66. SEXY AND BASTARD, FRAGILE AND BEAUTIFUL

/Max/

"If it weren't for them, honestly, I'd stick my tongue in his mouth this time.
Charles openly hitting on me is intoxicating.
All our previous times aren't comparable to this, because I was always the one tormenting him to push him into my arms, but now that he's made peace with himself and decided to throw himself on me, everything is fucking beautiful.
Except now that I'm the one wanting to play with him, it's not easy at all.
I mean, he's much better at this kind of thing than I am, but I still want to do it, damn it!
We stay with the other four idiots who could have gotten out of the way, laughing and joking with them. Since we're in pairs, it seems like we're together too, but we're not and it's fucking beautiful.
After a while, the—for now—not yet my boyfriend, gets up and starts to leave, saying he's hungry and wants to go looking for food; since he's been here first, the others say they want to stay and I don't know if they're doing it to give us the privacy they brutally took away from us before, or if they actually want to stay here longer; the fact is, he leaves and I follow him.
The antechamber to the pool consists of two changing rooms, one for men and one for women, and a screened filter that separates the two parts: it's a shared area where there are open showers for rinsing off before diving into the pool and then afterward to remove the chlorine.
Once we get out of the pool and reach the filter of the open showers, I don't immediately understand what he wants to do, so I remain watchful until I realize what his intentions are. It’s here that I choke a curse.
I don't want to give him all this satisfaction, I don't want him to know how much I fucking like him and he's torturing me at the same time: the asshole, without taking off his swimsuit—because you never know, given the precedent from earlier—sticks his hand in and lets the water flow from the jet right there. Then he rubs himself to get rid of all that chlorine that's bothering him so much; it must be double what's on me, given how much he spends running his hand over his cock, which I can't see but which I know perfectly well is there and, above all, what it’s like.
Charles is jerking off and the knowledge of what he's doing right in front of me, without me seeing it, irritates me like crazy. Especially because he's staring at me insistently and, in fact, devouring me with his eyes as if I were a delicious chocolate, the kind he loves so much. I've never felt beautiful and I don't feel that way now, but here, in front of him jerking off while looking at me like that, I feel like God and it's fucking beautiful and exciting.
At this point you might as well show me, right? I won't jump on you even if you bend over and give me your ass, but at least you could show me what you're doing down there!
Charles, however, leaves his trunks on, which tend to slide lower and lower with every movement of his hand, and with a pleasure expression, he sucks his lip letting the water fall gently on him. Fuck, it's so beautiful.
For a moment I see everything amplified and magnified, noticing insignificant and ridiculous details and experiencing them as if they were something crazy: the wet hair falling on his face, the drops sensually running down his slender, perfect body, the visible line of his swimsuit that I want to lick all the way down to the rest of his still-covered groin, the veins on his arms swell along with those in his lower abdomen. Even his damn pubic hair visible, makes me want wild sex!
I'm paralyzed, not knowing what to do; I've completely lost the connection, absorbed as I am in him and this heavenly vision.
Charles is the most fucking sensual and seductive person on Earth and only now do I understand it. The other times he didn't do it on purpose, but now that he does it, it's a disaster for me.
I won't last long.
My cock pulls me into my swimsuit. I'm about to lower it to sort out the mess myself, but the sound of footsteps and chatter from the pool beyond the wall separating us reveals the arrival of the other four troublemakers, and cursing openly I turn and run away into the men's locker room.
Charles's ironic chuckle accompanies me. You're an asshole. I know I was asking for it, but you're an asshole anyway.
The others predictably comment jokingly about giving it a rest and going to the bedroom, but Charles after a while joins me in the regular showers in the locker room, where I've hastily taken refuge.
Here they're divided into five open stalls where everyone can wash themselves thoroughly. I'm in one of them and when he comes to this side, I turn to look at him, holding my breath: Charles is only wearing a towel around his waist—his swimsuit presumably removed as soon as he entered the locker room—and he's all deliciously and sensually wet, with those famous droplets still running down his tanned skin; he's got such a fucking mischievous smile that it turns me on in an instant. Not that I've ever really turned off.
How much fucking time could we have this time before the others come and bust our balls again? Well, it's not a given that after rinsing off over there, they'll also come over here to shower, but the way I'm doing it, and apparently Charles, they could logically do it too. It's normal to wash up after the pool.
I'm naked. I only remember it now from the way Charles is staring at me from the waist down; again, like before: as if he were going to eat me, as if I were good and juicy.
I blush completely spontaneously and stare at him as he stands in front of me as if he were going to sneak into my cubicle to wash up: it would be ridiculous and risky, and as predatory as he is now, I can't imagine him doing something so crazy. Despite my theories, he takes the towel off his waist still looking at me, and for a moment I consider losing this damn race and jumping on him, only to then simply yell at those four guys not to come this way before we finish.
