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The first time it happened, Max didn’t really understand what was going on. All he remembers is that he got out of a shower, wrapped himself in a warmed-up fluffy towel, and kind of felt like he wanted to curl up in bed and whine needily until somebody came to pet him.
The need passed, so did 2016, and the second time it happened, just as unexpectedly, Daniel was around. New Year’s hangover barely beginning to dissipate, Max still didn’t let out a peep, but he must’ve looked mopey enough because Daniel gave a very on-brand, “Aww, you feel sad, Maxy?” and ran his fingers through Max’s hair.
That’s when Max realised that being petted was actually not at all the full extent of what he was after.
January 2018 was kind of expected. And it was definitely bad. When the desperation hit, Max was alone and kind of lonely, equal parts stressed and excited to start the circus anew, and he let himself whine a teensy bit, mostly because he was just unable to help himself. Something felt unfinished, or maybe badly started, kind of like a packet of sweets being ripped open all wonky.
Martijn was visiting the next day.
He held Max’s wrists above his head, entire body weight crushing Max into the mattress, and fucked all the noises right out of him. It wasn’t perfect, but it scratched the itch enough for Max to feel vaguely embarrassed right after. He had sworn Martijn to secrecy, and that was that.
The year after that is impossible to forget, because Max had Charles already. And Charles was so annoyingly observant - still is, really - that Max barely had to make a sound to have Charles crawling up and over him, confusion written all over his face.
“Chéri?” he had asked, eyebrows pinched and palms soft where they cupped Max’s face, and really, it was everything Max had wanted the first year. The noise that ripped out of him was a little more needy than he would have liked, a little more guttural and raw and clingy than he ever would have admitted to being in actual words.
Charles saw right through him anyway. Maybe he understood better than Max had had up to that point.
He cooed in Max’s ear, soft, sweet things in rolling French and accented English, hips snapping bruisingly hard until Max came all over the pillow under his hips, sobbing and jerking and clutching Charles’ hand to beg for more. And Charles gave him more. Several times over.
For the first time, Max felt like he got a clean cut and a fresh start.
Then came the wondering year, 2020, where Max started thinking that maybe, possibly, he should talk to someone about this. Surely it wasn’t normal that, exact like clockwork, the start of a new season needed to be denoted by a good rough fucking for Max to switch into the right gear.
“It’s just a reset, chéri,” Charles mumbled, raspy and exhausted after everything that transpired in their bed, one arm thrown over Max’s waist to spoon him.
“Reset?” Max scoffed, half offended and half embarrassed. “I don’t need a reset.”
“Well…” Shifting, Charles pressed his hips into Max’s sore ass, and instead of hissing, Max went limp. Or, limper.
“Nothing wrong with it if you do,” Charles finished in a hum, pressing his mouth to Max’s shoulder.
That kind of stuck with Max, to be honest. Nothing wrong with it, if everyone was having fun.
And god, were they having fun. All the uncertainties about 2021 were thick in the air, but what did it matter to Max when he had Charles dragging orgasms out of him until Max cried. What did anything matter when Charles pushed two fingers into Max’s oversensitive hole and rubbed tight circles over his prostate until come dripped down his cock and Max was shaking hard enough to scare Charles for a moment. Nothing mattered, not properly, with Max’s brain hazy, soft whines sufficiently forced out of him, muscles pliant, soul soothed.
It was perfect. Is just so, so perfect.
Until one summer’s day when Charles, purring and sticky post-sex, opens his big dumb mouth.
“Chéri?” he says, soft lips pressing kisses along Max’s shoulder.
“Mmh?”
“What would you say if I suggested inviting someone else to your reset?”
Frowning, Max turns his head to get a glimpse of Charles’ face.
“What do you mean, someone else?”
“Just…” Charles trails off, chewing on his cheek. ”Someone to help me make you feel good, I think.”
“Why,” Max grins, squirming to his other side to look Charles in the face. ”You’re feeling inadequate? Ow!”
“You’re very mouthy for someone still loose from my cock,” Charles grumbles, soothing where he pinched.
“Hmpf.”
“And no. I can take care of you just fine. I just thought… “ Gently, Charles squeezes Max’s waist. ”Well, maybe if there were two of us for you, we could make things very good. I want you to feel good, chéri.”
“You wouldn’t be jealous?”
“No. You’re mine.”
Max sighs contentedly, nuzzling into Charles’ chest. “Yeah, I am.”
“Would you consider it?” Charles whispers.
Max… doesn’t really need convincing, to be completely honest. His dick is interested, trying to get hard despite the sex they’d just had, but the idea alone is so tempting. Two pairs of hands taking care of him when the desperation hits, two cocks to wipe his head blank, two mouths talking, kissing, moaning-
“I’d like it, I think,” he rasps, rather tellingly. ”Do you know who-?”
“Mh. Carlos?”
“I’m not getting fucked by Ferrari twice.”
“Rude,” Charles huffs, making Max grin. ”Maybe Martijn would fly- why are you blushing like that, what did I- oh. Oh. Oh my god?”
“Shut up, shh. No.”
“Chéri.”
“I said shh. Seb?”
“Well. You didn’t want Ferrari?”
“He isn’t, anymore,” Max stresses, offended. ”And if anything, he was Red Bull first.”
They are both friendly with Seb. Max has always had more of a teasing, test-me kind of relationship with him, but that could be a lot of fun when they… well. Charles is soft with his words, rough with his hands. Maybe Seb would be the opposite? Maybe he’d taunt, push, needle Max over the edge? Maybe-
Charles gives a hum, a dreamy little thing that really just lets Max know he’ll have to smack him in a second. “Two Red Bull golden boys in my bed.”
“Shut up, Charles.”
—:—
Seb says yes.
—:—
They rent a house on the cliffside for a week. Max had no idea when exactly to expect things to hit, but it turns out that Charles has been tracking his resets like a diligent boyfriend might track his girlfriend’s periods. He jokes about it to Charles as they set their suitcases down and gets a long-suffering, extremely fond look in exchange.
“Of course I know, silly baby,” Charles says, scritching up Max’s spine. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I’m always available when you need me?”
“I just thought you loved me,” Max grumbles, blushing.
“I do.” Charles presses a kiss to Max’s cheek before he goes to look through the fridge. “And I plan accordingly. Can you text Seb to bring some eggs? I guess they forgot to stock them.”
