks good; they'll both flirt with her together.

Everything they do is the hottest thing Daniel’s ever done: taking turns, or one of them just jerking off while they watch, one of them getting blown while the other fucks the girl, the planes of Max's body there to look at across the line of hers.

Max is always, like, Max. Always red and flushed and so turned on he’s breathless, like seeing a girl’s tits and getting to touch them is still the most amazing fucking thing in the world.

He’s better in bed than Daniel thought he would probably be. The girls like him. He's. It's weird, because Daniel never fucking thought it before, but he can see why girls would like Max, even if they don't know he's a driver.

—

In Malaysia, the girl, Mia, is bossy.

Max is still high off the podium, his shoulders rolled back, cocky like he gets whenever he drives good.

But in bed, Mia pushes him over onto his back, and Max just goes, easy.

Daniel is still getting undressed, getting out condoms for them, and he stops and just stands there beside the bed for a second, watching how Max moves where she wants him. Just lays loose under her, and lets her take a condom from Daniel and roll it onto him, and then lets her just sit herself down on his dick.

He’s flat out on the bed, head not even on a pillow.

Daniel can’t sit down, can’t crawl behind the girl and touch her tits or whatever he’s supposed to do. It feels like if he gets on the bed, he’ll–

Mia puts her fingers at Max's lips and Max looks down at them, and then up at her.

He opens his mouth, and Daniel watches as Mia slides two fingers in, watches his cheeks hollow out as he sucks.

She pulls out, pulling at Max’s lips where they’re tight around her, twists her hand, and pushes back in. It’s. “Fuck,” Daniel says, and watches Max shudder and squeeze his eyes closed. She’s fingering his fucking mouth. It’s all Daniel can think.

She keeps doing it; riding him, and Max’s cheeks and chest flush pinker and pinker, his eyes getting less and less focused on her, and then, suddenly, on Daniel, wide and blinking for a second before he squeezes them shut again.

He groans, and Daniel recognizes it; recognizes the way his hips stutter up, the tightness of his neck.

Mia tips off him, onto her back beside him, pulling her fingers out and reaching down to touch her cunt with them.

Daniel fucks her like that, his knee brushing the side of Max's thigh, Max right there in his line of sight, body loose and sated, eyes slitted open, watching where Daniel's hips are pressing in. Daniel can't stop looking over at him, his broad chest, sweaty and flushed. His pink nipples.

—

One girl asks them to kiss, and that's how everything ends up getting fucked.

Daniel leans in laughing, and then his mouth touches Max's, and then he can't stop. He has one hand spread shaking on Max's stomach; Max's mouth plusher and softer than anything in the world under his; Daniel leaning in further and further as Max pulls back.

He can't kiss the girl again, after. Can't put his mouth on her at all even though he usually eats girls out for them. He doesn't want anything to erase the echoes of feeling he still has, of Max's tongue snaking out and pressing at his lip once, quick and cute and burning hot all the way through Daniel, before Max pulled away, face red, laughing shy.

Instead, he watches Max duck between her legs and go down on her, glancing up at Daniel over and over again like he wants his approval.

Daniel feels fucking insane. He wants to pull Max off her, ask her to leave. He puts his hand in Max’s hair and holds him there instead, gentle so Max could pull away if he wanted.

He slides a condom on and gets between her legs, nudging at Max to make room, and then he fucks into her, a fucking inch from Max’s mouth.

It’s the hottest it’s ever been, in his life. He can feel Max, the hollow of his cheek or the corner of his lip. Can look down and see Max there, right by Daniel's dick, the strong muscles at the back of his neck straining.

Alone in the hotel room after she’s left, Daniel tells him, "Let's probably not do that anymore."

Max was looking happy and sated, stretched out on the bed, but his face twists up as soon as Daniel talks. He sits up and looks away.

"You were the one who–who did that, anyways," Max says.

Daniel swallows. He gets up and picks through the clothes on the floor, dropping Max's on the bed and pulling his on. “What’s that?”

Max says, “When she said to, you kissed me.”

Daniel runs his teeth over his lips, turned away from Max so he can say, "Well, yeah, and it was weird, so."

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fast-burn · 1 day ago

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cw omega max with a pussy 😬

Daniel started doing it in 2018. He didn't, like, mean to make it a thing that he'd eat Max out every time Max placed higher than him, but. In 2018 his car was so fucking shit and he was so fucking miserable, and all that really got him out of his head was really filthy sex. And he couldn't stand Max after podiums, cocky and loud and so horny literally every alpha could smell it, but Max was, like, Daniel's best friend sometimes, and it felt fucked to be so shitty about him just because he was having a slightly less bad season than Daniel, and because maybe Daniel wanted him.

