On a sun-drenched day at the karting track, a seven-year-old Max Verstappen hesitated, his small hands gripping at the edges of his white and blue helmet. He glanced up at his father, Jos Verstappen, a seasoned racer himself, whose stern expression hinted at the intensity of the day ahead.
"Really, Dad, do we have to race today?" Max whined, the uncertainty in his voice belying his young age. "It's raining... I heard that Finn is not racing today, his dad said..." Max paused, noticing his words had angered his father.
Jos, not one to tolerate hesitation on the track, tightened his grip on the kart's frame. The roar of engines and the smell of gasoline filled the air, creating an atmosphere charged with both excitement and trepidation.
In response to Max's question, Jos, with a firmness that only a racing veteran could possess, grabbed a handful of his son's hair and dragged him to the view of the track. It was a moment where the boundaries between fatherly guidance and the uncompromising world of racing blurred.
"We're here to race, Max. No second-guessing," Jos declared, his words echoing over the buzzing sounds of the karting. "We are here to be better than them, not like them. Do you understand?"
Max, taken aback by his father's actions, felt a surge of anxiety. He understood the passion for racing that coursed through their veins, but the sudden physicality left him afraid. The karting arena, once a place of exhilaration, now felt like an arena of pressure and expectations.
"I understand." The seven-year-old replied
As quickly as Charles' climax had built up, it died out— as if the heat had been completely extinguished and all Charles could do was lay frozen. The grip on his wrists tighter than it would be if Max was playing into some fantasy and the quickness of his reactions made it clear that he'd indeed been fed up with the movements.
Despite the harsh actions, Charles attempted to not let it show that he was a little afraid— aware that Max wouldn't hurt him but the worry for him might have been harder to hide. The blond was usually so in control of himself and everything around him that Charles knew better than to think it was a random reaction.
With his wrists released, Charles sat up and brought the sheets closer to his body; unsure of what was happening, not wanting to have the conversation while completely exposed. In spite of the new position, the brunette remained nearby but didn't close any of the space in between them, careful to not invade Max's personal space.
"I am sorry, I don't know what I did. I got too lost in it, I should have asked if it was okay," Charles stammered out, avoiding eye contact as his own way of giving Max a little bit of privacy, unsure of what was going on inside his mind. "We don't have to continue but is it okay if you stay a bit longer?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation casual so as to not scare the man off.
Max didn't want to linger on the situation either, he seemed to be eager to quickly brush it off and even forget it happened to begin with, after all he didn't truly have any awareness of the motivation behind it.
"I wasn't planning on leaving," he pointed out as he stretched himself off the middle of the bed, trying to find the other male's green gaze which seemed to be so far away from his own. "Did I scare you?" he leaned in closer to him, tugging onto the sheet which the driver held to cover his body.
As Max reassured Charles that he had no intentions of leaving, Charles felt a subtle shift in their proximity. His attention, once fixed on the bed, now redirected towards Max's deep blue eyes, the darkness that had clouded them moments ago dissipating. Nodding in response to Max's question, Charles acknowledged the importance of honesty, moving in closer as he spoke.
"Yes," Charles began, "I wasn't scared of you, though. I was just afraid that I didn't know what was happening." He explained, choosing his words carefully. Charles wanted to ensure that Max didn't misconstrue his feelings. Charles was well aware of the public perception of Max as aloof, but he, like others who truly knew him, recognized the genuine and kind nature beneath that exterior.
"Did you sense I was going to cum?" Charles asked, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he tried to ease the mood, his shoulder brushing against Max's and when the man didn't pull away, he leaned closer —he liked it better when there was less space between them. Charles was playing a dangerous game, knowing that this wasn't something that was meant to survive past this night but because it was Max in his bed of all people, he'd never be able to truly separate the events from how he felt about him.
Max adjusted himself to sit beside Charles, leaning his elbows on his knees to find a comfortable position. The contrast between Max's nakedness and Charles, whose body was concealed beneath the white sheets of the bed, was stark.
"I did, it was pretty obvious," Max teased, playfully bumping his shoulder against Charles and pushing him before settling back into place. "I assumed you wouldn't last very long with all that moaning," he chuckled, injecting a light-hearted tone into the conversation before delving into the more serious matter at hand.
"Are you okay?" Charles whispered, despite being the only ones in the room. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to; I just got worried." He assured him and, hesitantly, brushed his pinky against Max's.
"I'm okay," Max replied convincingly, redirecting his blue gaze to meet Charles's face. "I just don't like to get my hair pulled, that's all," he explained, offering a partial truth that seemed slightly at odds with the intensity of his earlier reaction. Charles, with his deep understanding of Max, knew that fabricating lies about his personality and reasons was futile. Over the course of their careers, Charles had seen enough to discern the authenticity beneath Max's exterior.
"I should have told you," Max confessed, releasing a heavy breath.
"I won't do it again," Charles affirmed, acknowledging the unspoken boundaries that they were navigating. "But for the record, I do like getting my hair pulled," he added, injecting a touch of humor into the conversation.
His gaze fell to the placement of their hands, fingers lightly brushing against each other. "Do you want to go again?" Max inquired, his tone carrying an assurance that the previous incident wouldn't be repeated.
This time, their kiss unfolded slowly, each movement deliberate. Charles's hand, not entwined with Max's finger, delicately stroked Max's cheek, offering an unspoken invitation. The lack of urgency allowed Charles to appreciate the moment, realizing he was kissing Max, the familiar presence from his childhood.
Wrapping his arm around the brunette's waist, he pulled him in, bringing the other driver to his lap. Feeling his weight rest on his legs, Max lowered the grip of his hands to the brunette's hips, furthering the touch of his hands until his palms rested on top of his bare ass cheeks. Igniting back the warmth between them, Max parted away from their kiss to let his lips travel down the line of his jaw as his hands sinked into the skin of his bottom.
There was nothing in the world that could have broken Charles away from that kiss, his mouth glued into Max's even as he was lifted and repositioned on the man's lap— fitting perfectly on him and making Charles arch his back a little so his chest was pressed against Max's as they kissed. Ignoring the warning signs in his head that were screaming at him for making the night more intimate than it had intended to be, Charles made little sounds of satisfaction as the driver's hands trailed down his body as if he was the one sculpting him— the boy's body perfectly fitting into the hands that he normally only spotted holding a trophy.
The brunette leaned his head back, running his fingers through the hair on the nape of Max's neck, careful not to pull on it but enjoying the feel of him. "I don't want you to stop," he whispered, his eyes shut as his body quickly reacted to every touch it was given. He didn't want the man to stop for one night but also wished he could have him to himself more than for one night but if that was what he had, he was going to make it worth it. "It took you no time to turn me on again..," he confessed, his hips grinding a little on his lap as he tried to reposition himself in an attempt to keep himself from caving in and stroking his own member. "Max..," he mumbled, bringing a hand to his abdomen and inching closer to his cock.
Max could feel himself become hard again, his member growing against the other driver's crotch, matching his own arousal. "Let's skip the foreplay this time around," he whispered against his ear.