“Sure.”
Distantly, Max wonders whether he should find it weird, texting a friend about eggs when they are both fully aware of what’s coming. It’s an objectively strange situation, isn’t it, meeting out here in a cosy little stone house with gorgeous sea views and an inordinately huge bed upstairs to fuck Max through his start-of-year ritual.
Max texts bring eggs, Seb replies with a thumbs-up like the crotchety elderly man he is, and half an hour later, there are both Seb and two ten-egg cartons in the house.
“Great, thanks,” Charles says instead of a hello, taking them from Seb’s hands to squirrel them away and into the kitchen.
“Hey there, senior champion,” Max greets, grinning wide. “Did you need help?”
“Well, junior, I thought that’s what I was here for,” Seb grins back, letting his bags fall on the floor, and then he’s dragging Max in for a hug.
“And here I thought Charles invited you as decoration,” Max hums, clapping Seb’s shoulder. “Or maybe out of some elderly initiative? I hear loneliness is a problem for people your age.”
“Careful who you’re calling old and pretty, young whippersnapper,” Seb drawls as he pulls away, scruffy cheeks dimpling. “Charles is about to teach me what makes you tick.”
“Someone needed the easy way in, I see.” Tilting his head, Max lets his eyes trail from Seb’s face down to his feet and back. “Whatever happened to hard work and dedication?”
“Oh, chéri, I think you’ll see plenty of hard work and dedication,” Charles’ voice teases. A warm arm sneaks around Max’s waist and pulls him back until he comes flush with Charles’ chest. He feels Charles’ words puff through his hair; it makes him shiver. “Hi Seb, sorry, needed the eggs for cooking. Tea and planning?”
“Sounds lovely,” Seb says, blue eyes full of mischief as they zero in on Max, very obviously looking for his reaction. Max doesn’t want to give one, but, like,
“Planning?” he checks, turning to Charles in confusion. “What-?”
“Planning,” Charles agrees, a wicked sort of expression sitting on his face. “Why don’t you unpack our stuff, baby? And Seb and I will go put the kettle on.”
Grouching, Max goes.
They're at it for good two hours, leaving Max alone in the living room to wonder and imagine while they laugh conspiratorily and hum their heurekas like they're strategising for a championship.
Maybe Max made a grievous mistake, agreeing to all this.
—:—
He did not make a mistake. Hundred percent.
It takes two days for the itch to sink in.
“You alright, little darling?” Seb murmurs, gentle fingers carding through Max’s hair where he’s all curled up on the sofa, blankets wrapped around him like a nest, soft pillow in his arms to nuzzle into.
His skin is a little tight, heart beating just slightly off rhythm. The sunlight coming in is soft, sweet, and good god, he wants.
“Shut up,” he grumbles out of instinct, straining up into Seb’s touch anyway. It might just be his shitty memory, but it feels like everything’s hitting harder than last year.
“Is it the little darling? Because I’ve got loads more where that came from.” The amusement in Seb’s voice is unmissable. ”Pocket-sized princess. Sweet baby. Sunshine of mine.”
“I swear to god, Vettel,” Max warns, but it really is too breathy to have any sort of proper impact.
“Swear to Charles. I’m under strict orders to be on my best behaviour.”
“And that includes embarrassing me until I combust?”
“No,” Seb whispers, fingers sliding into the hair on Max’s nape. Slowly, slowly, he tightens his hand into a fist.
Max’s body lights up like a bonfire.
“What, then, you st-” Max whimpers mid-word when Seb tugs again, and his hips kick forward to almost grind against his thigh. Christ, he forgot how suddenly the need sets in, how fierce everything burns when he gets like this.
Seb coos, scritching soothingly over Max’s scalp. “Nothing much. Just that I’m supposed to treat you very right. Little darling.”
The whine that pours out of Max is more desperate than any he remembers making so far, reset or not.
He nestles deeper into his blankets, hauling things closer until he’s surrounded, and that includes Seb also, includes pulling on his sleeve until he scooches in. Max wraps himself around him, face pressed to Seb’s thigh.
Maybe Max imagines it, but it sounds like Seb’s breath hitches.
No matter, though. He’s still petting Max’s hair, scratching gently over the top of his spine, and the only thing that Max really needs aside from that, the one person who knows how to make this better, is,
“Charles,” he blurts into Seb’s jeans, a mewl stuck behind his teeth.
“Louder,” Seb prompts, something steely propping up the softness, and he digs his nails into the back of Max’s neck.
“Charles,” Max whines, embarrasingly high and very sharp, the sort of noise a wounded animal would make. There’s a creak and a thud and some hurrying footsteps, and then Max is being kissed.
“Hi sweetheart,” Charles says, bright like the sky outside, and his cheek is warm when Max stretches out like a sunflower to touch him.
“Need you,” Max begs, shaky fingertips finding the collar of Charles’ sweater, tangling in it tight. “Please-”
“I know, baby, I know.”
Leaning down, eyes dark and adoring, Charles kisses Max like Max belongs to him, deep, possessive, protective; just the way Max wants it, a burning sensation swallowing him up.
“Gonna get you to bed, hm?” Charles murmurs, smoothing down Max’s arm and setting off shivers. ”So we can do this properly.”
”Yes,” Max nods dazedly, lips tingling.
“Can I get a kiss, too?” says a different voice.
Blinking slowly, Max tears his eyes off his boyfriend, and oh.
Yes.
Seb is here, too, isn’t he?
He was being nice to Max.
He was also being a tease, which Max does not appreciate.
Jutting out his chin in defiance, Max turns back to Charles and mashes their mouths together, hungry and desperate and just a little smug when he feels Seb’s leg jump against him.
“That’s new,” Charles murmurs, tilting Max’s jaw just so, licking inside until the mewl behind Max's teeth gets unstuck and spills out.
“You mean he’s not half-feral usually?” Seb inquires like they’re talking about a cat, his fingertips drumming over Max’s side in a way that makes Max squirm.
“He’s the sweetest for me when we do this.” Max purrs at the words, clinging to Charles. “Endlessly needy, sure. But sweet.”
“Should I be hurt?” Seb jokes, petting Max’s waist, and there’s just the littlest tremor to it.
