43. LOOK AND DON'T TOUCH

/Charles/

“I can still feel his cheek under my lips. Lips that were just reaching his, so beautiful and soft.
But Pierre's hard, annoyed gaze fixes me waiting for an explanation, determined not to let me do as I please, as always.
He won't let the subject drop this time. His expressive eyes say so, as he stares at me with his arms folded, standing in front of the door. He doesn't move from there, almost as if afraid I'll take my things and leave again.
Finally, even though I know I should tell him something, I sigh and unleash my strongest weapon.
I let out a look of loss and it's with these shining eyes that I stare at him now, imploring and visibly confused. It's only the truth, after all.
- I’m still not ready to talk about it. I know I'm asking a lot to you and that you're suffering in this situation of everything and nothing. But I'm here, right?
That it doesn't mean anything to be here anyway when this is essentially my room.
But he remains silent and upright for a while, watching me, his arms still crossed, his gaze hard and struggling to remain so. Then he falters so I move closer and place my hands on his chest, slither them up his neck and cup his chin with the tips of my fingertips. At this he uncrosses his arms and softens his face, sighing patiently.
I'm a complete bastard and I don't deserve this.
I don't deserve Pierre in the slightest, his sweetness, his infinite patience and, fundamentally, his love.
When he wraps his arms around my back, warmth envelops me in the same way. It's his warmth. His love. I bathe in it even though I know I don't feel the same and as our lips find themselves slow and delicate, I wonder if I'm actually capable of feeling it at all.
I wonder if this wait is pointless for me because in the end, I'll never feel anything for anyone, because with Jules first and then my father, even my capacity for love died.
But attraction and desire, yes, I can feel those.
Max's face appears again just as I kiss Pierre.
Perhaps I’ll never love from now until my death, but I desire. I desire, indeed.

‘Guys, thanks for the perfume. It wasn’t needed but I really like it!’
With this I wait the reaction of the Three Musketeers that is immediate, while I take another look at Pierre sleeping in bed. I had to wait until he was actually asleep before writing to them; I couldn't risk him reading.
‘What the hell are you talking about? Did you drink all the sake in the hotel?’
And there they are with exactly the response I was imagining.
I give a little laugh that's more hysterical than real.
I sigh and shake my head biting my lip, as I reply with guilt rising.
‘I was with you all evening, you lent me clothes because I got wet when a door suddenly swung open, you gave me shelter, we ate together in your room, you cheered me up because I was down, but you have no idea why since I didn't said anything, and then to make me smile, you gave me my birthday present early. An Armani perfume.’
It's not a request or a prayer, it's just a overbearing piece of information, as is my style.
The boys take a while to read and I hope they don't ask me what I actually did, or who I was with, or even if they should say Max was there.
I didn't specify anything to Pierre; luckily he assumed it was them, but he actually left while Max was there, so it's understandable that he thinks we were together. But maybe it's better if I clarify with Max before he acts like an asshole and says, 'Do you like my perfume, then?' he knows I do, but he'd be capable of asking me in front of Pierre on purpose.
Of course, the guys are asking me exactly the questions I was hoping they'd avoid.
Alex: 'And who were you with?'
George: ‘Mostly: doing what?
Lando: 'And was Max with us or not? Here, we have to be precise when we make up lies, or we'll fall like donkeys!
George: 'You're the donkey, I can talk lies!'
Then they end up talking nonsense to each other that I don't pay attention to. I leave them alone to go write to Max, but I do this in the bathroom, locked inside, sitting on the floor, all curled up. I don't want Pierre to decide to wake up right here.
'Max, you have to do me a favor. Everything you and I did tonight was in the company of Alex, George and Lando. But it's better if you don't quote or say anything never.'
I know what he'll say anyway, because he's predictable, the idiot.
He'll say something like, 'And what do you give me in return?'
'Did we all hug each other and touch each other? I need to know the details.'
Are he and Lando related? At this response I cover my face, which turns red as it inevitably makes me imagine an orgy between the five of us that I never want to happen. Damn idiot!
From the other chat, they start calling me to get the answers they need, so I leave Max since he can't do any harm from a distance right now.
The other three, however, are capable of doing some.
I catch up on the messages after I've left them talking nonsense, and when I read a message from Alex that goes: 'Wait, did you say Armani? But Max has that perfume! YOU WERE WITH HIM? WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING!’, I almost hit the door with my head and terrified of being the idiot who wakes Pierre, I slap myself on the cheek.
