When Lewis opens his eyes, he immediately knows that he’s fucked. It’s all warm and sticky between his legs, his heartbeat is through the roof, and, from what he remembers, he just woke up from a wet dream. He hasn’t had any of those in years. He looks at the ceiling, hand slowly moving down to investigate the situation. He’s fucking soaked. Like, boner aside, this can only mean one thing.
Lewis is in heat.
He grunts as he gets out of bed, not out of pain but out of sheer annoyance. He walks over to his bedroom to look at his suppressants, counts them, and realises there’s just too many in there. He needs to get off them soon, he knows, but he’d scheduled that for summer break. A whole week of nothing but suffering locked in his own bedroom sounded like a great solution to the everlasting being-an-omega problem. But no, of course he isn’t in that luxurious position. Because he’s an idiot with ADHD, and if he doesn’t get a million reminders, he forgets things. He’s been messy the past few weeks in general, then he forgot to brush his teeth before going to bed, another time he forgot to take out his ponytail and woke up with fucked up hair standing up on all sides. He sighs deeply, all of that is a minor inconvenience. Forgetting these pills is not.
Taking one now won’t make any difference, he decides, might as well save them for later. He puts the medicine back into the cabinet before he jumps into a cold shower.
It helps, a little bit.
The edge is taken off, his boner gone, his arse dry. He’s confident he can get through today. As long as he just doesn’t get near other people, let alone alphas, right now, he should manage.
He’s halfway through making himself some breakfast when his phone rings, “This is Lewis,” he answers.
“I’m downstairs waiting for you. A trip to the airport, right?”
Lewis frowns, then checks his phone, something he forgot…?
Fuck, he thinks, it’s a fucking race week! His plane is leaving in a few hours. Lewis takes a deep breath and composes himself for the cabbie, “I’ll be there in ten, is that okay?”
“Yep, I'll wait. No longer than ten, though.” The cabbie’s polite, but Lewis thinks he can hear the exasperation in the man’s voice. That’s fair, he thinks.
Lewis takes a deep breath, and another, and, for good measure, another. He looks at his bedroom and sees that part of his suitcase had already been packed. Of course he knew that it’s a race week, he just woke up thinking of the whole heat-situation before he realised that it was a race week. And just how he almost-forgot about the race week thing, he’s now packing his bags almost-forgetting the heat thing. He shoves his breakfast in his mouth as he walks to the elevator. He’s glad to see he’s alone there.
He’s also incredibly glad that his cabbie smells like neither an alpha nor an omega. Just a regular dude. Lewis pops in his airpods and closes his eyes, meditative music in the background.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
It takes him all the way to being a shivering mess in the plane when he thinks about the whole situation, when he makes the maths equation: heat plus race week equals… what, exactly? He can’t believe himself, he’s always so structured with his million reminders. He never forgets to take his suppressants, often telling Angela that he’s already taken them when she double checked him.
He briefly thinks back to the one moment before when he’d forgotten his suppressants, back in 2013. The one other moment where it happened, which led to an interesting run in with his former teammate – one they refuse to speak about years later. Lewis shakes the thought away, that is not going to happen to him now. He’s learned to be more careful.
Lewis rubs his hands over his arms in a fragile attempt to warm up and thinks about entering the paddock and who to avoid. He’s reluctantly grateful for the little driver changes over the past few years, so he knows how most of them smell. He also knows that not everyone is an alpha or an omega. He thinks to himself that he’ll be fine as long as he avoids alpha’s like Pierre, Fernando, and Max. They… they have a reputation, okay?
☁︎☁︎☁︎
“Lewis, good morning!” says his social media manager, handing him his paddock pass and briefing him quickly about the press conference. Lewis barely listens, just hums along, waves at some photographers and follows where she’s guiding him. He hopes he doesn’t look like he’s got a cold, or something, before they decide to not put him in the car this weekend. She doesn’t seem to notice, at least, and Lewis tries to keep his own shivering to a minimum.
“...and Alex, I think that’s it.” Her closing statement to a sentence Lewis didn’t hear.
“‘M sorry,” He smiles, “I didn’t catch who I’m in the press conference with?”
“Zhou, Max, Oscar and Alex,” She repeats, then follows him into his driver’s room, places some papers on the table and nods at him before leaving.
Lewis thanked her before the door closed and then groans, putting his head in his hands. Not fucking Max. Max is an alpha, one with a reputation. It’s not a negative reputation, per se. He’s had a handful of relationships, all lasting at least a year or so. But he’s never single, is the thing. There’s rumours about him always managing to find omega’s to be with, he’s never been seen with anyone but omega’s. He’s a walking red flag for omega’s, not that he doesn’t treat them right, but that he just always manages to find them. Right when they’re in heat. Right when they’re vulnerable.
And Lewis matches that description: an omega in heat. Vulnerable.