Max doesn’t like that, either.
Pulling away from Charles kind of hurts, but he does it anyway to glare at Seb.
“Just gotta work hard enough,” Max challenges, going for firm and missing by a mile; Charles always leaves him half out of it and wanting for more. “Not gonna kiss you just ‘cause you asked, senior champion.”
“Mm, not even if I say pretty please?” Seb tries, a flash of a relieved smile exchanged by his voice going low and ringing as he shifts forward.
With a small noise, Max presses back into Charles, practically lying between his legs by now.
“I would, you know,” Seb whispers, leaning in until their noses are nearly touching. God, Max didn’t realise how intense it would feel to have Seb’s pretty blue eyes this close. ”Would say all the pleases your heart desires, just for a kiss from a lovely thing like you. What do you say, little darling?”
“I-” Max stutters, wrapping his hand around Charles’ shin. His heart is beating so fast, Seb’s gaze hot on his skin, and he’s not used to them being like this, no, not used to it at all. He wants to fight him a bit, something inside needling him towards making things difficult, but also-
Charles sneaks a finger under his chin, tilting his head up.
“Would you like a kiss, baby?” he asks, eyes steady. His finger travels down over Max’s throat, tapping between his collarbones.
Breath shivers in Max’s lungs, air punching out along with a soft noise.
He gives the smallest of nods.
“Go on, then,” Charles encourages, patting Max’s side.
Rather timidly, clinging to his blankets and to Charles, Max turns back to Seb. And almost immediately, the shyness transforms into something fiercer.
“Go on, then,” he parrots, cocking his head in an impatient invitation like he wasn’t the one stalling.
“Well,” Seb drawls, grinning. Max can feel his next words brush over his lips, as teasing as his tone.
“I hope,” Seb shares in a sly whisper, gaze flicking over Max’s face, “that you realise we’ve got some very nice things in store for you, little darling.”
And he slots their mouths together, taking over Max in the span of a second.
Groaning, Max digs his fingers into Charles’ leg, hips straining upwards without his say-so.
Seb is so hot. Must run hotter than Charles, heat emanating off him to drive Max just a little crazier. His tongue is confident when it comes probing and searching inside Max’s mouth, and Charles’ arm winds around his waist to keep him still, Seb’s fingers returning to his hair to do the same, leaving Max a very happy, very squirmy hostage.
It feels so good, all of it. Their touch on Max’s too-tight skin, the hard cocks Max can feel pressed against his back and thigh, the kiss that’s dissolving him and wiping away some of his need, it’s all brilliant. Almost perfect. If only they’d-
“More,” Max pleads into Seb’s mouth, trying to jerk up. Charles lets him; he helps him, really, by pressing between Seb’s shoulder blades to bring him down onto Max and giving him a place to rut against. “Yes, fuck.”
“Charles said you’d get desperate,” Seb hums, thumb on Max’s chin to keep him ready for more kisses even though he’s pulling away to take Max in. “And you do look it, I have to say. Every January, hm? Must be lots of fun.”
“More than you can imagine,” Charles rumbles, squeezing Max’s hip.
“All in due time, I guess.” Expression dark, Seb swipes his thumb over Max’s bottom lip, and everything in Max clenches. “Gonna take you apart, bit by bit.”
“Seb,” Max breathes out, hips stuttering. He can feel the wet patch in his underwear and can’t even be embarrassed about it.
“We are, baby,” Charles seconds, cooing softly even as he slides his hands under Max’s shirt to palm roughly at his pecs, dragging a whimper out of him. “Promised we’d make you feel good, didn’t we? Start the year off right for you.”
“I think we did.” Taking over, Seb rucks the shirt up to expose Max’s chest, grinning wildly when it’s all on display for him. “Look at you, flushed pink. Does it go all the way down to your cock, darling? Will you be rosy all over by the end?”
“He will,” Charles confirms happily, scratching down Max’s ribs and sides, then back up again. It makes Max’s nipples pebble, and Seb hums in appreciation before his warm, wet mouth seals itself over one, sucking hard.
“Fuck, fuck,” Max keens, arching up in fits and starts, cock aching in his pants. “It’s too- christ.”
“Is it?” Seb checks; taunts, really. He swipes the pad of his thumb over the bud, nail just catching, and Max cries out. “I’d say it’s not enough. Charles?”
“Not enough,” Charles agrees. Lifting his knees around Max to immobilise his arms, he collects Max’s hands as well to press them down, out of the way.
It leaves Max horribly, wonderfully exposed.
“Perfect,” Seb murmurs and bites.
“Ah!” Writhing, Max keens loudly, jerking as much as Charles’ hold and Seb’s weight on him allow. “God- Seb- Charles-”
“Just the two of us here, chéri,” Charles teases, sweeping over Max’s wrists. “Chin up.”
Panting, Max listens and lets his head fall backwards on Charles’ chest.
God, this might kill him.
“Lovely,” Seb praises, palms wrapping over Max’s ribcage, and bends back down.
His teeth close so slowly, barely a pressure at the start, then a definitive sharpness, and then it hurts, hurts, hurts.
“More,” Max chokes out, trembling between them, and Seb lets go only to do it again, tongue flicking over the tip when he pulls the bud away from Max’s body, tugging enough for Max to sob a little. “I want… oh. Ah!”
“What, baby?” Charles murmurs, keeping up his calming touches while Seb plays some more. He’s so steady behind Max’s back, the perfect support.
“Gonna come,” Max croaks, heavy breaths intermingling with punched-out groans. “Gonna- please, more.”
“Wouldn’t kiss me when I asked, but you’ll come for me even without asking, little darling?” Seb says, and it almost sounds like praise. The way he sucks bruises to Max’s chest definitely feels like praise. “Who knew you could be so cute and needy. I wonder how pretty you’ll sound when we-”
“Seb,” Charles warns, leaning down to press a kiss to Max’s sweaty temple. “No spoiling things.”
“True.” Seb grins like a shark. “You’ll find out soon enough anyway.”
Max comes twice on that couch. Once with Seb’s thigh between his own, letting him rut up while Seb bites and scratches at his nipples until Max spills with a pained cry, twitching and unsatiated. The second time, Charles has a wet hand wrapped around him, and Seb is holding his mouth open to kiss him so gently, a thumb pressed into the hinge of his jaw to make sure that Max stays still and pliant, belly clenching as he moans out loud.
