25. WHAT YOU DO COMES BACK TO YOU

“I'm happy with today's performance, I really enjoyed myself on the track! After what happened in Austria, I understood what the commissioners' new yardstick is, so I adapted.
“The wheel to Verstappen? After his in Austria, this time I made him understand that it's not just him on the track, I somewhat remade his move in the last GP. It was a good duel.
Definitely the most fun race I've had in my career. Very funny, always borderline, but I think always on the rules, then it was very enjoyable.” - Charles on his fight with Max after Great Britain 2019

/Max/

"Silverstone is like picking up a conversation halfway.
When I see that we're third and fourth in qualifying, an absurd sense of exaltation comes over me like a train.
The same feeling he surely felt when they told him that I'll be on the second row, right next to him, tomorrow.
Charles has ignored me all week, doing everything he can to avoid meeting me and on the microphones he has always said that he’ll comply with the decision made in the last GP and that he hopes the rules are the same for everyone. He reiterates the point he made last time.
I'm not stalking him, but my brain is focused on everything he says and does. He never looks at me, he never gives a damn about me, but I'm full of his cold, diplomatic statements.
He's so controlled, so calm. He never loses his cool, just like last time. He never seems annoyed, but he's completely calm, and I admire him because I would have said some insults, I'd be in his place.
They ask me about the decision too and I repeat what I said. That you can't be punished for everything; we're racing in F1, so it's obvious to be extreme.
Seb says the same thing, but it doesn't surprise me after Canada.
Obviously, I take what suits me, but in their place I would have thrown a bomb in those clowns' office.
Despite myself, I admire Charles because he's absolutely focused and seemingly calm and above all, he's very good at dodging me.
Yet I almost jump of joy, even though I’m not in the front row and I'm actually behind him. Next to him, actually, on the starting grid, but still behind numerically.
It wouldn't be bad to be behind him, if we were in a different context.
I lick my lips, thinking about tomorrow as I go to my team for the last things of the day.
I have to stay focused on what they're saying, but my mind is already there, on tomorrow, when he'll do everything to make me pay and I’ll fearlessly wait to hold my own in the comparison.
It's like inserting a plug and finding myself again.
I've been waiting for this for years, ever since we separated after go-karting. I hope all races will be like this.
It's different racing against your true rival, the one you designated.
Maybe it won't be like this forever, maybe at some point one of us will suck because of the cars he drives or the incompetent teams, but he'll always be my true rival and now I intend to enjoy it to the fullest.
I like racing and winning and I want to do it at all costs, but while they talk to me about what I have to do at the start, what I have to be careful about and how to deal with Charles, I respond acidly without holding my tongue, my frenzy sky-high.
- I know exactly how to deal with him. I know better than all of you put together!
I'm the one who knows Charles.
The people around me look at me in surprise, someone chuckle to tone down my typical shitty response, Pierre being one of them; others warn me, Giampiero would sometimes throw his helmet at me.
I know perfectly well that Charles will do everything he can to make me pay for last time and will want to keep me behind the whole time and if he has to pass me, he'll do it ferociously. But he's also a perfectionist and hates dirty driving, so he'll be as clean as possible and that will penalize him, unless he loses control of the car not for his own fault. At that point it's another matter, but if it were to happen I'll take advantage of it. In any case, if you drive clean against me you can’t do it and I have no qualms about doing what needs to be done.
Even though, as they speak, his words about adapting to the new rules echo in my head.
He might be more aggressive than usual, but he'll never be an asshole, unless I push him to be one and even then, I know how to do.
The memory of that famous race where he pushed me off the track at the end of the race comes back like a tsunami and this makes me realize that there could be a percentage of his unpredictability, after all, I know him better than he knows himself.
That time he took revenge on me, but only at the end of the race, when we had crossed the finish line. It's a shame that we were both punished and disqualified anyway.
He would never knowingly jeopardize his race, so in the end I don't think he'd do anything stupid if he stayed himself. So at this point we have to see if the hatred he feels for me surpasses his rationality.
Damn, I'm excited.
Mentally, emotionally and physically.
Can you get excited at the thought of a competition you particularly enjoy?
I know it happens to athletes in general in competitions and matches, but maybe after particularly beautiful victories, or maybe after fabulous or important goals or excellent performances.
I get excited at the idea of competing with him tomorrow, knowing that I'll be at the center of his every thought.
Well, dear Charles.
Know that the lesson you think you're teaching is for me, not just anyone. Go ahead, but I assure you I won't let you do it passively.
If I were to win again in the end, I really want to see what you'd do.
Would you still ignore me?
Unable to contain myself as I imagine to get a reaction out of you, I suck on the straw of the now empty Red Bull can. I suck it because I need to, but not to drink.
Damn, tomorrow has to come like immediately, right now.

