Formula One Shots

Lap on lap

° Charles and Max

° Smut

*Alternate universe where Charles and Max are teammates*

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POV: Charles

— So guys, I know it's not the best but for this video one of you is gonna do the steering, and the other manages the pedals!

— Okay and? I've done that before, it works, I don't see the problem? I say, a bit surprised of the face the media manager is pulling right now.

— Yeah well... We actually don't have enough time or materials to create two different set-ups so... You'll have to be in the same seat, kinda?

Throwing a glance to my teammate, I quickly turn my head around again, trying to rebel against this.

— What? No, there's no way we can, it's already shit if we don't do both at the same time, but one of us is going to see nothing, and...

— It's fine, the recognisable voice of the Dutchman startles me, and I hate the way he's smirking.

— Yeah it's only like one lap, come on Charles, we really tried but... yeah, just do it please.

Annoyed, I go to sit in the sim chair, but Max's voice interrupts me again, a bit more serious this time.

— We've not decided who does what though.

— Hey, you were fine with this, I get to choose, that seems fair to me, I reply, already upset with this shit.

— No, we should play as teammates, you remember? He says with an irritating smile.

Of course I remember, this is what we just got scolded for in the meeting, because of some kind of incident on the track. But it's always been like that between us, on and off track we've always had some pretty heated arguments, and yeah sometimes it got messy. I wouldn't trade our relationship for anything though, because even if I don't like to admit it, I still feel that kind of attraction towards the Dutchman.

— Fine, rock paper scissors? Winner gets to choose?

He accepts, and as soon as I make the scissors sign, I know I lost. His playful fist bump only makes me feel worse, as I have to look away to hide from his mocking expression. This man is insufferable, truly.

— I'll do the pedals, come on.

He then obviously sits in the chair, probably very comfortably as well. Resigned, I walk slowly towards him, sighing louder than what I wanted.

— What, are you really this upset? The irony in Max's tone is too much and I just ignore him, quickly sitting between his legs.

The man at least had the decency to leave me a bit of space, but even then with how narrow the seat is I find myself squished between his thighs. In another context, this would have me feeling pretty aroused, but to know it's fucking Max Verstappen, it's... different. I guess. I hope?

Suddenly understanding how bad of a situation this is, I can only look up and smile for the camera that has just been turned on, hoping this will be over quickly.

I can feel the heat radiating all over my back, and everywhere both of our bodies touch. Thankfully, the screen is soon lit and I can focus on getting the steering wheel to work.

— Erm... Charles, I can't reach the pedals...

The unusually shy voice of my teammate coming from behind sends a tingle in my stomach, something I'm definitely not used to feel around him.