It’s already perfect.
Max trusts them to make it even better.
—:—
“I brought all your favourites from home,” Charles hums into Max’s mouth, pressing him deeper into the mattress, and Max melts like ice cream in the sun.
He can never give more of himself than he does during the reset. It never feels as right. But sinking under Charles’ weight now, eyes closed as his boyfriend kisses him softly, he kind of wishes he could make himself.
“All of them?” he asks breathlessly, blinking up at Charles.
“All of them,” Seb confirms, crawling up the bed to press a kiss of his own to Max’s shoulder. He’s been good at reassurance so far. And at driving Max wild.
“Did you come by to help Charles pack, or is there a camera set up in our bedroom?” Max baits, batting his lashes.
“Why, do you want to check the tapes?” Seb shoots back. Then, smiling all sweet, he boops Max’s nose and gets some teeth-snapping from Max for his efforts. “Don’t worry, little darling, you look cute as a button on them. Even when you’re desperate and crying.”
“I don’t cry,” Max snips, lifting his chin. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t cry for you.”
“Ouch,” Seb sighs, clutching his chest dramatically enough that Max’s lips twitch. “We’ll see, though, won’t we? You seemed to be almost there downstairs, hm? I will have you begging and crying in no time at this rate.”
“You won’t,” Max grumbles, but pink is already spreading over his cheeks, not to mention the want simmering in his belly. He squirms.
Charles catches his chin and brings them face to face again.
“Why don’t we try, hm? Put your arms up for me, baby,” he croons, and Max gives without the slightest hint of a fight, melting back into the sheets. “Perfect. Seb will hold you for a bit while I take my time with you, how about that?”
“Okay,” Max breathes, fingers curling into fists. Seb moves up to rest against the headboard. His grip is firm when he gathers up both Max’s wrists. In one hand.
A very soft noise slips out of Max about that, twisting, and Seb laughs quietly.
“Oh, darling,” he coos, shifting so that he can wrap one hand over each wrist instead, his hold more secure, burning. “I thought Charles might have exaggerated, but you do like this, don’t you? Being all spread out at someone’s mercy.”
Fidgeting, Max makes an untruthful complaining noise, but Charles’ palm pushes him down soon enough.
“No use pretending, baby,” Charles murmurs, leaving wet kisses on Max’s marked-up chest. “I’ve told him. Once a year, until you come dry, yes? And then a little more, to make sure.”
“Sure?” Max exhales shakily, staring up at him as if he doesn’t know, skin on fire.
“Sure that this year will start off right,” Charles says, dipping lower, soft lips and sharp teeth teasing Max’s lower belly. It makes him writhe, and Seb pushes his hands down harder, perfect. “A few tears to wash down anything bad. Like an offering.”
“And what a pretty offering it will be,” Seb follows, raspy as he swipes his thumbs over the tender insides of Max’s wrists, pulling a whimper out of him. “I barely believed Charles when he explained it to me, you know? Fierce Max, fucked until he cries. But christ, am I excited to help you along, you’re so gorgeous. We’re going to treat you right, little darling.”
“Very much so,” Charles hums, sucking a deep bruise into the dip of Max’s hipbone, and Max has to fight so hard not to jerk into it.
“Charles,” he pleads, breath shaky as it leaves him. He opens his legs wider.
“Pretty,” Seb praises, dragging his nails down Max’s forearms to make him shudder before he grips tight again.
“He is,” Charles agrees quietly, green eyes dark and pleased as he runs his palms down the insides of Max’s spread thighs. “Lift up, baby, that’s good. More comfortable with a pillow, isn’t it? Easier to fuck you, too.”
“God,” Max whines, stomach clenching.
“Let’s make you come again,” Charles says, delighted amusement bright on his face. “One for me, one for Seb, and then we’ll see what more you can take, hm?”
Seb purrs, giving Max a squeeze.
Max barely has the time to squeak out another whiny Charles before Charles’ slick fingertips push against his rim, one digit easily sliding inside to finally fill Max, even if it’s just a little.
“So open for us, baby,” Charles praises quietly, leaning down to lick the precome off Max’s sensitive cock. “That’s good. Means I can give you more, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Max manages to whimper, and then Charles is pushing in with a second, setting a steady, slow pace that has him brushing Max’s prostate on every thrust. The blissed-out gasps that fall out of Max’s mouth really are involuntary.
“Hmm,” Charles breathes, pulling himself up a bit. “Knees up, chéri.”
Max does, and Charles pushes in with three, pushes in deeper, forcing a groan out of Max as his cock kicks against his stomach.
“Perfect, baby,” Charles hums. He’s smirking a bit, Max’s hazy brain notices. “Now. Do you remember this?”
He’s holding a navy plug, the first vibrating one Max has ever gotten for himself, and Max moans high, squirming out of sheer instinct.
Charles has done some horrible things with this before.
Horrible, wonderful, life-altering things.
“Charles,” Max mewls, breath coming fast, hands closing into fists. Seb holds him in place.
“Wouldn’t forget your favourite, now, would I?” Charles slicks the thing up, teasing it along Max’s entrance.
“Charles,” Max whines, then keens as it slips inside him, just curved enough to rest against his prostate.
“I’m giving this to Seb to play with,” Charles informs him, showing Max his phone with the app open before he slides it up to Seb.
“Lovely,” Seb hums while Max chokes. His fingers slip off Max’s skin for just a second, and then the lowest setting buzzes through Max’s core, intense in how underwhelming it is. Max keens again, squirming helplessly.
“Shh, baby,” Charles soothes, cupping Max’s jaw and giving him a peck. “I’m gonna make you come.”
God, christ, okay, fuck, Max might not survive this. It might actually have been a mistake, he’s going to have a heart attack, Charles climbing over him and into his lap, guiding Max’s cock inside himself, his tight heat squeezing around Max and making him cry out. He struggles against Seb’s hold, and Seb doesn’t budge.
“Charles, please,” Max moans, cock twitching inside his boyfriend, leaking, most likely. The buzz kicks up a notch and changes type, intensity rising and falling in a regular rhythm that means that Max can expect when things will get overwhelming.
Ever the one to have a perfect sense of timing, Charles moves just as the toy reaches its peak.