And as far as Lewis knows, Max is single.
He shakes his head, thinking, praying, that Max has enough decency to stay away from colleagues.
But that’s all about step two: Max somehow smelling Lewis’ heat and then acting on it. What he’s frankly more worried about is step one: Max finding out he’s an omega. Lewis doesn’t want anyone to find out, at all, but his former biggest rival? Given their history? No fucking way. Max might end up using that shit against him, in the media, in case they get into a title fight like they had in 2021 again.
He takes a deep breath and thinks of his other colleagues that are in the press conference. They’re all fine. He doesn't worry about Alex, despite knowing he’s an alpha. Alex is in a committed relationship and usually those in committed relationships are less annoying with their scents. Calmer.
So when he walks into the room where the press conference is held, bright flashes already greet him by capturing every step he takes, he sees Alex and sits down next to him. He tells himself to just focus on the journalists and not anyone else, then he will be fine. Zhou and Oscar greet them as they sit down on the other side of Lewis.
The press conference starts and Max hasn’t joined the four of them yet. Lewis is a little bit grateful, hoping that Max might skip this one entirely. He listens to the interviewer asking everyone on the couch how they're doing, just a short introduction before the floor opens. Lewis is halfway through his answer – telling everyone how he’s feeling comfortable and confident to see the direction in which Mercedes is heading, that he’s grateful to see some progress – when Max walks in.
Max apologises for being late by raising his hands, and Lewis sees in his peripheral vision how Max hesitates to sit next to Zhou and Oscar.
And instead – of fucking course – he moves to sit next to Alex. the closest he possibly could to sit next to Lewis.
Lewis, raised as a polite man, makes brief eye contact and nods to Max in lieu of a greeting, then finishes answering the question. When he’s done, he leans back on the couch and frowns to himself.
Something feels… wrong.
He breathes in the scents, the mixture of all the people in this room. Alex, next to him, smells calming, like a hidden restaurant that still uses grandma’s recipe for tom kha kai. On Lewis’ other side are Zhou – who smells like Dior perfume and nothing else – and Oscar – who smells like deodorant and fresh shampoo.
And yet… the room most overwhelmingly smells like a forest, with a pond inhabited by frogs, fresh breezes, the prettiest flowers and palm trees. Like dirt drying from a recent rainfall, and mushrooms growing everywhere.
There is no way that Max smells like nature. Lewis strikes him more as a garage type of guy – oil, gasoline and rubber – having been raised near tracks all his life.
Lewis takes one more breath through his nose and he thinks he starts seeing the most colourful butterflies all around. His body tingles with warmth and he feels it low in his belly. There's nothing he'd rather do than stay near this smell forever and live in it. But he closes it off, as much as he can, for he feels his heart beat faster and his dick twitch in interest. He crosses his legs and answers another question thrown at him.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
The moment that it’s announced that the press conference is over, Lewis books it out of there.
But before he can rush to the paddock, a hand curls around his elbow and the smell of a waterfall stops him. He takes a steadying breath before he turns around to face Max.
Max looks gentler than Lewis knows him, a touch of worry in his eyes that feels misplaced. And what he says makes it even worse: “Are you okay? I thought you looked like you were about to faint in there.” He hands Lewis his can, “Do you need some water, there isn’t any red bull in here.”
Lewis doesn’t know why Max suddenly cares about whether or not he’d faint. Frankly, sometimes Lewis thinks that Max will hold a celebration party when Lewis announces his retirement. He tries not to let his confusion – and slight distrust – show. He takes a sip from Max's water, partly because he's polite and partly because he knows he can't say no. Max's arm is still on Lewis' elbow. Max swipes his thumb over Lewis' skin and Lewis tries his best to swallow his own whimper. What is happening to him? What is Max doing to him?
Max hears it though. He says, “Follow me,” as he leaves to a more hidden corner in between big trucks. A handful of people walk by before Max starts, “Lewis, talk to me, what's going on?” He now has both his hands on Lewis’ elbows and Lewis can’t find it in himself to move away. He normally wouldn’t let this happen – he doesn’t let any touch linger – but he can’t find it within himself to push Max away either.
Lewis’ eyes are sceptical as he scans Max’s face and once again finds nothing but genuine worry. He lets out a deep breath – and with it, pheromones.
Max can’t seem to hide his surprise, eyes widening and he gulps. He clears his throat and says, “Did you– uhm, I never knew you were–”
“An idiot,” Lewis answers, chuckling helplessly.
“Don’t say that,” Max smiles, then before Lewis can let that work in on him, he asks, “Do you have an al– uh, a mate to help you?”
Not in, like, forever, Lewis thinks, but he just shakes his head instead.
“Will you let me take you to your hotel room? You should be done for today, or call in sick with a massive headache or whatever.” Max straightens his back, opening his phone to send someone a message.
