#maxdaniel

Max Verstappen, ordinarily a force of fierce, controlled energy, was a raw, untamed storm. His Alpha nature, usually reined in by years of discipline and the sheer demands of Formula 1, had snapped. He paced his driver’s room like a caged predator, the air thick with his agitated musk – aggressive, potent, almost suffocating.

His usually bright eyes were clouded with an instinctual haze, his jaw tight, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Every now and then, he’d strike a fist against the reinforced wall, the impact echoing through the thin partitions, making the mechanics outside jump.

Christian Horner stood at the door, grim-faced, a phone pressed to his ear. "He's not responding, Cyril. Not to anyone. He sent the physio running. Dr. Mark can't even get close enough to assess him without risking a serious injury." He paused, listening.

"Yes, I know. But it's an extreme reaction. We can't have him like this before qualifying." His gaze flickered towards the agitated thrashing within. "Tranquilizers? Are we really at that point?" Christian’s voice was laced with an unwilling resignation. Max was young, powerful, and utterly out of control. It was terrifying to see.

The medical team, led by Dr. Mark, stood several cautious feet away, their faces a mixture of fear and professional concern. "His pheromones are off the charts, Christian," Dr. Mark murmured, adjusting his glasses. "It's a full-blown Alpha surge. He’s perceiving threats everywhere. We need to sedate him before he truly harms himself or someone else."

Max’s growl intensified, a primal sound that vibrated through the floor. He caught Christian’s eye, a flash of red in their depths, and snarled, "Get out." The command was laced with pure Alpha dominance, vibrating with untamed power. Even Christian, a formidable Alpha in his own right, felt a primal urge to obey.

"There's only one person," Christian mumbled, more to himself than to Dr. Mark. He ended the call, then dialed another number, his thumb hovering over the contact. It felt like a desperate, last-ditch effort, but a necessary one. "Daniel, are you still at the track?" His voice was low, urgent. "I… I need your help, mate. It's Max. He's… gone feral."

A moment of silence on the other end, then Daniel's familiar, deceptively calm voice. "Feral? Max? What happened?" The underlying worry was palpable, even across the phone line.

"It's an Alpha surge. He's completely lost control. Doctors are talking about tranquilizers. We… we can't get near him. He won't let anyone." Christian swallowed hard. "Daniel, please. You're the only Omega on the team, the only one strong enough, gentle enough. Can you come?"

"I’m on my way," Daniel said, the line clicking dead. Christian let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Hope, fragile but persistent, flickered.

Daniel moved through the bustling paddock with a focused intensity that belied his usual chirpy demeanor. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a primal fear coiling in his gut – not for himself, but for Max.

He’d known Max was under immense pressure this weekend, the weight of expectation always heavy on the young Alpha’s shoulders, especially at Spa, a track he loved but where bad luck often seemed to find him.

But a full-blown Alpha surge? That was unprecedented. It suggested a deep-seated stress, a complete unraveling of his formidable self-control.

He pushed open the heavy door to the Red Bull garage, the sudden plunge into the chaotic energy doing little to dispel the rising tide of his own Omega instincts. Christian met him halfway, his face etched with worry lines Daniel rarely saw. Dr. Mark and the medical team stood by with their unsettling array of tranquilizer darts and emergency equipment. The air crackled with fear and the overwhelming scent of distressed Alpha.

"He’s in there," Christian said, gesturing towards Max’s driver’s room, its door slightly ajar, vibrating faintly with each impact of Max’s fist against the wall. "He’s worse, if anything. We can't… we can't risk anyone else."

Daniel nodded, his gaze fixed on the room. He could smell Max now, a thick, cloying miasma of aggression and terror. It smelled like a cornered beast, dangerous and desperate. Daniel felt the instinctive urge to recoil, to protect himself, but an even stronger, more fundamental Omega urge surged forward – the need to soothe, to calm, to nurture.

It was an instinct he’d fought to suppress for years, especially around Max. Their bond, their rivalry, their uneasy friendship… he’d always tried to keep a professional distance, to bury the deep, undeniable currents that ran between them. Now, those walls were crumbling.