But then I take a deep breath, gather all my courage, turn and start scrubbing myself with the shower gel from the dispenser hanging on the wall in each stall.
No, damn it. I won't lose.
I ignore Charles, remaining stubbornly silent. I don't know what he's doing, but I find out right away, because I feel him coming up behind me and starting to run his hands with soap over my back. I stiffen and hold my breath, a boiling wave hits me and I don't even know what I'm doing. Am I standing? Am I under the water? Am I soaping myself up? What the fuck am I doing?
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
Well, probably nothing, since those pains in the ass will come and interrupt us again. So I decide not to react, even though a part of me does so freely and completely out of my fucking control.
His hands slide sensually over my lower back, warming me even more. Once there, instead of aiming for my ass, they circle my waist in a kind of embrace from behind. His chest on my back, his cock resting delicately between my buttocks, me as tense as a violin string, just as my cock here in front of me.
I can't breathe, I brace myself with my hands on the tiles in front of me and he insistently continues to rub my belly in silence. I'm filled with shivers from head to toe, I feel so bad and so good at the same time, I feel like I'm going crazy.
I've never been so turned on.
His body is completely against mine and it feels so fucking good.
Will he go under with his hands? Will he give me a handjob? If he does, I should stop him, I think, but I don't think I'll move a muscle. I don't want to fight back, I don't want to stop him, I just want to see how far he can go.
I sigh heavily, the soapy caresses reach the pectorals, he starts squeezing my nipples between his fingers, he twists them and these bastards are as hard as my cock. I'm going to come soon and I don't remember why I shouldn't. Why is this a bad idea?
Slowly but surely, he pushes me forcefully under the jet of the shower running above us. The water falls like before, but this time it's warm and rocks us together. He washes off the soap and while he does, his mouth is on my neck, licking and caressing me with his lips and tongue, his hands still sliding over my chest, my nipples, my neck, my lower abdomen. He's going there, my groin. Go, don't stop. Take it, it's throbbing on its own. I don't touch myself, I won't, but if you do, I'll die and I won't have any regrets.
We're naked in the shower, and he's leaning against me, hugging me from behind, licking my neck. Is this a dream? No, I'm so hot and excited, it's a wonderful reality.
His hands continue to move up and down on me, his cock, as hard as mine, now clinging to my ass. For a moment I think he'll come in. That he'll fuck me and I can't imagine a better solution. I want it.
It's a moment. An instant. I've never thought of sex like this between us, but now, in this moment, I want him to fuck me, I want his cock inside me, right where he's carefully rubbing it.
I want Charles to fuck me.
His face peeks out from the side and fills my neck and cheek with little kisses, moving up toward my mouth. I open it, gasp, looking at him knowingly, full of desire. I want him to kiss me and fuck me.
I turn my head slightly towards his, searching for something I shouldn't give him, but now my instincts have completely taken over and I'll end this stupid game between us. I'll lose, never mind.
As he's about to kiss me, his hands finally move down to my crotch, he's about to touch my cock, he's about to grab it. Do it, do it, please.
I open my mouth, turn my head toward his, stick out my tongue and he's about to take it in his. It's all about to happen at once and it feels so damn good.
To surrender, to stop fighting, to let go. This is what I want, I suddenly realize. I want him to do whatever he wants with me, to drive me crazy with pleasure and make me his whenever and however he wants.
Charles takes my cock in his hand, his hot palm closing over mine. It's heaven. His mouth wraps around the tip of my tongue and sucks it.
It's a very brief taste, but only that, because just as we're about to get deeper, the door on the other side slams with a loud bang and once again I curse as Charles slips away in a flash, leaving me here, leaning against the shower stall tiles, alone under the water and with a cock so hard that it's about to explode.
- Guys, if you're not finished, too bad for you! We even gave you time, huh? Alex exclaims, pointing out that they even waited to make their shitty triumphal entrance.
- You can't do it here. What if someone else comes? - George points out sensibly and with a calmness that's only so because he doesn't see my ferocious face. I imagine he's looking at Charles's embarrassed face.
- Yes, there are rooms, you know? They're really comfortable, too. - Carlos adds with logic and irony.
- Oh, it's no problem for me, you can continue... - Lando, on the other hand, is still Lando, and as he says this, he rushes out from this side to see what happened to me. - Oh, are you finished? Come on! 
As soon as he sees me emerge from my stall, after turning off the water, I destroy him with my gaze, but obviously it doesn't have the effect it should have and he immediately lowers his gaze to the thing that's most noticeable about me right now.
- Wow, Max, you really are... - but then he realizes with shock. Because even a fool would understand that now. - Wait, did we interrupt you right at the best moment? Oh my God, Max, I'm sorry! We thought two minutes was more than enough! Are you really that long-lasting?
