Adrenaline: A Lestappen Story

𝟏.𝟐 - 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

Max's widened eyes revealed the darker circle surrounding the lighter inner color of his eyes. To his surprise, Charles intensified his approach, dispelling any doubt about his intentions with his last words.

In a moment of realization, Max felt his body respond with excitement, an autonomous urge to move despite his brain's initial refusal. His eyes unconsciously traced Charles's figure, attempting to reconcile his mind with instincts that had begun to consume him.
Breathing raggedly, Max silently battled his inner conflict against Charles's intoxicated advances. Unfortunately, every barrier crumbled under the weight of the drinks he'd consumed.

"There has been an occasion, yes," the blond confessed, slowly advancing towards Charles, studying his features. "I think you're trying to do just that," he teased, exposing the obviousness of Charles's attempts.

Max was now barely an inch away from Charles, feeling his breath against his face. However, before Max could act, someone entered the bathroom, prompting a rush of adrenaline in the two of them.

 
Utilizing his racing-honed reaction time, Max grabbed Charles's shirt and aggressively pulled him into a stall, locking the door before anyone noticed their presence. In the confined space, the tension grew dangerously higher. Max's attempt to collect his senses and exercise self-control was futile, fueled by the brunette's seduction and his own willingness to engage.
As Max towered over him, chests nearly touching, Charles contemplated the consequences of his actions, second-doubting himself. If they were to be seen the situation would look extremely questionable. Yet, with Max's body enveloping him, Charles found it hard to not want to overlook those thoughts.

Desperate for more, Charles stumbled forward, hands on Max's abs for stability. The air thickened with tension, and as their bodies neared, a whimper escaped Charles. "You're right," he confessed, abandoning the façade, his eyes fixated on Max's mouth.

Max, typically talkative, was now silent—not just to avoid detection but due to the overwhelming proximity of the two of them. With their breaths mingling, Max's reactions betrayed him. When the door closed, signaling the departure of the third party, Max's body moved autonomously. Crashing his lips against Charles, the kiss was anything but a brief brush. Instead, the Red Bull driver's body inclined against the other male's, pinning him against the stall as his hand climbed to the top of it, trying to keep himself from falling even further into the brunette.

In a split second, Charles passionately returned the kiss, a hunger too potent to conceal. Once initiated, there was no turning back; precautions were a distant memory the moment their lips met. The brunette, usually plagued by overthinking, had only one focus – the taste of Max and the fear of withdrawal. Without hesitating, the Ferrari driver kissed with desire, parting his mouth for Max, a soft whimper escaping as he tilted his head for better access. From watching Max's Monaco win to having him in a cramped stall, the intensity of their connection overwhelmed any rational thought.

Charles's hands found their way to Max's slightly champagne damp hair, pulling him closer, eliminating any gap between them. Despite the earlier belief in a lower sexual drive, the Red Bull driver ignited a desire so intense that Charles would do anything to prolong it.

Breaking the kiss to catch his breath, Charles leaned back against the stall, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rapidly. Doubts crept in about being too forward, but upon meeting Max's gaze, he couldn't resist pressing his mouth back into Max's, attempting to contain his desperation while moaning gently.

Instead of a gentle dance, their kiss felt like they were in a battle with their inner senses.  The voice of reason, echoing so loudly, jolted Max away from the kiss, snapping him back to reality. Stepping back abruptly, he collided with the opposite wall, creating a few inches of space between them. He breathed heavily, his eyes conveying the unspoken question—What am I doing?