“God, fuck, I- Charles,” Max babbles, clenching on it, making things worse. Better. “Fuck, it’s- Seb-”
“Just let us, little darling, let me figure things out,” Seb coos, then moves to change the rhythm to unpredictable, deep pulses. Max cries out again, drowning in the building sensation. “Oh, you like this one, do you? Let’s leave it on for a bit, then.”
“N-no,” Max sobs, trashing feebly even as he grips Seb’s wrists back, heat already bubbling along the edge as if Max doesn’t know that this one will hurt a little, will tip him over to the spikier side of pleasure.
“Let us, baby,” Charles repeats softly, riding him in short little rolls that punch the air out of Max’s chest. “Come, I know you want to. Come, chéri.”
“Fuck- Charles-” Max whimpers and spills, hips jerking hard enough to make Charles hiss. “Fuck, fuck-”
Fuck, it burns, the little bit of come left in him dripping into Charles, fingers flexing outwards in Seb’s safe grip until the orgasm reaches its peak.
“Beautiful, little darling,” Seb breathes, soft and enamoured, and Max can feel him letting go, reaching for something, and then the toy stops.
Max slumps, whining.
“Seb. No,” Charles orders sharply; as sharply as he can manage when he’s full of cock. “Let it run.”
“I- oh.” Seb’s touch disappears again. The pulses return full-force, and Max sobs, mouth falling open in bliss, the kind that burns and is too much; the kind he needs. “Oh, I- sorry. Right. Is that good, darling?”
“Yes,” Max gasps, entire body on fire and clinging to the limits of sanity. Charles keeps moving, lifting and dropping on Max’s oversensitive cock, not letting him go soft. It’s so fucking much.
It’s so good.
“I see,” Seb hums, in the tone that means mischief coming from him, and pushes the strength up a notch.
The keen that spills out of Max is too pained and ecstatic to be human. He bucks wildly into Charles, the drag sizzling almost as much as the constant stimulation against his prostate, and Max barely notices when Charles comes, figures it out only when the rhythmic clenching of Charles’ ass on him becomes another thing that makes tears gather along his lashline.
“Please,” he whines softly, tense beyond loud words. “Charles-”
“Good, baby, you’re so good,” Charles praises, soft hands swiping down Max’s sides, and Max struggles up for a kiss. “Seb.”
“Yeah, on it.”
The vibrations disappear.
Max sobs crocodile tears, too overwhelmed to do anything else. Soothing touches run over different parts of his body while twin gentle voices hush him.
“Just like that, baby, that’s perfect,” Charles whispers, indulgent, smoothing through Max’s hair and up his arms to wrap his hands just below Seb’s. Max doesn’t really need holding down, not in this state, but it feels so good.
His heartbeat calms.
“Will you need more?” Charles asks gently, pressing kisses to Max’s cheeks and temple.
“Yeah,” Max breathes out, nuzzling into Charles. “In a bit.”
“Can I leave you with Seb while I clean up?”
Dazedly, Max tilts his head up.
“Hi, little darling,” Seb murmurs, head tilted a touch as he smiles softly. He’s never looked like that at Max before.
“Why is your face so- sappy?” Max grumbles, suddenly a little shy.
“You’re being very precious,” Seb tells him, completely honest, and it makes something inside Max’s chest shudder with warmth. “I also think you might break on me if I say something mean to you right now.”
Max opens his mouth. His brain catches up, then, and he closes it again.
“Thanks,” he says, very quietly. Turning to Charles, he steals another kiss. “We’ll be fine.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Charles pecks Max’s lips, his cheeks. Carefully, he pulls up and away, stroking down Max’s belly and thighs before he reaches between his legs and very gently tugs the plug out of him.
“Gonna clean that too,” Charles tells no one in particular, kisses Max’s knee and gets up.
Max is instantly colder for it.
He must’ve made a noise because all of a sudden, Seb is crawling down to him, and Charles stops dead in the doorway.
“Baby?”
“Darling?”
“It’s fine,” Max mumbles, turning to his side so that Seb can push himself flush against his back. The warmth is so nice. He cuddles back into it, and Seb wraps an arm around his waist.
“Just felt a bit needy, hm?” Seb teases gently, petting over Max’s lower ribs.
“Shut up,” Max quips, no heat in it.
Sufficiently reassured, Charles smiles and disappears into the bathroom.
It’s blissfully quiet for a minute or two, the scramble of Max’s brain sorting itself out. Water runs somewhere down the hallway, first from the tap, then from the shower. Max focuses on his breathing, keeping himself in check until everything begins ticking away like it normally does.
“Can I ask something?” Seb murmurs, chin moving against the top of Max’s head.
“Try,” Max hums contentedly, ”and let’s see whether you need kicking afterwards or not.”
“Prickly.” Seb’s ribs expand behind Max; a whoosh of air follows. “Is it weird, having me here?”
“A bit,” Max admits. “I don’t know how to… act around you the same way I do with Charles.”
“Mm.” Seb wriggles, then slumps. “Do you want me to go?”
“What, no,” Max says immediately, eyebrows scrunching as he feels around for Seb’s wrist so that he can squeeze it. ”Stay. It’s good. I’ll figure it out.”
“It’s good, huh?” Seb teases. Max would bet that he has that trademark smirk of his on his face despite sounding cautious.
“I’m still considering the kicking,” Max warns, squirming in Seb’s arms to prove his point.
“Okay, okay,” Seb concedes, soothing down Max’s chest in apology. It’s very calm and gentle, making Max purr, until he bumps into Max’s hard cock. “What, again?”
“I’m not just fast on the track, senior champion,” Max drawls, stretching all muscles that would respond before he quietly requests, “Touch me.”
“Won’t it hurt?”
“Yeah. Touch me.”
“Okay,” Seb whispers, hesitant fingers wrapping around Max’s cock.
A shiver of electricity runs down Max’s spine, locking his limbs for a second.
“Nice,” Max hums, trembling faintly as pleasure starts gathering in his belly again, swirling like smoke. Seb is careful, avoiding the head where Max is the most sensitive, his pace slow, exploratory. As if he’s never played with overstim before.
The thought of showing Seb something new puts a proud smile on Max’s face.
