83. RELAXING TOGETHER

/Charles/

As we settle into the seats of Max's private jet that will take just the two of us to Bahrain, I tell him I downloaded a list of things to do in and around Manama, just to make sure we don't get bored and waste our first vacation as a couple. Opening the list on WhatsApp, he says perplexed: - Do you think we could really get bored? - then he sees how many there are and adds: - 12?
I shrug.  
- Well, actually, I googled 'what to do in Bahrain', so it's pretty broad... you'll have to select... 
Maybe I exaggerated, but I was thrilled about this little vacation just for us. Moreover it was organized on the fly and without any real careful planning, as I usually tend to do. 
I'm not hasty, I don't improvise; I organize, plan, reflect, build, but this time I was so enthusiastic that I totally threw myself into it from one day to the next, and he's so crazy that he followed me without hesitation. 
The thing is, last night—unable to sleep—I looked up things to do down there and now I’ve dark circles under my eyes, but I'm still incredibly excited and happy. 
This until the plane starts its engine and takes off. 
When it does and everything vibrates and roars, my hands automatically grab the armrests of my seat and I tense up. Max, in the one next to me, is still reading the list, relaxed. His private plane is made up of very comfortable single seats in one part and two pairs of seats attached to each other in the other, divided by a small table in the middle. We are in these. 
In addition to this, there are also some sofas in another part of the jet. 
- Camels? - he asks intrigued by the last voice. 
When he says it, I don't even remember what the hell he's talking about; panic has just hit me realizing the plane is about to move, so I stare at him frowning. 
- Camels? - I ask back without understanding what the hell he's saying. 
Max looks at me questioningly and at this moment the plane moves after the voice of his private pilot announces that we’re leaving. 
Thanks, I could tell by the way the engine shakes. 
It's a fabulous little jet, but it vibrates like a giant, respectable airplane. The engines are more than powerful. 
Max forgets about the list on his phone, which he drops on the table in front of us, and turns to me taking my sunglasses off to get a better look. 
- Are you scared? - I suddenly remember that this is the first time he and I have ever flown together, and he doesn't know this little detail. 
- Just the departures. And the turbulence. And the landings. - I say tensely and tragically, adding more and more details as the plane begins to move. 
Max stares at me in disbelief. 
- But you fly so much and for a long time!
- That doesn't make it any less terrifying! - I comment, dazed like crazy. I realize this perfectly, but it's one of those times when I can't control myself and he, asshole that he is, ends up laughing. Normally his laughter relaxes me and I like it, but now I just want to kick him away, if it weren't for the fact that I feel safer with my feet anchored to the floor of the plane. 
After his laughter, Max starts shifting in his seat, first moving forward and touching things at the base of the seats, then fiddling with the armrest that I’m frantically clutching for safety. As he dares to try to pull it off me and lift it, I stare at him dazed.
- What the hell are you doing? And what am I supposed to hold onto if you take it away? - I hiss hysterically as the plane takes off.
I think I'm even more out of my mind, but Max doesn't give a damn and, using a little more force, he makes the armrest separating us disappear—a trick I don't understand. I think it presses down between the two seats instead of lifting up like on an airliner. Once the two comfortable, padded seats become one large, comfortable double sofa, just as I'm trying to grab onto something else for my own mental well-being, the gentleman, still without deigning to answer, touches something between us again and makes stretch out the backrests in perfect sync. As they go down, the lower part simultaneously rises, bringing out the leg rest that further extends the seats, allowing us to lie down comfortably. Finally, he takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine, squeezing so tightly that it sends shivers down my spine that, absurdly, calms me.
I don't know if it's the hands, the grip, or the fact that by holding us like this, I physically feel his presence beside me more. 
After all this, Max answers my earlier hysterical question about "what the hell are you doing?" and he does so with enviable calm. 
- I’m saving your nerves from collapsing. Haven't you been sleeping because of the fear of flying or the excitement of a little vacation with me? - he finishes laughing. 
Normally I'd kill him, touchy as I am, but now I can only bite my lip and stare at him, waiting for this thing to stop climbing. When it does and stabilizes, I sigh in relief, even managing to understand his words. 
- How do you know I haven't been sleeping? I didn't tell you! 