So Daniel went out with Max after he podiumed and Daniel DNFed, and he walked Max back to his room after, and it's not like he was planning it but he'd thought about it, and when he put Max on his bed, he got on his knees at the end of it, took Max's skinny jeans off, and ate him out.

Max was loud at first, like it was a joke and so he thought he should keep laughing and trying to make Daniel laugh, and then he was quiet, and then he came three times and Daniel jerked off in his shorts and left Max asleep in bed in his polo, the scent and taste of Max's slick still on his tongue and in his nose; stuck to his skin so anyone he walked by would know right away what he'd been doing; anyone who'd been around Max, who did nothing to fucking hide his scent ever, would know with who.

It's the only thing he can do after losses, kind of. When he's in a bad mood and regular sex doesn't seem fun or he's tired or pissed and if he was fucking someone he'd do it too soft or too hard, and so he just likes, like. Being on his knees or his stomach and burying his face in Max's pussy and letting Max's thighs get tight and shaky around his head, until they're both wrung out.

It's barely even sex: Max has never even touched Daniel's cock, but Daniel knows every inch of Max's pussy, knows how he likes his clit sucked soft and how he'll almost always come right as soon as Daniel gets in him up to his three middle knuckles and how if Daniel can make him come more than four times he'll cry.

Daniel knows the taste of Max so well it's like the never stops tasting him. Especially this shitty fucking year, when Max is beating Daniel every week, and so every week Daniel is getting between his legs, swiping his nose up and down his slit until his face is soaked with him, pushing his tongue in and out of him until it's sore.

If Daniel tries to do something new--to get Max to ride his face or get on his knees and let Daniel eat him from behind--he's always so surprised and confused and easy that Daniel just. Can't stand it, or whatever. If he put his dick at Max's lips or asked to fuck him or tried to kiss him, Max would just let him, and Daniel would never want to fuck anyone else ever again, so he just keeps eating Max out after losses and fucking girls after podiums when he gets them, and spending the time between races looking for Max; trying to catch his sent; having fucking wet dreams about him.

Max is always just Max. Weird and perfect and the same. He'll sit straight up when Daniel's on the floor and lay flat out when Daniel's on the bed; ask Daniel to come in his croaky, impatient voice, "Can you come, Daniel?"; put his hands deep and soft in Daniel's hair, press his fingers to the backs of Daniel's ears, keep his eyes close and attentive on Daniel just like when Daniel's talking, like he's the biggest thing in the room.

#\o/ yessss

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fast-burn · 1 day ago

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would you ever consider.... making your tags on this into a fic......? 👉👈

I think this is about these tags (sorry if not lol) and not a real fic but I have been thinking about it all week and today I wrote this for @catofthecanals289

cw for internalized homophobia, jos, religious ish guilt

Max did karting starting from when he was young but never made it past that. But he had his weird messed up childhood, he barely went to school, his whole life was racing. And then it just kind of fizzles out and he's not good enough, and that's it. He keeps trying for a couple of years after high school, but it's just. He hates it. Every time he has to curl his too big body into a kart, all he can think about is how he failed, how everything everyone did for him was for nothing.

So he moves to [insert city of your choice idk] to get away from his dad who is disappointed in him everytime he looks at him, it feels like. Max wants to think his dad loves him, wants to try and feel that, and maybe if he goes further away and tries harder to be good and his dad doesn't have to look at him every day; can start over with his new little kids, it'll be easier.

And he knows his mom loves him, and he loves her, but it's. Sleeping in his room in her house, he can't stop thinking about if suddenly she could read his mind and hear the things he thinks about, the things he always wants. She'd--she'd cry. She'd pray for him more than she already does.

So he leaves, moves into an apartment with two roommates who he doesn't like being around. He gets there in the winter, and it's colder than he thought. He works at a grocery store, as a cashier, and all the time when he's not at work he's in his room at home, playing fifa.

He tries to explore the city sometimes, like his mom keeps telling him to do, but whenever he tries he ends up seeing something--something bad. Two girls on the metro who are holding hands, or a bar that's sign is rainbow, or a guy who is wearing some ridiculous outfit Max's dad would make fun of--a crop top or tiny shorts or a pink t-shirt--but Max will just keep thinking how he looks good, how he's so confident or happy seeming, and then he'll go home and not be able to stop thinking about it for a long time.

So he stops doing a lot of exploring. When he feels really bad in his room and needs to be somewhere else, he'll go to the park in his neighborhood, and jog or sit on the grass or go inside the fenced in dog park and pet other people's dogs and play fetch with them and think about Spyke, back home.