That’s probably the kindest set of words I’ve heard from your mouth, Lewis thinks, and immediately wants to punch himself. He should refuse. He should ask for someone else to bring him to his hotel room, so he can use a big dildo he brought and try to satisfy himself with that. He should not be in any proximity of Max anywhere this weekend, he’d rather start from the back and end up no higher P10 just to be sure he isn’t in another press conference with Max.
But he also feels like no one can take care of him the way Max is already taking care of him. He inhales Max’s scent once more, the fresh grass, wet wood, a running creek.
Vulnerable omega, he thinks and screams at his instincts. He opens his mouth to say no thank you, or, I’ll call a cab, I’ll be fine, or, I’ll just lock myself in my driver’s room, or–
What leaves his mouth instead is: “Yeah, okay.”
Max briefly nods, a soft smile on his face. Then he pats Lewis on the back and says, “Let’s go then.” The pat alone surprises Lewis, and a soft gasp escapes his lips. Max looks at him, worried, before collecting himself. He walks on ahead, but turns around to make sure Lewis follows him. Lewis catches up to him so they’re side by side, and Max says, “Is it okay if I just ramble about the track? Then it looks like we’re actually in a conversation instead of… sneaking off.”
“Yeah, distract me, talk to me,” Lewis says, feeling his cheeks run warm and his body overheating. Out of nowhere, he’s hot all over, feeling as though he wants to rip his clothes from his body and jump into a bath of ice cubes. He takes a shaking breath before he focuses on Max’s hands – so funny how he always talks with his hands – and listens to Max’s rundown of his lap on the sim.
And as they walk, Lewis can only smell Max's scent getting stronger, wielding off anyone who might want to ask them a question. It seems as though people make a big circle around them, being sure not to get too close. Occasionally, Max shoots someone a glance, and the gaze alone is enough to ward them off. Lewis is only mildly jealous of the abilities of an alpha, in this case.
He tries not to think too hard about how he likes it, though.
As they walk side by side, Lewis feels the smallest of touches from his arm to Max's as if they're lighting his entire body on fire. He no longer feels like he’s caught a fever, he feels relatively normal about it all. Well, the touches are never enough and he wished he could get Max’s hands all over his body and he –
He looks at the sky for a second and prays that he can behave when they're back into the hotel room. If this walk is anything to go by, he doubts it.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
Lewis shivers when he enters the car, goosebumps trailing over his body. He feels cold and a little sick all over.
And also nervous. Nervous for what might happen, for how he can control himself. He knows his pheromones have been releasing themselves into the air more and more every second, stronger and more desperate. The cabbie smirks and asks, “Where to, handsome?”
Max shuts the cabbie off with a growl, when he enters the car too. The cabbie doesn’t say a word to them from that moment on, till they arrive at the hotel.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
In the car, Max notices Lewis’ shivering and simply places a hand on his knee. Lewis looks at him with wide eyes and feels a normal amount of warmth returning to his body, as if the sickness is cured by the mere touch of five fingers and a palm.
Max bites on his thumb’s nail in the meantime, probably holding himself back from lord knows what.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
If anyone in or near the reception notices that Max has his hand on Lewis’ lower back and they are, together, walking toward the elevator, they hide their surprise really well.
Lewis is happy to see other people in the elevator as well, solely because he doesn’t feel in control of his own actions, of his body. He leans against Max, who is standing next to him. He closes his eyes just to focus on that mossy scent, but the other people in the elevator cloud it. There’s sweat, cheap hotel soap, something that resembles Chanel No5 perfume and more sweat. Lewis suddenly hates that there’s other people.
And as if they feel his desire to be alone with Max, they leave the elevator one by one.
He opens his eyes and looks at Max, who’s focusing on the door as if he can’t wait to be in Lewis’ room.
“Max?” Lewis says, voice small. Max looks at him with a question in his eyes. One that Lewis answers, “I just want to say that I’m grateful for you, for doing this. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve probably stayed and suffered, but you made me feel better, already. And –”
“Stop,” Max says sternly, and Lewis gulps.
Max retracts his hand from Lewis’ back, scratching behind his ear. He takes a deep breath and for some reason, Lewis feels like he’s about to break up with him, or something. They don’t even have anything, but the tension is palpable, and it doesn’t feel sexual. It feels strained, wrong.
Max clears his throat and Lewis’ eyes are glued to his lips, “Thank me later, I’m not in my right mind to respond to you normally.”
Lewis raises an eyebrow.
Max bites his lip.
Oh, Lewis thinks. His pheromones must be everywhere right now. The elevator is a small space and Max is also just an alpha. Lewis had been so focused on himself, on how Max has been helping him and he’s feeling better, safer, that he forgot to think that all of this… Well, it doesn’t just have an effect on Lewis.
