NOTE: Sorry for the delay, I disappeared for a while because I was on vacation and I dedicated myself to writing, then I went away for a few days and put everything on hold. Now I'm back and I'm back to my usual rhythm of one chapter every 4-5 days or so. Now a new sector/part begins, the third and final one. Max and Charles are together, so we'll see them struggling with their relationship and their feelings, as well as further personal developments. They're still on the yacht of the fact, after having sweetly consummated their first sober time, and it's finally time for some proper conversation. Happy reading. Kisses, Akane

SECTOR 3: RELATIONSHIPS AND FEELINGS

76. TAKING CARE

/Max/

My hand lazily slides over the smooth skin of his back, tracing the curve of his lumbar region, and as soon as I reach his delicious, firm ass, I move up to his neck and the nape where his hair is disheveled. 
He climbed on top of me, always pushing me with his arrogance, demanding cuddles that I was happy to give him, and now we've been here for I don't know how long. 
Our minds are slowly reconnecting and coming back into alignment. Up until now, I feel like I've been wandering in a sexual trance, lost in the senses amplified by the orgasm, mixed and chaotic. It was beautiful. 
Now, little by little, everything is falling into place, and as my fingers slide over his warm skin, neither of us has the slightest intention of getting off this bed or leaving the cabin. Where in the world will we be? On what transport? And will we be alone, or will there be someone out there waiting for us? And who could it be?
- Can you imagine if they've kidnapped us? - I don't know how it comes out, but this idiotic outburst makes him laugh so much that I lift his face with a finger on his chin so I can see him, because every time he laughs or smiles I have this urge to look at him. I need to understand how he is. Is he really smiling, or is it still a pale imitation? Has the sadness gone away? 
So instinctively, when I hear him laugh, I always look at him. 
Charles settles more comfortably, lying on his stomach on me, like he was sleeping before. His face had perched on my chest and he was there basking in my caresses while his slender fingers played on my nipple. We've been like this for a while, but now it seems like we're ready to get back on us. 
He's calm, he seems happy when he laughs, but I think he could still let go of this remaining melancholy. It's right there in the depths of his beautiful eyes, but it's almost gone. I see it because I'm looking for it.
- How do you get this bullshit? - I shrug, laughing. 
- I don't know, you know that 90 percent of what I say, comes out without my control! 
Charles intensifies his laughter by starting to swing his feet in the air behind him. 
- I’d even say 100 percent!
I pretend to be offended and stare at him with a silent ‘How dare you?' which then turns into a stupid laugh. I can't take it, I'm lost for him and I'm too happy. 
- Do you realize that our first real kiss was in a squalid, smelly toilet after taking a piss? - I wanted to make him laugh again, I hadn't planned on talking about this, but apparently it works because he keeps going and to me that's all that matters. Charles shakes his head and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, bending his elbow which rests next to my head. 
- And we don't even remember our first fuck! - he adds. This makes me laugh and it's his turn to watch me do it. Maybe he has the same fetish as me. Making each other laugh and see how we do it.
- How romantic we are!  
We both get lost doing the exact same thing. Staring at each other as if there were no other world around us, no commitments, no people waiting for us. 
We want to stay here. Together, embraced, one on top of the other. 
Let's stay like this forever, okay? 
- Sorry I didn't congratulate you right away... - he says suddenly. I look at him, astonished. Charles apologizing? Now I'm going to have a heart attack! 
- It was pissing you off that I won a world championship before you, huh? - I don't even have to ask him, I know it's true. He has a little, delicious blush that drives me crazy and he also makes an lovely face. 
- You know me well!
I burst out laughing and run my hand up the back of his neck, through his messy hair which still suits him fine. Battlefield style. 
- But I'm happy for you. I've known since we were little you'd win one. 
- One? - I raise a skeptical eyebrow, noticing the specifics. I say that because I know him and he knows why I say it, and he laughs again. 
- How many do you want to win? You know it's my turn! I won't let you get that far away from me!
I don't know if Ferrari is capable of returning to the top of the world any time soon, but I wish it for him, because I know he deserves to win a world championship too, just like he knew it about me. And I know he was sincere, or he never would have said it. 
That's what I like about him. 
That's what I'll always like. Disgustingly sincere. 
