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ricciardo133 · 4 days ago

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Monaco 2017

maxiel, body swap, blowjobs, frotting, dubious consent, a little voyeurism

Daniel wakes to the sound of an unfamiliar alarm. He swears and with shut eyes slaps around the bed in the direction of the affronting noise. He doesn't remember inviting a girl over last night, but he did get fairly drunk. He could have called up one of the many gals he fancies in the Monaco area. There was that one chick he's been seeing now and then who invited him over last night too, but maybe she came to his place instead? His memory is frustratingly blank, but whoever it was who had the gall to set an alarm on one of his precious free Saturdays is getting officially, permanently uninvited to his flat.

Finally, his fingers make purchase around a cased phone. Purely from touch, he knows it's not his naked iPhone. He blearily peeks open in the dark room, ready to see the silhouetted curve of a woman's hips and shoulders but instead being face to face with a stuffed lion plush. He stares, as if the random stuffed animal would magically come to life and say 'hey man, sorry, my bad for the alarm at fucking six a.m.'

Daniel glances at the phone in his too pale hand. Max's phone. Max's hand. But...it's his hand?

He swears. He must be immensely hung over, possibly tripping. His lips feel swollen, tongue sitting wrong in his mouth. He licks over too-straight teeth and snaps his eyes shut.

He tries to get back to bed but the sound of several text messages ping on the aggrivating phone. Why the hell did Max leave his phone at Daniel's place? He grumbles and looks at the lit up screen as messages pop up, covering the phone's artsy wallpaper of Spa-Francorchamps in a series of rapid texts.

Daniel. Daniel. Pick up. Daniel. Are you normal? Something is wrong.

It rings. It's an incoming call coming from...Daniel? He sees his face, a photo of them together post-race Abu Dhabi last year. Why would Max pick a sweaty ass photo like this for his contact? And how the hell is he calling himself? That's not possible, Daniel thinks in confusion. The mental gears chug in sleep-addled disarray like he's been handed a sheet of calculous homework. He's not calling anyone. Why would Max's phone be getting a call from him when he's naked and half-asleep and phone-less?

Confused and pissed, he silences the phone and stares at the ceiling. He scratches his chest and feels the surprising heft of much more sizable tits.

He pauses, squeezing. Unfamiliar nipples harden under his thicker fingers. The fuck? In the too dark room, Daniel lets his alien hands drag down, feeling along a softer middle and more narrow hips. Further and with mounting concern, he feels inwards, trembling fingertips brushing too-fine, too-long pubes and then reaching a hardening girth that was far too big to be his own cock.

He springs out of bed, disoriented in a room that's not his. He trips over a ludicrously large box of Red Bull and walks over familiar clothes littered on the floor. Max's hoodies. Max's things. Max's room.

In Max's bathroom, he flips on the light. He stares at Max in Max's mirror.

Daniel reflexively reaches for a towel and wraps it around his waist, cheeks burning crimson under sharp cheekbones. "Breathe," he commands himself nervously, but it's his teammate's voice. The phone rings again, insistent. Daniel speed walks back to the bed to pick it up and answer.

"Daniel, are you okay?" he hears his own voice say on the other line, but it's not him. Not exactly. His own voice is draped in that Dutch accent as he holds Max's phone to his ear. "Are you in my apartment?"

"Max." He swallows, free hand holding onto the wall for support. "Yeah, yes. I am."

"Are you...in...me?"

Several thoughts try to bang through Daniel's mind, getting caught up in the doorframe so all that comes out is a blank, "In you?"

"You sound like you're me. Because, right now, I'm you."

"That's not possible. This is insane." Daniel paces now, panic turning manic as he looks out the window to the slightly shifted view of the same Monaco seaside, just one floor up. It's still dim outside, headlights and street lamps sparkle while bright white yacht reflections ripple on dark waters.

"Daniel? Are you there? Please say something."

Max sounds scared, and Daniel feels like he's hearing his own nineteen-year-old self talk to him through space and time, nervous and anxious and needing reassurance everything will be okay.

