shmaapi 2.0

Oscar stared at the message. Somewhere in the background, Love Island continued playing on his TV. 

Max Verstappen 22:14

But don't be stupid

I'm bored

Oscar Piastri 22:18

What do you want me to do about that?

Oscar watched as ellipses appeared as Max typed, then disappeared. Then reappeared. 

Max Verstappen 22:21

I know what you need

Oscar pulled at the collar of his hoodie, his neck suddenly hot. 

Oscar Piastri 22:21

Oh? And what's that?

Oscar watched as two blue check marks appeared beside his message. One minute passed. Then two. 

What the fuck what the fuck. 

Oscar threw his phone to the side, grabbing a pillow from the spread behind him to hug it to his chest. What was Max doing? They didn't text like this. Oscar might get a don't worry about it mate after a bad race weekend, and if he was lucky, Max might react with a thumbs up to some meme Oscar sent to the drivers groupchat. But not . . . this. Not the banter. Not the flirting. 

His phone vibrated, and Oscar swore he strained a muscle as he leapt to answer it. 

Max Verstappen 22:25

Come for a drink

What the fuck. Oscar's fingers hovered above his keyboard. He typed out an answer. Deleted it. Typed it again, backspacing before he was halfway through. How do you even respond to that? 

Max's texts came in quick succession.

Max Verstappen 22:27

Cmon mate

You've been so uptight lately

It's not good for the championship

It was that last text that broke Oscar's trance. Right. The championship. 

Oscar Piastri 22:29

Fuck off. 

Maybe one drink. 

Oscar knew he was making a mistake. He knew it when he slid into the passenger seat of Max's sports car a few minutes later, and he especially knew it when he didn't question where they were going until it was too late. 

"What the fuck, Max," Oscar balked at the curb, the neon sign advertising the strip club above the door bright and incriminating. 

Max drew to a stop, looking back and forth from Oscar's incredulous look to the waiting entrance. He shrugged. "They've got good drinks here, mate. And cheap." As if that was a good enough explanation, he disappeared inside, leaving Oscar alone and conflicted on the side of the street. 

Oscar could have walked away then. Could have gone back to his empty apartment and shitty reality tv. Could go jerk off in the shower and have his lights out before midnight. 

Oscar sighed, and followed Max inside. 

The club was deafeningly loud. Base reverberated throughout Oscar's body as he trailed after Max through the crowd. It was crowded, and Oscar fruitlessly ruffled his hair in an attempt to obscure his features, achingly aware of who he was. Max didn't seem to mind, confidently guiding him through the throng. Oscar kept his eyes on those broad shoulders, making it a point to not look at the stage. At the male stripper poised around the pole. Oscar didn't look at the way the man's tiny, sequined thong flashed with the light of the disco ball above.

The booth that Max led them to was in a corner, partially secluded by a beaded curtain that gave an illusion of privacy. Oscar balked when he saw a few men from Max's sim racing team already there, swallowing a bolt of self-conscious fear as introductions were made. He tried not to make his anxiety show as he quickly shook their hands, but none of them batted an eye at his added presence. Oscar sat with his back to the room, running his sweaty palms along his thighs. The rest of the guys didn't seem to take notice of him as they returned to their conversation that Oscar could barely make out over the music.

Oscar avoided looking at Max, who sat across from him. He was leaning leisurely against the cushions, spread thighs straining in those goddamn skinny jeans-

A tray of shots were presented, and Oscar gratefully accepted his. He barely waited for the others to toast before throwing it back, quickly enough he barely tasted the liquor. The next round of mixed drinks Oscar sipped more slowly. The alcohol was good- Max had been right. After all, this was why they were here, wasn't it? Oscar could pretend it was ok. All he was doing was enjoying a good drink with a friend at a nightclub, it didn't have to mean anything-

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in."

Oscar nearly jumped out of his seat. A stripper was standing beside him, holding the beaded curtain aside as he looked at their group coyly. Oscar cast a nervous look around, gauging how the mood shifted. Lulham was grinning like the cat that got the cream, patting his knee as the stripper sauntered over to take a seat. Benito looked on appreciatively as the stripper started a slow grind, and Max- Max was staring at him. His gaze met Oscar's over the brim of the gin and tonic he had poised before his mouth, a small smile at the corners of those full lips.

Oscar forced his gaze downwards, raising his forgotten drink to quench his suddenly dry throat. This was something Max and his friends did- often, it seemed. Their conversation casually continued, the lapdance that Lulham was receiving as natural as all hell. 