Wonderfully mine.
- I know you'll win it too. Even if I'll do everything to stop you!
Charles laughs at yet another bullshit twisted into something sweet. He's not surprised; it was as if he'd been expecting this exact response. 
- It wouldn't be much fun to win otherwise!
- Oh, but it turns out you actually enjoy racing wheel to wheel with me? Wasn't I the one who can't drive well? - I tease him because I enjoy it, but just as I think I'm about to start one of our idiotic conversations, Charles surprises me again and with a sigh decides to share what he knew he had to say sooner or later. 
- Whenever you want and with whomever you want, you know how to drive well, on the limit, but fundamentally well. It's nice to race with you for precisely that reason.
Hearing him, emotions take over and a wave of heat washes over me. If he'd told me he loved me, it wouldn't have had the same effect. For Charles to admit that when I want to and with whomever I want, I can drive well, even on the limit, and that this makes me a worthy opponent, is surprising and shocking. It's more than any declaration of love, and I think my face says exactly that; in fact, he pinches my cheek with a sullen, annoyed expression.
- Shut up! You know what I think of you! Don't be an idiot! - he warns me. To this, I immediately respond defensively and pointedly by pinching his cheek in turn.
- Of course I know what you think of me! That I can't drive well! You've always said so! That I only win because I drive dirty and that if I drove clean and fair, I wouldn't win against anyone, certainly not against you! You've always said so, asshole! - 
Charles seems stung, hurt and sunk, and when that happens, he always reacts by attacking.
In this case, he stops pinching me and pushes my face away, turning to leave. He grumbles as he does so. 
- Oh, stop it, you know I like you as a driver, it's just that you make all my coronary arteries explode pissing me off, because you're dirty on purpose! But when you want, you can be ahioMax! 
While he's reeling off his whole theory, which he hopes I won't take for what it really is—the first real professional compliment he's paid me—I throw myself diagonally across the bed to grab him, and as soon as my arms reach his waist, my teeth reach his ass and I bite. He doesn't like this very much, because with a reflex he grabs my neck from behind and squeezes hard.
There he is, my Charles! My demon!  
- Stop biting, idiot!
Obviously, to avoid being strangled, I let go. Charles tries to slip away, but I cling to his waist with even more force, and he has no choice but to stay sitting here, anchored to the bed. 
- How can I read your mind? You've always showered me with unsparing disapproval! Then it come out that you respect me? That's the first time you've said that, asshole!
I speak against his side, my body all twisted. We're both still completely naked and seem we’re at ease. 
Charles gives up and stops trying to get dressed and free himself, so much so that at a certain point the hand that was trying to pull me away ends up caressing my head almost gently. 
- Idiot. Of course I respect you. I've always been pissed off with you because you know how to drive very well, but you purposely choose to do it dirty, because it's more effective that way. You win more easily. But in reality, if you put your mind to it and apply yourself, you drive very well. Maybe always on the limit, but still good. But you have to want it, and you don't always want it, not with everyone. 
- Well, it depends on my opponent at the time. I have to have a certain amount of respect to be fair. - I admit without thinking too much. Charles seems to be laughing, but from down here I can't tell because he remains sitting on the bed and I lie with my cheek pressed against his buttock, my arms still wrapped around his waist. 
- Lewis, don't you respect and admire him? I know you like him... 
Let's not go into details; I hope he didn't mean it in the way we discussed a few months ago.
I shrug a shoulder, trying to downplay it. 
- Yes, I admire him and I like him, you know... he deserved to win this year too, but the world championship is for one man...
I reflexively go on the defensive, my father's attitude. But Charles immediately stops me, as if he knows where to lead me and what to make me say. 
- So it's not about admiration and respect! There must be something else to make you drive properly, even if it's on the limit and without causing harm to others.
It seems like I'm doing it intentionally. I huff and puff, not understanding what he means, feeling only attacked, which I don't like right now. I never do, but less so now. I just wanted to cuddle him. 
But his hand continues to caress my head until he actually turns more toward me, now my cheek rests on his thigh and not his butt. Basically, just a little more and I get to his cock. Who knows if he still has some left to shoot, I might try.