Lewis opens his mouth to say something, but then the elevator dings and Max walks out. Lewis follows him quickly, being the one who holds the keycard, and rushes in front of him to open the door.
Max walks into the space, grabs some clothing items Lewis hadn’t cleaned up from the bed and readies it. He seems to be on full autopilot as he grabs a glass of water and searches for a paracetamol. He finds it, opens his hand to give it to Lewis and all but presses the water in his hands. Lewis takes it, and stays where he is. He doesn’t know why, but his body is screaming at him to not make Max leave. Not when he finally has an alpha that seems to want to take care of him really well.
Max puts his hand on Lewis’ shoulder and tries to push him aside, eyes glued to the hotel door. Lewis places his free hand on Max’s sternum and one handedly pushes him back into the room, “Don’t leave,” he says, leaving out the me.
“Lewis, I can’t.” Max takes a deep breath, “I can’t stay.” He doesn’t push Lewis again, though. Instead, he readjusts his pants. Lewis decidedly does not look at where his hands are.
The thing is – Lewis knows, Lewis understands. Had he been in his right mind, he would have thanked Max and then waved him out. But something is making him do this, something stronger than his conscience.
“I don’t want you to,” He shrugs, putting the glass away. He can’t meet Max’s eyes, for some reason, feeling a bit shy.
“I… I can tell,” Max chuckles, but shakes his head anyway, “Let me leave when I can still make the choice. We can talk about it when your heat is over, okay?”
Lewis ignores the fleeting, insecure thought where he wonders if this is emotional manipulation or genuine. His instincts tell him it’s fine, but they also did that seven years ago and that wasn’t fine.
Lewis looks at the ground, shuffles his feet, “You smell nice.” It’s closer to a whisper, but the sudden increase in Max’s forestry smell tells Lewis that he heard it.
Max takes a step closer to Lewis again, and Lewis can hear how he’s breathing heavier now. Lewis searches for Max’s eyes but is met with only his cheek. Max puts a hand on Lewis’ shoulder and wordlessly tries to move him away, to that godforsaken door again.
Lewis has something he needs to set straight.
In a moment of now-or-never, he uses all his highly trained reflexes and strength to grab Max by his sides and push him onto the bed. Max, having similarly trained reflexes, catches himself on his shoulders and locks dark eyes with Lewis.
“Lewis,” He warns, voice rough, and Lewis feels shivers of heat running over his back. He feels slick running down his thighs and his heart beating fast. Max’s gaze is piercing through him, looking at him like he’s naked already, devouring him whole with his eyes. His scent changes, and it’s wilder now. The wind is howling and rain is coming. The first droplets of a summer storm in the forest fill the room and Lewis is drawn to it.
Lewis lets out a soft whine. Max takes a deep, albeit shaky, breath in response.
When Lewis’ whine reaches his own ears, he uses his last bit of restraint, of control over his body, to tell Max: “I want you, Max. Not just anyone. Not just to, I don’t know, quench this or whatever. I want you near me, I love your scent, I could drown in it.” He realises just how true the words are when he hears them being spoken out loud, hanging in the air of the room. Then he takes a deep breath, and doesn’t meet Max’s eyes for the next part. “But if you don’t, that’s fine too. You should leave now and we’ll never speak of it again. I’ll thank you properly later, but I don’t think I can control myself around you much longer, not when I’m like this.”
Lewis looks at the floor, focusing everything on counting to ten, giving Max enough space to move away. He hears how Max rises from the bed, takes a few steps toward Lewis and then stops. Lewis holds his breath.
Instead of leaving, Max uses his pointer finger to move Lewis’ chin up, to force him to make eye contact.
Lewis gulps and follows. Max’s grey eyes are even darker than they were before, more serious. He can see the instinctual part of his brain taking over, but he also sees that Max is not fighting it.
“We’ll discuss the details later. Undress yourself and pick a position,” Max orders, making way for Lewis to walk over to the bed.
Lewis takes a deep breath, smelling all of Max all around him. They’re doing this, he tells himself. With ease, he takes off his shirt, throwing it lazily onto the ground. He steps out of his pants too and crawls onto the bed. Faced with the dilemma of what position, he hesitates.
He lays down on his back on the bed, obscenely stretching just because he can. His body is screaming at him to get release and to get it soon, but he’s ignoring it. Just so he can take in another deep breath of that forest. He looks at Max, challenging him. Runs a hand over his chest, to the waistband of his underwear. He cups himself through his boxers and god that scent of a summer storm is battling with that of his own pheromones. Max follows Lewis’ hand with a laser focus, then shifts to Lewis’ eyes. He lets out a low grunt – the sound of which shoots tremors to Lewis’ cock – and almost rips his own shirt in his haste to take it off.
