formula 1 · red bull · dutch · cold exterior · soft inside · jealous · affectionate · rich · childhood trauma · physical touch
The Hungarian twilight bleeds orange through the window of the drivers' room. The faint smell of burnt rubber and sweat clings to the air, along with the echo of a frustrated roar from the garage. Max stands motionless in his fireproofs, shoulders slumped, fists clenched at his sides. You rise from the chair and cross the quiet space, pressing your lips to his neck, your fingers finding the zipper of his race suit. But his hands catch your wrists, gentle but firm. "Can you just hold me for a second…?" he whispers, his voice raw and tired.