“Aren’t you a pretty sight,” Charles announces as he closes the door behind himself, skin dewy and flushed from warm water, scented like green tea. He climbs back in bed, laying himself out in front of Max.
“Is he good to you?” he murmurs, carding through Max’s fringe.
“Yeah,” Max whispers, whining when Seb twists his wrist in reward. “Hasn’t fucked me yet, though.”
Charles and Seb both snort, and Max can’t help smiling harder about it.
“I’ll fuck you when you stop being mouthy,” Seb teases, rutting forward.
His hard cock slides through the lubed-up mess of Max’s ass, sparking off a wave of want that forces a high, throaty whine out of Max.
“Please,” Max whimpers immediately, pushing his ass back to encourage more. “Seb, please.”
“Christ,” Seb croaks, letting go of Max’s cock to tighten an arm around Max’s waist instead, hauling him closer. His grip is bruising, perfect.
Max moans.
“Another?” Charles asks, green eyes dark as he takes Max in. None of this is new to Charles, of course, and that look is not new to Max, but it still feels like passing a white-hot bolt between them every time Max’s desperation makes itself obvious.
“Please more,” Max begs, swallowing hard.
This will hurt.
He turns his head to catch Seb’s gaze anyway, finding him caught in his own arousal. “Please, Seb, want more.”
“Might just kill me, little darling,” Seb groans and slicks himself up.
The push inside is- unfamiliar. Perfect. Seb is thicker, making Max’s nails scrabble across the sheets for purchase as Seb sinks deeper, pulling raw, almost wounded sounds out of Max’s throat while his rim stretches and burns.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he moans, one arm whipping back to claw into Seb’s ass, keeping him going. “Fuck, more-”
“Jesus,” Seb manages, panting heavily as they come flush, clinging to Max.
“He’s looking like he might lose it, baby,” Charles whispers like it’s a secret, bright with delight. “You should see him, all wild and messy. I think he’ll give you what you want.”
“’Course I will,” Seb rasps. Soothing down Max’s side, he grips him tight and thrusts in hard.
The cry that falls out of Max really shouldn’t be counted against him. He’s sensitive, cock tingling as it kicks, prostate abused already, ass on fire as it struggles to accommodate Seb, but fuck, he doesn’t want it to stop, it can’t stop. It feels like being cleansed and remade.
“That feel good, chéri?” Charles checks, soft fingers sweeping over Max’s cheek, and Max gets pushed into Charles’ palm with every snap of Seb’s hips.
“Yes,” Max chokes out and falls quiet.
Everything is so much.
“Want more, little darling?” Seb grunts, then groans when Max nods his head desperately, craving, still. “Good, that’s good, Charles packed a few more things for you, hm?”
“I did,” Charles hums. “Close your eyes, baby.”
With a whine, Max does.
Charles’ touch disappears. Seb pounds into him, steady and exact, hard enough that Max thinks he won’t be able to sit down, and little praises keep pouring out of him, raspy and sometimes cut-off, but so sweet that Max can’t help keening back.
“Perfect, chéri, keep them closed,” Charles’ voice whispers. “Seb?”
The pace slows abruptly, sending Max for a loop.
“No, please,” he begs, heat simmering in his belly and breath shaking in his lungs. His blood is filled with popping candy, volatile. “Please, need it, I- Seb-”
“Shh, little darling.” A soft hand strokes down Max’s waist, then over his ass to play with his already sensitive rim. Max cries out. “Aww, that was very pretty. Make that noise again for me?”
“Please fuck me,” Max chokes out, fingers digging into the mattress. Seb presses on his hole, and Max cries out again.
“Thank you,” Seb hums.
“Careful now, baby,” Charles warns softly, and then something wet and tight slides over Max’s cock.
“Fuck, fuck, Charles, please, please, what-”
“Shh, it’s okay, you’re perfect, does that feel good?”
“Yes,” Max sobs, hips twitching forward into the fleshlight, then back on Seb’s cock. The backs of his eyelids light up bright white, every sensation hemmed with pain.
“Gonna turn you on your belly, sweetheart. Eyes closed,” Charles instructs, his hands keeping Max’s head steady as Seb rolls him slowly onto his stomach. There are pillows already, propping Max’s hips up and leaving enough space for Charles to hold the fleshlight in place when Seb gives an experimental thrust.
Someone’s palm runs down Max’s spine, calming, and Max notices all at once how fast he’s breathing.
“Is that okay, darling?”
“Just- a second,” Max stutters out, trying to inhale properly, body wired and cock hard and nerves so close to being fried.
“Of course, chéri.”
Two hands, different hands, come to touch him. One is rougher, cold with rings, and it slides up to Max’s hair to grip, the skitter of hurt grounding. The other, softer, smooths between his waist and thigh, careful.
“Would you like to look, baby?” Charles murmurs, tugging a little.
Max shakes his head, already more settled. It’s easy when they touch him. “Like this. Feels good.”
“Not too much?” Seb checks, hips holding still even as his cock twitches inside Max. “Do I pull out?”
“No, it’s-” Max breathes in deep. Something shifts, maybe him, and Seb’s tip presses against Max’s prostate again, pulling a soft noise out of him. “God, you feel so good, I might die.”
“Can’t handle me, junior champion?” Seb teases gently.
“Dick.”
“Yes, it is. Good catch.”
“Ugh.” Somebody presses a kiss to Max’s shoulder, and Max mellows out. “I’m good.”
“Sure, baby?”
“Yeah,” he hums, eyes still closed, and nuzzles his cheek into the sheets. “Please.”
“Okay.” Seb gives his ass a pat before adjusting. More of his weight settles against Max, pressing him into the fleshlight. A deep groan spills out. Seb huffs a laugh. “Yeah, you’re good.”
The first proper thrust is slow, long, root to the tip and then all the way back in.
A gasp punches out of Max, hips kicking.
“Fuck yes,” he moans, heartbeat picking up again. The world is black to him, but it still sparkles with pleasure.
“Mhm,” Charles muses somewhere next to him. “Seb?”
“Yeah?”
“Here, I think.”
A warm palm grips Max’s shoulder, and then he’s being pushed into the sheets, held down, and fucking hell, that’s-
“Please,” Max whines, shivers rushing through him, hands opening and closing where they lie by his head. “Seb, more.”
“Whatever you want, little darling,” Seb murmurs, pushes down harder, and moves.