As Max fidgets with his fly, Lewis turns onto his stomach. He’s decided he wants to get fucked deep and rough, and this way Max has all the freedom to ruin his hips and take what he wants. Max gets the hint immediately. He’s barely stepped out of his pants and he’s already grabbing Lewis’ hips and heaving him up.
His voice is rough and strained as he chokes out, “Are you sure?”
Lewis freezes for a second. Yes, of course he’s sure, he didn’t have this entire fucking monologue for him to say no, now. In response, Lewis just wiggles his ass to Max, get on with it.
“I need you to say it, Lewis.”
Shivers climb up his spine when he hears Max’s already-ruined voice say his name. He wants to hear his name being uttered out a lot more like that, but only by Max. It’s so fucking hot. He just knows that every single bit of this heat is gonna be left unsatisfied if Max isn’t there to take care of him.
Lewis cranes his neck to meet Max’s eyes, “I’m so fucking sure,” and he adds, for good measure, “Please.”
Max’s eyes widen then and he bites his lip again. The hands on Lewis’ hips tighten and by god does he hope it forms bruises. All to tell him tomorrow that this is real, that this happened. That no one other than Max fucking Verstappen was the one taking care of him. The one scratching the itch exactly how he wanted it to be scratched.
Max nods briefly, and Lewis looks at the headboard again. He shakes his ass just once in Max’s hold to communicate his impatience. Then Max chuckles, “Think one little please is gonna get you what you want?” Max takes off Lewis’ sticky underwear, slowly. He places a kiss to Lewis’ cheek, then to the other, and Lewis could rip his own hairs out of his scalp just to get more of him.
But no, Max kisses and kisses, tastes Lewis’ skin with his tongue, gets himself familiar with it all. His breath is so close to Lewis’ crack, that Lewis fears he might come the second Max actually touches him where he needs it.
“Fuck, Lewis, you smell so good,” Max hums, satisfied. His voice seems to be more in control now that he’s accepted that they’re gonna fuck, that he’s gonna be the one to take care of Lewis. That he’ll be his alpha for tonight.
Lewis wriggles again, demanding more. But instead, Max moves away and says, with a smile audible in his voice, “What did I say about wanting something?”
“Hrr,” Lewis grunts, stretching his arms in front of him, nails grabbing at the headboard but not finding anything to hold onto.
“Yes, keep them there,” Max says, “And don’t think about moving.”
Fuck, Lewis thinks, he thought this would be easy. Max would just fuck him senseless and then leave him alone. But no, he’s pressing all of Lewis’ buttons, forcing him into submission, demanding things. And it’s fucking working.
“Fuck,” Lewis says, barely recognising his own voice.
“Almost there,” Max says, squeezing Lewis’ ass, fingers snaking closer to his hole. The touch is soft, delicate almost, and Lewis fucking hates how much he loves it.
He takes a shivering breath, one of so many today, and croaks out, “Please, Max, I can’t– I need–”
“I know what you need,” Max says. Before Lewis can even sigh a breath of relief, Max’s tongue laps all over his hole.
“Fuck!” Lewis yelps, surprised.
Max chuckles softly against Lewis’ skin, but keeps going. He’s lapping him clean, tasting his slick. His fingers play with the flesh of his ass, stimulating him all over. Lewis feels himself sweating, bursting at the seams. It’s been so long since he’s been taken care of properly. Only satisfying himself with dildo’s and vibrators, and once every blue moon a lover. But never long enough to stay around.
Never like this.
Max seems to be enjoying Lewis’ slick, licking and sucking him like he’s eating his favourite meal. Like he’s doing this for himself, rather than just for Lewis. Like he could stay here for hours and take his time.
Lewis doesn’t have that time, he’s a volcano about to erupt, rumbling and bubbling. The blood that pulses through his veins heats up, like waves of magma travelling throughout his body. But Max doesn’t show any mercy. Instead, he starts fucking Lewis with his tongue, spreading his hole just wide enough to fit his tongue in. He licks and sucks, massages Lewis’ ass with his hands, spreading him wide and keeping him on edge.
“Fuck, Max! Please I- I can’t–” Lewis groans, frustrated from how good it all feels but how badly he needs to be knotted up to the maximum and unable to walk tomorrow. Free practice be damned, they’ll throw a junior in there. He’ll be fine.
Max moves away from Lewis’ hole, “Hmm, one more thing, be patient, darling.” He places a soft kiss to Lewis’ cheek and Lewis ignores his warm cheeks and fluttering heart at the nickname. “You trust me, don’t you?” Max asks, and the question feels heavier than it maybe should be.
Lewis doesn’t even have to think about it, but does note how this feels more monumental than he thought it’d be, considering this is just Max doing him a favour and they’ll never fucking speak of this afterward. Lewis looks at Max – who looks absolutely ruined, chin wet with slick and spit, hair everywhere and cheeks red – and nods, “I trust you.”
