# 𝗠𝗔𝗫𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 : 𝗖𝗢𝗖𝗞 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 ─── THE FRIEND IN YOU
MASTERLIST⠀MAXTOBER⠀REQUEST ME⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀AO3
THE RESULTS IN THE GRAND PRIX has got him so riled up. max is frustrated with his position, checo isn't even in the race by the last few laps, and the media is out for him. he needs something to calm him down
TAGS . . . # semi-public sex, brat max verstappen, needy max verstappen, demanding max verstappen, light dom/sub, top sergio perez, bottom max verstappen
WORD COUNT. . . # 1.6k
────── AO3 VERSION
It's not fair. Max is doing good–he knows he’s doing good. Yet, at the same time, the car is not doing anything fucking good. So what happens is that he is bordering in P10, losing his fucking life on the turns and needs to battle Williams for a place. All the while Checo gets taken out at the last few laps.
The entire thing is stupid, it’s unfair.He wants to act calm, to at least look calm, but he is fuming with rage right now. Right now, the least he needs is the media twisting his words and actions again to something more extreme. He calms himself. He’s well and collected.
But once not a single lens is even in his direction and he’s in Checo’s room, he fucking loses it all.
He doesn’t give the man anything to say. He pushes him to his couch and their lips lock. Checo tries to say something, but he refuses to let him up.
Between kisses, Max is panting hard as he undresses the rest of his suit. It’s forgotten and completely dismissed.
Checo still needs to be undressed. Pulling away, he moves his lips down to unzip his suit with his teeth.
“Max,” he groans, “what are you doing?”
Max huffs as he uses his hands to push the man’s fireproof down. “I need something.”
“Come on…” Checo sighs, nthough not pushing Max away when he pulls out his cock.
It’s rushed, it's messy. Max doesn’t want to hear anymore complaints when he wraps his lips around Checo’s cock.
“Fuck,” Checo groans, hips jittering a little into Max’s mouth. He breathes out, eyes unwavering to his lips wrapped around to the base of his cock. Max drools, swallowing around as much as he can.
With Max guiding him, Checo’s hands come to pet his head. Checo’s rough fingers don’t tug at Max’s hair, rather they softly tangle itself in it, making its way to the short strands and to keep it there.
To Checo’s confusion, Max doesn’t move. He doesn’t really do anything, in fact. Max only spreads his legs more on the floor, relaxing his legs apart so he can kneel comfortably. His cheek is pressed against Checo’s thigh, finding comfort in the heat and the intimacy of it.
Checo isn’t really surprised. He hums, leaning back so that he can get comfortable. “Max,” he coles, placing one hand on his cheek now. “You’ll get a better race, they will fix it.”
Max acts like he’s not responding, but he hears everything. It gets Checo to only dote on him more.
“Is that why you want me like this?” he asks, “You want me to make you feel better?”
That gets him to moan.
“Okay,” says Checo, “I’ll stay like this, okay? But I want you to move up later, I wanna see your face.”
That gets Max to blush. He doesn’t say anything in return but pushes his head to nose at Checo’s pubes. Both of Checo’s hands hold either side of his face, keeping it still while Max noses at his hair. The small notion gets him to relax a little more, passing off the growing discomfort from sitting like this.
Staying like this is calming. The dullness of being on your knees, of letting someone be so close to you without even giving anything in particular. Max is so calm right now he could almost forget about—
He tongues at Checo’s cock and tries to bury his head deeper, getting the thoughts to leave his head. Checo pets him like he knows what he just did.
Tugging on his hair, Checo gets his attention, “None of that, Max. You want to stay still, right?”
Max doesn’t respond. Checo calls him a good boy under his breath.
It takes moments for Max to do anything again. His brain is completely mush as he kneels. He’s not even sure what time it is and he’s almost worried if anyone’s going to come and find them.
Without saying anything, Checo pulls his head off. He whines. “Checo—”
“Max, come on, we need to go soon.”
“I don’t care,” he whines, leaning over him and practically humping his leg. “Checo, I fucking want you right now and I was enjoying it..!”
“I know,” he sighs, caressing his face. “On the jet, okay? I can take a ride with you to Monaco and I’ll just take another jet back to Mexico, okay?”
It bothers Max a little that he’s making Checo go two flights insead of one. But whatever. He suggested it first anyways.
He’s pulled onto his legs and forced to come outside, acting like nothing is wrong. There are way less people here now so it doesn’t really matter to him if anyone sees him cling onto Checo.