It's where he sees Daniel for the first time.

Max is sitting on the ground, running his palms over the grass, feeling it tickle the backs of his thighs where his shorts end.

Here in the park, he likes people-watching. Everyone here is mostly normal, not like in some neighborhoods. There are lots of families, cute little babies and toddlers playing with their parents or their brothers and sisters. Lots of people walk their animals, and when Max sits on the grass by the sidewalk, a lot of times the dogs will stretch on their leashes enough to come over and sniff at him, and he can pet them.

He's doing that, looking out across the whole park, bright grass and a weavy sidewalk, and then he sees--a guy.

He's shirtless, which Max always doesn't like when guys just do that in public. It's annoying, to make everyone have to look at you like that. The guy is far enough down the path that there's not that much detail, but Max can see he's tan and shiny with sweat in the sun, and he has dark hair, and a beard, and then Max looks away, clenching his fingers in the grass and pulling out two handfuls.

He always can go a long time without thinking about his body, but then sometimes he'll be so aware of it suddenly, like all his limbs are too long; his bones are too big. It happens then. He brings his legs closer in to his body and tucks his elbows to his sides, like he learned to do when his dad brought him to a boxing gym one time.

He stares at his ankle, at a little ant crawling on the sidewalk in front of him. He touches his watch that his dad gave him when he graduated school, heavy metal around his wrist. He can feel the crucifix from his mom, the bracelet from Victoria, warm from the sun against his skin.

When the guy runs right in front of him, Max's eyes jerk up, instinct: it's a quick second of the guy's calf, tattoos on his arm, and the profile of his face, focused, and then he's past Max, and Max looks down and gets up and goes home and showers for a long time, until the hot water runs out.

He doesn't want to stop going to the park, because sometimes it's like. It feels like he's barely alive in his room, or at work, and when he goes there it's better. But he tries to go at different times, so he won't see that guy again. He was obnoxious, being so showy with his shirt off. He had a weird nose. He looked mean.

Max sees him a couple of more times, but he's good at getting up and leaving before the guy gets too close, or at focusing on something else until the guy is gone.

He's texting Vicky one time when he's at the park, a picture of a dog that walked by who looked like Spyke.

There's the sound of someone running but he doesn't pay attention, and then the flapping sound of their footsteps slows down, and a guy with an Australian accent says, loud, "Hey, you know dogs piss in this grass?" And when Max looks up it's--its the running guy, jogging slow toward Max, a couple feet away.

He is of course shirtless, dark curls hanging wet in his face, and he has one hand held up by his ear with a little white earbud between his fingers. He's smiling and he doesn't look mean now, he looks like--like.

Max ducks his head back down, heat pounding up his neck into his cheeks.

He mumbles "I know," trying to smooth out his accent, and the guy's footsteps lose rhythm for a second and then speed up and keep going, and that's it.

Max curls his knees up to his chest, pressing his thighs tight together, stomach rolling.

He pulls grass out of the ground for a long time, until he can finally get up and go home, and the next day, he calls in sick to work.

He doesn't stop going to the park, but he doesn't see the guy for a couple of weeks, which is good. He feels relieved.

And then one day he's working, head down and scanning groceries that come across the belt, and the voice he recognizes because he thinks about it all the time says, "Hey, I, uh, think I know you from the park. I've been wanting to see you again so I can say, like, sorry, if I was a dickhead." Max takes a deep breath and looks up. The guy is right across from him, staring at him with big, shiny dark eyes, looking sincere and sad and, and. "I was just trying to, like, make you laugh." Max watches him smile, a little, and then stop. "Anyway, sorry."

Max unclenches his teeth and pulls his moth open. "It's okay," he says. "It was funny."

"Nah," the guy says, "I was being a cunt." It surprises Max enough to look back up at him, and it makes the lady the next lane over gasp, and Max laughs a little, on accident.

The guy smiles more this time, big white teeth.

Max looks away and tells him his total.

He watches his hand as he slots in his card and pushes the buttons. He has too short nails, a tattoo on his thumb, long, nice fingers. Max wants to press his fingers to his eyes. He wants to not know that.

"See you around," the guy says. "Uh, by the way, I'm Daniel."

Max nods, and can't say his name back.

And then it's a whole thing of Daniel wanting to get Max to laugh again. Every time he runs in the park he's hoping Max is there, and whenever he is he stops in front of him to tell him a joke or ask him how his day is.

Max is still always overwhelmed and frustrated with himself, and he doesn't say that much, but Daniel is funny, and a lot of times he just laughs on accident. Which is fine, he tells himself. It's normal to laugh at other people's jokes, obviously.