The genuine look of affection appears and disappears, Lewis had missed it had he not looked, and replaces itself with a mischievous smirk. Max moves to Lewis’ arse again, sucking a hickey on Lewis’ thighs. The bite, the sharpness, make Lewis gasp in response, not expecting this. Max is still marking him up as one of his fingers finds Lewis’ hole, circling around the rim, then entering without hesitation. Lewis could jump from happiness that finally, finally there’s something in him. But it’s not nearly enough. The ecstasy of having Max’s finger inside him subsides as quickly as it rose and he’s already moving his arse to Max in a silent plea for more.
Max finally lets go of the skin of Lewis’ thigh, huffs a pleased laugh when he appreciates his work and all the while doesn’t stop fucking Lewis with just one finger. Lewis throws his head in between his arms, the magma in his veins now angrily bubbling. Nothing is ever enough for an omega in heat.
But Max knows this, presses kiss after kiss to Lewis’ hole while fucking him with that one singular finger. Lewis is about to plead, about to beg for his life, when Max’s hand suddenly – and it feels like it is just in time – finds his dick. His poor aching cock had been so in need of attention, that Max only needs one, two strokes before Lewis is coming his fucking brains out all over the bedsheets.
“Fuuuuuuck!” Lewis all but screams, throwing his entire body onto the bed. Max’s finger doesn’t leave his hole. He cups Lewis’ cheek with his free hand, a soft massage to keep him in this world, on planet earth.
Lewis needs a moment or two to catch his breath, unable to realise that he hasn’t even been knotted up the way he needs it but mentally, he already feels so satiated. He feels like he’s almost back into his skin, like the volcano inside him didn’t erupt but calmed down.
“That was so good, fuck,” He breathes, sighs again, catches his breath for real this time.
Max huffs a laugh, there’s a slight arrogance in it that immediately captures Lewis' attention. It was placed correctly, because Max responds by saying, “Who says I was done with you?”
And jesus christ, Lewis thinks. Immediately that magma starts bubbling inside him again, his heat dialled up higher than it was before Max brought him here. His body is rumbling, shaking, begging for more. It did not need to think twice when it heard Max’s invitation. Lewis barely had the words worked in on him and his body was already re-energized and producing slick all the more. Max must’ve smelled it, because all he does is chuckle affectionately and kiss Lewis’ lower back. He slowly starts to pull his finger out and push it back in, like an unspoken take your time, ready whenever you are.
Slowly, as if he’s learning how to control his body for the first time, he gets up on his hands and knees again. After another second and a deep breath, he nods.
“Hmm, what’s the magic wo-ord?” Max sing-songs, like the little shit he is. His finger inside of Lewis has picked up a bit of pace, fucking him faster now.
Lewis curses himself for ever falling into the trap of Max Emilian Verstappen and tells himself to never ever ask him for help ever again. He rolls his eyes, “Please,” He deadpans. He’s only mildly surprised by how in control of his body he is. Maybe the safety, the certainty that this is going to happen, that Max will take care of him, helps him stay just this tiny bit grounded that he can quip and joke around. Then he takes a breath through his nose and realises that Max’s scent has mostly calmed down. That must be it.
Max still has the upper hand in this, and Lewis just underestimated to what degree he will use it. Max flicks his wrist and feels Lewis up, then presses down exactly on his prostate.
And Lewis fucking wails.
The room fills itself with that warm summer forest again, but the storm hasn’t passed. It hangs like a dark warning over the trees, but the ground is craving the water. Lewis knows this storm will be harmless. He feels it in his quivering bones.
“Beg like you mean it,” Max orders.
“Please,” Lewis responds immediately, not wasting any time. “Please Max, I need you, I need you more than anything.”
With one hand, Max undoes himself of his pants and underwear. His other hand keeps fucking Lewis, never letting him rest. A second finger has joined, then a third. Lewis has no idea what to expect of Max’s dick, but he figures he will find out how big it is sooner rather than later.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Max smirks. He places one last kiss on Lewis’ shoulder, as if it’s a warning, and then lets his fingers out to make way for his dick.
And fuck, there it is. That itch Lewis had woken up with finally scratched. That desire deep in his bones satisfied. His need fulfilled. He is full and ready.
Max fucks him with no remorse, taking what he needs. He is, for an alpha, surprisingly loud, moaning and groaning and filling the room with his voice. Lewis can’t get enough of it, he loves the sound of Max appreciating Lewis’ body, how it drives him wild. His scent, that summer storm, now has trees shaking and rain falling, thunder rumbling and lightning never far away. Lewis can see it before him, can almost feel himself to be in that forest. Can feel the dirt on his knees and his hands, the rainworms curling around his fingers, the heat like a warm blanket around him, the rain a welcome cooling temperature.