Oscar took a sip to hide the burst of heat he felt upon his cheeks, nearly choking as he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He looked to see an attractive stripper at his side. 

"Hello, handsome."

Oscar swallowed thickly. The man took a seat next to him. The club lights made his smile fluorescent against dark skin, his naked chest oiled and glittering silver with what looked like a sort of body spray. A knot curled inside Oscar's chest.

"Ever gotten a lap dance?"

Oscar shook his head dumbly. 

"You want one?"

"I-" Oscar looked at Max. Another stripper had come into their room and was now straddling Max's lap. "I don't-" The stripper's g-string did nothing to hide the flex of his ass as he ground up and down Max's thigh. "I don't- I mean, I'm not-" Max's eyes found Oscar's over the man's shoulder, blue and piercing. 

"Relax, sparky," the stripper beside Oscar laughed, trailing one coquettish finger along Oscar's thigh. "I go easy on new-timers." 

Oscar bolted to his feet, shaking his head quickly. "No, sorry, I'm- I-" Biting his lip to stop from saying something stupid, Oscar turned and pushed through the crowd. The flush of bodies around him tightened the breath in his chest, the pounding music echoing the beat of his palpitating his heart. Oscar zeroed in on the red exit sign, the flash of bare skin in his peripheral vision making his vision spin. He shoved open the door, letting it bang against the brick wall as he stalked down the short steps into the cool night air. 

Even when the door swung shut, the beat of the club throbbed in his temples. Swearing, Oscar stalked across the short alleyway to lean his forehead against the cement wall, giving measured breaths to slow his heart. 

He should have never answered Max's texts. Should have never gotten in his car, should have never come to this goddamn gay strip club- 

"Mate, are you alright?"

Oscar swore, lurching around as Max stepped out from the club. He crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. The single light above the door encased him in a halo, casting his face in shadow so Oscar could not read his expression. 

Oscar only scoffed in reply, crossing his arms in a mimic, leaning back against the wall behind him. Casual. 

"Mate-" 

"Fuck you." The curse burst forth, making Max stop in his descent down the steps. He didn't say anything, and Oscar took that as enough of an invitation.

"Why did you bring me here, Verstappen?" He stalked forward

"Mate, it's okay. Like I said," Max shrugged, the nonchalance making Oscar's heart twist in his chest, "the drinks-"

"'The drinks are cheap.'" Oscar spat, taking another step closer. "You've got bottles on your yacht that are more than my contract. Fuck that." He stopped at the bottom of the steps. At this angle, he was forced to look up at Max's face through the scant inches between them. "Why did you bring me here, Max?" 

Max's expression softened. "Oscar, I think-"

"You think what?" The words tore out of Oscar's throat, his voice tight with anger. "You think that I'm a- that I'm some kind of- that I'm like Lando?"

"Oscar-"

"No," Oscar shook his head, throwing out his arm to gesture harshly. "I know you're a four-time world champion, but you can't just- you can't mess with me like that." He swallowed, hating how his voice broke. "If this is some, some game you've constructed with your buddies to fuck with me? Now that Red Bull's finally pulling through in the championship, you wanna-  wanna play gay to fucking taunt me? Well fuck. You. If you think-"

Oscar didn't register the kiss right away. In one moment, Max had grabbed his face and yanked him forwards, forcing Oscar onto his tippy toes. He instinctively grabbed Max's biceps for balance as Max descended towards his mouth.

They held that position for one long, agonizing moment. The gears in Oscar's brain stalled like a broken clock until Max's forearm tightened around his waist to pull him closer. An imperceptible groan fell between them, everything ticked back into place. Oscar's mouth opened, the slip of Max's tongue against his making his knees buckle. Max had one strong hand on his lower back kept him upright, the other gripping deep in his hair and forcing Oscar's head back to deepen the kiss further. His stubble was rough against Oscar's cheek, the taste of gin and heat making him dizzy. 

When they were forced apart to catch their breath, Oscar rocked back on his heels, his calves burning from where he had stretched upwards to meet Max's mouth. The step backwards put space between them, the cool air swirling down his front where he had been pressed against Max's body. 

Max was breathing heavily. A satisfied smile was on his lips, and standing elevated on the step like that; the light above the door giving him a golden halo, Oscar thought Max looked like he was on the podium. Like he had won something. 

Fuck. 

"No." Oscar shook his head quickly. "No," he repeated when Max opened his mouth. "I can't. I'm not- I don't-" Words knotted in Oscar's throat, threatening to choke him. He turned away so he didn't have to look at Max's face. At Max's no-doubt smug expression, knowing that he got the best of Oscar yet again. 

"Oscar-"