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The engine roared under him. The car gripped the asphalt like it was made for him alone. Max locked in. Eyes forward. Hands steady. He had no space in his head for anything else. Not the crowd. Not the noise. Not the flashing lights.
Until the comms clicked.
“Car looks good,” a familiar voice said. Smooth. Warm. A voice that did not belong in this headset.
Max’s mouth pulled into a grin inside the helmet. “Lewis.”
A soft chuckle came back. “Who else.”
Max took the next corner with ease. His focus never slipped. His chest was warm though. His husband was on the pit wall. His husband was watching him through the data. His husband was wearing his colors.
The radio popped again. “Beautiful through sector two. Keep it up, love.”
Max’s laugh filled the comms, short and rough. “Copy.”
That was it. No more words. He could not spare them. Not when he was pushing the car to its edge.
But his hands felt steadier. His foot pressed harder. The RB24 flew across the track like a beast unleashed. His lines were sharper. His braking later. The car sang under him. And all he could think was that Lewis was there. Watching. Talking to him. Calling him love in front of the whole damn world.
Purple sectors lit the timing screens. Fans screamed. Cameras swung back and forth between the track and the pit wall. The broadcast could not help itself.
Lewis Hamilton. Eight time world champion. The greatest of them all. Sitting in Red Bull gear on the pit wall. Wearing the headset like it belonged to him. Calm as ever. Beautiful as ever. His curls spilled out from under the band. The chains around his neck caught the sun. His sunglasses slid down just enough to show his eyes glinting with pride.
The crowd forgot about everyone else.
When the session ended, Max slowed the car down. His heart still raced. His visor was fogging with the heat. The engineer was talking in his ear but he barely heard. He was already grinning under the helmet.
He pulled into the garage. The mechanics swarmed. The car hissed as it cooled. Max pulled the wheel off and climbed out. The cheers hit him instantly. He lifted his hand in a quick wave, but his eyes were already searching.
And there he was.
Lewis stood at the pit wall. Headset still around his neck. His Red Bull jacket still zipped halfway down. The crowd screamed his name again. The cameras caught every detail.
Max shoved the helmet into a mechanic’s hands and strode straight toward him. He didn’t stop for anyone. Reporters shouted. Flashes blinded him. He didn’t care. He only wanted Lewis.
Lewis met him halfway. He looked smug. Infuriating. Perfect.
“How was that,” Lewis asked. His voice was low. His mouth curved in a slow smile.
Max reached for him without thinking. One hand around his waist. One hand pulling him close. He kissed him right there in front of the pit wall. Hard. Firm. Without hesitation. The paddock erupted. Fans screamed so loud it shook the air. Cameras clicked in a frenzy.
Lewis laughed against his lips. Soft. Warm. Happy. He let Max hold him. He tilted his chin up and gave the world the image they all wanted.
When Max finally pulled back, his grin was feral. His forehead pressed to Lewis’s temple. “Best pit wall I’ve ever had.”
Lewis smirked. “You were flying.”
“Because of you,” Max said. It was the truth.
Laurent stood a few feet away with his face in his hands. Helmut muttered something about distractions. The mechanics tried and failed to hide their laughter.
But Max didn’t care. He had nothing to hide. He slipped an arm tighter around Lewis’s waist and turned them both toward the garage. He let the cameras catch everything. His sweat soaked suit. Lewis in his colors. Both of them walking side by side like they owned the paddock.
The reporters screamed questions.
“How does it feel to have Lewis Hamilton on your pit wall?”
“Lewis, how does it feel to be in Red Bull gear?”
“Max, is this the secret to your pace?”
Max only smirked. “Of course. Look at him. Wouldn’t you go faster too?”
The garage exploded with laughter. The crowd roared again. Lewis rolled his eyes but his smile never faded. He leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to Max’s cheek, and whispered, “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” Max shot back.
Lewis hummed. “Too much.”
They disappeared into the motorhome soon after. The noise of the paddock tried to follow but the door shut firm behind them. Inside, away from the chaos, Max leaned against the wall and pulled Lewis into him again.
Lewis set the headset on the table and looked up at him with that maddening glint. “Did I do well.”
Max pressed a kiss to his mouth. Slow this time. Gentle. “Perfect.”
Lewis’s laugh filled the room. “You’re going to ruin me.”
“Already did,” Max murmured, kissing him again, hands slipping around his waist, holding him close like he would never let go.
Outside, the world was still screaming. Still buzzing. Still on fire with the sight of Lewis Hamilton in Red Bull colors.
Inside, Max only cared that his husband was in his arms.