'And how the hell do you know Max uses that perfume?' George then asks, diverting attention from what they think I should tell him.
At that point they go back to distracting themselves with their enormous attention deficit disorder and so I go back to Max, who also said: 'And what are you going to give me in return?'
This inevitably makes me laugh. I knew he'd say that. I shake my head realizing that even though I'm putting on a show that I should be ashamed of and will regret one day, I feel stupidly and selfishly lighter.
'It's my birthday, can you do me a fucking favor!'
I'm not really annoyed; I hope he asks me something dirty, but I can't imagine what it might be, or even if I could do it. More than anything, he'd be capable of blackmailing me without a second thought and at that point, whatever he asks, I'd have to oblige.
I hope he asks me something erotic.
'I gave you a birthday present; a favor is another matter!'
Bastard. How predictable you are. Adorably predictable.
I leave him alone again to go to the other three idiots and, catching up on their bullshit, I discover they're back to bombarding me with questions about me and Max. Questions I've never answered and have always deflected, even though they know about our strange and complicated situation. I still remember Monza, even if certain aspects are hazy, but I know they did everything they could to get us to end up in bed together, in the end.
'So? You and Max? Did you cheat on Pierre with him?'
Lando gets straight to the point, as if he almost hoped so.
Those two will become friends, they're alike in some ways and it would have been better if they didn't look alike. Luckily he's with Carlos and is crazy about him.
'I haven't cheated on anyone, especially since I'm not with anyone. Nothing happened, but you guys remember what we did tonight. Thanks for the perfume. Goodnight.'
I hope I can get by, but I know I won't. I know it well. I leave them to wallow alone again for a while, while I go answer the other idiot who's waiting in the meantime.
Just as my alternative night continues, alone in a toilet, on the floor, answering the phone to various idiots.
'What do you want? I need to make sure you don't get me in trouble.'
But Max keeps me waiting, he doesn't answer right away like I expected, so seeing that over there they continue to rebel, I sigh unnerved and go to answer.
'Charles! Either you tell us everything or we'll expose you!’
Lando has to calm down or I'll scalp him.
‘Don't you have Carlos take care of?’, I reply acidly.
‘Already done, don't change the subject!’, he says promptly.
‘You're asking us to cover you with Pierre, it's no small thing. Even if he's not in our circle, we get along fine with him.’
George is the reasonable one who turns everything and everyone around; he could only be the one to apply the right leverage. I roll my eyes and sigh nervously biting my lip. I grimace and then, reluctantly, I find myself giving in. He's right after all.
‘I was with Max, but nothing happened. If it were to happen, you'll be the first to know.’
I hope that's enough, or I'll insult them. I mean, on the one hand I know they're right, on the other I just want to tell everyone to go fuck themselves and mind my own business. Why do I have to do this?
Because I can't face Pierre, that's why.
Damn it!
I deserve it. I'm a piece of shit.
'Does Max know?’, Alex then asks out of the blue. My eyes widen.
‘What?', I immediately ask not understanding.
'That nothing happened between you.'
To this surprising response, I don't know what to say. It's not really true that nothing happened, or I wouldn't be making this up.
Alex is damn smart and knows Max a hell of a lot better than I thought.
I bite my lip and see him finally reply to me in his chat, so with my heart in my throat and the heat in my lower parts starting to react before I even read what he wrote, I hastily dismiss them.
'I'll take care of him. Thanks for the favor. I owe you one.’
'One for all of us together or one each?'
I don't respond to this insane outburst from Lando and move on to Max.
Before his chat opens, my heart beats even faster while a thousand expectations and stupid hopes form in my brain and maybe even in my soul.
Yeah. It's exactly as I thought. I may not be capable of feeling love, but I’m very capable of feeling desire and longing and that's the only thing I'm certain of in this messed-up moment in my life.
'A current photo of you from the waist down. No pants.'
I bite my lip and widen my eyes as I feel my face burning, my heart races and I feel like a fucking idiot. That was exactly what I was hoping he'd ask for, even if not exactly a photo of me. I wanted something of his or a token where I could have some fun too, but I'm perfectly aware that this is the right thing to do. It's him I'm asking a favor from; I shouldn't get the slightest advantage from the payment he's asking for.
For a moment I carefully consider what to say and how to shape the rest of our conversation. I could joke, put out the fire, refuse. I could do so many things.
If I tell him it's out of the question, I think he'll be fine; I know Max, I know he's playing and is not serious, but if I accepted the game, he'd be more than happy.