He didn’t have that with the previous alpha.
He didn’t know he needed it.
Max’s grip on his hips is painful in the way Lewis likes it, he likes it when things are rough, when he isn’t treated like a porcelain prince, but borderline used, just with enough affection to be real.
It turns especially real when Max leans over, placing his hands besides Lewis’, his chest covering Lewis’ back. Max has his head thrown forward over Lewis’ shoulder, takes just a second to bite in his neck. Lewis grunts at it, the pain welcome and yet surprising. It hurts like Max is holding back saying all kinds of things, but it’s so fucking hot too. Lewis can’t wait to look in the mirror later and feel the bite again, feel the desire in Max’s teeth. Maybe hoping he was just a few centimetres closer to his neck, right where his mating gland is. He doesn’t stop to think that maybe that’s what Max’s instincts told him to do, and that he just barely managed to stop that from happening.
Lewis uses one of his hands to grab Max’s hair, keeping him in place. He likes this, way more than he probably should. Despite Max’s earlier command to keep his hands in place, he lets Lewis pull his hair. Lewis uses the strands like his lifeline.
Max growls against Lewis’ skin, hungry, desperate.
Before Lewis knows it, Max’s hand has found Lewis’ dick and is jerking him off. Lewis is suddenly absolutely overwhelmed by anything and everything, the scents, the love bite, Max’s dick fucking him, his back covering him, his hand around his cock.
“Max,” He wails, whines, moans, begs all the same.
“I got you,” Max grunts, voice hoarse. He swipes his thumb around lewis’ cockhead, curling at the slit, spreading some of the leftover come and new precome. In sync with the thrusts of his hips, he jerks Lewis off and Lewis is officially out of his mind. He rolls his eyes, throws his head onto Max’s shoulder and screams his name. He wonders not that passers by can hear his voice screaming his rival’s name. At this moment, everyone can know. Everyone may know just how fucking perfectly Max took care of Lewis.
Lewis clenches around Max’s ass while he comes and comes, his load covering the bed sheets once more.
Max follows not much later, filling him deeply, letting go of a deep breath and spurting Lewis full. Max pants next to Lewis’ ear, shoulders shaking from the impact of their scene.
Lewis lets himself fall onto the disgusting bed, arms no longer capable of holding him up, legs failing him too. He feels sleepy, suddenly. Of which he draws the conclusion that he is satisfied. His heat subdued for now. This satisfaction won’t last long, so he figures a nap can help it, can help move time quicker.
Somehow, part of him had expected Max to leave. Job done, task ticked off, pants back on and out he goes. But instead, Max just slowly pulls out of Lewis, grabs a toilet paper roll in a faint attempt to dry him up, puts on his pants and lays himself on the bed next to Lewis. He wraps an arm around Lewis, pulling him closer just a bit.
Lewis turns around in Max’s hold, welcoming it. He smiles at Max, the only sign of gratitude he can bring him now.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
After a few minutes of silence, of both men catching their breaths and letting the severity of this all work in on them, Max takes a deep breath. For a second, he hesitates, but then he perseveres: “Can I ask… Why do you take suppressants?” He turns to face Lewis, “I heard it’s easier to just go through it all than to have that trash in your body.”
“It is,” Lewis sighs deeply, “But when you don’t have a partner to work you through it and are the only black guy in the field, being an omega on top of that only makes things harder. I’ve been taking the suppressants since I presented.” He takes a second to think back at when he presented, the instant worry in his father’s face. Anthony had looked at Lewis and told him, let’s get help for this, and drove him to the pharmacy for suppressants. Lewis had forgotten the bloody things twice before, and the agony of a heat while being single is not worth going through. He’ll take the headaches and vision sensitivity and fevers instead, silently hoping that one day they’ll invent suppressants without a bloody long list of side effects.
Max watches him intently, then says, “I can imagine– well, I think I’d have made the same choice.”
“Thanks,” says Lewis, unsure what else to say.
“Uhm,” Max clears his throat, suddenly not meeting Lewis’ eyes. “Stop taking the suppressants.” He lets the statement hang in the air for a second before he faces Lewis and adds, “Call me when you need me, okay?”
“Geez, take a guy to dinner first,” Lewis laughs, nay, giggles. Max easily joins him, maybe only now realising how his proposition sounds.
“Think we’re too late for that,” Then he takes a breath and smiles, “But sure. Are you going back to Monaco or straight to the next one?”
“Monaco, I packed in a hurry.”
“Okay, I’ll see you Tuesday at Sass, 7pm.”
Lewis smiles, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks, “Okay.”
Max keeps smiling back at him, not saying anything. He seems to hover a bit, unsure what to do next, Lewis thinks. Then smiles, all tooth gap and crinkly eyes, “Oh come on, you just had your dick in me and now you don’t even dare to give me a kiss? Unbelievable!”