I can only have an orgasm with Daniel if I'm turned on by myself and lately it's been happening with things involving Charles.
It's the first time in a long that I've gotten hard and been able to come with Daniel and I know it was thanks to His Majesty, but I didn't think twice and took advantage of it.
But as I come, a thought runs absurdly through my head, it crosses me like a moment of clarity amidst the chaos and maybe it's because I've finally released my hormones properly.
Will this be my last orgasm with Daniel?

Everything is fucking beautiful, just like I imagined and hoped.
For a moment, I'm catapulted into go-karts and it was just so damn fun.
The race is exactly how I expected it to be and when, after a series of duels between him and me, all on the verge of disaster or success, he manages to return the wheel I'd given him by repeating the exact same incriminating move, I burst out laughing because that's exactly what I was hoping for.
That degree of unpredictability that excites me while I'm racing. I don't get distracted and keep going without hesitation or getting upset.
I stay fully focused on the race, happy that despite all the various overtakings we make each other, in the end I'm winning. I just need to not do anything stupid. The pit stop is pure adrenaline, as we slide side by side and neither of us gives up, until we almost collide in the pit lane exit. In the end, I win and it's fucking awesome.
The more we race like this, the more adrenaline flows through me, exhilarating me, but I never lose myself and while I think that fuck, you were dirty for the first time in your career and just to teach me a lesson, the more I become him and I'm fucking perfect.
I don't make any fucking mistakes with him. Nothing!
It's like we've switched, but I know he pulled that dirty move on me just to send me a message. It's written in capital letters and is burned into my brain.
You can do your shit with whoever you want, not with me. Never again. Because I don't give a shit about the race, but I'll give you everything back.
Damn, can you see he can lose his mind if it's me?
He could have avoided me very well, but he intentionally wanted to touch me and did it at that moment precisely to challenge the FIA to punish him. It's the same move I pulled on him, identical, copy-and-paste, the one that took the win away from him last time. The one who should have been punished by following the example of the other drivers in the past.
But he said he'd adapt and that's what he's doing.
He'd planned it. He knew the opportunity would arise.
He's here, challenging everyone while he's driving: me, the FIA, anyone who has a fucking bone to pick with him and who dared to step on one of his adorable little princely feet. That's how I see him, even though his true self has just come out. He's a devil. I’ve always been right about him and today everyone saw it.
He's so angel-faced!

I win the general GP duel with him after a series of mutual overtakings, but what ruins the fucking race is a shitty contact with Seb, who suddenly stops remembering how to drive. We both come away from this contact damaged, him more than me, but what really pisses me off is Charles, who rightfully takes advantage to overtake me and ends up on the podium, in what should have been my position.
Fuck, damn it!
Fuck him, really, both for the ruined race and the missed third place, which was mine, and because even though I won the general duel with Charles, he's still ahead of me.
It's all Seb's fault. If he hadn't caught me with the car, Charles wouldn't have passed me. I would have won completely.
I mean, technically I won against him, but in the end he's third, I'm a disgusting fifth. Fifth, damn it.
Not third, where I should have been to prove my true superiority to Charles.
But damn... damn, that was great!
I'm so damn excited again. Between the adrenaline of the race and the adrenaline for him, I'm about to explode in my suit!
What matters in the end is that I won against him and not just that. There's something else that matters above all else.
There's nothing above me in Charles's head. Nothing and no one. Only me.
He gave me my move back and he only did it to tell me not to do my bullshit with him.
So be it, dear Charles. I won't do my bullshit with you again.
You've truly earned my respect. You already had it, but it irritated me that you thought you were superior just because you've always done everything by the book, driven cleanly and thought you were better than me. I always think it's not true, you're not better than me, we're just different, but still both high-level.
Anyway, I always think it's the winning that counts, not how, while for you it's also the how.
But today you showed me that you're more competitive and touchy than fanatical about competitions and victories. You're a real devil, and damn, I love it when you show your true colors.
In a corner of you that you keep well hidden, you're like me and today it came out, and it's that side that just made me irremediably lose my mind over you.
Only the two of us will be able to understand each other forever and I know you had fun too, just like I did, even if in the end I won our battle and you're on the podium.
But we won't forget this race, neither of us. Because I just realized that you're not only my designated rival. You're also the most fucking interesting and twisted person in this shitty world and I want you.
I watch you jump happily out of your car, in third place. You take off your helmet and receive compliments from the other two in front of you, the usual Mercedes drivers.
I go to weigh with the other drivers, still pissed about Seb, but I feel conflicting emotions because even though I beat Charles and should have been in his place, I know it was right in the end because last time he was the one who was robbed of the position. A small part of me knows this, even though in the end it's the final result that counts. So I don't believe in karma bullshit, but I think some would say it was.
Everything you do comes back to you.
In Austria I won with the complicity of the FIA, today he takes my podium because he was as lucky as I was last time.
Charles obviously ignores me as if he doesn't even see me. I'd like to tell you to celebrate without forgetting that I won our personal battle, but I don't want to ruin his day.
I know that in some way it was right like this; today had to go this way.
So I take one last look at him before walking off to my garage and see he's laughing, but as always his eyes have a light that's out of place compared to the happy expression on his delicate, handsome face.
Anyway, beyond everything... one-on-one, Charles.
As I walk away from you, I decide to take advantage of this still enormous adrenaline to do something I haven't had the courage to do yet. Something that, however, absolutely has to be done.