And one day finally Daniel just does what he wants to do. He knows he needs to stop hitting on Max if he's not into it, needs to stop thinking about him so much if it's not even a chance, so he tells Max, "Hey, I don't know if you've ever been to it but there's this good bar around here, if you wanna go?"

Daniel is--is too much, and lots of days he's all Max can think about, standing at his check out on Thursdays, which is Daniel's usual grocery shopping day, so aware of everything around him, of how he looks, jerking his head up to look anytime someone comes in through the front doors. Even on days when he doesn't see Daniel, when he's just playing fifa or whatever, there are so many parts of Daniel that he knows: his fingers and the color of his nipples and the way his abs look when he's heaving for breath, and how he looks smiling down at Max when Max is sitting on the ground.

Max tries not to, but it's just. Daniel is his favorite part of his life, even though Max knows it's--it's bad to let himself think like he does. He says yes. Daniel wouldn't ever want the same things Max does anyway, so it's okay.

And then it's Daniel thinking they're on the same page, that they're going on little dates and getting to know each other and Max wants to take it slow and maybe he's a little inexperienced, but he obviously likes Daniel. He stares at him all the time.

And eventually he tries to kiss Max and Max freaks out, and from what he says to Daniel Daniel finally figures out, like, what's going on.

And it's a whole bunch of drama and Max like, wanting Daniel so bad and feeling so insane that it's possible, and one day they're hanging out in Max's bedroom, Daniel on his phone and Max playing fifa, and Max just sets his controller down and rolls over onto his side and down, and presses his face to Daniel's--between his legs.

Daniel doesn't know how to deal with anything. With how Max said he couldn't kiss Daniel that first time, with the couple of stories Max has told him about his dad, since, dropped into casual conversation like they weren't fucking awful. He's been trying to just be a good friend, to forget how bad he wants Max.

He puts his hands on Max's cheeks, his thumbs just in front of Max's ears, and pushes his face up. Max's face is dark red, his eyes miserable looking, like he might cry.

"I want that with you so bad, you have no idea," Daniel tells him. He can't help it, he touches Max's mouth, Max's lip soft and wet under the pad of his finger. "I think it's better if you maybe, like. Talk to someone first, or." He swallows. This is a terrible thing to ask Max, probably. "Do you ever think about this when you jerk off?"

Max shakes his head, and it shouldn't hurt, but it does. "Oh, okay," Daniel says, quick, trying to cover up how stupid that makes him feel. He's been jerking off thinking about Max for fucking months.

"I don't," Max says, "do that. Jerk off."

Daniel can't breathe. He says, trying to be steady, that maybe Max should try getting off and thinking about being with--a guy, and see how that feels.

And so Max does, and it's so hard and part of it--after, when he's alone in bed with his hand sticky, panting and sweaty--is bad, is awful. But part of it is. Is the best thing he's ever felt, like accidentally touching Daniel when they're sitting on Max's bed together, like when Daniel touched his mouth, like making Daniel laugh. He starts telling Daniel what he does, what he thinks about, and Daniel is so patient even though it makes him feel insane for Max to tell him, "Last night I, with my fingers, touched myself. I thought about, if you."

And it's a bunch of that for a long time, and then Max asking Daniel if he wants to go out to eat and meaning it like a date, etc etc, and then there's a happy ending and they get together and move in together and like years later Max tells his family and his mom still loves him and she loves Daniel also, and it's like a better version of his life than anything Max could have ever imagined.

#barking about this

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fast-burn · 1 day ago

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for the prompt game: maxiel + all of them ? 😙 jk

but maybe no. 47? reminds of the time a few of the drivers were stuck in a lift together but this time it’s just them

maxiel - stuck in a lift

Max’s sweat smells the same.

He wants to say, “Remember how I jerked you off half a decade ago and we didn’t talk about it until now?” or “Hey, funny story. Every time I see a new dick, I compare it to yours.”

Maybe it’s cabin fever. Lift fever.

Daniel laughs. “Or in front of you, before you lap me.”

Max grins too. “Everything is nicer, knowing you are there, that you are close.”

Like, not just cabin fever. He’s got thigh fever.

He’s keeping all his clothes on.

Max laughs at the footsie game, traps Daniel’s shoe between his feet. When Daniel tries to wiggle out of it, his foot slips out of the shoe and his sweaty no-show sock rolls down.

Max presses his foot into Daniel’s, curls his toes around the tips of Daniel’s toes.

Daniel laughs. “Freak.”

Max laughs too. He fiddles with the metal bracelet he’s always wearing.