Max laughs again and touches the bags under my eyes with the finger of his free hand, the one I'm not squeezing until it almost breaks. 
- It shows. -  he says, acting like an adult only because he's not afraid of flying. Asshole. 
- It’s a bit of everything... I never sleep before taking a plane, but to avoid dying of anxiety, I take a relaxant that usually helps me sleep before takeoff; or I distract myself by playing chess, but for that you need someone who knows how. Pierre and Carlos know how to play, so I'm fine with it, traveling with them often. 
I talk a lot because I'm nervous, trying to get over it, and I hope Max knows it, but he obviously gets stuck on one thing. 
- Pierre? - no need to elaborate; I know right away what he wants to know and I correct myself immediately. 
- I used to travel with him a lot, you know. We're both chess fans, and now that I travel a lot with Carlos, he is too. 
- Does chess relax you? - Max immediately changes the subject and focuses on the less slippery terrain. I nod, looking at him as I settle more comfortably into what feels more like a double recliner than two seats joined together. By now the plane has stabilized and is traveling straight, making me feel vaguely better; despite myself, I remain clinging to his hand. 
- And let me guess. You didn't take anything now because you didn't want to sleep and miss a single precious second with me. - he says it ironically, as if joking, but he knows it's true and I wrinkle my nose, feeling the tiredness creeping in as I turn to him. 
I don't know if it's his presence or if it's the tiredness, but I feel better. Our hands are still intertwined, but less tightly than before. Now I can enjoy the warmth we share. 
It's such a romantic gesture that I would never have associated with him and probably not even with me. I'm not sweet or romantic, although in my case appearances can be deceiving. Probably in his too, since I think he is sweet and romantic. I'm about to discover so many beautiful new sides of him that he keeps hidden for who knows what, and thinking about it I smile goofily, forgetting that I'm on a plane that could crash to the ground, killing us all.
You know what great news? Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc died in a tragic plane crash. Only the two of them were on the plane. What were they doing? Holding hands!
My brain races as my mouth responds in a seemingly sensible way to his rhetorical statement. 
- Of course I didn't take anything!
- You must be tired! 
- No, come on... I could do another 24 hours straight like this without even sleeping… - I think the irony is more hysteria, because no, I haven't forgotten that the plane could crash, revealing our super-secret, tender relationship to the world. 
We’d make the news. 
Max laughs and lets go of my hand to lift his arm around me and gently pull me onto him; I let him do it and snuggle against him. I don't even know how we manage to be comfortable, considering it's essentially two seats reclined and not a comfortable, secure bed, but as soon as my forehead settles on his mouth that kisses me, I feel like my nerves finally calm down completely and the hysteria subsides. 
- Camels because it's the abbreviation for the last item on the recommended things to do. Camel farm is one of the 12 things to do in Bahrain recommended by Trip Advisor. - I reply late, remembering his initial question in the midst of my panic. 
- And why is number 5 a smiling face? - he asks curiously, returning to the phone he'd thrown out to attend to me. 
- Because it's the F1 circuit! 
- I think I know it, yes! - at this we burst out laughing together.
I think his laughter is contagious, especially in this exhausted state I'm in now. Max has a prettier smile than he probably thinks, and for a while now I've found myself laughing simply because he does it, not because the thing we're laughing about actually makes me laugh. 
- Is there anything you'd like to do? We don't have to fill every hour of our three days, but something could be done…
The organizational side of me comes out even though I've tried to stifle it, because I know myself and I know how I am. Max gently caresses my arm where his hand rests while holding me close, and continues reading the list I sent him with so many abbreviations.
- Is there anything you'd like, instead? - he then asks.
Of course there is, I already have a precise idea of what could be done, when and how. It's not that I simply wrote the first list of recommended things without looking into what it was about, it's just that I didn't want to be overbearing, since that seems to be one of my biggest flaws. But since you asked...
- Well, I thought the aquarium and the fort were nice, but maybe this one around sunset or in the evening because it's more evocative and less hot. And then the tree of life. 
Max bursts out laughing, heartily this time, and I raise my head frowning at him, not understanding why he's doing it. 
- It seems like you've already planned everything out carefully! - he enlightens me, annoying me even more, so much so that I pout. He, of course, laughs even louder, throwing his head back. Now I want to bite him, but it's better not to accidentally bring up yesterday's strange incident. 