He took a deep breath, trying to flood his own scent glands with calming pheromones, a silent promise of safety. He needed to be gentle, but firm. Max needed a steady presence, not another threat.

"Alright," Daniel said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Everyone stay back. Give us space." He looked at Christian, a silent plea for trust. Christian nodded, ushering the medical team further away, though their readiness for intervention was clear.

Daniel pushed open the door more fully. The room was a mess. A chair had been overturned, a water bottle lay spilled, staining the carpet. Max was a blur of agitated motion, his heavy boots sounding like thunderclaps on the floor as he paced. His eyes, when they landed on Daniel, were pure molten gold, rimmed with a terrifying crimson. A guttural snarl ripped from his throat.

"Get out!" Max roared, his voice distorted by the raw animalistic rage. "Get away from me!"

The command hit Daniel like a physical blow, vibrating through his bones, triggering his Omega's deep-seated instinct to obey. But Daniel was an Omega who had lived in Alpha spaces his entire life, who had learned to command respect through cunning and quiet strength. He stood his ground, letting his own calming pheromones slowly unfurl, a soft, inviting counterpoint to Max’s tempest.

"No, Max," Daniel said, his voice low, steady, a melodic hum that sought to cut through the noise in Max’s mind. He stepped fully into the room, closing the door softly behind him, severing Max’s connection to the perceived threats outside. The scent of Max’s fear and aggression was overwhelming, but Daniel focused on his intention, on projecting warmth and safety.

Max lunged, not at Daniel, but at the very wall beside him, slamming his fist into it again, the sound echoing painfully. He was trembling, a feral wildness in his eyes. "I said get out! Don't you understand? I don't want you here!"

Daniel took another slow step forward. "I understand you're hurting, mate," he said, his voice laced with empathy, the underlying notes of his Omega calm weaving into the air. "I'm not going anywhere. We're not going to tranquilize you." He kept his hands open, palms visible, a universal sign of non-aggression. His movements were slow, deliberate, unthreatening.

Max stopped his pacing, his head cocked, listening. The rage was still there, but a flicker of something else – confusion, perhaps recognition – began to break through the haze. He could smell Daniel’s scent now, a familiar mix of sunshine, fresh cut grass, and something uniquely sweet and earthy that always calmed the frantic edge of Max's Alpha. It was the scent of safety. Of home.

"You're not well, Max," Daniel continued, taking another step. "Let me help you." He extended a hand slowly, carefully, not reaching for Max, but merely offering.

Max’s eyes darted to Daniel’s outstretched hand, then back to his face. The growl was lower now, a rumbling vibration in his chest rather than an outright threat. He was still agitated, but the frenzied, desperate thrashing had subsided into a tense stillness. His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The pheromone cloud around him was still potent, but Daniel could sense the shift, the tiny crack in the dam.

"They want to take me," Max whispered, his voice raw, laced with the terror that had fueled his rage. "They'll sedate me. They'll… they'll put me down." He looked genuinely terrified, like a child lost in a nightmare.

"Nobody's putting you down, Max," Daniel reassured him, his own voice softening further. He finally closed the distance, stopping just a few feet from the trembling Alpha. "I won't let them. But you need to calm down, mate. You’re scaring yourself."

He reached out again, this time closing the small gap and placing a hand gently on Max’s shoulder. Max flinched, a jolt of pure animalistic alarm going through him, but he didn't pull away completely. Daniel’s touch was warm, firm, and grounding.

It carried the scent of his calming pheromones, a direct, unfiltered message of safety to Max’s overstimulated Alpha brain.

As Daniel’s hand rested on him, Max’s shaking intensified, but it was no longer solely from rage. It was from the desperate need for comfort, for contact. His head dipped, his eyes still wild, but he leaned into Daniel’s touch, almost imperceptibly at first. The scent of Daniel’s Omega was a lifeline, pulling him back from the precipice of instinctual terror.

