me, myself & i

They were finally alone, free of clothes and other obligations, when Daniel whispered:

“Don’t open your mouth once it’s in,” and Max let him put the bite mount with the GoPro into his waiting mouth, his teeth sinking into the soft silicone. It tasted weird on his tongue. Max felt stupid — both with the camera in his mouth and with want. “Or that thing will conk me on the head pretty hard.”

He joked about bum knees, then, taking a pillow to the floor with him, making himself comfy in between Max’s spread legs. Max tried to smile over that thing stuck in between his teeth and almost dropped it down at the slight hint of breath ghosting over his cock. His hands covered Daniel’s where he palmed Max’s thighs reassuringly. He breathed through his nose, rethinking the whole idea, bitten off moans muffled as Daniel’s mouth closed over the head of his cock.

On the screen, now, Max watches Daniel bob his head rhythmically, looking up at the camera, pupils blown impossibly wide. Max’s neglected cock twitches at the sensory memory aligning with the visuals, at the distinct, slick sounds blasting through the speaker. The video’s way too stable, it doesn’t convey how he shook to his very core, feeling Daniel tonguing his slit but the camera caught his stomach muscles jumping, like there was an electric current wracking through his entire body.

He wants to get off, bad. Low on his belly, a tiny pool of precome sticks together the wispy hair there and his need grows out of proportion, shaking him out of his skin. Max squirms against Daniel pressed, oh, so firmly against him, caging him, but his only reward are lips mapping the side of his jaw; he feels the shape of a smile forming.

“Oh, Max, I got something you will like,” Daniel said, awfully chipper, when Max first put the idea on the table and, next to it, Daniel plopped that plasticky, silicone contraption. “I used it to film myself play padel. That’s really neat. You just gotta hold it in your mouth.”

“Okay, sure,” Max answered, brushing off any of his scepticism. Staring at Daniel unblinkingly, he was unapologetically half-hard in his jeans. “Show me.”

Max never does what he doesn’t want to do. Simple. But he waits, frayed and breathless, one hand grasping Daniel’s forearm in a vice of a grip, the other scratching his bare side, almost taunting.

With an audible pop, on-screen Daniel moves out of frame and off Max’s straining cock. It makes Max’s hips jerk up off the bed, trying to follow the silky-smooth heat that wouldn’t be there to meet him. His cock slaps against his stomach instead, reminding how hard he is, still. Max whines. He remembers reaching out, after, to cup Daniel’s cheek with his hand shaking, thumb tracing over his spit-slick lips, then watches his own actions unfold on the screen. It feels loopy but so scorchingly hot, catching up to everything Daniel did to him. It’s worth reliving the reverie bright in his eyes when he moves back into focus.

The picture shifts; Daniel’s voice echoes from the speaker rather than from above Max’s ear — gimme that, come on. His mouth drops open the same way it did when Daniel carefully slipped the bite mount out his mouth and fit it into his. On the too-bright screen, Max stares at the reflection of himself, wide-eyed and pleadingly determined. Utterly gone.

“Now the best part,” the present Daniel adds, voice raspy. Max feels his hand snake around his middle, holding tight, fingers digging into his side. “Look. You’re so hot, fuck.”

Max’s body feels like it doesn’t belong to him, laid flat out on the bed but, at the same time, moving on the screen, crawling on his knees away from the camera. It’s enthralling, the languid close up to the curve of his body Max hadn’t seen, not this way — vulnerable, open; ready and inviting.

Daniel’s hand, the one with the rose tattoo, rests on his asscheek, digging into the meat of it, then the second one joins; Max gets spread apart, put on display for the audience of two. In the present, he gasps, and his legs fall open in a chain reaction. Laboured breathing pours steadily out of the phone speaker; Max watches his sensation become tangible in front of him.

The contrast of tanned skin next to Max’s pale constitution gets him first, second – Daniel’s cock dragging back and forth over his hole, already slick and shiny with lube because efficiency is Max’s second name. A pinprick of pleasure Max is still chasing oscillates between sweetness and pain, becomes more nagging, asking to be released and appeased. He grabs onto Daniel with both hands, anywhere he can reach, just like a man drowning, eyes relentlessly glued to the screen.

He knows what happens next; he’d welcomed the slow, deliberate stretch of Daniel’s cock sliding home, but Max feels properly drunk with it now, as if no one ever came close to fucking him before. His perception gets screwed up all the way — he’s achingly empty, unmoving, safe for fine trembling holding his body hostage, but he gets to watch and feel it happen all over again. Darkened cockhead breaching him, its girth inching past the pink rim, and with Daniel halfway inside, Max moans in unison with the past him on the screen.