- We can do whatever you like, that's why I sent you the whole list! - Max laughs again. - Come on, you're the one who asked me what I wanted to do! - the laughter continues and I jolt forward, sitting up straight, while he remains lying there laughing. - Asshole, of course I have ideas, but I want to integrate them with yours!
His hand quickly glides on my back as if to keep me sitting and prevent me from getting up; I would never think of that. I turn just a third, remaining with my back to him and pouting, but his hand expertly slips under the comfortable light blue sweatshirt I'm wearing. He caresses my smooth, warm skin instantly relaxing me, as if he'd flipped a switch.
- Everything’s fine with me, as long as you've set aside a considerable amount of time to our favorite activity. 
I raise a puzzled eyebrow. 
- Compete and beat each other in some stupid game?
Max laughs again and his hand slides down, slipping his fingers under the baggy, comfortable pants I'm wearing. Fingers that reach my slit so easily, making me immediately straighten my back in surprise. 
- The other activity! - he says knowing and lascivious, remaining stretched out on the lowered seat. 
- Ah, sex! - we laugh together as I remain lost for a moment, observing him. I like him, damn it. I like him in these relaxed and private ways. It's a Max no one will ever know. 
His expression is serene, and my laugh turns into a goofy smile; I end up sucking my pinky, my chin resting on my palm, my head turned toward him, even though I remain with my back to him and forward to allow him to touch me wherever he wants. I already want to suck more. 
Now he's mine, I no longer have to devise schemes to seduce him and push him do what I want. Now I can just take him however the hell I want. 
God, it's all so beautiful! 
Even though his finger wants to slide inside me, the fact that I'm sitting still prevents it, so I lie back down and turn on my side and on top of him; he wraps his arm around me again tenderly. Now he has all the space he needs to slip his fingers wherever he wants. And I hope he does. 
- So if that's okay with you, I was thinking of one activity a day, accompanied by some silly game we enjoy playing, and sex. Lots of sex. 
Because I know he loves video games and sim racing, he always has his laptop with him, so I brought mine too. We've never actually grown up, and it's nice to have something else in common besides racing. A passion for video games and sim racing is one of them. 
Max nods returning to gently kiss my forehead, while his fingers, which had again under my baggy pants, finally reach my slit in a less gentle way. 
I arch up and lean forward the part of me that apparently he wants to check. 
- You’ve been working out a lot, I feel… - he says, revealing little interest in my program which was obviously already pre-arranged and complete. 
- We’ll do the aquarium, the fort, and the Tree of Life. 
Couple things. Because that's what we are. A couple. 
- And the camels? - he asks, his finger easily finding its way inside. This makes me lose my connection with my thoughts. 
- Do you want to see the camels? - I ask not interested in those animals. 
Max chuckles and moves his finger inside me, while I don't even know what response he’s giving me. I close my eyes and lean against him, pressing my face to his chest where I stifle moans. I don't think his pilot can hear us, but you never know. 
Max moves his finger sinking deeper and deeper, until the desire is so urgent that I have to slide my hand in front of me to complete the pleasure, which has become too intense. 
When I come, I don't even know if it's visible or if I'll have to change my pants, but I don't really care because as soon as I open my eyes, I immediately notice something rather conspicuous, quite close to my face. 
His groin feels like there's a rocket ready to tear his damned too-tight jeans, and all I can do is take care of it. 
I immediately open and free the creature that was pressing for relief. 
- I’d like to know why you're torturing yourself inside these infernal things… - I mutter before welcoming the tip of said creature, or rocket as you might call it. 
I move my hand over the hard length and Max's reaches the nape of my neck. There's a moment where I think, "No, not with that hand," but it's too brief and fades away exactly when I take his entire cock in my mouth. 
Max moans in his hoarse voice and doesn't even care about not being heard. His raspy voice is addictive to me, along with his cock, his mouth, his eyes and... well, everything about him. So I increase the intensity and pace of my sucking until he explodes, avoiding choking my throat. 
Max pulls me away by grabbing my neck from behind, avoiding pulling my hair—good for him—and turns his erection sideways to squirt, I presume, onto the floor. Maybe it's because he always keeps it squeezed in his damned tight jeans; as soon as he releases it, it can't wait to explode. Can you see, it's a real rocket? 