“Oh shut up,” Max says, but Lewis knows he hit the nail on its head when Max leans oer and cups Lewis’ cheek, then unapologetically kisses him.
And oh no, Lewis fucking loves this. He immediately tries to hold Max into place, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck and kissing him deeper.
“Hmpf,” Max muffles, leaning back slightly, “I have to go, you know.” Contrary to his word, he kisses Lewis again. He, too, seems to not be getting enough of the other.
“I’m not stopping you,” Lewis smirks, then kisses Max again. He’s very aware of how he’s releasing pheromones again. But more than that, he can smell Max’s arousal too.
Max moves Lewis to lay on his back, still kissing him, now fully covering his body, “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” Asks Lews innocently. As if he hasn’t got the slightest clue what he’s doing.
Max simply moves over to Lewis’ neck, inhaling him loudly. Lewis thought that would be it, his point proven, but then he kisses Lewis’ neck, he sucks, he bites. Just near his mating mark, but never too close, on the exact other side of where he already left a hickey. Lewis’ hold on Max’s neck turns into his nails scratching the skin for leverage. He moans and writhes in Max’s hold, his neck ever so sensitive to the affection of an alpha.
Max groans in return, “that.”
“Hmm,” Lewis hums playfully, already feeling that Max isn’t just going to leave like that, “Make me.”
“Round two already?” Max sighs, tired from the intensity of round one.
Lewis doesn’t lose his playful smile and hitches his hips up, meeting Max’s, “Don’t tell me you’re tired. You are into this.”
“Yeah,” Max admits, “And I’ll be into you in a second.” He kisses Lewis again, taking off his pants with feigned exasperation, as if it’s all a real big task for him.
“I’ll forgive you for the pun if you fuck me good enough.”
“Oh, I’ll make love to you, baby.” Max smiles, liking his own joke.
Lewis swallows, blaming it on Max’s bilinguality that he doesn’t catch the nuance of fucking versus making love. The implications. The weight of it all. He doesn’t know what exactly they were before this – can’t say they were friends, right? Just rivals who respect each other a bit more than they respect their other colleagues. Rivals who joke around regularly, who always greet and oftentime hug each other – but he certainly doesn’t know where this will lead now. He shakes the thought away, Max is just doing him a favour, maybe two. He’s not in love. He’s also not pretending to be, thank god. Lewis makes sure that does not happen to him a second time.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
When Max leaves, he leaves behind a satiated, happy and sleepy Lewis. This time, Lewis didn’t try to keep him here. It was all too good like this, and he needed the sleep. He figured that if Max would stay over, his heat would only be worse. That, beside the connotation of them sharing a bed and being all vulnerable and unconscious. It would simply be too much. Lewis hopes that his body calms the fuck down for this weekend so he can pretend that everything is normal. And when Max and he meet up in Monaco again, they’ll talk through boundaries and everything if this is going to be serious. If not, Lewis would be okay with that. All of this happened quite in the spur of the moment, and Lewis can’t blame Max for deciding to back out of a long term thing. Or maybe Lewis will, if he decides he’s not too comfortable with it after all. He’ll order a fresh batch of suppressants and find new ways to remind himself. He’s at peace with all the outcomes, right now.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
His body, however, wasn’t yet at peace.
When he wakes up, it’s even worse than before. He’s fucking soaking through the sheets, half dreaming of Max, horny and desperate for more. He can’t think of anything but Max’s scent and feels helpless, he needs Max near him. He fucking hates feeling helpless, but he can’t contain this. These instinct are overwhelming, stronger than his willpower. He’ll feel sorry for himself later.
He reaches for his phone, only half registering that Max had sent him a message this morning. Lewis can barely read it before he hits the call button.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
Lewis’ body had calmed down just slightly when Max told him he came over as fast as he could. The certainty that his– well, not his, but his body isn’t buying that– alpha came to him, to take care of him, was nice. It quickly got replaced with impatience, with needing him now, now, now.
Max rings his hotel room bell and Lewis rushes to the door, opening it and almost dragging Max inside. He throws the door shut, uncaring for the clinking of the cheap mirror on the wall. He pushes Max against that same wall and kisses him immediately, his body thanking him for the fact that Max is near again.
Max barely finds the time to say anything, but manages, “Thought we were gonna have dinner first.”
Lewis can barely laugh at the joke, just takes a deep breath of Max’s scent, that now so familiar forest, not the summer storm. Just a running creek as a home to small fish and soothing breeze letting the flowers dance. He can’t help himself, but he whines.
Max’s eyes widen, serious now, “Okay,” he nods, rushing out of his clothes, “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m here. I shouldn’t have left you.”
Lewis can’t even say he doesn’t care, he forgives him.
All he can do is shut him up with a kiss.