He's smart, damn smart.
The competition is now in my hands; I could take advantage, benefit from it too and accept the challenge, or I could shut everything down and big brake on it.
But then, as I imagine myself actually taking a picture of my cock, which is now even harder than a few seconds ago, I also think about his face when he sees that I've actually had the courage to take a picture like that.
And besides, he's already seen me at least twice, one just tonight: he undressed me when I was out of my mind, all wet like an idiot.
What's the big deal about taking a picture of something he's already seen?
If you want a memento I can do it, as long as you assure me you'll play along.
‘You have to swear you won't mess with Pierre’, I write to him clearly. My heart is still racing at the thought of what I'm doing; even if it's nothing special, it's a lot to me. It goes beyond what I've dared to do with anyone else. It's not my thing, it's not in my nature, but maybe the truth is I don't really know myself at all.
‘You're already thinking yourself to do that.’ he replies promptly. I sigh and roll my eyes, exasperated by the fact that he always has to have the last word.
'Max!' 
That's enough.
'Okay. Now the photo.'
Yeah, there were so many ways to handle this situation. Giving in to provocation and passively pleasing him isn't my style, but I think he did me the favor after all.
I pull down the sweatpants he lent me, and the thought of still wearing his clothes makes me even harder. I feel it throbbing as I take between my fingers and pull it out.
It stands on its own, it's not limp.
I suck my lips and, holding my breath, clean the internal camera before turning it on. I take a few test shots and then a couple of photos.
I look at them biting my lip, discarding a few that didn't come out right, and then I settle on one that seems the best.
I look at it one last time and send it to him.
My God, I'm crazy.
I'm fucking crazy and as proof of this terrible realization, without waiting for his reaction, I masturbate completing the job, imagining that he's now masturbating too and that he'll take a picture of himself and send it to me. Because he's Max, he's a provocateur and he can't be any less than me.
Come on, send me this photo. I can't ask you for it; it was payment for my favor. But I know you'll send it to me. But in the end I see that he doesn't send me a photo and instead all I get is a text.
'As beautiful as I remembered.'
With mixed disappointment and excitement, I come using my imagination. I know you're touching yourself too, Max. That your hand is now running over your cock which will have exploded with the photo of me, I know you'll consume it.
I suck my lip and lean my head back, resting it lightly against the door that separates me from Pierre. I'm a terrible person; Max and I are truly made for each other.
‘Are we in agreement?’ I ask after a while, the explosion of pleasure sliding down my hand and then all over my finally satisfied cock.
‘Don’t worry.’
I don't know how I can’t worry. Not for him; for some reason I know I can trust him if he says one thing. But it’s myself I don’t think I can trust anymore.
‘Save the photo, lock it and we’ll delete the chat.’
This isn’t a request or a favor.
‘Yes, sir!’ he replies in his typical derisive way, which however doesn’t irritate me like it used to.
It’s crazy how things change. I used to do everything I could to avoid him and his shitty ways. Now he makes me laugh and feel good and I’d like a photo of his cock, which, damn it, I’ve never seen, only touched through his clothes. It had a really nice hard texture and he seemed well-endowed.
He saw mine twice. The first one was that morning in Monza, when I asked him what the hell we'd done and to get him to answer, I stripped for him. Luckily I have a normal body; I'm pretty happy with myself. With all my parts, actually.
Max is obsessed with this kind of pledge, anyway. I hope sooner or later he'll stop just looking and not touching, damn it.”

/Max/

"You're a terrible person, Charles. But I know you are. I know you're double-dealing, selfish and even a dominator.
Not that I like being submissive, but I suddenly find myself accepting everything from you, I cannot deny you any order or desire and I fucking love being commanded.
We'll play again, Charles. We're just getting started.
If you think I'll always just look and not touch, you're sorely mistaken.
You surprised me as always. I didn't expect you to involve me in covering you with Pierre, I thought you were making do with your sins.
You were probably so out tonight that you didn't think ahead like you usually do. Pierre must have caught you red-handed with my clothes on and my perfume. You must have had quick reflexes to make up the excuse that we were with the others, but now if I didn't play along, you'd be in trouble.
If I were really as mean as you are, I'd blackmail you forever until I got you in my bed whenever I wanted, but that's not the way I want you.
But I’ll keep playing with you, that's for sure.
I'll play and I know you expect it, I know you hope so.
Just like I know you just gave me a glorious handjob after sending me this photo that I'll consume.
