late night devil, put your hands on me
Dance all night long, the website said, in a prestigious atmosphere.
Dancing he sure will, Max thinks, as he feels Lewis rub his hips against him. They're in the middle of the dancefloor, and really, this shouldn't turn as naughty as it does. There are people around them, anyone could see them. but then Lewis grinds his ass against Max's growing erection a bit nastily, and Max moans low in Lewis' ear. Lewis spins around in Max's hold, a smug smile on his cheeks, "Enjoying yourself?" He says, the fucker.
"If you're gonna keep that up, we have to move out of here."
Lewis simply runs a finger over Max's exposed collarbone. He wraps his arms around Max's neck and presses him closer and oh-
Max feels that Lewis is.... just as interested in their situation and their movements as Max is. God, he's gonna have to get Lewis out of here before they get caught for public indecencies.
"The club's seen worse, Max," Lewis says, because apparently no thought that lingers in Max's brain is kept there, but instead he says everything out loud. "I bet these waiters aren't even batting an eye at us."
"Still-" Max says, but before he can finish his sentence, Lewis yanks him down in a kiss. Max is only a man, and he gives in to all Lewis gives him. He feels Lewis push him back, away from the crowded dance floor and the drunk people, all the way until his back hits a wall. "Hrr-" He groans, and Lewis grinds against him harder than before, now with the leverage of the wall.
"You know," Lewis says, in between kisses, "There are private rooms-"
"Get us one, I can't wait to get home."
"Good," Lewis grins, "I wasn't aiming for the whole yours-or-mine-debate anyways."
"Stop talking, private room."
"Needy boy!" Lewis chuckles, eyes sparkling, and he steps away from Max's space. Max immediately misses his warmth, followed by the sudden realisation that he's achingly hard in the middle of a club. Lewis doesn't seem to feel any shame, as he walks up to a waiter and asks for one of those rooms.
The waiter doesn't bat an eye, as Lewis suspected, and simply guides them along. Max follows wordlessly, fingers reaching out to touch Lewis, because not touching him almost hurts.
The room they're led in is small and has a small round table in the middle of a big round couch. Lewis nods at the man, thanking him. Max's hearing is blurred, by both the needy haze he's in and the loud music from all around them, but he's pretty sure the man asks if they'd like any cocktails, and Lewis politely waves him away with, "Maybe in a bit, we'll call for you" and somehow it awakens a possessive sting in Max's chest. He takes a step closer to Lewis, pressing his erection against the small of Lewis' back and tangling his fingers in Lewis' belt loops. The man seems to get the message, and steps out of the room.
"So, where were we?" Lewis asks, and Max can only respond with a bruising kiss.
Lewis moans against Max’s lips. Max is drowning in all the sounds around him - the bass tunes that vibrate through the air, the soft murmur of people on the other side of the walls chatting with each other, the shuffling of their clothes, the low hum rising from Lewis’ throat and shaking all the way into Max’s mouth.
They frantically move around each other - first Max had pushed Lewis against the wall, wedged his knee between Lewis’ legs and used his hand on Lewis’ neck to crane his head and meet his kiss. Lewis wasn’t one to give power away too quickly, so he pushes Max back against the couch, forcing him to sit down and he crawls into Max’s lap, rolling his hips viciously. Now it’s Max’s turn to moan against Lewis’ lips, and Lewis smirks arrogantly in response. He moves to Max’s neck, kissing and nipping and biting and driving Max’s mind wild.
Max uses his hands to feel all of Lewis - where he normally doesn’t get past his hand, or maybe his shoulder if he’s lucky and they end up hugging - he cups Lewis’ ass in his hands, squeezes him hard enough to leave bruises and Lewis rolls his hips again in return. Max is achingly hard, drunk, and super horny and he wants nothing more than to get his mouth on Lewis.
“‘S that what you want?” Lewis moves back to look at him. Max feels small under his piercing gaze and almost wants to fall back on the couch and let Lewis ride him. He swallows hard and notes that desire away for another time.
“Yeah,” He huffs, though he doesn’t really remember what he agreed on. At this point, he’ll do anything for Lewis, so long as he gets to touch him more, kiss him, feel his skin everywhere, hear his moans.
Lewis rises from Max’s lap, extending a hand to help Max up too. He mutters, “I was just getting comfortable,” but there’s no bite to it.
Max can’t help himself, “Maybe next time, then?” and focuses on Lewis’ belt instead of regretting that he really said that.