“You felt so good, baby. So fucking tight for me,” Daniel’s whisper throws Max off-kilter. He turns his head just a fraction, catching Daniel’s eyes trained not on the screen but on Max himself, gaze just short of devouring. “Fuck, Max. You fucking ruined me.”

Max's stomach gives a tug.

Daniel’s a talker in bed, Max has learned over the years, being on the receiving end of his ramblings — dirty, sweet, always very Daniel. But he had that stupid bite mount in his mouth the entire time he fucked Max to his liking and it absorbed every drop of praise that never reached Max’s ears. He can only hear himself in the video as his body swallows the length of Daniel’s cock further, the view from above leaving nothing to imagination. Max doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice coming through the speaker; too wrecked, too eager.

Fucking come on, Daniel.

He repeats it out loud for a good measure, like a knee jerk reaction, and Daniel’s palm slides, agonizingly slow but abiding, down his belly, past his navel. Then it stops, resting in place. Daniel’s hand clutching the phone teeters and with it, the video does, too, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Max makes a noise, then past him follows with a plea of his own; Daniel is holding him close in the moment but there, in the reality on the screen, he’s thrust to the hilt, cock nestled deep in Max’s hole.

“Daniel,” Max mumbles thinly, blinking his eyes shut, mouth screwed into a frown. He’s on edge, split in two. When he pries his eyes open, with effort, on-screen Daniel is moving, rocking back and forth, shaking awake an overwhelming memory of his cock dragging fully in and out of Max, hitting the right spot and stuffing him full. He can’t take this anymore; begging it is. “Please. Fuck, don’t be a dickhead. Touch me. Please.”

Max thinks he might die like this. He'd leave so many questions unanswered: splayed on the bed, rock hard, watching himself get brought to the doors of pleasure but never let through them. From the vantage of Daniel’s mouth, the camera shows the flex and strain of his abs with each thrust he delivers, his cock disappearing in the clutch of Max's body, and the way Daniel squeezes Max's hips, leaving him — come morning — with purplish bruises; there is a deafening, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and Max sees his ass jiggle whenever Daniel’s hips slam into him, over and over again, front of his thighs slotting to the back of Max's. 

He wants to go back in time and tell Daniel to fuck off during that one moment he found to ask Max, camera in hand and his voice all heady — I’ll show you a good time if you don't come while I fuck you. Deal? It was the worst idea to grace both their minds but it was the best idea of all times. The jury's still out on Max's side. Daniel has had his fill already.

Long fingers wrap around Max's weeping cock, finally, and it becomes significantly trickier to pay attention to the screen but Max is determined to score such a win. Daniel delivers on his promise; Max doesn’t miss him matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he jerks Max off in fucking earnest. He cants his hips upwards with growing urgency, back arching off the bed, taut like a string. Daniel fists his cock, the glide wet and eased with precome that's smeared all over Max’s lower belly. His skin is on fire; his whole body, too.

Max swears, loudly and wholeheartedly, throws his head back, damning the rest of the video. There's a happy ending to it anyway — Max felt it trickle down the insides of his thighs.

Daniel's whispering hotly into his ear but a good chunk of his words drowns in the continuous ringing mingling with Max's moans, the rising tide of release creeping up to him before it sweeps Max off his feet for good.

He comes before getting to see the good part. But that doesn’t matter, not in the slightest, when he’s lived it already. 

Thighs quivering, his cock pulses in Daniel's loose hand and Max shoots over his chest, spurts of come splattering onto his skin. It's more than there has ever been before. His head lolls to the side and on the screen of Daniel's phone, suspended in the air by his sheer will alone, Max watches his used hole flutter over nothing. On-screen Daniel pulls back one last time and the tip of his dick leaves a clear, wet trail on Max's asscheek.

It knocks Max out; he lets go, collapsing into the softness of the sheets and the warmth of Daniel by his side. His presence lulls the roar in Max's head as it subsides, tension seeping out of his limbs, gradually, like a storm cloud dissipating in the sky. Max feels boneless, sated. Blind to his surroundings while his mind replays the flashes of the video, needling Max with the residual want.

“Fuck, you came so much,” Daniel sounds like he's in awe. It's a job well done to him. Max tries to keep enough air in his lungs to even his breathing, blearily watching the ceiling. “Means you liked it even more, huh?”

His head still spins with the change of perspective but Daniel's way too smug about what was essentially Max's idea. He just brought the right tools and the right attitude. And his dick.

Max wouldn't want to hold a GoPro in his mouth with anybody else. Honest. 

