#therefore i have not reread it so if there are typos no there aren't

[lost-in-fandoms]

@boycarfreak told me to do it so I did. This is longer than I was expecting so it's on ao3 too.

cw: explicit sexual content, oral fixation, a bit of praise kink (because of course, I was the one who wrote this, what did you expect), under-negotiated kink (not negotiated at all tbf), cockwarming

Max has always spent an almost embarrassing amount of time studying Daniel.

It had started as a way to integrate himself in a team that was much bigger than anyone he had experienced since then, a way to learn from a more experienced driver, to become a better teammate. It hadn't taken long though before it had simply become a way to learn things about Daniel, to fill his brain with Daniel knowledge.

When Daniel had left, the additions had become rarer, details he had to pick up during drivers meetings and parades, while watching onboards, promotional videos that made his stomach curl in jealousy. It's been years since he's started, the Daniel drawer in his brain filled to the brim, but when Daniel gets promoted he's not surprised to find that there are still holes to be filled.

They're in a meeting the first time Max notices it. Daniel has always had nervous fingers, biting at his nails, shredding napkins and playing with paperclips, so it's not new to see him fiddling with a pen. What's new is seeing him absentmindedly putting the pen in his mouth and starting to lightly suck on it.

Max valiantly ignores the way his dick is immediately interested in the action, and observes instead how Daniel's shoulders drop, some of the nervous energy bleeding out, leaving him looking more focused, settled. He looks at how he bites down on it, moves it around with his tongue, saliva forming a thin shiny line when he takes it out for a second to write something down, before putting it back in his mouth.

Despite how...interesting this new find is, Max forces himself to not put it in the Daniel things drawer quite yet, not when it could be just a one-off occurrence, but then. He keeps noticing.

He watches as Daniel bites on the straw of his water bottle, not even drinking from it, wrapping his tongue around it over and over again, obscene in his absent mindedness. He watches as he plays with his mouth guard, as he bites on the wire of some headphones, on pens and pencils. And every time, it seems like something in him relaxes, some tightly coiled nerve loosening.

He puts it in the drawer.

He doesn't exactly plan to use his newfound knowledge, but after all, he's never stepped away from an opportunity, never not gone for a gap. It happens on a Saturday, before qualifying. Daniel is bleeding nervous energy all over the garage, too sharp jokes and too loud laugh making Max feel like he too should be bouncing off the walls.

He understands how Daniel feels. They're both unhappy with the car, fighting somehow both understeer and unpredictable oversteer, pushing against the lack of pace with a relentlessness that leaves them both exhausted, but he understands that it's different for Daniel. Max is the team. Max has three championships and a place in whatever team he would pick, if he wanted to move. Daniel has, once again, the need to prove himself. To show the world that it was right to promote him, that he can still fight in front, by Max's side. It doesn't matter if the car is shit, he needs to fight it harder than Max, because he has more to lose.

So yes, he understand Daniel's badly concealed nerves, but he doesn't think it's going to be productive, to go into qualifying with shaking hands.

He goes for the gap.

"Daniel." Daniel's head snaps around, attention already gone from the mechanic he was bothering, smile too big and too bright already turned towards Max.

"Max! Maximus! What can I do for you, mate?" Daniel punches his shoulder, then again his arm, seemingly unable to stop himself. Max doesn't complain.

"Come with me."

He's not expecting Daniel to follow without questions, or in silence, so he's surprised when Daniel just. Goes. Bounces behind him in that cartoony way he has sometimes, fingers sliding over every single surface he passes by, jumping to slap the top of the door when Max guides him into his driver's room.

He closes the door and watches as some tension immediately disappears from in between Daniel's shoulders, now that they're away from the people and the cameras, away from the stage where he feels forced to play his act. He looks more tired than Max feels, older in a way that Max's brain sometimes forgets, still stuck with the Daniel he used to be.

Max sits down on the small couch.

"Sit," he says. Then, perhaps a bit too late, "please."

Daniel sits, not arguing, not asking questions. Something stirs inside Max at the simple way Daniel is accepting his guidance, but he refuses to look at it too closely right now.

"Do you need help with something, Maxy? Advice from a multiple times race winner as me?" Daniel laughs at his own joke, and Max is unable to stop himself from smiling too, but he shakes his head.

"I want to help you," he says instead. Daniel's posture changes, going rigid for a second and then curling in, defensive.

"Am I doing that bad?" he asks, still laughing, as if Max would be tricked into thinking it's not a serious, terrified, question.

"You're doing great," he reassures without even having to think about it, "but you're tense, and I think I can help with that."

Daniel wiggles his eyebrows, loosening his stance again.

"You gonna give me a massage, Maxy? Get your big, strong hands and..." Daniel yelps as Max doesn't let him finish his sentence and drags him down to lay on the couch, his head in Max's lap, but doesn't struggle. He goes silent, waiting for Max's move.

"If I am wrong, you can punch me," Max tells him, trying to keep his voice light, and void of the amazement he's currently feeling for the way Daniel is just letting himself be moved around, pliant in Max's hands.