/Charles/

“Honestly?
The best race of my career so far, absolutely.
Even though I didn't win the fight with Max because technically he was ahead of me when he had the accident with Seb, it's still my favorite race.
It's joy, the one I feel inside, and I don't know if it has anything to do with the fact that I made the podium today and he finished fifth, punished by his own fucking karma.
What you do comes back to you, there's no escape.
If I have to look at this wonderful race objectively, it was like we switched roles. At a certain point, I imitated his aggressive, over-the-rules racing style, intentionally messing up just to get my point across, but he was surprisingly perfect. Always.
I was counting on his usual mistakes, on his aggressiveness to quickly turn it against him, on his not considering others when he is on the track, but instead he didn't make a single mistake and was in front of me before the contact with Seb and my overtaking.
I know he didn't do it on purpose, but it was providential.
Seb was aiming for the podium; he wanted to overtake him, certainly not hit him to send me to third place, but let's just say the Universe had to give me one back.
Yet that's not why I'm happy. I mean also for this, obviously, because I think if I had finished behind him anyway, I would have been furious.
It's just that I feel closer to him now and I'm shocked because it's simply beautiful to be like this. Being aggressive in certain sections, pushing the limits, walking on them and taking risks. He always does it and I've always scolded and hated him. I always thought it was synonymous with bad driving, but now I actually think it's a choice.
It's simply beautiful to drive like this. 
It's exhilarating. Of course, if nothing happens in the end and this style doesn't backfire as it sometimes does. Or maybe if you don't push others out, that's also unfair. Maybe you get through at the expense of the others, but you played dirty.
I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about that aggressive driving style that leads you to take risks but ultimately doesn't cause mess. You have to be very good and have absolute control over the car and yourself, and have a thousand eyes on everything around you, a thousand reflexes, and it's not easy; I don't think he always has it, but today he did and he was objectively good.
Being beaten by someone who drives like he did today isn't bad. That's why I've always been pissed off with him. Because he beats others dirty, but if you beat them cleanly while remaining aggressive, there's nothing wrong with it, on the contrary. You show you're a talent.
Today I definitely brought out a side of me that I know has always been there, but that I had never experienced, not in the middle of a race and intentionally. It's not that I lost control of myself by acting instinctively, in reality I always knew perfectly well what I was doing, and even if a part of me was asking, 'Are you sure? Look, if you don't control the car very well, you'll mess up,' the other part, looking at the butt of his Red Bull, made me say, 'Yes, damn, I'm sure of it!'
I risked imitating his move just to send him that message, but it was really too important for me to give it to him today, more than anything else.
I took a risk because if I touched him more, we could have lost control of the car and gone out, but luckily it went well.
An absurd risk that still gives me a sky-high adrenaline rush when I think back, just like when I took it on the track, but I'm glad I took it.
If I could go back, I'd do it all again, even if he's the one winning our personal battle right now.
I say this openly and without filters into the track microphone, still too influenced by him.
- The wheel to Verstappen? After his in Austria, this time I made him understand that it's not just him on the track, I somewhat remade his move in the last GP. It was a good duel.
You can't do whatever the fuck you want with me, dear Max. You better remember that. I should have told him today or he would have ruined all the other races for me, because I know him too well, more than anyone else, even more than his father.
Coincidentally, he drove perfectly against me today and I want to see how he'll drive from now on the times we'll be side by side on the track.
I know that for him driving is a personal matter between him and who knows what demon. He doesn't have with anyone on the track, but he simply doesn't see a soul around him if he's in his car. But not with me. You have to see me, Max.
Always.
You'll always have to remember me, who I am, and how you have to drive against me. You'll always have regards towards me, or I'll ruin your races like you do with the others.
The problem is that now the shot of life is going through me from head to toe and it's partly due to the enormous adrenaline rush that's still abundant in me, and partly it’s him and the usual effect he tends to have on me, but I have to vent it somehow since, as is normal in these cases, it ends up in my genitals.
Luckily Max isn't on the podium and he won't hang around with me afterwards for press and other things. I'll be able to relax and calm down, maybe even with a cold champagne shower. Just wait and stop thinking about him and everything will calm down again.