“A gift from the missus?” Daniel asks, stupid. He thought saying it would be better than saying her name, but it turns out it’s worse because then he’s picturing Max marrying Kelly.

Max grins, crinkly-eyed. Ouch. “Yeah. You know she tried to give me this crazy one with all these gem things? It was too much.”

Max’s jaw has dropped open. He looks, like. He looks gobsmacked.

Fuck.

Maybe that’s what’s happening to Max right now. Maybe Daniel is homoing their no homo.

“I’m bi?” Daniel says, rushed and insane and like it’s a fucking question.

Max’s lips finally shut, but they go taut and hard, angry.

“I sleep with women still,” Daniel adds, desperate to salvage this. “Don’t love pussy any less, hey. Gigigigi!”

He’s lost his fucking mind.

Max takes out his phone again, gets up and paces around the small space, climbs up on the rail and lifts it up high.

It’s useless. No service.

Not a super reassuring sign that his bisexual confession was met with Max doubling his escape efforts, hey.

After a while, Max thrusts his phone under Daniel’s nose. “This is him?”

Daniel takes the phone. It’s a screenshot of the Enchante website.

“What–you got service?” Daniel laughs, giddy. “Oh my god, use it to call someone, you maniac.”

Max’s face goes flat. His eyes are still mad, though. He says, “What.”

“Did you really buy something?”

Max’s never worn it around him, not like Lando or George. Probably for the best, so he won’t be tied to Daniel’s gay brand or whatever the fuck he thinks.

Max’s face flushes deep red. “It must be so surprising to you that people who look regular can wear your clothes as well, Daniel. That we are not all models, like these people you are dating.”

Daniel doesn’t know what his face is doing, but it’s something strange that hopefully conveys, what the fucking fuck?

Max scoffs.

Daniel says, “Well, this fucking sucked.”

Max bangs on the elevator door like they were doing a half hour ago. He tries to pry it open with his bare hands. He shouts, “Hellooooooooo!”

Daniel says, “First person I come out to outside my inner circle and he’s a fucking homophobe.”

Max whips back around, face shocked and hurt. “I am not in your inner circle?”

“That’s the part you’re worried about? I’d think you’d be, like, grateful to be in an outer ring of my gay ass solar system, Max.”

“I’m not a homophobe,” Max waves a hand through the air in sweeping motions like he’s physically dismissing the thought.

“Sure, Max.”

“Does he even know about racing, this guy?” Max says guy like other people would say bacterial infection.

“Bisexual people can enjoy racing, Max. Fucking case in point.” Daniel gestures to himself in tight, snappy motions.

“Obviously. What do you anyway have in common with him, Daniel?”

“Well, we both like dick, for one.”

Max starts throwing his clothes back on even though the elevator is like 40 fucking degrees. He’s Jolly Rancher red.

“Wow, Max. Wow. You don’t have to worry about me perving on your body, Jesus. Don’t worry, you’re not my type.” It’s Daniel’s turn to pound his fist into the elevator door and holler his vocal chords out.

When he turns back around, Max looks fucking devastated. He’s pressing his lips together so hard they’re white, but they’re still wobbling a little.

“Uh, Max? What–huh?”

“Fuck you.”

Daniel’s eyes feel tarsier-wide. “Huh?”

The elevator kicks back on in one lurching movement that feels like Daniel’s stomach right about now. It travels for a few seconds and then the doors open up to an empty hallway. Max takes off.

Daniel steps the fuck out of the elevator. He realizes too late that his shoe and sock are still inside, but he ain’t goin back in.

He goes to check if he has service, but he’s not holding his own phone. It’s Max’s, still. And it’s still open to that Enchanté screenshot, maybe because Daniel’s thumb has been trembling and smearing across the screen this whole time.

He swipes the screenshot away. The message thread with Victoria comes up.

He shouldn’t read it. He wouldn’t, but, like. It’s about his clothes. And he sees his name.

He has to copy the messages into a translator which makes the whole thing about 50 times more creepy and violating.

Daniel does it anyway.

From: Victoria Are you for real You’re so embarrassing

From: Max It’s not weird. Lando and George have things

From: Victoria They’re not in love with the company’s founder who gay-panic ghosted them and broke their hearts 5 years ago Well probably I don’t really know their love lives And I don’t care please don’t tell me

Daniel's fingers shake and he can’t bring himself to translate what Max says back. Cause like. It’s gonna be a denial. It’s gonna reveal that the whole thing is a joke. That Max isn’t in love with Daniel. That that’s just as fucking crazy and untrue as it sounds.