Since he won't stop shooting shit out of his mouth, I grab the towel I was supposed to cover myself with and throw it in his face, shoving him roughly as I pass by. He doesn't seem to mind and throws it back at me.
Normally I'd laugh and crack some joke, but right now I just want to kill everyone and slam Charles onto some surface and force him to continue. As I think about it and dry myself, despite everything, I cast a murderous glance at Her Majesty not far away, who, with a sly and mischievous air, is also getting dressed as if nothing had happened. Perhaps not even bothered by the interruption, but enjoying it like a perfectly timed thing that saved him from losing the challenge.
Fuck you, you adorably sexy bastard!
I'm going to let you fuck me, it's decided!
But I want you to come back to me and try it on with me a little more. What you just did to me sparked a few ideas in my head... who knows what else you can come up with to seduce me? I want to enjoy it a little!”

/Charles/

“I really want to challenge you to remain good and passive, dear Max. You, the one who loves to attack and who is the impatient one par excellence. What's wrong with you?
I thought you'd turn around right away and put your tongue in my mouth; I was convinced you would.
For the rest of the days between this and the next GP, I can't stop thinking about it and I'm really struggling not to end it all and sneak into his room, undress, hug him and kiss him first.
But at the pool in Baku, or rather in the locker room, something happened.
Something really different from our usual game of seduction.
He was there and there was a moment when he could have turned around and kissed me and ended it all, and knowing him as I thought I knew him, I was convinced he'd reached his breaking point. But he just stayed there, letting me do anything. So wonderfully abandoned to me.
In that moment I felt like I could do anything to him. He would have accepted anything. Even having me inside him.
As absurd as it may seem, I'm sure it's true.
I could have fucked him; he would have given himself to me without a fight and maybe he even wanted it.
He leaned against me while I hugged him from behind and let my mouth and hands do everything to him. If they hadn't arrived, I would have put it inside him without even going through that kiss.
But they stopped us and now I want to understand if it's true.
Max has changed towards me, changed in a way I can't quite grasp; so after thinking about it, I decided to try again and see what he wants one more time.
This time, I'm taking advantage of the Friday evening briefing at this French GP. After the usual free practice sessions and the various other things that follow, those minutes dedicated to the briefing are a precious ally. Sometimes these boring meetings are useless, other times useful and they're not all the same length because it always depends on whether there are things to discuss and how much they take up our attention. Sometimes there are arguments and discussions, others just questions, clarifications, or specifics.
These days there's a new regulation introduced every time because of COVID, even if things are finally improving slightly.
We always have to wear masks, but there are always a lot of us crowded together and if you position yourself strategically, you can pretty much do whatever you want.
Just stay calm, right? Let others talk, ask or answer questions, and ask for clarification on what's allowed or not.
I hope there are some incredibly boring things to learn today, because I've skillfully sat down with Max: not in the back because there's always someone standing there who could easily see, and not in the front row, obviously. But if you sit to the side and in the middle, it's perfect because no one can see there. Everyone looks forward at the person chairing the briefing and, if necessary, at whoever's speaking among us, but I hope no one nearby dares make a sound.
Anyway, I'm not wasting time; I know these meetings can be short, more of what I desire today.
Sitting next to Max, my foot immediately runs to deliberately touch his in one of those things that has now become "our thing." Ever since I danced in front of him in that club in Monza, somehow touching each other with our feet or knees has been our thing and I do it on purpose.
But I don't just touch him; I immediately move my foot past his, hook it with mine and pull him toward me. Max's eyes widen, forced to notice me, and he gives me a sideways glance that's a mix of surprise and satisfaction.
Oh, so you really like me flirting with you and courting you, huh?
But it's not just that.
It's not just that. There's more.
Max remains with his foot hooked by mine, and our chairs, which I've carefully glued together with 007-like skill, allow us to easily touch each other with our legs and arms. Heat rushes through me at the thought of him clinging to me and his leg entwined so forcefully with mine. I give a mischievous, amused smile as we both pretend to be interested in what the others are saying.
For a moment I feel like a teenager in school, trying to mind his own business during class.
It's beautiful. I wonder what we would have been like if we'd been in school together. Would we have hated each other even more, or would we have become friends?
At school, I was a kid who bonded easily with others; I got along with everyone, but I don't know what he was like. I remember him tending to isolate himself a bit when we were all together for competitions.
The memory of Max as a gloomy child troubles me momentarily. I think back to his father and that conversation we had in Monaco that we put aside, because those aren't things you can force out of someone; but as I think about it, the feeling arises that I'm close to the answer about him and what happened to him.
Maybe this has something to do with it.
