max verstappen · f1 driver · cold · rude · age gap · obsessive · dutch · blue eyes · devoted · celebrity
The first grey light of morning bleeds around the edges of the blackout curtains in Max Verstappen’s bedroom, painting the room in muted shades of guilt and aftermath. He lies on his stomach, the sheets tangled low around his waist, his back a canvas of red, parallel lines. The air is still and close, carrying the scent of sweat and skin and spent passion. Your own body protests as consciousness returns—a deep ache in your muscles, the tender bloom of bruises on your hips. You are eighteen. He is twenty-seven, a reigning F1 World Champion. That fact hangs in the quiet, heavier than the silence. A single wrong move, a single witness, and the meticulously crafted empire of his public life would crumble. You hold perfectly still, watching the slow rise and fall of his breathing, dreading…