I've seen you naked twice and wanted a little gift. Before I let you touch mine through my clothes, but you sure hate being at a disadvantage when it comes to dicks. You've never seen mine and yes, you touched it, but clothes were in the middle, so it's not the same. Even if it's still more than I could get from you.
Maybe I'll have to reward you for something, someday. I'll know how.
In the meantime, having this secret with you, as if we'd done who knows what tonight, I love it. It warms me up. It heals me.
His rejection had hurt me terribly, it burned me to the point of seeking certainties in Daniel, but now you've revived me.
I don't think I'm anything special, I remain insecure about my appearance and I still think you simply don't like me enough, but I'll take advantage every time I can to gain some small, innocent personal profit.
Also because this beautiful lie you just made up means that something really happened between us. Something so big and important that you're hiding it.

The next day we're all up early and as soon as I run into Lando at breakfast, his bright eyes look at me once, then a second time, more attentively, and all lit up: his smile says it all. He thinks something has happened between me and Charles and for a moment I think I can have fun making him believe it, but then a hand closes around his neck from behind, squeezing like a master grabbing a naughty dog ​​by the scruff of the neck; his master presses his mouth to his ear and speaks to him through gritted teeth, a cold threat.
I can't read lips, but Charles is all too clear to me; I know what the backstory must have been. A backstory that Lando will soon tell me, as soon as his master frees him again.
No matter what he says, it's not kind, and Lando turns pale, shivers with pure terror and nods meekly. Charles releases him and walks away, casting me a distant glance, carefully controlling his face. Sometimes I envy him, other times I think it's boring to always check everything. Why would you do that? I mean, what the hell would happen if you showed how you feel every now and then?
Like Lando does, for example, who, as soon as he's free of him, goes back to staring at me with terribly childish and lively eyes, making me burst out laughing as if I were schizophrenic.

- So? - he asks conspiratorially, sitting comfortably at my table for the breakfast buffet, where we don't always get to meet up; today we're forced to be on the track early for qualifying, so we're practically all here together at the same, tragically early time.
I play dumb staring at him blankly. I shrug my shoulders arrogantly and ask unperturbed: - So what?
Lando raises his finger and starts shaking it, saying fast: - No, no, no, huh? - to which he adds slapping his hand on the table: - There’s no way nothing really happened! So talk!
I raise an eyebrow sipping my orange juice, then fly across the room in search of Charles, whom I find, of course, in the table with his faithful friends George and Alex, this time also accompanied by Pierre.
Charles's loyalists are also Lando's and I notice they're completely capturing the aforementioned man's attention, preventing him from noticing that the reckless guy is sitting here talking to me despite the warning.
- Don’t get distracted and answer before he catches me and yells at me! - Lando says with complete awareness and fucking brazenness.
He's one of those naughty kids who are aware they're disobeying their parents and who don't care; their only goal is to complete the mischief even if they know they'll get caught and punished.
I admire him, there's no doubt about it!
He and I could become friends, I can feel it!
With a sense of absurd relief I never thought I'd feel in a relationship with anyone other than Charles or Daniel before our breakup, I giggle and decide not to ruin what has all the right cards to be my most beautiful, pure and simple friendship on the circuit.
By pure and simple I mean no dicks or sex involved.
- I don't know what he told you, but I confirm. Nothing happened.
But he seemed ready for this answer.
- Define 'nothing'!
My eyes widen; he's determined and clear-minded.
For a moment I think about it more carefully as I finish my typical Dutch breakfast. I know Charles inside out and he must have asked them to cover him and say we were together without telling him anything specific other than 'nothing happened.' Obviously they know that's not true, that something must have happened. But if the others intend to respect Charles's wishes and won't investigate further so as not to upset their friend, Lando is different.
The light I see in his eyes is pure amusement and curiosity. He must know and there's nothing and no one who can stop him.
So I sigh and turn back to their table. Charles has his back to us and shows no signs of moving. So I approach Lando and, taking care to speak softly, I explain to him concisely what "nothing" means.
- We didn't kiss or fuck. For reasons I won't go into here and now, I hugged him. Then, since he froze at the best moment thinking about Pierre, I made him understand what it’s ready for him when he’ll finally decide to dump him.
It's somewhere between frank and cryptic, I think he'll make do. He has to, in short; I can't go into more detail. However, even what I can't say explicitly for obvious reasons is clear.
But not for him. Lando stares at me with wide eyes and, with his mouth full of whatever junk he happened to put on his plate, asks: - And what is that?