“Stupid question,” he huffs, not really meaning to, and lifts his head, pining Daniel with a pointed look. Daniel beams back at him, exhaling a giggle. He drops his gaze to the sticky, sweaty mess Max's body is, thumb drawing circles over his hip. Max shivers at the cursory touch, eyes flitting over Daniel's profile and the lovely ridge of his nose. When Max speaks up, his tone softens: “Hey. Daniel?”

His tattooed hand swims into Max’s line of sight, fingers coated in his come. Max gathers enough coordination and grasps Daniel by the wrist, awfully delicate, then brings his hand towards his face. He keeps the eye contact between the two of them steady, like his hold on a steering wheel, going through turn after turn at breakneck speed. Daniel's eyes overflow with wonder.

Max takes two of Daniel's fingers into his mouth at once, lets them slip out a bit before he swallows down to the second digit and starts licking them clean. Come and sweat melt into a heady mix Max could start to crave hard enough to heedlessly abandon all caution.

"Ah. Fuck," Daniel chokes out amply.

He drops his phone on the bed, the replay of the video cutting off, and looms over Max, squeezing the back of his neck with a hand that’s not occupied. Max sucks harder; proves a point.

Then Daniel’s back in his own bed, sitting up, holding his phone. It could have been a dream, but it wasn’t.

It’s Monaco, so Daniel’s being trotted out for his third driver, make-the-videos-actually-watchable PR duties. Which means —

GP finds him first. Not one for avoidance. He sits down next to Daniel in hospitality, the espresso he sets on the table smelling rich and warm. It’s unsettling to see those hands on someone else again. Daniel’s foot taps rapidly against the chair across from him.

“Body swap,” GP says simply, then takes a sip of his coffee. “Shouldn’t happen again, should it? Best to move on.”

Something about his tone — clipped and faintly condescending, like when Max is being a dickhead on the radio — makes Daniel’s teeth grind together. Like Daniel was going to run and tattle to GP’s wife or something. “Good morning,” he says, and then, “It might happen again. Fifteen percent chance or something, right?”

“It won’t,” GP says. Daniel wonders if he learned that — deranged, grandiose belief in his own will from Max, or if that’s why they —

“Does Max know?” Daniel asks, the words blurting out. Diana from marketing walks by and waves at them.

GP pauses. Daniel remembers the feeling of Max’s warm, wet mouth — then wonders if they’re thinking about the same thing. “I don’t want to distract him,” GP says finally.

“From the race?” Daniel asks, letting his eyes slide over and over until he’s turned facing GP. “Or from you?”

GP levels him with a look that would have probably had Daniel quaking in his boots a couple years ago. But Daniel’s older now. Maybe not wiser, but not so scared anymore, after everything.

But all he says, after Daniel holds his gaze for what feels like an eternity, is, “Make good choices, Daniel.” He fucks off again with his tiny cup before Daniel’s face has finished flushing.

ok so before we get into max and nando lore we need to establish some CRUCIAL Nando Alonso historical context. When max got called up to f1 Nando had already been racing f1 cars for 14 years which first of all.😐 And like I think its fair to say the last .. umm lets be kind and say, 6 he was literally going thru like the 7 circles of hell. Ferrari had just finished doing their ✨thang✨ ((completely obliterating a drivers soul)) to the point Nando was like 'remember that team that kickstarted my descent into madness and, aha, coincidentally, the unstoppable success of the kid who beat me his rookie year and that I literally tried to snitch on and had like a spanish spy stay wid me in the garage because I was SO normal about it and hinged and not at all very um , racially threatened. Yuh ok lets try that again. Oh and its their first year wid Honda too thats PERFECT yes thats exactly what I need I'm a GENIUS'. So in 2015 he signs wid Mclaren and literally during TESTING gets fucking zapped by his own car, allegedly, c0nks the f out and swerves that mf right into the wall. We're talking testing.

Listen. Im trying to establish that by the time our fav anti christ gets to the big show Nando has been going thru it for a minute. His teams consistently fail to deliver, nothing ever goes his way, his car is trying to kill him, and like, cannot stress this enough, lewis hamilton is very successful. Lew hammy is so successful he might become thee most successful. Nando is normal about that.