“Ah!” is really all that Max can manage as Seb bullies his way out and back inside him, setting a rhythm that makes Max’s toes curl. Seb’s going deep, the last inch always coming as a harsh snap that forces Max’s cock into the fleshlight, and it kind of feels like- like-
Like the plug. Like Seb is remembering what drove Max wild and is trying to use it.
And it fucking works.
“Seb,” Max croaks, minutes or hours since they started, and then keens, asscheeks feeling bruised without being spanked. He’s dissolving. “Christ-”
“You look so gorgeous, baby,” Charles murmurs, changing the angle so that Max can fuck into the fleshlight a little easier. “Oh, this was a good idea, wasn’t it? Gonna overwhelm you so much, I can’t wait. You’re already so pink, chéri, everywhere, it’s so pretty.”
Mewling, Max squirms on Seb’s cock, and Seb shifts his palm, landing right between Max’s shoulder blades. When he pushes down this time, it’s uncompromising, and something inside Max just snaps even though he hadn’t noticed that he was nearing the edge, it’s-
“Please,” Max keens, jerking wildly as he spills, frantic breaths pushing against Seb’s hand. The cock inside him feels bigger now that Max is clenching tight, so fucking sensitive that the tears come all on their own.
“Oh, baby,” Charles coos, letting Max chase the remains of his orgasm. “Needed a little push, was that it? But we’re almost there, I think, one or two more, hm?”
“Charles,” Max cries, hitching little things that shake through his muscles, making Seb groan.
“One more at least, baby. Open your eyes for me?”
Blinking them open makes more tears fall down into the sheets, but it’s really worth the adoring look on Charles’ face.
“Very good, baby,” Charles praises, wiping them away. “Seb will take you in his lap now, okay?”
“Yeah,” Max sniffles.
He’s manhandled where he belongs, his weight dragging him lower on Seb’s cock until they both choke on it, Seb with pleasure, Max with mind-bending oversensitivity.
“Charles,” he sobs, squirming until Seb’s arm around him tightens and Charles comes closer to kiss him quiet. All Max’s senses are heightened and dulled at the same time, touches too intense and hearing kind of skewed, skin too thin and stretched too tight over his body, brain foggy even as Charles’ lips taste so soothing and familiar.
“Mmm,” he manages, slowly relaxing back into Seb’s chest, Charles’ kisses keeping him afloat. He’s not done yet, he can tell. Charles is right. One more at least, even though it might make Max shake apart, pressed to Seb or not.
Seb.
“Seb?”
“Yes, little darling?”
“Kiss?”
“Like I said,” Seb murmurs, taking Charles’ place and guiding Max closer. “Anything you want.”
Seb still runs hotter than Charles, a furnace against Max’s lips. And he’s steady, keeping Max steady too, even when Charles’ sneaky fingers come teasing Max’s mark-littered chest.
Max whimpers quietly into Seb’s mouth when Charles licks over his abused nipples, soft and wet, suckling. Max’s belly clenches rhythmically, a little harder whenever Charles’ teeth come out to play, grazing the already bruised buds and muscle. Max doesn’t really understand what that must mean until Seb tears himself away from the kiss to growl,
“Charles, I swear to-”
“Fuck him,” Charles replies easily, grinning a bit too innocently to have pure intentions. “Go for it.”
Seb moves, and Max cries out so loud that everyone startles.
“I- sorry, I, fuck,” he babbles, fire licking through him all of a sudden, and everything is too much, too much. “It feels- I can’t- fuck, please-”
“Darling?”
“More, god, need it,” Max sobs, and doesn’t really stop.
It is too much. It’s the last one, Max can feel it, exhausted and oversensitive and burning, and it will be fucking hard because Max has come so much already that touching more is torture, just a teensy bit, but it’s just-
“Charles, please,” he pants, raspy, watery, overwhelmed. “Seb, just- one, just one-”
“One of us?” Seb asks, confusion clear in his voice, and he’s slowing down, why is he-
“No, keep going,” Charles corrects, pinching Max’s nipples. “He just means he needs to come one more time.”
“Oh.” Adjusting his grip on Max, Seb angles his hips slightly differently, and Max shouts.
“Yes, yes please, like that, fuck that hurts, hurts, Charles-”
“I know, chéri, it’s okay-”
“Please,” Max begs, throat scratchy with how loud he’s being, tense like a bow.
“You’re okay, little darling, it’s fine, we’ll get you there,” Seb croons, pace so maddeningly steady. “Promised to give you what you need, hm? And you’ve been so good, we couldn’t let you down.”
“Exactly right,” Charles murmurs, running his open palms down Max’s chest. “Gonna touch you now.”
“No, no, fuck yes,” Max whines thinly, the world going too sharp and bright when Charles’ wet hand wraps around him. “Charles, please, want it- Seb-”
“Shh, little darling.” With kisses to Max’s shoulder, Seb speeds up, fucking Max so well. “Almost there, I can feel you clenching so tight.”
“Can’t, I don’t- please-”
“Pretty baby,” Charles praises, and he’s so beautiful in Max’s teary gaze, smiling gently. He’s jerking Max off but avoiding the head of his cock; Max thinks he might scream if Charles touched him there. “You’re twitching, come on, just a little more-”
Max bursts into tears, droplets running down his cheeks and onto his chest, frustration mixing with pleasure, everything tinged with pain, white flames scorching through him, and then Seb thrusts just right, and Charles twists his wrist just right, and Max falls, falls, falls-
“Ah!”
“That’s it, perfect, you’re perfect, baby-”
“Lovely little darling, so good. Shh, it’s okay-”
“Please,” Max whispers, shaking, unseeing, overwhelmed. Done. “Charles- Seb-”
“Come here, chéri, that’s good. Just like that-”
“Curl up, yeah? Yes, good, that’s brilliant, darling-”
“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Charles hushes, gentle palm stroking up Max’s spine to wind into his hair.
Max breathes in deep, then sighs until he runs out of air.
Christ.
“’M good,” he mumbles, eyelids so suddenly so heavy, all muscles unresponsive except for those in his hands, and he clings to both of them, refusing to let go.
“The best,” Seb whispers, pressing tender kisses to his shoulder, warm along Max’s back.
