āYouāre really not going to talk to me?ā George asks, catching Max waiting at the bar. His sunglasses are pushed up into his hair, and the skin under his eyes is pale, faintly luminescent, where the sun hasnāt reached to tan. āItās not that big of a boat.ā
omegaverse maxiel for anonstie who asked for role reversal dead heat!
Danielās blowing a bubblegum bubble and everything about it looks off. The candied colour is more purple than pink. The stretch is too deep, the membrane too translucent, like it should have already burst. His lips look soft, not puckered enough to hold it. He says, āEarth to Macks,ā and he says it like that, like the x is three distinct letters, triple lip shapes.
āWhatāyes.ā The gum is gone now, tucked somewhere behind Danielās big grin, his white teeth.
āYou good, homie?ā
āYes,ā Max repeats. He thinks if the bubblegum would taste like bubblegum or if the bubblegum would taste like grape. He imagines the imprints of Danielās teeth in it.
āYeah, nah, you donāt look so good.ā
āYes. No. Iām next week supposed to.ā
āToā¦ā Daniel glances over at Max because heās driving, because theyāre in a car. Maybe itās the dash lights making his bubblegum grape instead. āMax, are you pre-rutting in my whip?ā He laughs as he says it, rolling down a window and waving a hand in front of his face like thereās a stinky smell, but Max gets injections in his armpits every four weeks so he wonāt smell like anything. Daniel reaches over and digs blindly through the glovebox, elbow close to Maxās knees. He says, āCatch,ā and flicks a bottle in his lap. Max drops it twice.
Itās alpha-branded scent blocker. Itās stupid, because regular scent blocker works on everyone, so this kind is half effective as normal. It probably costs double. Itās stupid that Daniel buys it. Max puts it on anyway, rolling the cold metal ball over the pulse of his wrist. He drops the little cap somewhere, gone forever.
The car is red because the traffic light is red and Daniel is frowning now. āWhat are your rut plans, Max? Reckon itās come early, yeah? The hotel?ā
Thereās only one cycle hotel in Monaco. Daniel doesnāt go there. He told Max once that he has an arrangement and that heās exposed to heaps of bed bugs too much as it is. Max doesnāt know if his arrangement is a person. Maxās arrangement is a person.
āJamie.ā
āJamie,ā Daniel repeats raunchily. āJamantha. Jamiella. Jamigail.ā
Max says, āWhat.ā
āText her and Iāll help get you in, hey? Iāll be, like, your bellhop. Ding ding.ā
Ding ding. Luggage in the boot because theyāre driving from the airport in Nice. Max didnāt feel good on the plane.
He texts Jamie, Starting early can you come? But it makes less sense because there are more mistakes and incorrect corrections. Jamie heart reacts which means yes.
The indicator pop-click-pops.
Max asks Daniel, āDid you spit it out?ā
Daniel says, āHuh?ā
Max imagines the grape bubblegum in a foil wrapper somewhere, soft but saving the shape.
āAre youāā Daniel breaks off into a high laugh. āLike, do you have an omega scent aid or something?ā
āWhat?ā
āDid you open a bag of Jamieās clothes orā¦?ā
Max frowns. āI donāt have his clothes.ā
Daniel gawks at Max instead of looking at the road, dangerous. āJamie is a guy?ā
Max frowns double. He canāt keep track if this was one of the things he should not say while also keeping track of potential foil glitters in the car. Itās probably fine. āYes.ā
Daniel rolls down both of their windows. Max thinks the bubblegum is back againāgrape grape grapeābut Danielās only holding his breath, cheeks puffed up. His fingerprints are indenting the steering wheel. Max imagines the leather bruising grape-purple over all the prints.
They get back to their apartment building and Daniel carries all their things, balancing the curve of Maxās helmet bag on the jut of his hip, the least alpha thing about him. People say he has omega hips and heās flattered, brags about it. Itās stupid because Max knows he wouldnāt be like that if he were an omega for real.
Jamie opens the door as Max is still fumbling at the keypad, Danielās hand gripping the back of his sweaty shirt as he sways. Max remembers, belatedly, that Jamie smells like an alpha and looks like Daniel.
Daniel says, āOh, heyāum. Ha. What?ā
Jamie ignores Daniel. He looks Max up and down and says, sympathetically, āFuck dude,ā spreading his arms wide where theyāre extra alphay ike heās been to the gym.
Danielās hand fists the material of Maxās shirt. When Max tries to step forward, he gets pulled back.