His need for help, whatever kind of help he needs. Because he has it, we all do. I don't think I've found real solutions, just ways to feel better, and I don't know if, in the end I'm truly a psychopath who fakes emotions but convinces himself he feels them, or if for someone, a select few in the world, I can truly feel something. I think this is it; the more I spend time with Max, the more certain I am.
But him? He needs help, I don't know why or how, but he has it and has never dared ask for it. He only vaguely hinted to me that he needs it, but then we never delved into anything further.
And then this abandonment of his to me.
We always said we both wanted to dominate the other, to manage, to command, to be on top. But then, in that moment, instead of rebelling, he abandoned himself to me and was so docile, so sweet, so beautiful.
My hand reaches his, hidden beneath his crossed arms. I hook his finger and tug firmly. He gasps and gives me another sideways glance, surprised that my gesture is less manic than he'd have thought.
I don't know what to say to you, Max. I'm here day after day and I find myself so genuinely surprised by you that I don't understand how it's possible. We've known each other all our lives and yet... and yet with you everything always seems new.
Are you down? How long have you been down? And what do you need? What do you really need? Why don't you ask me? I want so badly to give it to you, like in Baku by the pool. You wanted so badly for me to take you and make you mine, why didn't you just ask?
I would have done it right away. I would have dragged you to the bedroom and made you mine. But no, you don't ask. You don't dare, or you don't want to, or you can't, but you don't ask, and yet you need.
Your finger willingly hooks into mine and I continue to hold it, just as I did with your foot. If you don't look closely, you won't notice; it looks like just two fingers accidentally touching because two chairs are too close together. There's no point in being so close, maybe we couldn't even, but we are and our hands intertwine and we cover them with our arms.
A wave of warmth and happiness washes over me. He doesn't resist, he holds me tighter. He wants me to do what I want with him, to take care of him. This is his cry for help. This is his request.
'Take care of me, love me, make me yours, make me happy, make me feel good. Show me how good it feels to be with someone you like so much.
Because I've never been happy before and I need to feel this kind of thing. Make me happy.'
You're beautiful, Max. So fragile and beautiful.
And I don't want that asshole to ever bother you again, or hurt you, or harm you in any way. He must not come near you and even if he does, even if he dares to hurt you again, I want you to come to me and take refuge in search of the well-being that will counteract his pain.
I'll take care of him, from now on. I finally understand.
I finally understand YOU.

Having realized what he's like and what we both want doesn't exempt me from feeling an insane, sinister, basic excitement in this game between us, with him pretending to run away from me even though he actually wants me to jump on him, and me provoking him in every way to get him to make the first move.
I wouldn't care under normal circumstances. I've always been a first-mover type, with clear ideas and the ability to lead any game. I like to dictate the rules, decide and manage, but with him I've been making this enormous effort since the beginning of this year precisely because I realized how bad he was because of me; it's my way of letting him know that I like him and that I don't just want to fuck him once and for all. I'll fuck him many times.
Sex is there, in any case. It's an important component.
What can I do if, watching him from afar while we're at the hotel restaurant where we ended up at the same time—not by chance, of course, but not at the same table—I get excited thinking about all the things I'd like to do to him later?
Things I can't do if the idiot doesn't get a move on.
The GPs continue, as does the strangest season since last year's for various reasons, including that some circuits the race is run twice in a row. And he's there passively, being courted and enjoying me eating him in every way except the one I'd like.
I'm not alone at the table, but I take advantage of a conversation involving my fellow diners to distract myself and with extreme ease I use one of the specialties of this place, the sausage, as if it were his.
I ordered it on purpose, even though I try to follow a more appropriate diet. But sometimes I can indulge, and even if I didn't, having Max at a few tables away, his eyes fixed on me, I couldn't help myself.
Just as I can't help but suck the sausage as if it were his.
For a moment, I lose touch with reality and, mesmerized by Max's exciting face, I do something particularly indecent until that saintly Joris elbows me, noticing me.
I have to remember to always be with someone who knows how to cover me, because here I am losing my famous, iron control.
I spent years trying to lose it and now that I've decided to dedicate myself to Max, there's no way I can keep it.
I bite into the sausage, eating it normally, but my eyes remain fixed on Max, who's blushing and can't sit still; he moves constantly and seems like a lost soul, drinking a lot of water. He must have imagined me actually sucking him off.
Well, dear Maxie, it's all up to you, you know? I'm here and I'm damn ready, but you see, if you wait too long, I won't last much longer.”

NOTES: This game between them continues revealing to Charles a side of Max he wasn't even aware of. While one increasingly emerges from his fog, discovering a very strong and decisive character who loves to lead, the other relaxes, abandoning himself to a side of himself that no longer wants to fight for everything, but simply be accepted as he is. Charles is ready to do so. Sorry for the absence, but I've been away; I'm now resuming my more or less regular posts. Until next time. Kisses, Akane.