Pull it together, Ricciardo.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here. We'll figure this out, Max." Somehow. He has no idea how, but that's not what matters right now. He starts grabbing an outfit and tossing clothes on the bed. "Luckily no race today, right? I'll go upstai- downstairs to my place. If you're there, maybe we just need to see each other to un-Freaky Friday ourselves, yeah?"

"I don't know where I am, Daniel."

Pausing, he blinks and feels his stomach somehow drop further, as if he'd shit it out. "Are you in a bathroom with pink walls?"

"Yes! Daniel, I am. How did you know?"

Daniel smacks his forehead a bit too hard and groans. "Fuck, you're at her place."

"Who's place?"

"This girl I've been seeing. She invited me over last night, and drunk-me must've went."

"Oh, she was the one in the bed."

"Fuck, did you talk to her?" Or more.

"No, she's asleep. I woke up next to her." Relief. "Daniel, you are...uh...quite covered in...hickies."

Great, excellent. Max is seeing him post-coitus. "Well, at least we didn't swap bods when I was doing the deed, eh? A fine how-do-you-do to wake up balls deep in a stranger."

"Daniel," Max laughs in shock like he's just had a ballon popped in his face. Daniel feels more grounded, eased to break the tension and relieved to hear his teammate's laugh, even if it is coated in his own voice. Weird. "No, thankfully I can leave and maybe she will not notice me."

"Yeah, really rather her not get the idea I'm suddenly a Dutch weirdo after banging."

"Oh, please. I can act like you. Listen," Max clears his throat. "G'day, mate."

"Wow. That sucked. Try harder, pal."

"G'day, I'm Daniel Ricciardo and I like screaming metal and boobs."

"Hm. Getting closer."

"Do me next."

Daniel blushes despite himself. "Fine, hi, I'm Max Verstappen from the Netherlands," Daniel says, frightened how easy it is to sound a bit too pitch perfect. Max's raspy, breaking voice and lisp all come a bit too easy. He hams it up to shake it off. "I love cars so much. I'm in a committed relationship with my sim and crank my hog there every night."

A bark of a laugh. "That's very good, Daniel. But I would never come in the simulator. It might damage it."

"Great, thanks for clearing that one up, Max. Maybe I'll go sit there while I wait for you and take your hardware for a spin." Meaning the simulator. Not his cock. Obviously. Daniel feels himself flush too hot again, steeped in awkwardness as there is a silent beat where he feels he very clearly should clarify that, but then he'd have to potentially admit he has already felt Max up a bit, and why was his dick so fucking huge and why did Max never say a thing? Not that teammates and friends, nothing more, would talk about having a monster dick with each other. But the amount of times Daniel joked about having ten inches and Max saying 'oh same' and he meant it was making Daniel's head spin.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"How do I get home?"

"Oh, right." He gives directions from the hook-up's flat to their building. "And don't forget my keys and shit. Probably on her kitchen counter."

"Okay. And Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"What're you apologizing for, Verstappen? Not like you did this."

"No, but I maybe know who did. But I didn't know she was serious, I-." He hears a woman call his name on the other end. "Fuck," they say in unison.

"Max. Max, be chill, okay? Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking," he says, panicked.

"Just say you have a doctor's appointment and you gotta run. Max? Hey?"

The call doesn't end but he hears a clatter as if Max dropped it to the floor.

Max stands in Daniel's body as a woman he's never met wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a deep kiss. He stares at her closed eyes and feels Daniel's heart crash and bang in his chest. Delicate, long tan fingers hold her arms and a betraying current of want makes him stiffen all over. Her fingers lace through curls as she gives them a soft pull.

"Trying to sneak out without round two, big boy?" she purrs in his ear. She is hot. Her breath makes his skin break into chills. "Why so quiet, Daniel? Cat got your tongue?"

"I have an appointment." Lie better, he commands himself. He glances at the phone on the floor, call ongoing. He's worried he might give his teammate a heart attack with how his pulse spikes. "Like, with my trainer."