Daniel moved closer, slowly, deliberately. He wrapped his arms around Max, pulling the trembling Alpha into a loose embrace. Max was stiff at first, his muscles like coiled springs, ready to fight or flee. But Daniel held him gently, murmuring soft, unintelligible words against his ear, letting his Omega scent wash over Max, soothing the raw edges of his anxiety.

And then, something powerful shifted. Max’s tense body began to relax, slowly, by degrees. His head dropped, his nose finding the crook of Daniel’s neck, burrowing instinctively into Daniel’s scent gland. Daniel felt the brush of Max’s warm breath against his skin, the sharp intake of air as Max inhaled deeply, desperate for the calming scent that promised safety and solace.

Max’s hands, which had been clenched into fists, slowly uncurled, finding purchase on Daniel’s back, grabbing handfuls of his race suit, holding on as if Daniel were the only stable thing in his chaotic world.

Daniel’s heart ached. This was the Max he knew, buried beneath layers of Alpha pride and competitive fire – vulnerable, intensely loyal, and deeply in need of connection. He tightened his embrace, pressing a soft kiss to Max’s hair, letting his own hidden feelings, his deep affection, pour into the gesture.

He tried to hide them, to compartmentalize, but in this moment, with Max so utterly broken and dependent, the barriers dissolved.

Max’s growls subsided into soft, guttural rumbles deep in his chest, like a purring cat. The aggressive musk that had filled the room began to dissipate, replaced by a softer, more content, though still potent, Alpha scent.

He was tucking his face further into Daniel’s scent gland, pressing his forehead against Daniel’s neck, breathing in the calming Omega smell like it was the air he needed to survive.

"Better, mate?" Daniel whispered, stroking a hand through Max’s hair, feeling the dampness of sweat, the tension slowly bleeding from his scalp.

Max only offered a soft hum in response, a needy, possessive sound that sent a shiver down Daniel’s spine. He wasn't just calm; he was clinging, displaying a level of attachment that startled Daniel, even as it warmed him to his core.

They stood there for a long time, Daniel holding Max, Max buried in Daniel’s neck, until Max’s tremors completely ceased. His breathing was still a little fast, but it was steady, no longer ragged.

Eventually, Max pulled back, though not completely. His eyes were still a little dilated, a faint residual haze lingering, but the angry red was gone, replaced by his familiar intense blue. He looked utterly exhausted, his shoulders slumped. "Sorry," he mumbled, his voice hoarse, embarrassed.

"No need, mate," Daniel said gently, keeping one arm wrapped around Max’s waist, the other hand still on his shoulder. "You just had a hard time. We all do sometimes."

Max blinked, looking around the dishevelled room, then back at Daniel, a flicker of awareness returning. He remembered the anger, the fear, the desperate need to lash out. He remembered Christian’s face, the doctors, the needles. He remembered Daniel. "You… you didn't let them," he whispered, his eyes searching Daniel’s face for confirmation.

"I told you I wouldn't," Daniel confirmed, offering him a soft, reassuring smile. "Now, how about we get you properly settled, eh? You look like you could sleep for a week."

Max offered a weak nod, his eyes drooping. The Alpha surge had drained him physically and emotionally. He felt utterly spent.

Daniel looked around the stark, functional driver’s room. It was not a comforting space. Instinctively, his Omega nature began to assess, to seek out ways to make it safe, soft, a place for an exhausted Alpha to rest. He needed to make a nest.

"Alright, stay here," Daniel instructed softly, guiding Max to sit on the edge of the massage table, which was thankfully still upright. Max obeyed without question, watching Daniel with a sleepy, trusting gaze.

Daniel moved with a purpose, gathering anything soft he could find. He pulled an unused team blanket from a cabinet, then looked around for more. He spotted a spare change of Max’s clothes – a hoodie, a comfortable t-shirt – and pulled them out, adding them to the pile.

He found a soft throw pillow that had been tossed aside earlier and retrieved it. He even took off his own team jacket, adding it to the growing pile, ensuring his scent was thoroughly infused.

He cleared a space on the floor in the corner of the room, away from the door, a secluded, protected spot. With gentle, practiced movements, he began to arrange the items – the blanket as a base, the hoodie and t-shirt piled around it, his own jacket added for extra warmth and scent.