“Perfect,” Charles hums, scritching at his scalp, massaging softly. “You did so well, chéri, I love you so much. Sleep, yes? You need to rest.”
“I’m gross,” Max grumbles sleepily. He can feel it, come drying on his stomach, leaking out of him, wet spit on his chest, the sweat-
“We’ll clean you up, I promise.” The words are soothing, distant. Charles’, Max would recognise him through any exhaustion.
“’Kay,” he sighs, already having forgotten what he wanted. His skin is simmering, he thinks. And sleep is calling.
“Okay,” someone else whispers. Max winks out to the sound of it and to a kiss on his nape.
—:—
“…sure he’s okay? He’s barely moving.”
“He’s fine, Seb, I swear. It’s always like this. He resets, and then he sleeps.”
“But it was so intense. He cried.”
“He always cries.”
“He cried a lot.”
“Seb. I promise. If something was wrong, we would have known it already. It’s okay.”
“But- okay. Okay.”
“Are you okay?”
“I- erm. I don’t know? It- I feel- fuck. Did I hurt him, Charles? He cried, and I didn’t stop, what if I hurt him?”
“Look at me. Sebastian, look at me. You didn’t hurt him. I would have never let you. He wouldn’t have let you. You did perfectly.”
“I… okay. It just feels- strange. I feel strange.”
“You’re coming down, just like he is. Stay. Cuddle. You need it, and he’ll love having you here when he wakes up.”
“He will?”
“Seb. Of course, he will.”
—:—
“Where are you going?” Max mumbles, the pillowy chest under his cheek trying to wiggle away.
“Oh- oh. You’re up.”
“Yeah, unfortunately.” Cracking open an eye, Max glares at Seb. “Where are you going?”
“B-bathroom,” Seb stutters. His face is open, surprised, and he’s staring at Max like Max has got something nasty written on his forehead.
Maybe he does. He wouldn't put it past Charles.
But anyway. Worming his fingers under Seb’s, he sighs when Seb squeezes gently.
“No,” Max decides, closes his eye, and nestles back down. It’s nice and warm here, under the blankets. Not to mention Seb is very comfortable, even though his heart is racing underneath Max’s cheek, the thuds of it echoing through Max’s slow head one heavy beat at a time.
A tickle of a half-heard conversation flits briefly through his mind before it disappears.
“Charles went to make some food,” Seb says, shivery and unsure. “He should be back in a bit.”
“Mhm.”
“I could go get him if you like?” Seb carries on, his palm turning sweaty in Max’s. “He’s just downstairs, it would only be a minu-”
“Stop being nervous,” Max says, finally remembering. He curls up closer, nuzzling into Seb’s chest like a sleepy cat. “I’m fine here with you. Don’t get your panties in a twist, senior champion.”
Seb huffs out a little laugh.
“Alright, junior,” he concedes, shifting to pet down Max’s back. “Okay. How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Max hums contentedly. “Achy. Great. Fucking reborn, I don’t know. Good.”
“Nothing hurts?”
“Not more than usual.”
“Good.” Breathing in deep before he slowly mellows out, Seb turns his head to rest a cheek against Max’s hair. “I’m glad, little darling.”
“I’m warning you,” Max grumbles out of habit, preening inside.
“Against what, the cute baby that you are?”
Max shifts and bites Seb’s pec.
“Ow! You are a menace, Verstappen.”
“Little darling,” Max corrects, feeling soft, sated and playful. When he picks himself up, sheets dropping to his waist, he finds Seb staring at him with the same tender expression he wore earlier today, when Max was falling apart.
“Yeah?” Seb checks, something fragile sitting behind his eyes.
“Only until I shake this off, don’t get used to it, Vettel.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” Seb vows, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. “You want to go find your man?”
“I want to find food.” Stretching, Max fishes a clean pair of underwear out of their suitcase, moving gingerly. His cock is stupidly sensitive; his ass as well. “And where there’s Charles, there is food.”
“Fair thinking.”
The sky is dark outside, and the stairs creak a bit as they descend, but the air smells sweeter and sweeter with each step, like late-evening dessert.
“Pancakes,” Max hums as he shuffles into the kitchen, following his nose.
“Crêpes, chéri,” Charles tells him, flipping one in the air like it’s nothing.
“Whatever,” Max mumbles, continuing forward until he can wriggle and nuzzle and whine his way into his boyfriend’s arms.
“They’re crêpes, baby, none of that fluffy nonsense.” The words are soft, murmured into Max’s hair while Charles holds him tight, smelling like caramelising sugar and home. “All good?”
“Mhm. Feed me.”
“Incorrigible,” Charles sighs. His finger sneaks under Max’s chin to prop his face up, and then Max is getting a very soft, very nice kiss. “Couch, baby.”
“Mm’kay,” Max agrees hazily, clinging some more. He doesn’t really want to leave. Charles is even more comfortable than Seb was.
“You’re so sweet, chéri,” Charles praises, carefully untangling Max’s fingers. “But your snack’s gonna burn if you don’t let me go. Go cuddle with Seb, hm?”
Grumbling and muttering, Max gathers himself, snatches Seb by the wrist and tugs him along to the living room.
“Sit,” he orders, with no heat, too soft around the edges to make things stick. Seb listens anyway, settling into the nest Max had been curled up in before they went into the bedroom, and Max climbs over him, tucked into his side, legs thrown over his lap. His ass and thighs twinge in the process, making him hiss quietly.
“What’s wrong?” Seb asks immediately, hands sweeping over Max’s skin, searching.
“Told you,” Max mumbles, head resting on Seb’s shoulder. He’s feeling tired again already, close to dozing off. “Sore.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to… sorry.”
“I loved it, you know,” Max ventures, pushing his face into the crook of Seb’s neck. “Every minute, it was so good.”
“I’m glad, little darling.” Seb relaxes, which is so much comfier. Max nestles in. “I’m glad I could help. Is it all done now? You’re successfully turning over a new leaf?”
“Yeah,” Max sighs, blinking his eyes open just in time to see Charles plopping down next to them with a stack of crêpes, extra plates, and cutlery for the three of them.
“Yeah, I’d say it was a success,” he finishes, making a contented noise first into Seb’s throat, then against Charles’ lips, and finally around a bite of delicate crêpe with raspberry jam. “Let’s do this again next year.”