He types each Dutch word into his own phone one by one, doesn’t want evidence of him, like, texting it to his own phone like the snoopy stalker deviant he is. He plucks the letters into his phone with one pointer and continuously touches Max’s screen with the other pointer so it doesn’t lock him out before he knows.

He leaves with one shoe and one bare foot.

It’s not until he’s back in his hotel room that he finally works up the courage to paste the words into Google translate. He does it and snaps his eyes shut. His hand shakes.

Here it comes. It’s gonna say, of course I don’t love him or haha very funny or yes we have 4 little babies together that is why I need the clothes for them.

Daniel’s ready.

He opens his eyes.

From: Max So should I get the green

thanks to @lights-out-go for looking this over and being so nice about it 🥹❤️

#genuinely one of my favourite maxiel fics of all time #i crave more but im trying to be cool and polite about it #always worth the re-read every time it crosses my dash

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fast-burn · 1 day ago

Text

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS STAYS IN VEGAS

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fast-burn · 1 day ago

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max and daniel getting so drunk at the after party in las vegas that they accidentally marry each other in the paddock chapel || 2k words || based on this post

The Red Bull hospitality has turned upside down. Max's team yells and cheers around him. The tables are littered with empty glasses, sticky patches of spilled champagne, and half-eaten snacks no one’s touched in hours.

Max is perched in the middle of it all, laughing harder than he has in weeks. He’s tipsy—no, drunk—and grinning like his face might split in two. Or in four. He’s not sure, because he has four now. Four world titles. It feels crazy, like the whole world should be spinning on its axis just for him.

“FOUR-TIME CHAMPION!” GP hollers, as if Max needed a reminder, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

Max laughs, leaning into the hug. “Yes, yes! I know this already!” His words are clumsy, heavy and slurred from the beers and G&T's he’s been guzzling like water.

The cheering gets louder when someone pops another bottle of champagne, the cork flying into the ceiling. Max yells the lyrics of It’s a kind of magic coming out of a speaker, instead of singing them, brushing his sticky hands on his thighs, but he’s glowing, invincible.

Then he hears it—someone yelling a name.

“DANIEL!”

Max freezes, his ears ringing from the noise, the drinks, the impossible high of the moment. Max is pretty sure he’s hallucinating.

Because there he is. Daniel, striding into the room like he owns the place. Like he is back. His grin crooked and his walk loose, casual. At ease. Daniel. The team erupts around him, dragging him forward with hugs and cheers and wild, sloshed enthusiasm.

Max can’t move. He’s just staring, watching the way Daniel’s grin widens as he gets swept up in the chaos.

Max stumbles, his brain finally catching up to reality, and before he can think too hard about it, he’s pushing through the crowd.

Daniel spots him at the last second, and his grin does this tiny shift—smaller, softer, something just for Max.

“Hey, Maximus,” Daniel says, his voice warm and teasing.

Max stops in front of him, his heart doing something weird in his chest. “You are here.”

“Obviously,” Daniel says, smile big. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?”

Max shakes his head, his grin returning full force. His brain is still buzzing. Thousand bees swarming him. For a second he thinks he’s dreaming or the magician from before has tricked him again. Daniel looks good. Skin even more tan, hair longer, more smile lines around the edges and smelling of travel and so— Daniel. “No. Always, you make it better.”

Daniel snorts, his grin twitching wider. “What, the party or you?”

“Me,” Max says immediately. He reaches out, grabbing Daniel’s wrist like he needs to make sure he’s real. “You make me better. This is good. You being here.” He feels insane. One moment aways of doing something ridiculous like licking the wrist to see if he’s really here.

Daniel had told him in the break, he wouldn’t have time or the nerve to come to any of the races. The jealousy of not being with Daniel every other week had stung unexpectedly, and seeing him with other friends had been weirdly angering. Then he had visited him in Monaco. Just him. They hadn’t even talked about racing, just played padel and had a sleepover like they were 14. The casual intimacy had driven him up the wall. Every touch or brush of skin making Max feel like he was on fire. And now Daniel is here.

Daniel’s laugh comes easily, relaxed, like he’s done this dance a hundred times before. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” Max nods, completely unashamed. “Of course. But it is still true.”

Daniel tilts his head, looking amused, his grin tilting. “Alright, champ. Let’s get you another G&T before you get all sappy on me.”

The drinks flow even faster with Daniel at the table. He’s the life of the party in five minutes flat, cracking jokes and getting GP to spill vodka down the front of his M4X shirt from laughing too hard. It’s not awkward for him. He’s at fucking ease.

“Seriously, though,” Daniel says, pointing his own gin and tonic at Max. “I told you. I knew you'd win.”