But his hand forces me to look at him, tapping my temple as if asking for an audience, so instead of staring at his dick, I raise my eyes to his face. For a moment he's mischievous, but then he becomes serious again, with something I can't decipher. 
- I don't understand what you're getting at. I don't want to throw people out. 
- No, but if it comes out, so much the better! - I roll my eyes huffing, and at that I let him go, propping myself up with my elbow. Charles lets me put my feet on the floor and sit like him, then comes over to me and takes my hand with one and my face with the other. He forces me to look at him, and I think I'm pouting like a child. 
Why do you have to say these things? 
But his gaze is sweet. That's what it was. Sweetness. 
- What's your point? - I ask annoyed with myself because I can't stop anything. He could even step on me, I'd make him do it. 
- I realized you had feelings for me by watching you drive against me. At some point I became the only one you were fair to on the track, even if always on the edge. You never kicked me out or tried to. 
- But you did the ‘inchident’... - I can't focus my mind, I can't, because I know what he's saying but I'm not ready to admit it so easily. I feel naked. Well, technically I am. But I'm 'naked' while he's still 'dressed,' so I try to defend myself by using humor, even though I seem more like a childish kid. 
He gives an amused smile, remembering the childhood episode when he purposely pushed me out of the car as revenge. That gesture captures his true essence. Thinking about it like this, I think I fell in love with him in that moment, even though we were kids and that time he infuriated me. 
Now I cherish that moment. It's the one I'm most attached to. 
- Am I the only chosen one in your life you'll never try to throw out in a decisive wheel-to-wheel battle again?
He's asking me, but he's actually telling me. I rub my lips, finding myself face to face with his beautiful green eyes, as close as his entire face. There's not an inch of him I don't adore. I'm fucked, and he knows it. 
He knows how fucking lost I am to him. Maybe much more than he’s to me, and maybe that's why I don't want to tell him even if he knows it himself. And he knows.
- You know you are, you idiot. And that the relationship with you is more important than winning. 
Damn, big mouth of mine that always speaks without the approval of my brain. Why the hell do I waste time thinking if I always say whatever comes to hand, which is never what I previously agreed upon? 
And I am to you? I should ask, but I'm afraid the answer won't be what I'm hoping for, so I just kiss him. I let our lips meet, but as they open and our tongues find each other, Charles pulls back to break away and look at me again. 
A short distance, almost a breath away. 
He cups my face with both hands and, with an intoxicating intensity, speaks. 
- You too are the only chosen one in my life with whom I enjoy competing, despite the risky limitless driving.
When he says this, I understand the deeper meaning of his words; even the one he addressed to me earlier had a different meaning than it seemed. 
- And you too are more important to me than victories. - he then adds, as if wanting to emphasize it in particular. I'm not sure, seeing as he waited hours before complimenting me, but if I said it now as a joke, I'd ruin everything and this moment is too beautiful. I want to believe it. 
In an instant, as we gaze at each other from this closeness, his hands holding my face, him so intense, so close, I feel loose and annulled and serene. 
I'm fine like this. Naked. Exposed. 
It's okay, Max. You can trust Charles. Don't worry, you don't have to defend yourself. 
He'll know how to take care of you, like he did before in bed. 
Our lips meet again and this time they fuse together with our tongues. 
Peace invades me along with a warmth I'm not used to yet. It's wonderful. 
Kissing him, yes, but also this feeling. 
I can trust him even if he's seeing me beneath the surface.  
What a beautiful feeling.”

/Charles/

“I want to take care of you, Max.
And I want to make up.
I want to make up for the many shortcomings I know I've had with you—too many, perhaps even more than I realize.
Now I've just begun to notice that the tip I saw was an iceberg and that underneath there's a huge piece yet to be discovered, but I don't really know how huge and deep it is, and the more I go on, the more I realize that perhaps it's much more than I perceived this year.
How the hell did I ignore all of it? To focus so much on myself and my needs and neglect his? What was I expecting, then? For him to accept me into his life just because I was finally ready?
I haven't done anything for him yet, nor to deserve him. Absolutely nothing.
But I'll start taking care of him little by little, stepping aside, forgetting myself, ousting my enormous ego.
Max will be the center of my private life and I'll do everything I can to make him feel good and to care for him, to make him heal.