Lewis just runs his fingers through Max’s hair, “Mmmmm, deal.” Max’s heart skips a beat at that.
Lewis doesn’t seem to care when his pants fall to the ground. He simply moves away from Max and sits on the couch, legs wide. Max finds his place in between Lewis’ legs, on his knees. He cups Lewis through his boxers and his mouth waters when he feels just how fucking big Lewis is. He’s long, thick, and Max is hungry for him.
He mouths Lewis’ dick through the fabric, feeling a wet spot already on his tongue. Lewis’ hand finds Max’s hair and caresses his scalp, something incredibly sweet and soft, despite how drunk Lewis must be to do this.
Max knows of himself that he’s rather drunk, maybe having taken one shot too many, but then again, if he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t be here.
Max gets tentative fingers under the waistband of Lewis’ boxers, slides them down his legs with Lewis’ help, and just takes a heartbeat to admire Lewis’ dick. Despite himself, he mutters, “Everything about you is perfect, isn’t it?” and when he looks up, he sees Lewis biting his lip, blush high on his dark skin. Max thinks he’s never seen Lewis blush before, and truly feels like he accomplished something noteworthy.
He takes the head of Lewis’ cock in his mouth, tasting all of his skin, licking him clean from his pre-come and relishing in the taste. He dares to spare a glance up at Lewis, only to find him already watching him intently, lip still worried between his teeth and his chest rising quickly. Max sinks deeper, taking him in inch by inch, getting used to the feel of this gorgeous, heavy dick on his mouth.
As Max sucks and sucks, a faint part of his mind wonders how the fuck he ended up here tonight. How the hell did he manage to get Lewis’ dick in his mouth, Lewis’ nails scratching his scalp, Lewis’ fingers deliciously tugging his hair. It’s a miracle that his wettest dream has come true, a deep desire of him filled (well, partly, he’d also really want to get this dick inside him, but that for another time), a dark fantasy that he’s kept hidden coming to life.
Is this really not a dream?
He licks around the head of Lewis’ dick and hears how Lewis hums soft praise, heavy breathing filling the room. Max remembers that he wanted to get drunk, wanted to party and not think of anything at all. He wanted his heartbeat to align with the music, his mind empty save for lyrics and the desire to drink more and more. He doesn’t remember why he wanted to forget so fucking badly - maybe it was because of racing, because of friends, because of lovers - and really, that’s a good sign for tonight.
And then there was Lewis - eyes shining bright and big smile on his face. Max immediately mirrored his smile, like it was a habit, like his body was made to smile whenever Lewis was near. Lewis tapped on his shoulder, leaned into his personal space to yell over the music, “Even outside race weekends we run into each other!”
Max had chuckled, laughing, “Can’t get enough of me, huh?” and Lewis laughed along with him. They danced, and laughed, and danced, and drank, and laughed, and danced more. A waiter came by and the two of them took some shorts - it was something strong, maybe tequila, maybe rum - and they downed two of those nasty boys. Then there were more shots, and more, and Lewis came closer and closer to Max, dancing against him, and Max’s hands were on Lewis' waist, and Lewis looked so goddamn beautiful, shining, free, relaxed, in Max’s arms…
Lewis groans loudly when Max hollows his cheeks, huffing a soft, “I’m close- Max, you’re so good, so good…”
Max smirks around Lewis’ dick, bobbing his head up and down faster than before, grazing his teeth just when he thinks Lewis’ attention fades, to grab him back to the here and now, to make sure he knows who’s doing this to him. Lewis tugs deliciously on Max’s hair and Max groans around him. He does one of his favourite nasty tricks around Lewis’ cockhead, and Lewis’ hips buck up outside of his control, Max chokes on Lewis’ dick, but he doesn’t mind at all. With a soft, “Max!” on his lips, Lewis comes down Max’s throat, hot spurts of his come filling him up. Max moves back up Lewis’ dick just a bit to get all of his come, to make sure not a single drop spills. He relishes in Lewis’ taste, drinks him in like it’s his lifeline, and swallows everything down.
He licks Lewis’ softening dick clean, and despite Lewis’ soft groans, he isn’t shoved away. Max gets off of Lewis’ dick and makes a show of swallowing the last bits down, licking his lips, and using his thumb to clean the corners of his mouth, then sucking on his thumb too. He knows what kind of image he makes, and judging by the dark eyes Lewis gives him, Lewis is interested in the show.