He plumped the pillow, creating a soft hollow. It wasn’t perfect, not a true nest like Omegas built in their own homes, but it was the best he could do in a sterile F1 garage. It was soft, secluded, and heavy with calming Omega scent.

"Come on, mate," Daniel said, offering a hand to Max.

Max slowly slid off the table, his eyes fixed on the nest. A soft sigh escaped him, a sound of pure contentment, as he approached the inviting mound of softness. He hesitated for a moment, then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he sank into the nest. His body relaxed immediately, molding to the contours of the soft materials.

Daniel followed, settling in beside him, his back against the wall, Max’s head instinctively finding Daniel’s shoulder. Max immediately tucked his face back into Daniel’s scent gland, letting out another soft purr.

Daniel wrapped an arm around him, pulling the blanket up and over them both. The little space was perfect, warm and enclosed.

The tension that had gripped Daniel all day finally began to ease. He felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Max’s chest against him, the soft puffs of breath on his neck. Max was peaceful. He was safe.

Daniel lay there, listening to the muffled sounds of the distant paddock, the quiet hum of the garage. He had wanted to hide his feelings, to keep his professional boundaries intact. But here, in this small, makeshift nest, with a powerful Alpha utterly reliant on his calming presence, it was impossible.

He didn't just feel concern; he felt a profound tenderness, a protective instinct that went beyond friendship. He loved this intense, passionate, sometimes infuriating young Alpha. And in this moment, Max, in his primal vulnerability, seemed to return that unspoken affection.

Max’s breathing deepened, slowing to the even rhythm of sleep. Daniel felt the heavy weight of his head against his shoulder, the comforting solidness of his body. Soon, Daniel’s own eyelids grew heavy.

The adrenaline faded, replaced by a profound weariness. He closed his eyes, his heart full, the soft cadence of Max’s breathing lulling him into a peaceful slumber.

It was much later when Christian Horner cautiously approached Max's driver’s room again. The garage was quieter now, most of the crew having gone for a break or moved on to other tasks.

He hadn't heard a sound from the room in hours, which was both a relief and a source of quiet anxiety. He’d told the medical team to stand down, to give Daniel time, but a part of him still worried.

He gently pushed the door open, peering inside. The room was dim, the overhead lights off, only the emergency strip lighting providing a soft glow. He saw the overturned chair, the spilled water, the signs of Max's earlier storm.

Then his eyes fell on the corner.

There, nestled together on a makeshift bed of blankets, clothes, and a pillow, were Max and Daniel. Max was deeply asleep, his face peaceful, tucked into Daniel's neck.

Daniel, too, was asleep, his arm wrapped around Max, his head resting against the wall, a soft, content expression on his face. Max’s aggressive musk was gone, replaced by a harmonious blend of his own calmed Alpha scent and Daniel’s sweet, soothing Omega pheromones. It was an image of absolute peace, deep intimacy, and profound trust.

Christian felt a warmth spread through his chest, a quiet understanding dawning. He knew Max and Daniel had a bond, a complex rival-teammate-friendship. But this… this was something more. It was instinctual, a primal connection that had saved Max from himself. Daniel, with his unassuming strength and gentle Omega nature, had done what no one else could.

A soft, private smile touched Christian’s lips. He closed the door as quietly as he could, leaving them undisturbed. The world of Formula 1 was high-octane, ruthless, and competitive, but sometimes, even in the heart of it, the most profound connections were forged from the simplest, most human (or perhaps, most primal) needs.

Max, one of many omegan racers, started having… complications. He had Daniel, who he loved more than anything else, but he was a beta. Daniel had come to max after his retirement, restarting their friendship. Which turned into their relationship, which then turned into Daniel traveling with him in a mentor/lover/bodyguard role.

It started with Max refusing to go to the "therapeutic" mating centers. He was a mated man, he didn't want to hide away in some center under an alpha who he didn't know moaning for his mate. Then it was him starting to get stomach aches when he took his suppressants. And then Daniel noticed the changes in his scent, smelling like mildewed clothes and wet paint instead of his usual warm laundry smell.