So here comes the babbiest of all evil babies and nobody knows what his deal is, he talks funny and hes weird and has no regards for his public image. But he's promising. So promising in fact that he could threaten afore mentioned most successful random individual who beat Nando his rookie year. And Nando is like. vengeful adoption. Vengeful child care. Nando's imprint on baby Max is both a long term evil plan and also just like. Immediate realization that Max is different like he's different. ((Not like Lewis is different but lets not get into that rn lmfao)) Max isn't gonna be a media darling. Max isn't gonna be a celebrity. Max is gonna be an f1 champion. And Nando has spent 14 years subjecting himself to cars far below his skill so he can keep being an f1 champion. So while somebody like Seb vettel is like 'why that baby aint got no coat on' ((for two minutes before the baby bites him and hes like no fuck this baby)), Nando is like, somebody give that baby a gun. Nando gets asked about Max's readiness for f1 and says, 'I think before we say anything we should wait to c what he does'. And then when 'what Max does' turns out to be like, borderline crime, in many occasions, actual crime, Nando is still like see, he's perfect ☺️

Like for example spa 2016, Max pulls a defensive move on kimi that has people calling for his teenage head for like the 3948th time that season and Nando straight up says no he didnt do anything wrong. And bro pulls out receipts he explains that shit wid the usual Nando rulebook rizz. For max. A teenage war criminal.

Lets talk Spain 2016 tho. Spain 2016 is actually super important for max/nando lore. Max's first race wid red bull-- and his first win. Start of something new. Inevitable. He absolutely packs Seb on turn 3, same exact way Nando had 3 years before. In 2016, though, Nando's far away from Ferrari and a race winning car. Honda PU gives up and he DNFs. Still hauls ass to congratulate the kid

Its very sweet and kinda tragic and a perfect reflection of their careers at that point. Max bursting on the scene wid the potential of a thousand suns, Nando basking in the sunlight from his place on the sidelines. Its not enough but its still good because its Max and Max is his guy.

They also play soccer together once for that charity match thing in Monaco and Nando kinda stunts and yk frustrated soccer drop out max must've felt some type of way about that.

These are from hungary 2017 and I have no idea whats happening or why they're in a bean bag enclosure but I think they're important

On Max's side of things, I think Nando's camaraderie must've caught him off guard. Getting into f1 at 17 ur not really expecting to make any friends lmfao. But Nando had his back from day one, and loudly, too, and I think for somebody like Max, who was raised on loyalty and commitment and respect from an overwhelming paternal figure that gave him everything except stability, that must've meant a lot to him. Especially because it was Nando like. Max oozes respect for that pensioner bro, in a way that I dont think he does for anybody else in the game. His rookie year Max said Alonso was his biggest inspiration because he kept at it despite not having the car. Yk Max didnt have the car for a few years either. He sees Nando as somebody whos been to battle, just like Nando saw a lil soldier coming into f1.

When Nando had his nicki minaj brb moment in 2018 Max said he regretted never having the chance to race against him. He'd raced against Lewis and Seb, but never Nando and Nando was the one he used to watch on tv racing those two. Meanwhile old man is giving interviews telling people Max is the the best driver in f1 and the only reason he bothers put on f1 those days is to watch Max. ((😐))

2021 is the apogee of many things and one of them is definitely max/nando lore. Nando is back. Max has the car. And Nando will be seated. And he will watch. And when Max does win, Nando calls it 'justice'. Its so fucking intense and deranged but rn we're just focusing on the narrative and appreciating it for what it is: Nando couldnt do it, but he knew Max could, and Max did. His guy did.

I swear they've been honeymooning for almost 2 years now. Nando stopped giving a fuck a long time ago but lately hes literally like this is a Max ONLY event fuck the rest of yall. First Max's 2 titles are worth more than Lewis' 7 because something something deranged pensioner noises. Then Max has talent that you cant teach and hes always been like that since go karts and he's going to be one of the all time greats. Also we're both villains and we're not politically correct ((white men are insane)). And then Max is like yes Nando is my good friend and he talks to me and I like to ask him about stuff and I take him on my plane to races and we get on well despite our age difference because age doesnt matter. 🙂police.

Also literally one of the most important gifs of all time from last year when Max won the wdc shut the fuck up thajnk you

Which brings me to one of the most important podiums of all time. Like the lyrical poetry of this shit are u joking

This gonna be the longest season ever and who knows if it’ll happen again already in Baku or whatvr maybe it won’t but like. We’ll always have Australia 2023.

Also in the post race presser there was such a quintessential max/lando moment I need to break it down to finish this and like go jump off a building lol

So here u have classic old heads + verstappen post race presser where they get to gentle bully sweet boy until he blushes. This time it’s like Nando talking some shit about how he has to leave because he’s annoying and lewis kinda joins in like ‘he’s still talking’ and Max is all squinty and ekfkwmdk it’s fucking cute ok whatvr. But what I really love about it is that Nando interrupts Max and gives him shit but then makes sure to put his arm behind Maxs back like. Don’t get it twisted. Hes my boy. He literally does the ‘this is a pro max post’ banner irl

Anyway here’s a cute compilation bye