āSorry,ā Daniel says. āSorry, sorry.ā But he doesnāt let go. āSorry.ā After a suspended moment, each of his fingers release the bunched cotton sequentially, number 3 pinky the last.
Jamie gives Daniel a judgmental look and shuts the door on his face.
But Daniel doesnāt leave. Max knows because he can feel it in the memory of his gripped back still, can sense it through the wood between them as Jamie strips him down and gets him off because heās too far gone to wait. He comes harder than he has maybe ever and Daniel punches the wall behind himāyelling into something, maybe his own fistāand then walks too quickly away.
1.5k of george/toto, re: the great canada thigh pat and george's little show of emotion
George reads his draft back, taps a finger against the side of the screen. He needs to post it before the plane takes off, knows he needs to leave it behind him in Canada instead of dragging it forward into the new week. The plane is already starting to taxi up the runway.Ā
He breathes in, counts to ten, breathes out, closes his eyes. The post is fine ā the comms team already approved it. He just needs to hit publish. He just needs to get over himself. It had been his idea anyway, even if his motivation had been aimed at avoiding a grid drop in Monaco rather than actually wanting to drag himself publicly over the coals. The injustice of it is still curling sourly in his stomach, and he thinks without meaning to of the last embarrassing apology he wrote in Totoās PJ, years ago now. I shouldāve handled the situation better. Emotions run high in the heat of the moment. I expect more from myself. I will come out of this a better person.
George didnāt know if Toto was thinking of Imola too when he insisted George fly back with him instead of taking the commercial flight he had originally been booked on. He feels a lot older now than he did then, his post-race joints aching in a way he couldnāt have imagined in his early twenties, but when he looks back at the desperation he felt fighting for that one point, the time doesnāt feel as significant as heād like it to.
Before he can think about it any longer, he makes himself publish the post and then turns off his phone, watching the screen until it goes dark.
āDone?ā Toto asks, and when George looks up, he discovers that Toto had been watching him the whole time he had been sat stewing.Ā Ā Ā
George nods once, terse, and tries not to let his face give anything away. He hadnāt cried when Toto had come to console him in the paddock, and he hadnāt cried in the media pen. He wasnāt going to now either.Ā Ā
āGood,ā Toto says, and he leans forward in his seat until his elbows are resting on his knees, closing the space between them.Ā
The plane feels quiet. On the way to Montreal, it had been full ā Kimi and Carmen and Totoās kids and half the team, everyone still bubbling over with the high of having the best car. George had been too, sure that Canada would be good to him like it had been before, sure that he was about to put all the baseless speculation about his talent to bed. Now, itās almost empty, save Susie and Carmen sitting together at the front of the plane. George catches a second of their conversation and realises that theyāre talking about Carmenās home reno plans for their new place in Spain, a slice of normality that feels so divorced from his current train of thought that itās like a physical intruder in the small cabin.Ā
āHow can I help put this behind you?ā Toto says, still calm. Over Totoās shoulder, Carmen is showing Susie the architectural drawings on her iPad, pulling up colour swatches, and George has a sudden, intrusive memory of standing at the side of the track watching the rest of the grid fly down the straight. He had counted them as they had passed, calculating the positions lost, the points he had fought for desperately vanishing in mere seconds.Ā Ā Ā
āYou could find me a battery that doesnāt die,ā George says, before he can think better of it. āKimiās seems to work just fine so far ā maybe we could try that one.ā
āGeorge,ā Toto says, admonishing like he had been over the radio.Ā Ā Ā
āSorry,ā George says, a reflex, but he doesnāt know why heās still apologising for himself. It shouldnāt be up to him to apologise all the time. He can feel the frustration rising in his chest, unstoppable. His eyes flick to Susie and Carmen again, irritation inching further up his neck. He had been so good for so long, locking away the part of him that wanted to snarl.Ā
Theyāre still taxing, but Toto gets up anyway. Thereās a second where George thinks Toto is just so sick of him that heās going to go sit with Susie and Carmen, but instead of moving towards the front of the plane, he moves towards the back, reaching for the door to the bedroom. George doesnāt move until Toto says come, and then he goes, like a trained dog, unbuckling his seat belt and stumbling when the plane makes an unexpected turn on the tarmac.Ā
āSorry,ā George says again when the door is closed behind them, but now that theyāre in private, George is forced to consider why Toto asked him to come. If it was to admonish him in private for taking things too far, for acting childishly, or if it was. Or if it was because ā He feels the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and sits without meaning to.Ā Ā
Toto is looming over him now, arms crossed over his chest, but when he speaks again, his voice is gentle. āI asked, how can I help put this behind you? A real answer, please.āĀ Ā
George swallows and his eyes flick down before he can stop himself, resting on the buckle of Totoās belt. He thought he had outgrown this. He had thought he had learned better. He makes himself breathe in, counts to ten again, and then looks back at Totoās face.