The season ended with Max winning his fifth championship, a rush of media and soaking in the spoils of his work. And Daniel left a pamphlet open for Max to find, his research left open in tabs on his laptop. Pseudo pregnancy.

Max had always liked the idea of it. So showing up at a the clinic with Daniel in hand, he wasn't... scared. It was a simple procedure, a small balloon and some sterile solution and a little pinch to insert it. Max felt it the day after, his cervix ached a bit but the deeper feeling, in his brain, his entire system, he felt high. He couldn't help smiling as he laid in bed, hand over his lower stomach, he felt like he could completely relax.

They went back every 10 days to increase the balloon, to add to the weigh, the pressure. Max's system was more than welcoming to the idea of being pregnant, he knew it was fake but he felt like it was real. His body changed too, he didn't get any headaches, his heat came with a vibrancy that had Daniel more than happy to see again. And his chest, to Daniel's complete delight, got much heavier.

A side effect, something that would go away when the cycle was over. But Daniel enjoyed it while it was there, Max's soft nipples, the tissue growing dense and tight before, after some coaxing by Daniel's lips, the most precious delicious milk.

Daniel enjoyed it, getting to make Max feel good, just also seeing Max sat on the couch all warm from the shower with his pump, hand over his belly, he looked precious.

Then it was time to start getting ready for the next season. GP couldn't help but kiss Max's cheek and give him a cuddle, complimenting how wonderful he smelled, the mechanics, everyone who came around Max stopped to give him a sniff, wrist catching together as they all tried to savior the scent that everyone loved. Media came and went, and when they wanted photos of everyone, Max was coming to the end of his cycle.

Whispers spread like wildfire around the grid. Max pumped and stored it in a white fridge. And there was a lot. His hotel number was slipped on shreds of paper, Daniel blocking most of the questions of attention.

Fernando came to Max's hotel first, mostly to have a cuddle, omega to omega, and make sure everyone was being kind about his situation.

George showed up in the lobby, pointedly ignoring Max but pulling Daniel to the side. He left with a paper bag and a red face, Daniel rejoining Max for the rest of their lunch with a smirk.

Lance was more forward, pulling Max into a hug as they waited to take interviews in their team kits, Max's a little loose and oversized, asking if it was true. Max had nodded, smiling as he thought about it, how he knew George had showed up in a much better mood. Lance had been a little shy about asking, eyes on the floor as he asked if maybe he could try some. Max had agreed and told him that there would be some waiting in his hotel room.

Charles showed up with a smile and his pajamas at their hotel room, ready to cuddle Max through the bed. He'd weaseled his way under Max's shirt with a giggle, the Dutchman sighing happily as the alpha latched onto him. Charles fell asleep, mouth open against Max's sternum, hair a mess, and Daniel found them like that, having gone out for drinks with some of the other drivers. He looked at them for a long time before pulling out his phone for a few pictures before turning the lights all off and laying down on the couch, not wanting to mess up the little love fest.

Carlos found him at the airport, asking him if Max wanted to come over to his place. Max had looked at Daniel, waiting for a nod or a shake of his head, an opinion not a decision. "Lando doesn't want to ask, he had a chat with Charles. Something about bonding time" Carlos had said and Max had gone red in the face agreeing to come by soon.

Daniel had laughed at Max as he dressed himself in a loose button down with nothing underneath, saying they could just go with Max naked. Max had turned and said that wasn't what they were doing. But Max had to eat his own words when his pants were pulled off, Lando caught on his chest, lips to one side, hand massaging the other as he moaned in pleasure, the milk delighted on his tongue, Carlos sat between his legs, ready to appreciate him. Daniel sat behind him, purring in his ear about being such a good mama.

The day after the last clinic visit, when his insides were sore and he couldn't stop crying over being empty, he asked Daniel to stay around him. Because even if he was delighted to have people over, feed them, to be everyone's special little thing, to make everyone happy, he just wanted Daniel. The last of his milk dried up weeks before the first race, snuck into the driver's dinner in a metal water bottle, sipped from like a secret flask.