Lewis moves forward, crawling on top of Max again, and kisses him senseless. He seems to revel in his own taste on Max’s tongue, and Max tries to give him everything and more.
Max falls back onto the ground, chuckles against Lewis’ lips and Lewis laughs with him. This whole situation is absurd - he’s here, making out with 7-time world champion Lewis Hamilton after having sucked him off in a private room in a crowded club like it’s a normal thing for them. It already feels normal, laying on his back on the ground with Lewis hovering on top of him, giggling against his mouth and stealing the occasional kiss. He’s still painfully hard in his jeans but it’s okay, Lewis is here, and he feels fucking fantastic right now. Maybe it’s the booze, maybe it’s the hypnotising bass tunes, maybe it’s Lewis, maybe it’s Max, but everything seems to fall together and form a perfect whole.
Lewis sits up in Max’s lap, legs still naked but he doesn’t seem to care whatsoever. Max notices how Lewis has kicked off his shoes, but can’t recall when he did. Lewis roams his hands over Max’s chest and Max involuntarily leans up to the touch, he hums low and his smile slowly fades so he can bite his lip.
“I should take care of you, hm?” Lewis muses, hands moving to the waistband of Max’s jeans, fingers curling under the fabric, cold skin against Max’s hot belly.
Max hisses softly, “Don’t-ah- don’t feel obligated.”
“Oh, no, no,” Lewis smiles, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m just thinking how to take care of you, baby boy.”
Max moans at the pet name.
“I could ride you,” Lewis says as if it’s the most normal thing to say whilst moving his hands under Max’s white shirt, touching his skin, exploring every nook and cranny of his chest, “It’s a shame we didn’t go home for that, though. This isn’t really comfortable.”
Max takes a deep breath, he can’t seem to form a response to anything Lewis is saying, high on the feeling of Lewis’ hands on his skin, Lewis’ attention to him, Lewis’ dark eyes on him, the ghost of Lewis’ lips on his own, the taste of Lewis on his tongue.
“I’ll do that another time,” Lewis says, and Max chuckles softly in relief. He wishes that Lewis still has this desire for him tomorrow morning, but he figures that’s something tomorrow-Max should worry about. “Could also get my mouth on you, but I don’t think I’m nearly as good as you are…”
“Lewis,” Max moans, and it roughly translates to, do something, anything.
“You’re right, I could also finger you.”
Max makes a punched out noise, ohh! How much he wants those gorgeous fingers inside him, suddenly. Something he never entertained before, but now he’s hungry for it.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” And Max really wonders how Lewis is so coherent, maybe he’s got some post-nut clarity because Max’s own mind is very fucking hazy and blurry.
Lewis crawls lower on Max’s legs, undoing his belt and moving his pants down to Max’s ankles. Max kicks his pants away from him, whilst Lewis makes very quick work of his boxers too.
“Look at you, gorgeous,” Lewis murmurs, kissing down on Max’s groin, his thighs, sucking a mark in his skin as if to make him remember who fucked him on the floor of a private room in one of his favourite clubs. As if he’d ever be able to forget.
Max arches his back, focusing on the ceiling, the hum of the bass tunes, literally just anything but Lewis touching him, praising him, kissing him. It’s overwhelmingly much, and Max fears he’s gonna combust from it.
“No, no,” Lewis places a hand beside Max’s head and lifts his chin up with a dominating finger, “Look at me, look at me while I finger you.” Lewis leans down to press a soft kiss to Max’s lips, and Max groans.
Lewis keeps stern eyes on Max as he traces a line over Max’s bottom lip with his pointer finger. He demands, “Suck.”
Max takes Lewis’ finger in his mouth, licking around it, making it wet, hollowing his cheeks and putting up a show. Lewis’ eyes are trained on Max’s lips, a dark glaze over it, a hungry desire on plain view.
“Good boy,” Lewis praises, and Max whines. “Patience, darling. I got you.”
Lewis runs his finger over Max’s rim, tentatively feeling Max’s body respond and adjust to him. He pushes in, his pace agonizingly slow. Max lets out another whine, “More.”
“More?”
“Yeah,” Max breathes, wiggling his hips.
“Who are you asking for more, Max?” and Max absolutely hates how fucking sexy Lewis’ god complex is.
“Please-” Max begs, all confidence from earlier in the night washing away with the sweat beads that fall from his forehead, “More, sir.”