āI know,ā Toto says, and when the corner of his mouth twitches up into a small smile, George feels something inside of him unknot. When he had looked out from the podium in China, seeking reassurance, and Toto hadnāt been there, he had thought ā he had thoughtāĀ
Suddenly, Totoās fingers are threading through his hair, his hand cupping the back of Georgeās head, slipping down until itās resting at his nape. He swallows, feeling Totoās fingers at the sides of his throat. God, he ā he wants it. He wants something, and he can get it. Itās there in front of him now, he can have it. His mouth is watering, and when Toto brings his other hand up to cup Georgeās cheek, it falls open, and Totoās thumb slips inside, pressing down on Georgeās incisor.Ā
Heās panting now, all the unspent adrenaline in his body suddenly fixed at one target. His hands curl uselessly on the bedspread for a minute, but why, when he can have it? Why wait, when Toto has all but said? He reaches up and finds Totoās thigh, the fabric of his trousers soft over solid muscle.Ā
For how long theyāve gone in between, the routines are easy to fall back into, his fingers inching towards Totoās zipper by memory. Itās a jolt, then, when he doesnāt get far, a jolt when he finds himself suddenly thrown back against the bed, his head hitting the mattress.
āWhat are you āā George starts to ask, looking down to see Toto getting on his knees. Heās so tall that it looks almost ridiculous, all of his too-long limbs trying to fold up smaller than they ought to go.Ā
Toto doesnāt answer. He just gathers Georgeās wrists easily in one hand and keeps them locked against Georgeās chest, effectively pinning him to the bed. He must be able to feel the trapped-bird flutter of Georgeās heart, and George feels himself flush. Heās still hard, the line of his dick against his trousers unmistakable with the way Toto has him splayed, but a cold wash of reality has come back to him. Carmen and Susie are just outside. The plane is going to take off any minute. If someone were to come looking for them āĀ
He squirms, tries to fight a sob as it leaves his throat, but Toto doesnāt seem to notice. Heās efficient with Georgeās flies, and a second later, heās taking the head of Georgeās cock into his mouth, and then thereās nothing George can do but lie there and take it.Ā Ā
Reluctantly, George has to admit that Toto is better at giving head than he wouldāve expected. He takes George easily, his tongue working steadily as he works up and down the length of him, and George thinks of all the times it had been the other way around, all the time he had spent at the foot of Totoās bed, silk sheets pooled around his feet. Thinks about how Toto had never offered.
George is still making noises he doesnāt want to be making, and itās mortifying when he feels tears start to leak down the sides of his face, running down his skin until they get lost between his hair and the bedding. He twists his wrists, but Totoās grip is still strong. Heās too tired all of a sudden to stop his thighs from twitching, the weight of the weekend suddenly settling around him.Ā
He cries out again when he comes, a noise that comes from somewhere dark inside him, somewhere suddenly unleashed, and heās still panting when Toto pulls back, letting Georgeās softening cock fall back against his thigh.Ā
George closes his eyes and listens as Toto moves around the small room, hears him spit, hears the water run. It seems impossible that heās going to wake up in Monaco, the cycle of the race weekend starting again.Ā
He breathes in, counts to ten, breathes out, and feels the surface beneath him lurch as the plane finally starts down the runway. The landing gear whirs as it tucks the wheels up into the body of the plane, the tarmac already growing distant. Thereās a silence then, the weightless feeling things only get when theyāre looking up, and he grits his teeth through it, starting to gather up the edges of himself.
with my thanks to @officialmood for helping me brainstorm the important question: does toto wolff suck dick. we decided yes.
reaching the part of the race where i'm furiously etching the foulest of maledictions against the drivers running in front of my fave into my roman curse tablet. by hera i wish his horse goes up into a puff of smoke i hope this charioteer gets struck by lightning mid-race
š Franco Colapinto (ARG) Alpine F1 Team. 21.05.2026. Formula 1 World Championship, Rd 5, Canadian Grand Prix, Montreal, Canada, Preparation Day. (Alpine F1 Team)