"Oh, boo. Can't he wait?" Her hands drift down, caressing his ass and working inwards. "You said it was your day off today, and all you wanted to do," she kissed and sucked over an already purple mark on his neck, "you said all you needed was to run me through all day long."

And she's on her knees, mouth on his length- Daniel's length. Max is unwound, shocked and blissed and gasping as she takes him so deep so fast. He reflexively holds her head, feeling her bob up and down as he momentarily forgets everything. He's never had sex before. Late bloomer. Too busy. Too shy. No one's ever touched him like this.

And it shows, he feels the edge quickly approaching as she hums onto Daniel's length. He watches the numbers on the phone call tick up, seconds counting off in real time how poorly he's handling this, all for him to hear. The thought makes him reel. Daniel. Listening. Was he listening?

He groans, gasping as she works his balls and choking on a swear as he feels the orgasm bubble up inside his body, so flushed with need and want and urgency until he crashes out, spilling into her mouth.

This is how Daniel feels when he comes. He etches every sensation into his brain as she swallows and kisses along his well-trimmed hair and wide hips.

"You usually don't come so quick, baby."

"I'm sorry." He dips and grabs the phone, guilt hitting like thunder after lightning. "I'm so fucking sorry, but I have to go."

She calls his name as he scoops up Daniel's familiar hoodie and pulls on a pair of running shorts. He slips the phone into his pocket, says a million apologies in a barely attempted Aussie accent as he collects Daniel's items and scurries out the door barefoot. Too frazzled to go back, he books it.

Blessedly, the Monaco streets are fairly empty, and he doubts anyone would believe some random passerbys if they say they saw Daniel Ricciardo running shoeless down the street. He slips down an alley, scampering up a set of stairs where Daniel once showed him how to sneak in to avoid their building's doorman, slipping through the delivery dock and dumpsters to the freight elevator, tapping in a quick code, and riding up to the top floor to Max's penthouse suite.

He pulls out his phone. The call is still going. Max stares at the bitten-down nails gripping the iPhone as he holds onto the small, guilty hope that maybe he didn't hear Max getting blown.

As the elevator shimmies upwards, Max looks at Daniel's hands, raising the other to flip them over and clench and unclench just to feel it. He glances up the rising numbers on the elevator and, with a thoughtless rush, slips a finger in his mouth, sucking and running his tongue around the tip. He pulls it out in a flushed huff. "Stop, Max." The sound of his name in Daniel's voice makes his heart hammer and his dick twitch. He shouldn't like this all so much, but it's so close, so visceral. He wishes the elevator would get stuck, just for a little bit, to let him feel up every inch of Daniel. "Perv," he whispers, but the shame isn't beating out the high. He's reeling, being able to touch and know. He jolts remembering the phone and hopes Daniel didn't hear a thing.

He can't buck up the nerve to talk on the line until he's reached the top and walked down the hall, standing outside his own apartment's door without a key to get inside.

He holds the phone to his ear, "Daniel?"

"Max?"

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm here."

"Yeah, give me a second."

Max lets pathetic guilt saturate him as he sees the call end. He readies the apology he's been working on all run over, but nothing comes out as he sees his own face as the door opens. His gaze flits up and down, taking in the sight of his own body in just a pair of sweatpants, standing stock still in the doorway. It's him.

Daniel's in there. They stare at each other. Max's shoulders heave, body still wired from the run over, finger still a bit damp with spit. He watches Daniel stare back, wide blue eyes and parted wet lips.

"I'm sorry," they say at once. Max blinks. "Daniel, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I...I should've told her to stop."

"Nah, mate. It's fine. She's a stunner, isn't she? I get it. Hard to turn down a blow job, especially in this, uh, situation, but, um, yeah I also...I should've not, um, listened and...I....kinda, y'know."

"You what?"

Daniel's blue eyes roll in exasperation. "Can you come inside so we stop talking about voyeurism in the hallway?"

Max hustles in as Daniel closes the door behind him. Max feels off-kilter, both at seeing his flat from the wrong height and knowing Daniel heard everything.