“I know,” Max says, grinning as he leans his elbow on the table. “Always, I win. You know this.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, smirking.

“It is true,” Max says, leaning closer until their faces are barely a foot apart. “Always, I like you liking it.” He feels his accent slipping, his thoughts blurring and the overwhelming need to touch Daniel's neck, and the hair that keeps getting longer. Everything is so hazy.

Daniel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. He just laughs. “I don’t know if you’re trying to flirt or confess your undying love, mate.”

“Both,” Max says simply, not really thinking.

The team loses it, howling with laughter, but Daniel just grins, looking at Max like he’s the only person in the room. He shouldn’t even be here.

By the time they’re dragging themselves back onto the Strip, Daniel’s just as sloshed as Max, if not worse. His steps are loose and unsteady, and he keeps leaning into Max like he’s trying to keep himself upright.

“You’re sticky,” Daniel mutters, wrinkling his nose as Max throws an arm around his shoulder.

“Because of champagne,” Max explains, his words messy. “Because I win. ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel says, grinning as he nudges Max’s side. “Big man on campus. I know.”

Max tightens his arm around him, leaning closer.

The chapel is a ridiculous idea.

“WEDDING TIME!” GP yells, leading the charge as the team spills into room.

“Wait, what?” Daniel asks, squinting at the lights.

The chapel is a garish neon blur—flashing lights, a fake Elvis in a bedazzled jumpsuit, and plastic flowers that have seen better days. The team is in hysterics, swaying and spilling drinks as they cluster around the altar.

“Okay, wait, wait,” Daniel says, holding up a hand as he tries to suppress a laugh. “You’re telling me we’re actually doing this?”

“Of course!” Max says, grinning so hard it feels like his face might split. He’s got a champagne stain on his chest, sticky pants, and his arm slung lazily around Daniel’s shoulders. As it should be. As if his world has finally slotted into place. “You said you flew here fore me, now you marry me. Logical.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mate, you’re not exactly the romantic type, huh? No flowers, no proposal? Just straight to Elvis?”

Elvis, clearly in character, croons, “It’s now or never, fellas.”

Max tilts his head, frowning. “I am romantic. You like my gin and tonic I make you. And this is a chapel. Of course, it is romantic.”

Daniel’s pupils are wide in his drunkenness and Max wonders if they both can get high of only smell of weed surrounding them. He is gorgeous and somehow blurry right now and Max needs to fucking hold onto Daniel because the world decides to spin just a bit faster.

“LET’S GET STARTED!” GP yells, holding up his phone like a microphone. He squints at the screen, swaying slightly too. The world must really spin faster. “Uh…do you, Max…”

“Emilian,” Max supplies proudly.

“Yeah, that. Do you, Max Emilian Verstappen, take Daniel Joseph Ricciardo to be your…uh, best friend? Husband? Whatever we’re doing here?”

“Yes ,” Max says immediately. He reaches for Daniel’s hand and slides on a cheap plastic ring the Elvis presents them. It’s bright yellow and slightly too small, but Max beams like it’s made of diamonds.

Daniel holds up his own ring, a sparkly pink one, turning it over dramatically. “Well, you’ve really spoiled me here. Plastic? From the same guy who makes gin and tonics with fresh lime?”

Max nods seriously. “Of course. High quality.” He hasn’t prepared a single drink tonight.

The mechanics lose it, cackling as Daniel finally slides the ring onto Max’s finger.

“Do you take him?” GP asks Daniel, clearly making this up as he goes.

Daniel grins, tilting his head like he’s pretending to consider it. “Eh, why not? He’s pretty alright for a four-time world champion.”

Elvis points at GP. “You gotta do the ‘kiss the bride’ part, man. It’s tradition.”

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” the team chants, stomping their feet.

Max doesn’t hesitate, pulling Daniel into a sloppy, uncoordinated hug that lands somewhere between a kiss and a headbutt. Daniel stumbles but grabs Max’s waist to steady them, both of them laughing so hard they can’t breathe. Why doesn’t the world stop spinning?

“Well,” GP says, slurring every word. “I now pronounce you…whatever this is. Husband and husband? I guess?”

The team erupts into cheers as confetti cannons (where did those even come from?) explode in the background.

“WE’RE MARRIED!” Daniel shouts, throwing his arms in the air, looking so soft, Max kinda wants to kiss him for real.

Max wakes up to the sun stabbing through the curtains like it’s personally offended by his existence. His head pounds, his mouth feels like sandpaper, and everything smells faintly of stale alcohol and sweat.

He groans, turning his head to the side—and freezes.