Damn, Max and his stupidity must have rubbed off on me. I'm slowly transforming into him.
His hand, still holding my neck and the back of my head, pulls me up toward his face; I crawl across his chest, returning more or less to the same position as before, letting "his creature" relax out of jeans while mine peeks out from my pants, which are pulled down just enough. I stretch out sinuously like a cat arching my back again and bending one leg, hooking it over his. Then turning his face toward mine with a finger, I take possession of his mouth. 
We kiss again, still panting and excited by the orgasms we've just had, and I forget that I'm on one of those flying traps that can crash to the ground at any moment. 
Then my head finds its favorite place, his shoulder, his neck, and he gently caresses the back of my neck and back; I feel good, completely good. 
- Yes, I want to see the camels! - he says, picking up where we left off as if nothing had happened. I giggle.
- So be it, then! We'll see the camels too! 
I don't think three days will be enough, but considering that we can play and fuck at night, maybe we can manage it.”

/Max/

“He planned everything! He's probably already decided when and how much to fuck; sleep, who knows? 
He was so happy with these three days together that he planned a lot of things in just a few hours. He must have been full of adrenaline because of that. Add to that the anxiety of the flight—which I didn't think he'd have—and the rush of orgasm, and he collapses. It was inevitable. 
Except now I have to pee and I hate to move him; I don't want to wake him. 
I keep caressing his head, his hair in his typical short, strategically messy cut that suits him so well. My gaze slides over his comfortable outfit, a light blue sweatshirt and baggy gray pants. He could also wear a burlap sack which would look great on him, but I suspect His Majesty is vain, so I have to think carefully about when and how to compliment him: he might get a big head and turn become unbearable! 
It's weird having him sleep on top of me on a plane, it’s never been something we've ever done. We slept together, fucked and done various pleasant things, but flying together, relaxing like this, abandoning ourselves to each other... it's something I wish would never end. It's simple and maybe not even the most special thing we've done, but I like it. 
How do I tell him that for me we could even spend three days locked in the room fucking, recharging our batteries, and fucking again? Obviously, two people can't just fuck; we'd also eat something. 
At the idea of three days like this, I giggle and while he's asleep he raises his hand and puts it in my face, as if to command me to stay still, lest I disturb him. 
But look at His Majesty, who has to command even while he's asleep! 
And I'm an idiot for letting him do it, because it's obvious that I'm the one allowing it since I take charge whenever I want. But it feels so good to let him prevail, to decide and to order me around. It almost feels like he cares more about me this way; that he’s looking after me. 
I don't know how my brain works, and I don't care. I just know that for now I like it this way, and I don't want to change anything. 
He didn’t bring up my father's speech from yesterday again; I expected he would, but he must be really tired, and despite the tension, he finally managed to relax enough to lay down his weapons. 
I don't know what I'll do if he comes back to it, but I doubt he'll want to ruin these three special days by talking about him. That'll probably be a topic for another time. I don't know what he expects or what he's thinking, but everything I want is in my arms now, nothing more. 
I've wanted to get to this point with him so much that it's strange now to want nothing more. I can finally relax. I can stop always fighting for something, I can stop thinking angrily about things that upset and hurt me, or trying to forget other things I wish had never happened. 
I'm fine, I don't have to fight with anything or anyone anymore. I've achieved what I was truly chasing. 
Now I just want to stay like this forever. 

I didn't think much about what it would be like to go around with him outside of F1. 
As always I threw myself headlong into something I knew I wanted, and for the rest I trusted him. Everything is fine with me because I know I'd enjoy whatever we do as long as we do together. 
In any case it's all much easier and more doable than we thought, as long as we don't wear any identifying team clothing; a cap with visor, sunglasses and ordinary, understated clothes, and we don't get noticed. 
It's our normal behavior that makes us like a ghosts; not that I'd ever really worried about this, but I knew he'd take care of both of us, just like he did with the itinerary and the schedule. 