On the jet, he asks for them to be left alone. The stewardess leaves without question.
Checo sits on the couch and Max climbs on top of them. Their jeans get discarded quickly, not even worn properly out of pure impatience. Or at least Max wasn’t, as his was unzipped while Checo was tidier than him.
When he gets the both of them stripped down, he’s reaching for the lube in the jet. Checo knows already that Max stocks up every flight. Max is keen to let it be warmed properly, so Checo doesn’t complain when he just pours it on top of his hardening cock.
“You gonna stretch yourself?” Checo asks, not getting a response when Max silently strokes him. “Okay,” he smiles.
Positioning himself on top, Max slowly takes Checo inch by inch. It’s satisfying, in a way. Checo isn’t even fully hard yet and he still feels so fucking good inside of him. He moans. The feel of Checo’s half hard cock growing inside of him feels so good.
He doesn’t move anymore, simply embracing Checo in his arms as he sits on his lap.
There’s a strong sense of dominance that comes out of Checo. Because when Max is pliable like this, Checo spoils Max in affection.
With one hand on Max’s hip, Checo strokes his back with the other. “Good boy,” he moans. “You feel good like that? Feels nice?”
Max whimpers, pressing his face against Checo’s neck instead to muffle his moans. Checo continues to whisper into his ear, “My good boy, just taking me like this. So sweet for me, so good.
“Fuck, Max,” he moves in his seat a little, rubbing against Max’s insides as he does so. “Don’t be stressed, okay? We can do better next time. I know you. I know that you’re so good, my boy.”
“Checo…” he moans, grinding down on Checo’s lap a little. His cock is trapped between their clothes chests, teasing against the fabric. “Stop saying—fuck—stop saying that.”
“Saying what?” he asks, shifting his hips a little. “Max, I’m not going to stop you. You’re never gonna make me say no.”
“Checo,” drawls out, panting a little as he humps Checo’s chest. “You’re so fucking good. Don’t—ugh, you’re so…”
He can’t find his words. Max is lost on himself as he moves a little, wanting to get just a bit more friction to cum. As much as he wants to stay still, Checo is petting him and calling him all these cute fucking names while he’s getting desperate for his cock.
“Ngh, yeah,” he moans, pressing down on Checo’s lap and getting him to groan, “yeah… I want you like this, Checo.”
“And you have me, Max,” he whispers, pressing kisses on his cheek. “Take all you want.”
Max doesn’t even hide anything anymore. He stops sitting idle and starts riding Checo. His little moans come out with each thrust, rutting against Checo’s shirt with his neglected cock.
His legs close around Checo’s waist. He whines in his ears and bites on the skin, stifling as he cums all over their shirts. He’s not so sure if Checo cums yet, so he rides him properly. Pulling out until only the tip is left, and slamming back down just to hear Checo let out a pained moan.
“Max—” he moans, holding his hips a bit too tight. “You’re going to push yourself.”
“No!” he says, pushing his hands off him. “Let me make you cum, please, just cum inside of me!”
He cries a little as he feels his prostate getting abused as his oversensitive cock is twitching. Checo is letting him do whatever he wants. He’s just letting Max act like some sort of fleshlight to satisfy Checo’s needs.
With each passing moment, Max feels like he’s going to cum again. He’s crying on Checo’s cock now, feeling his cock twitch uselessly on his stomach. “Checo,” he moans, “Checo!”
It doesn’t take long for him to cum inside of Max. After that, Max stills, using his hand to pump himself quickly to cum again on his wet shirt.
Checo sighs as Max pulls out, the cum dribblings down to his thighs. “Tissues.”
Everything in Max is used as he reaches for the tissues on the table. Wet tissues, of course. It’s not like Max was fully unprepared for this.
It’s Checo who wipes the both of them over, letting Max just slump against his body to rest. “Next time,” he starts, “if you want to be comforted, maybe don’t do it when we’re in public.”
“It doesn’t seem to matter at all.”
“GP walked into the room and you didn’t even notice.”
Oh. Fuck. Max blushes and hits Checo in the chest, complaining about how he didn’t even fucking warn him. Checo doesn’t even say anything to defend himself.
🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . may have went a bit crazy on this one . if it feels like there's sergio perez was about to be called daddy in this fic at any point, know that i was going to actually write that in . idk why i didn't . ˎˊ˗ ᝰ.
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