Daniel is lying next to him, shirtless, face buried in the pillow, one arm thrown haphazardly across Max’s chest.

Max stares, his brain doing the slow crawl from panic to confusion. He has won his fourth championship yesterday. Daniel had surprised him. He remembers the party. The many, many G&T's. The world spinning. The chapel. Daniel’s laugh. The plastic rings. The—

Max sits up too quickly, clutching his head as the room spins. He peels back the blanket cautiously and breathes out in relief. They’re both still in their sticky pants, belts undone but otherwise intact.

“Fuuuck,” Daniel mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow. He squints at Max.

Max looks down at him, wide-eyed. “We did not—” He gestures vaguely.

Daniel cracks one eye open, grinning lazily. “What? Fuck? Nah, mate. You’re way too much of a cuddler when you’re drunk. Plus, these jeans are the worst. Too sticky. No way.”

Max frowns, considering this. “You are sure?”

Daniel snorts, finally sitting up and ruffling his messy hair. “Yeah, Maxy. I’m sure. Trust me, you’d remember if we did.”

Max squints at him, not entirely convinced, until something catches his eye.

There, on the bedside table, is a piece of paper. A piece of paper with both their names on it.

“What is that?” Max asks, pointing.

Daniel picks it up, holding it too close to his face as if he forgot his non-existent glasses. His face slowly splits into a wide grin. “Oh, mate. This is…this is gold.” He starts laughing, holding up the wedding certificate. “We actually did it!”

Max grabs it, staring at the official seal at the bottom. “This is real?”

“Looks like it,” Daniel says, grinning like he’s just won a bet. “You’re officially stuck with me now. Congrats.”

Max blinks at him, his face torn between horror and something softer he doesn’t want to name. “We should—”

“Get divorced?” Daniel interrupts, smirking. “Yeah, probably. Josh would be terribly jealous", he jokes and then shifting slightly. The air in the room shifts as well. There is something heavy. The humour of this whole thing disappearing bit by bit. Max does not want to fucking hear from Josh Allen.

They look at each other, the silence stretching.

“Unless…” Max starts, then hesitates.

Daniel raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Unless what?”

Max doesn’t answer, he feels insane again. But this time the excuse of alcohol isn’t there. Fuck, he just won again and he wants this. Wants it as much. So, he leans in and presses a soft, tentative kiss to Daniel’s mouth. Its chaste. It’s warm, lingering just long enough to make Daniel’s awkward smile falter into something softer.

When they pull back, Daniel shakes his head, laughing quietly. “You’re—” It seems like he can’t finish his words. "You gotta do that again, okay, Maxy?"

“Yes,” Max says, smiling crookedly. “Of course.”

The laughter has settled into something quieter now, something deeper, and it pulls at Max like gravity. His heart is thundering, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not about the noise in his chest, not about the risk. He’s won everything yesterday—everything but this—and he’s not about to stop now.

So, he leans in again, slower this time, more deliberate. His hands hover uncertainly at first, then find their place—one settling on Daniel’s jaw, the other lightly brushing his shoulder. The kiss begins soft, just like before, but the tension coils between them, tightening with every passing second until it snaps.

Daniel sighs against his mouth, and the sound undoes Max completely. He deepens the kiss, lips parting, tentative turning into something hungrier, something alive. Daniel matches him, his hands clutching at Max’s sides, pulling him closer. It’s messy, all teeth and heat for a moment, before it evens out, their movements falling into sync like they were always meant to.

When they finally pull apart, breathless, Daniel’s lips are red and shining, and his eyes are half-lidded, dazed.

“Better,” Daniel whispers, his voice low and rough. His fingers curl tighter in Max’s hair, tugging him forward like he’s afraid to let go. “Much better.”

Max lets out a shaky laugh, his forehead dropping to rest against Daniel’s neck. “I—yeah,” he manages, his voice cracking slightly. “I can do better still, I think.”

Daniel grins at him, that wide, ridiculous grin that makes Max’s chest ache. “Guess we’ll see about that,” he says, his voice warm and teasing, but his eyes are serious, searching Max’s face like he’s memorizing it.

And then, just as Max starts to lean in again, Daniel beats him to it, capturing his mouth in a kiss that feels like another win—but this time, for both of them.

Daniel nudges him with his shoulder eventually. “Alright, let’s go find a lawyer or a notary or…whoever the hell handles drunk Vegas weddings.”

“Later,” Max says, lying back down and pulling Daniel with him.

Daniel huffs out a laugh but doesn’t argue, resting his head on Max’s chest.

The certificate lies forgotten on the table, but neither of them seems to mind.

#yeah it happened exactly like this

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