I can't stand it and burst out laughing. His naiveté mixed with stupidity makes me throw my head back and laugh loudly. Lando shrinks himself flattening on the table so Charles won't see him. I assume he's turned to know why I'm laughing so hard. If he sees he's with me, he'll kill him.
At this point I take the sausage from his plate—only an Englishman would have something like that for breakfast—and I shove it into his mouth amused. Lando finally understands and his eyes widen even more at the revelation of the year.
- So there was a blowjob? - he asks thinking he'd misunderstood before. My breakfast is pretty much over now, but I'm staying here with him because I like the thrill of it and anyway I'm having more fun than I thought.
- No, idiot, I made him touch my sausage!
Not that speaking in code like this is any better. Especially since Lando keeps making comical, shocked faces at everything I say and that he doesn't understand.
- So he gave you a handjob! Do you see something's happened? This isn’t ‘nothing’, damn it! I knew it!
Since they can still hear him on the track and not just at the back of the room where the famous master is, I shove the rest of his plate into his mouth, which is a piece of toast that he takes without further ado.
- Through the clothes, it wasn't the full treatment; I just let him taste the texture of the sausage. He can't do anything until he resolves it with Pierre, even if he wants to. Of course he does!
I didn't think I'd ever find myself talking about these things with someone, I thought I would implode and die terribly, taking this terrible secret to the grave, but luckily Lando was involved and Charles is the only one to blame for that.
He swallows it all nodding in admiration, this time with all the pieces of the puzzle clear in his mind.
- Well done, you did well! You could have pushed harder! If he really wants it, there would have been...
I bow my head and shrug thinking about Charles and how he approaches me when we're alone, especially since he's been with Pierre.
- I don't know, there were several moments when was on the verge of happening, but in the end he always stopped. So much so that I thought there was something wrong with me.
This is too much; it slipped out of my mouth in the rush of enthusiasm of finally having someone to confide in and vent in a healthy and beautiful way. I suddenly fall silent and, realizing I've said too much, I get up from the table and grab my phone and key, intending to go to my room.
Lando stands there, stunned for a few seconds; in reality he reacts surprisingly quickly and, having drunk the coffee, he runs after me calling my name. Too bad his voice is too high-pitched and he calls my name, so I have to reflexively give him a good push as soon as we pass the breakfast room door. This sends him flying sideways and crashing to the ground, but at least when Charles turns around, he sees me alone.
I boldly say goodbye and move on.
Once safe from his hawklike gaze, I look at Lando standing in front of him, still lying on the floor, put my hands in my pockets and shake my head.
- You’re reckless, you know that? An angry Charles isn't something you'd want to have, believe me, I know something about that.
Of course I know. Thinking back, a mischievous smile forms on my lips. Lando rubs his butt and gets up, not remembering why he chased me. With the attention of a hamster with ADHD, he clings to this sentence forgetting the one that triggered him.
I won't tell you I have complexes and insecurities. Daniel is the only one who knows certain things about me and it has to stay that way. I don't want anyone else to know how pathetic I am in private. No one gives a shit about the real me anyway, so it's not worth it. That's all.
Lando follows me to the elevator, heading to the rooms, and asks me for more details and insights, finally giving me his opinion, not different from the one he gave me yesterday and which I was also thinking.
- Maybe he's not completely ready, but sooner or later he'll give in. His desire for you will be stronger than Pierre's. Someone who makes up a lie to avoid saying he was alone with you for a few hours and that you lent him clothes and gave him perfume, won't resist for long. It's obvious he prefers you. He just needs a little extra push.
Yeah, exactly what I thought after wallowing in my pathetic inferiority complex over my looks and shitty personality.
Who could really prefer me? The only one who did, I dumped because I'm an idiot. One thing's for sure, though: I won't give up.” 

NOTES: It was one of my (many) favorite chapters because of how demented they are when interacting with their friends and I laughed so much while writing it. 
Plus, things are getting more interesting between Charles and Max: with their personalities, it couldn't have been a normal, easy story. 
Will Charles find the courage to fix things with Pierre? 
I have a slightly (maybe) unconventional idea of ​​Charles, but I see him as a demon with an angel's face, a fake good-sweet-nice guy. Under his good-guy facade, he has a shitty personality and loves to be in charge (when he’s not in depression mode). 
Lando, instead, is my clown, it makes me laugh so much writing about him. 
See you next time. Kisses, Akane