"It's okay, Daniel. If you listened."

"What if," Daniel said, sitting on one of the barstools in the adjacent kitchenette, his own fingers slipping off runny condensation from an undrank glass of water on the counter. "What if I did more than listen?"

"Like what do you mean, Daniel?"

He watches his own Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows. "Come on, don't make me say it."

"I may be in you, but I can't read your thoughts, Daniel."

"You know how hearing sexy moaning is sometimes enough? And, well. It seemed fair to...do it. Since you were getting off, too."

"What?"

"I jerked off, Max." He says it flatly but his whole face and neck are pink, and single bead of sweat slips down his own cheeks just like the wet glassin his hands. "Sorry, mate. Like, it was fucking hot. And why the hell is your dick porno sized?"

"It is...no, it is normal sized."

"Yeah, for a fucking werewolf, not a teenage Dutch boy."

"It is only a bit bigger than yours."

Daniel gives him a withering look. "No need to lie, mate. Especially since you've seen it now."

"I think it's a very good size, Daniel."

"Yeah, does yours make girls run for the hills or what?"

"Well, a girl has never seen it." Daniel raises an eyebrow, somehow moving muscles Max has no memory of being able to flex himself. "No one has seen it, besides like doctors and stuff."

"Max. You're a virgin?"

Now it's Max's turn to swallow, reaching for the glass of water. Daniel catches his wrist mid-air, hands wet and soft.

"Max, was that your first time? Just now with her?"

"Yes. Technically, if it counts since I'm...you...right now."

Daniel's grip tightens.

Max lost his fucking virginity in his own body. Daniel can't seem to pull his hand back, fingers clutching Max's hand, his hand.

And it felt good. It felt so wildly good to pump and twist and listen to his own voice sigh and break in ways he's never heard. He's pretty quiet in bed himself, but Max was so vocal, so pleading. He didn't know he could make sounds like that.

"Daniel, if you're upset-," Max starts.

"I'm not upset."

Max walks around the counter, never breaking contact. Daniel looks up into his own eyes, the ghost of Max's expressions in his own features.

"I'm just," Daniel's shoulders fall. "Aw, mate. Your first time should be special. I feel like kinda shitty it happened this way."

"Well, being in someone else's body is kind of special?"

Daniel snorts. "Well, yeah, I guess." He looks over his own tattoos, twisting Max's wrist gently and ushering up his other arm to hold both of his hands. Their fingers intertwine. He wants to crack the pressure, to joke he just wants to see what his own body looks like from the outside, but the gentle tremble in Max's hands is so precious, so delicate and warm. He feels he's holding a small creature in his hands, gently smoothing small circles in the soft flesh between his thumbs.

"Daniel," Max breathes. "Was it good for you? To come as me?"

"It was. Fuck, you come so much, too. I did do it in the shower. Sorry in advance for the clog."

Max smirks. "No, I do it there anyway."

"Shit's a bitch to clean out. Your plumber will hate you."

"Then I'll start doing it in the sim like you said." Max eyes him as he leans in. "Or in the kitchen, right here."

Daniel feels Max's grip tighten. The nagging thought he should not be doing this with his lovesick colleague feels distant and irrelevant in the dreamlike haze of seeing his own face get closer. "We can only get so wet, right?"

"Like in the shower?" Max asks.

"No, like, the uh, repercussions. If that's the word. Like, we're already in this deep, so what's a little fucking between friends, right?"

He watches his own lips part. "Do you meant it?"

"Maybe give you a proper first time, so I don't feel like I ruined your deflowering."

"Daniel. Please."

Daniel finally lets Max's hands go so he can instead grip and pull him into a kiss. He always wondered how it'd feel to kiss himself and to kiss Max. The unreal combination of both, of his own lips along Max's plush pair made him feel electric and impossible. Max's own hands grip along his bare back, short nails dragging down broad shoulders. Nothing matters. Not how they'd switch back. Not what crazy magic did this to them in the first place. All that matters is seeing Max, not just hearing, as he comes for him.