I know there are things he's hiding, things he's ashamed of, that hurt him; but I want to uncover, heal and replace them with beautiful things, worth living. I want to make him happy.
I want to look at myself in the mirror and not be ashamed of myself and of how I looked the other way despite knowing what was happening to him these years—or rather, since forever—at home.
His lips and tongue intertwine with mine, my hands cups his soft face with a slight unkempt beard that makes him damn sexy.
He's so desirable, so warm, so mine.
A not-so-delicious scent rises from our bodies, a mix of sweat, alcohol and sex from everything we did in one night.
I smile as I kiss him and he pulls away to look at me; every time I laugh he scrutinizes me, but I’ll no longer be the center of us, dear Max. You will be. Soon you'll understand and get used to it.
It doesn't matter how I feel, if I'm still sad and foggy or if I have feelings and emotions and how I smile.
It’ll only matter if you’re happy and serene and If you'll be okay. Only after I'm sure I've seen everything, taken care of everything and that you'll be truly okay, I’ll tell you how I feel.
Before then, I know I don't deserve your attentions.
- What’s wrong? - he asks softly, still looking at me from this suffocating closeness where I feel so comfortable.
- We both need a shower. - I finally say with a wry smile which he joins kissing me, as if this consideration weren't relevant.
He moans in the affirmative, but remains sitting, clinging to my arms and my mouth, unwilling to let go, not even to wash ourselves.
It would be nice to be able to stay here, but who really knows what time it is, where we are and, above all, who else is outside this door.
Andrea and Jo will be worried. I told them we'd be leaving at a certain point today and that if we lost sight of each other, not to worry and come back without waiting for me. So I think they're gone, but I have to be sure and let them know I’m alive.
So, New Year's resolutions: don't be selfish and self-centered!
Maybe if I work on being a better person, I'll also naturally and spontaneously resolve all my personal internal problems.
After realizing the need to wash, I drop the clothes I was trying to put back on and look around to truly understand where we are for the first time.
We can see each other thanks to a bit of light filtering through the curtains of what appears to be a window. The rest of the room is just the double bed and warm, modern furnishings, an upholstered chair, what appears to be a closet and two doors.
I raise an eyebrow, feeling a light of hope.
- One of them will be the bathroom, I hope.
Max, lazily lying on his stomach again, stretches and twists until he's looking for the doors in question.
- We’re on a yacht that's bigger than my house in Monte Carlo. I definitely think one of those is the bathroom, yes... - he says, yawning.
I shrug and, leaving the boxers I was thinking of wearing, get up and walk straight to one of the two identical doors made of fake wood. But as I open one of them at random, completely naked and disheveled like my mom made me, Max doesn't have time to finish his sentence, alarmed: - Hey Charles, wait... - that I find myself with the door open and the face of Carlos, fully dressed, who was about to come in anyway.
So I end up in a movie freeze frame and we stop in front of each other as if we were in front of a mirror that reflects the wrong image. Carlos stares at me and then moves his black eyes down to the rest of my totally naked body.
Everything.
From head to toe.
Then he curls his lips and nods with obvious appreciation.
- Congratulations!
As soon as his hoarse voice says this, Lando croaks from outside: - To who?
At the same time, Max grumbles rolling on the bed not to cover himself but to point grimly at the door and yell: - Charles, do you want to put on another show? Shut the door, it's the wrong one, damn it!
But Lando doesn't let me react because either he's faster and quicker, or I'm still asleep. Both are likely, but he rushes in from behind like a hunting dog, probably after hearing Max; then, brutally pushing Carlos, they both end up against of me. I miraculously manage to hang on to the door and not fall, but the result is that the three of us end up hugging each other in a way that's nothing short of absurd.
Me, of course, still naked.
Lando doesn't stay with us for long because then he sees Max naked in bed and enters in the cabin hopping like a cricket, happy as if he'd seen unicorns.
- OH GOD YOU FINALLY DID IT! YOU FUCKED! YOU'RE TOGETHER! OH MY GOD IT WAS ABOUT TIME! I'M MAX'S BEST WITNESS!
It continues like this, with Carlos slipping away from me—not too embarrassed and more than anything amused by his boyfriend acting crazy, me covering my ears and going to the second door to seek refuge, and Max getting up and starting a string of insults in Dutch that only he understands, but which are all too predictable anyway.