He positions him so he's sideways on the couch, cheek smushed against Max's thighs, and then, when he's happy with it, he brings two fingers up to Daniel's mouth.

This is the lead up to the corner. He saw the gap, he's going for it. If he's wrong, if Daniel closes the door in his face, he's going to drop back, or worse, crash against the barriers.

Daniel opens his mouth.

It's almost surreal, the feeling of Daniel's mouth, wet and warm around his fingers, his lips closing around his knuckles, his tongue touching his fingertips. Max forces himself to not hold his breath, to not get hard, to not make any of this about him. Daniel's restless legs still as he sighs and closes his eyes, and Max is almost overwhelmed by the amount of trust Daniel has just thrown at him.

One of his hands is still fidgeting, opening and closing, fingers single-handedly picking at cuticles. Max brings his free hand up into his hair and presses a little bit more into Daniel's mouth, down on his tongue, watching how his slack jaw opens a little around his fingers before closing again. Daniel's hand stills and he breathes out, long and steady, relaxing into Max's lap.

Time becomes sticky. Seconds dragging over each other, minutes hesitating before sliding away, being sucked back into Daniel's mouth like his spit on Max's fingers.

Max keeps an eye on the clock, not wanting anyone to interrupt before they have to go back out for qualifying, but it's hard when Daniel is like this, open and soft, settled by his own hand.

When the time is up, too soon, way too soon, Max moves the hand he had kept buried in Daniel's curls down to cup his cheek, turning his face towards him and gently sliding his wet fingers out of his mouth. Daniel whines a little, blinking up at Max with glazed over eyes, and Max needs to take a second to sternly remind his dick that this is not about them before he can smile.

"Time to go," he says, aiming for light, landing on guiltily fond.

He gives Daniel time to go back to himself, to blink away the fog in his brain, then helps him to sit up. They don't talk before going out, even if Daniel does send him a long, thoughtful look, but Daniel is still loose and relaxed when he jumps in the car.

Max gets P2, Daniel P4.

Max doesn't push again, doesn't even bring up the topic. He sees how Daniel looks at him sometimes, but he knows how Daniel is, how he'll need time to think about this, turn it over and over around his brain, until he can't bear it anymore and he decides to barrel through.

Max likes to think he's a pretty straightforward person, a pool. You look at it and you know what you're gonna get. People often assume Daniel is the same, but Daniel is a spring. Water so clear it looks shallow, ground just below the surface, but then you get in and you can't touch it at all, optical illusions hiding its depth. Max has thrown a rock in the spring, now he needs to wait for the water to settle, for Daniel to find his footing.

It takes Daniel two weeks.

He walks up to Max with a too-confident smile and asks "it's not going to be a problem, right?". When Max denies, his smile softens, and he pats him on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Max feeling like he just accomplished something good.

It doesn't really become routine, but it does become a thing. Sometimes, when Daniel is too high-strung and restless, he'll meet Max's eye and Max will lead him away. He doesn't care really about what everyone else in the garage things they're doing, disappearing like that and coming back smiley and loose, he only cares about Daniel performing as well as he possibly can. And if he gets to enjoy the feeling of having Daniel in his lap, trusting and relaxed, from time to time, well that's just a bonus.

The thing changes after a particularly frustrating race. Max had started P2, finished P3, and Daniel had started P3 and ended up all the way back to P9 because of a fucked up start and pit strategy. He's tired and frustrated, hating this long season, hating the car, hating the disconnect he feels from the team, especially after the last few good years. He wishes he had decided to leave straight away instead of waiting for tomorrow, but it's too late to change it now.

He almost doesn't answer the door when he hears someone knock, just wanting to be left alone, but the Daniel drawer in his mind is full and he knows that pattern and he's never learned how to tell him no.

Daniel looks restless and tense, fingers twitching and smile way too bright, and it doesn't take Max's much to understand why he is here. Somehow, instead of making him feel more tired, it makes him feel better, knowing there is something he can do right, something that will make them both settle.

"Maximus!" Daniel pushes past him, bouncing slightly on his toes, eyes sweeping around the room .

"Hello Daniel," Max replies, following more slowly, door closing with a click behind him. He doesn't ask before going to sit on the small couch, patting the cushion beside him. Daniel though, doesn't move. He bites at the skin of his thumb, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes never meeting Max's.

The uncertainty throws Max off. They have a way of doing things now: Max will sit, Daniel will lay down and take his fingers in his mouth, and then they'll let time pass. But Daniel isn't sitting.

Maybe Max has read him wrong? He's not used to reading Daniel wrong, he doesn't like this.

"Are you okay?" is not the question he wants to ask, but it's the one that comes out of his mouth, and he hates the way it makes Daniel flinch a little.

"Yes, yes," Daniel nods vigorously, curls bouncing, nerves so clear Max can almost taste them in the air. He waits as Daniel takes a breath, then another. " I thought..."