"Back to your bed? Just us and the lion?"

He watches his brown eyes widen. "That's, uh, he was a gift. From a fan. That happened to be there."

"Aw, don't sweat it. It's cute. Did ya give it a good name? Like 'Daniel'? Obviously, that's best name in my humble opinio-"

Max cups his cheeks. Daniel pauses.

"Say your name again," Max says, tone taught with a sudden, heady undercurrent.

"My name?"

"I want to hear it."

"Okay, um." He takes a shuddering breath. "Daniel."

"Max," he says back, his own voice never laced with such conviction before, with such heat. "Max," he says again as his fingers softly drift into straight, cropped blonde hair. "I want you, Max."

It's weird, nearly too weird, but Daniel can't bring himself to stop. He can't deny it's good, in some perverse inversion. As if he's the blushing virgin, he whispers his own name onto his own lips as Max pulls him into a heated kiss.

"Just for now, until this wears off, right?" Max asks.

"Yeah, yes." Another long pull like each kiss was a lung-full of air before dipping back underwater. "For now, whatever you want. Touch me, touch you, however you want. It's your body, after all."

"And this is yours."

It's his. His arms that lift him and his strength that carries Max's body to his bed and gently lays him out. That pulls his own sweats off his hairy legs. He feels his smooth, tattooed thigh rub against his hardening cock. His hands rolling him over, his lips pressing hickies to match the constellation of purple cosmos on his own neck. The friction and the heat and whispered names that bounce and blend as a gasped 'Daniel' becomes a beg and a plea as they rut faster together. Daniel looses track of who's who until he realizes he's back in his own skin, coming hard on Max's stomach as the younger man gasps and comes soon after.

He falls into the bed beside him, pliant and warm as Max pulls him in close.

"It wore off," Daniel says breathlessly, relieved but also somewhat remise his time in Max Verstappen is already over. "I didn't even get a chance to see what my asshole looks like."

Max laughs. "We can maybe do it again. I think it was my mother's doing." Daniel gets up on his elbows and looks down at his teammate. "She has a little magic and said one day she would want us to see things from each other's view, you know? That she didn't like to see us too intense as rivals."

"Very kind of your mum, but, uh, any chance you were going to mention magic being real anytime sooner?"

"You never believed me about my dick length, you think you would've believed me about magic?"

"Fair."

"She taught me a little myself. It's just simple spells, and she obviously didn't know the timing was unideal when she cast this one."

"A non-race weekend's not a bad pick, just a heads up next time would be nice so I don't have my ass out."

Max, back in his own body, looks up with those blue eyes thrown into bright contrast with his own flush. "Wait, maybe a next time?"

"Maybe a next time. If your car is better, then definitely we can swap then." Max laughs.

"I'll call and ask my mum for the spell. I can do it whenever."

"And maybe...if you want to do, uh...this again." Max freezes, eyes wide. "Like, maybe we only do the deed when we swap? So, it's not really like a normal hook-up. More like masturbating, right? Sort of? So it doesn't count? You as me and me as you sometimes. If you want, Daniel?"

Max sucks in a breath and looks gobsmacked. "Y-yeah. Okay, sure. Only then...Max."

The lines are too blurred. He lays back down and lets Max's arms wrap around him to cuddle in closer, unnerved how good it feels to lose himself in his grip. He's shocked how he wouldn't mind switching again now, feeling it all over again. He'll need to keep this unreal need in check, but it all doesn't matter in this moment as he rests his head on Max's chest. Daniel's fingers drift up along those soft tits, feeling that nipple harden again between his own fingertips.

#maxiel #ahh i just love them...#shout out em powerful-owl's delightful situation poll that reminded me how much I love a little body swapping!!!#also one day I'll break more out of my comfort zone fic-wise but not today hehe #a little magic a little dry humping a lot of yearning #thank you all for the amazing tags and notes on my fics here too!!#everyday so thankful to be in this super lovely corner of the web with y'all ❤️

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