Before seeing if he'll hit him, I go in what is actually the bathroom.
A small but luxurious and respectable bathroom, with a single shower stall where I slip in after turning on the water.
Through the door, the noise Max and Lando are making reaches me muffledly; I try to tune out and not think about it, but I think my face is smiling amusedly.
The water provides me with considerable relief and helps activate my neurons; voices get louder and then fade again. I immediately realize Max has entered the bathroom, and before I have time to turn around, I find him under the same shower as me, in this somewhat claustrophobic cubicle.
He's still grumbling, but as soon as I turn around and raise my arms to wrap around his neck and help the water flow down his head and then down his body, he instantly relaxes against me. He wraps his arms around my waist too and pulls me close.
We press against each other as the water envelops us, and his full mouth no longer grumbles because it's busy satisfying mine. I, of course, immediately invade him.
We kiss and as if by magic, the irritation from a moment ago is erased and he's calm and relaxed again.
I'll make you happy, Maxie. I'll take care of you, you'll see.
Whenever you need something, just run to me and I'll be your unfailing peace station; I won't disappoint you again, you'll see.
After an endless amount of time kissing, we finally decide to soap ourselves up, and while we do so—even though we're stuck together because there's really not much room in here—we look at each other, giggling with amusement, inevitably thinking back to the previous scene and to Lando, our number one fan.
Our glances are full of mischief, and he's the first to ask.
- Are we together, then?
I reply, amused: - Were you thinking about how to answer Lando?
Max laughs after scrutinizing my face as usual.
- Well, with you, you have to be clear and explicit, because up until now I've always interpreted you the way I thought was right, but then I ended up being wrong and...
And I cover him with water while I stick to him again, rinsing us together. As I do so, my lips land on his; before kissing him, I reply: - Yes, we’re together, it seemed clear to me from the romantic conversation earlier.
- Does comparing us to a driving style seem romantic to you? No, because between the first kiss with a handjob in the toilet during a piss and the first time forgotten due to alcohol, I think we also need to talk about the concept of romance!
This time I don't block his kiss with my mouth, because I laugh heartily, unable to resist. I really can't argue with him in any way. Romance and I aren't exactly on the same planet, but I can probably learn how to be with him.
Thinking about it while he grumbles, still emphasizing how unromantic and unclear I've always been—not just tonight, but always—I emerge from his neck where I've been lost in laughter, turn off the water and look at him, cupping his face in my hands confident and domineering.
The droplets are the only sound we hear, running down our toned bodies still joined.
His hands slide to my buttocks, right where he prefers to keep them, right where I like them to be.
Absentmindedly, we feel our now-satisfied erections comforting each other with no sign of resurgence.
After he stops and stares at me all wet, I say semi-seriously but with a smile still plastered on my lips: - You’ll also teach me to be romantic.
Max, at this sentence, reads between the lines and raises his eyebrows, not understanding what I'm referring to.
- What else would I have taught you? - because he clearly doesn't know all my lucubrations, given that I have the flaw of never sharing them.
With a sweet smile I kiss his lips, replying confidently.
- To be wonderfully human!
With that, I kiss him. He, taken by surprise, welcomes me and reciprocates with his tongue; then, with a delayed reaction, pulls away and responds passionately.
- You’re an idiot, you were already human, what the fuck do I have to do with it? You're the one who convinced yourself you weren't, but you always were, I didn't do anything!
But look if someone who tries to be romantic has to fight to be it.
I slide my face down to his until I reach his ear, which I kiss whispering softly: - But it was you who unlocked my repressed humanity. It's thanks to you that I feel normal now. Maybe I'm not, or maybe I still have to improve, but I'm sure that with you I'll succeed as I have so far.
Max wants to respond and I feel his chest puffing out to retort, but then he collapses in my arms, holding me tightly and hiding his face in my warm, wet neck. I smile.
He's moved.
But look how sensitive you are, sweet Maxie.
I don't say this or he'd react badly to protect himself from who knows what, but now that I see all the things he was hiding beneath his rebellious asshole mask, I'm losing myself in him even more.
He's simply wonderful. And now he's truly mine."