Daniel stops again, and then Max sees it, the moment he too decides to go for the gap. Daniel has never been one to hold back either, always pushing just as hard as Max, sending it full speed in the corners, braking late late late.

Daniel goes for the gap and drops to his knees in front of Max.

"You can tell me no," he says, all tension focusing into determination, eyes steely when they meet Max's wide and surprised ones. Max doesn't want to say no. He's not allowing himself to think too much, doesn't want to have expectation, doesn't want to imagine what might come next, but he knows he's never wanted to tell Daniel no.

He shifts, picking up the decorative pillows and handing them to Daniel, enough of an answer for the both of them.

He doesn't hold his breath when Daniel reaches for his shorts, raises his hips to help him tug them off, but he can't help himself when Daniel pulls down his underwear.

His dick is still mostly soft, just barely starting to chub up, and for a second Max doesn't know if it's going to be what Daniel was expecting, if he's going to be disappointed, if he's going to raise his eyes again and say no thanks, and then...

Daniel sighs, leaning forward, apparently unbothered. Max is driving blind, new circuit without a track walk, unprepared for every new turn Daniel is throwing his way. He sits still, trying to breathe, letting Daniel take control this time.

Daniel wraps a hand around Max's ankle, the other in his lap, and then takes Max in his mouth.

They both exhale at the same time, and Max can almost see the tension leave Daniel's body. He shifts, laying his head on Max's thigh, and closes his eyes.

For a second, Max is sure he's going to go insane. Daniel's mouth is so warm and wet around his dick, his tongue laying flat against the underside of it, moving slightly when Daniel gently sucks back the spit pooling in his mouth, but then it's like something dislodges in his chest and he can just. Relax.

He can't forget that Daniel's lips are wrapped around his dick, but it's like his focus shifts. Time stretches again, and all that counts is Daniel. Daniel's curls under his hands, Daniel's eyelashes brushing against his skin, Daniel's warm hand like a cuff around his ankle, Daniel's cheek slightly bulging out, Daniel's slow deep breaths.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this, an exercise in patience, better than all the dumb meditation stuff Rupert has been trying to get him to do, but it doesn't matter. He'd be happy to stay like this forever if that was what Daniel wanted, what Daniel needed. Here, it's just them, the world far away, Daniel safe in the bracket of his legs, Max safe in the wetness of Daniel's mouth, and it's perfect.

It's an eternity later when Max realises he's fully hard, and as soon as he does he needs to focus to keep his hips from fucking up into Daniel's mouth, the simmering arousal in his gut suddenly becoming a sharp need. It's almost impossible to stay still, but he doesn't know what Daniel had signed up for when he had gotten on his knees, and he refuses to mess this up for them. Even if it means losing his mind.

But then, almost the same time, as if connected to the same timer, Daniel shifts with a soft whine, head raising from Max's thigh to pull back a little, tongue swirling around the head of Max's dick, making him gasp.

Daniel doesn't open his eyes, but the air frizzles with electricity as he bobs his head once, twice, nose brushing against Max's pubes. He knows he's not big, but the sight of Daniel being able to take all of him so easily hits Max like a punch in the gut.

"Fuck," he moans, the first proper word either of them has said in ages, "Daniel."

He's so close already, feels like he's been close the whole time, warmth curling low in his gut.

"Daniel," he says again, half a moan half a warning, hand twisting in his hair. Daniel pulls back slightly, then sucks again with a whine, and Max finds himself shaking through his orgasm, Daniel's name stuck in his throat.

He feels Daniel's hand around his ankle spasm, the only part of him that isn't fully relaxed, as Daniel swallows, and Max moans again, hips twitching in oversensitivity now, his dick still in Daniel's mouth.

"Daniel." It feels like the only word left in his brain, but it seems to be enough, because Daniel lets him go, whining and panting against his thigh.

"Come here, come here," Max asks, dragging Daniel into his lap, the other's legs useless after spending so much time on his knees, a new urgency making them both shake.

"You were so good," he finds himself babbling, hand frantically dipping into Daniel's sweats and underwear, while Daniel drops his head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

"So good," Max repeating, panting against Daniel's head, mouth watering at how big and wet Daniel is, barely knowing what he's saying. "You are perfect, Daniel, so good. Such a good boy."

He twists his wrist and Daniel closes his teeth on Max's shoulder as he comes with a cry.

They're both shaking as they come down, Daniel a warm, boneless weight in Max's lap, breathing heavily.

"Thank you," Daniel rasps after a while. He's not moving from his hiding place in the crook of Max's neck, but Max can still feel him smiling slightly, feels the corner of his mouth tick up as a reflex.

"You're welcome."

They'll need to talk about this, probably, it's not the same as what they were doing before, and Max really wants to know if he's now finally allowed to kiss Daniel, but he can give himself a few minutes with this before doing that.

Pole position, his brain unhelpfully provides, cooldown lap.

He rolls his eyes at himself and presses his lips to Daniel's hair, waiting for both their hearts to slow down in sync.