We don't just go around together, trying not to be recognized, or running and hiding like two idiots whenever someone looks too much at us, it's also the fact that we're a couple. Obviously, by our standards. We don't walk around holding hands or flirting, but we're out together because we're a couple. Only we know; the others watching us probably see two friends, and this doesn't bother me. But we're together as a couple, and it's intoxicating how beautiful it is. 
I've done a lot of "couple" things with Kelly, but doing them with him is different. 
Going to an aquarium has never particularly attracted me, but now that I see him gazing in awe at certain fish specimens, it makes the experience special to me, and I already know that from now on I'll look at all aquariums with different eyes, remembering his face lost in the beauty he was admiring.
I end up taking more pictures of him than I imagined; I'm not one to constantly photograph others, but in this case, under the pretext of photographing the fish, I photograph him looking at them. Many photos suck, but some come out well and I proudly admire them when he's not looking, too intent on reading the explanations of the species we're looking at. 
How cultured my boyfriend is. 
I'm still checking the last photo I took of him when he grabs my hand and pulls me toward a tank he was looking at. 
- Look, this is… - and he begins to explain the rare species and its characteristics, as if I understood something or were interested. 
I don't listen to a word, my eyes fixed not on the fish he's showing me, but on his hand which is gripping my wrist because he forces me to watch what he wants. 
I love his forcefulness, especially because it's transformed into sweetness without realizing it. 
With remarkable skill I manage to take his hand, and while he talks and repeats what he's read while showing me specific fish in one of the large aquariums, he doesn't even realize it. 
He talks. He talks and explains, acting like a teacher and I'm not listening, I barely understand that I'm looking at an aquarium, let alone which fish he's pointing to, but I pretend to understand and be interested, when in reality all I'm focused on is his hand clasped in mine and us standing close together, shielding them from the prying eyes of the others. But there's not a big crowd here today, it's not the weekend, so we can be relatively quiet. 
Charles continues talking, but by the time he finishes my eyes are fixed on his face, and when he notices he stops reeling off fish facts and glares at me. 
- Did you understand a word of what I said? 
- Understand? Sure! - I say, my face is too cheeky. 
- And did you listen? - he asks annoyed, realizing the technicality; even though he’s annoyed, he doesn't release my hands. 
I purse my lips and raise my eyebrows, looking like I'm about to be slapped, shrugging. 
- Sure! 
But Charles rolls his eyes and shakes his head in annoyance. He's about to slip away, but I hold him putting him back here with me in front of the tank. 
- Come on, let's take a picture together! I didn't know you were a fish lover!
With that I turn him away from his beloved, strange fish and set my phone to selfie mode. Charles deflates and pushes away his initial resentment, smoothing his hair with his fingers and positioning himself for a good photo, considering the unusual lighting here. 
- It’s not that I'm a fish lover, but I like to know what I'm looking at.
A subtle jab at me with a sour tone; I laugh as I pose, and he ends up giving me a puzzled look that turns into a stunning surrender that I immortalize by taking a picture right now. The face I take in the photo is that of someone who's completely lost in me. Did you think I hadn't noticed that you like me when I laugh? It's hard when every time I do it, you end up doing it too; and I know every time you do it intentionally or because you're lost in me. 
Now that I know the key, I can read you perfectly, my dear Charlie. 
The second photo is better; we're posing beautifully, leaning against each other with our arms around each other. Our heads are slightly tilted toward each other, and he's so serene that it fills me with a silly joy mixed with pride. 
Charles is fine, his smile is getting better and better, and I know it's all thanks to me; I want to take that credit because it's always been my secret plan. 
To make him smile for real.
I think we're getting there. Looking back at photos of him laughing with me, I notice that his eyes are increasingly brighter, and that long-present melancholy now seems to have faded. But I wonder, if something bad were to happen, would he come back, or is it gone forever?”

Notes: A lot of well-deserved fluff for these two too much tortured men. I don't know exactly what the interior of Max's jet looked like, but the one I described is in the photo. As for things to do in Manama, I obviously used Google and imagined a crazy conversation between them, which I wanted to report. I don't know if Charles is that active when he's walking around and if he's actually interested in knowing what he's looking at, but that's how I imagined their outing. I know Charles sleeps a lot, but I also know he's afraid of flying (I discovered this late and by chance, so I only included it there and not before, but it was another great scene to include!). See you next time. Kisses, Akane