Lewis breaks character to swallow loudly and blink at him, his eyes quickly filling themselves with pride before he smirks, “There we go.” He pushes his finger in deep, circling around before moving out. He gets his middle finger in his own mouth and sucks on it obscenely, as if to say, This is what I’d look like sucking you off. Lewis has the fucking audacity to wink at him as he drags his fingers out of his mouth, before running them around Max’s rim and shamelessly shoving them inside.
Max is a goddamn goner then.
Lewis fucks him on his fingers relentlessly, mockingly grazing his prostate but keeping him on edge by refusing to really get there. Max is huffing low breaths, low moans, Lewis’ name on his tongue like a prayer.
And then Lewis takes Max’s cockhead in his mouth, and Max screams.
“Lew-is!” his back arches, his hands find Lewis’ hair and tug on the cornrows as if they’re his lifeline, and he comes and comes into Lewis’ mouth. Lewis didn’t even need to suck him off, Max had been edged for so long he came just from the wet heat of Lewis’ mouth, Lewis’ fingers in his ass, Lewis’ hand on his hip. Lewis is everywhere and Max drowns in him.
Lewis, just like Max did, cleans Max’s dick of come, licks his lips before swallowing, and smirks as he sits back, admiring his work. Max looks up at the ceiling again, catching his breath while his chest heaves and heaves.
Once he feels somewhat back to his body, somewhat in control of his movements, he leans up on his elbows and looks at Lewis. Lewis is smiling softly, his thumb drawing circles on Max’s thigh absentmindedly, “Welcome back, darling.”
“Hey,” Max chuckles fondly.
“Ready to go home?”
“Are we gonna have the yours-or-mine-debate after all?”
“No,” Lewis stands up, fetches Max’s pants from the ground and hands them to him, “I’ve decided I’m staying over at your place.”
Max puts on his pants and throws Lewis’ at him, “Alright. It’s pretty close anyways.”
Lewis smiles softly at himself, and Max wonders what he’s thinking after all they just did.
Max is thinking about this entire situation, how there must’ve been something more from the start than just alcohol and horniness to get them in this situation. He briefly wonders if someone spiked his drink, but really, he feels clearer in his mind right now than he did before. Maybe he’s wanted this all along, maybe Lewis wanted this all along, and the universe just gave them this little push. Max, a regular at Sass, had never seen Lewis here before, so maybe Lewis planned it - or at least planned running into Max.
Before coming here, Max had doubted heading to Jimmy’z instead, and he’s never been happier that he didn’t.
Cleaned and dressed up, they walk from Sass to Max’s home. Lewis tangles his fingers with Max’s, and Max smiles privately at it. He looks straight ahead, trying to ignore his loudly beating heartbeat.
He thinks back to the many press conferences and podiums he’s shared with Lewis. His heart always beats loud when Lewis is around.
Maybe Lewis likes the sound.
Every light is too bright, every sound is too loud, his head is pounding and he wishes for another three weeks of sleep.
A hand curls around his waist, Max wedges his leg between those of his lover. He nuzzles his head in Lewis’ shoulder and places a soft kiss there before dozing off again.
His bed is empty when he wakes up again. It’s three in the afternoon and Max’s tummy rumbles. Usually, when he goes out, he spends every hour indulging in food he’s normally not allowed to eat, but last night he’d been otherwise occupied, and hadn’t been able to eat all too much. Well, unless you count co-
“Morning,” Lewis says, and Max’s heartbeat spikes up before slowing down.
“You’re still here.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna dip?” Lewis frowns, crawling on the bed with Max. He keeps some distance, as if he’s suddenly unsure if Max still wants him.
What the fuck, of course Max wants him.
Max opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t find the words. Instead, he just reaches his arms out and grabs Lewis’ cheeks, pressing him close and kissing him. He is earnest, truthful, and so goddamn loving.
He pulls back, “Your morning breath sucks.”
“Hey! You kissed me!”
“Yeah, last night you started. Can’t always be ahead of me.”
“Oh watch me!” Lewis crawls on top of Max, but Max rolls them over immediately, sitting in Lewis’ lap and kissing his neck again. He bites the skin a bit nastily, rolls his hips at the same time, and moves his hand down to pinch a nipple.
Lewis throws his arms in the air, “I forfeit! You win, you win!”
“Good,” Max murmurs, pressing one last kiss to Lewis’ lips. “I’m fucking starving.”
He stands up, grabs a random pair of sweatpants and holds his hand out for Lewis, “Join me?”
“Happily.”
and never, never, never ever let go