- You gave it back to him, huh? - Lewis says suddenly, laughing amusedly; at this obvious implication, a new, damned rush of excitement runs through me just as I felt like I was regaining a minimum of control, or at least composure.
Without needing to look at him I hide my gaze under the peak of my cap, keep my head down and laugh. I don't know why I do it like that, trying not to let my face show too much; maybe it's because if Lewis knew I did it on purpose, and there's no need to mention names, it means he must have figured out other things about me that are better hidden.
- Was it that clear? - in fact my mouth is out of control. I still have too much adrenaline pumping and it's enough for me to talk about Max, even indirectly. I'm happy with what I did today. That wheel was damn satisfying.
At Lewis's cheerful laugh, accompanied by an exhilarating, - Well done! - more electricity courses through me, as if the one I already had wasn't enough. Damn, I'll never calm down!
I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I hadn't given it back to him.
But as I watch him go to the cooldown room together, I think that if Max had been in his place now, I would have had a hard time not dragging him into one of these bathrooms and jumping on him.
Well, the ice-cold champagne, for sure will help me. 
When we settle into the seats in the cooldown room, they show us the key scenes of the race and replay all the numerous times between Max and me, especially my famous wheel, and then the peak between my legs returns.
Excitement overwhelms me just when everything had just begun to calm down. What the hell is wrong with me? I shift uncomfortably in my seat, stiff, but maybe this catches Lewis's attention and he glances at me, seemingly understanding what I'm up to. Maybe my face says more than I'm aware of.
I normally know I don't have any particular expressions, but, as always, Max makes me lose control. For a change, this is one of those moments and I'm afraid it's showing.
I have to say, though, that Lewis is damn sharp and I wonder how he does.
- You don't have to worry about it, it happens. You did a great thing with Max and I know perfectly well how irritating it can be to deal with certain drivers who you finally manage to give a good lesson to.
How did he do it? How can you tell? Am I that far gone? Charles, come to your senses, damn it!
I blush spontaneously and I don't know what to do. I don't look at him, but if I don't, it might seem strange, so I pretend not to understand what he's referring to, but he smiles in a very brotherly way, trying to reassure me with his expression. This, as if by magic, calms me down.
Suddenly I realize I appreciate it and that it doesn't bother me like I thought or like normally would, even though I'd rather he pretended nothing was wrong, but I think he was just trying to help me and didn't have to. I also remember the other race, when I narrowly lost after being ahead for all the time and then Lewis consoled me a lot. Maybe he took a liking to me. I smile at the thought, feeling a sort of absurd honor that distracts me from Max and the constant excitement that had gripped me.
- I didn't win our battle today, but...
I suddenly rationalize. Luckily, my logical and pragmatic brain comes to my aid and kicks in at the right time, but I think it's Lewis's fault; if I were with Max, I think my rationality would have been left in the hell.
- It doesn't matter, you gave him that wheel, imitating the same move for which they didn't penalize him last time. The one that sparked a huge controversy.
Lewis remains very calm and conciliatory, his reasonable tone ending up relaxing me and slowly, finally, my friend there between my legs calms down.
- It was a great personal victory, the one with him. - Lewis nods, happy that I've finally understood and accepted. - Even if he won our battle today.
- But you took home what mattered! - Lewis replies, wiping his sweat with the towel.
I do the same as we continue to talk about this and I'm surprised at how much he understands me, even though we've never been close, but I think certain things about me are so common knowledge that maybe he knows me somehow anyway.
Or maybe he's been through similar things, he seems to be speaking with knowledge, that he really knows what I'm feeling.
- And anyway, this time I took the podium that was his, taking advantage of his bad luck!
- Karma is a bitch! - is his quick reply as he stands up, bursting into laughter in his cheerful and contagious way.
- Karma is a bitch! - I repeat agreeing and also standing up.
Lewis's laughter fills the room with the top three of us, one of whom is the usually silent Bottas, as we prepare for the awards ceremony on the podium up front.
This moment was very pleasant, and Pierre would surely be jealous of me!
Today is a victory for me in a way, so I'm happy. Damn happy.”

NOTES:  Clearly, the race in question is the famous 2019 Silverstone. Everything about that race is known, so I don't need to point out that Charles's statements are true and that the race went exactly as I described it. As always, I added personal touch by fictionalizing it. It was necessary to dedicate an entire chapter to it because it's a crucial race in their story and even if nothing special seems to happen between them there, it's actually very important. See you next time. Kisses, Akane.