Little Maxie

Chapter 1

Max Verstappen never hid his status as a little, nor did he ever flaunt it either. Having grown up always near a racetrack, he learned to control his headspaces very well, so he could be big during the race, even though the schedule never did leave him a lot time to just wind down.

Seeing the way, he always travelled along, he never had a caregiver, his dad always being near and often it seemed that he was unwilling to admit that Max was a little.

Max didn't really care, but seeing that his father never mentioned it, he followed his example and never explicitly showed his headspace tendencies. It was actually funny, but during a race was the only time he actually wasn't diapered up, the rest of the times he couldn't be trusted to hold his bladder at all, seeing that his headspace just fell too young.

It was actually weird how no one had ever found out about it, never directly asking Max if he was one, even though half of the drivers seemed to be caregivers.

The race today had been postponed due to rain and then a red flag had stopped it, making it run late. It took ages to go through the interviews and the award ceremony, and once it was over, Max was so glad to go back to his hotel room.

He could feel his hold on his headspace slipping, and he was hoping that his dad wouldn't come to his room, because he wanted to slip down in his headspace and go sleep with his stuffy and he knew that if his dad was there, he would want to discuss the race, going over all the things Max could have done better, even though he won and already knew what he could have done better.

He quickly got into the elevator, yawning widely. He leaned against the side of the wall, his thumb slipping in his mouth while he waited until it came to his floor. He felt it stop and barely opening his eyes he got out, his mind telling him where he needed to go until he was in front of his door.

Fishing out the key card from his pocket, he sleepily tried to put it in the door, but it would open. By now Max was completely exhausted, wanting to crawl into his bed with his stuffy.

He whined softly, trying to wiggle the handle of the door and feeling tears prick in his eyes, until suddenly it opened, and he was face to face with Lewis. He blinked at the man, not understanding why he was in Max's room.

"Max, what are you doing here?" the Mercedes driver asked, and Max was trying his best to make his words work.

"Going to bed," he said, still holding the key card in his hand. When no more explanation left him, Lewis took the key card from his unresisting hand, looking at the number.

"You're at the wrong floor," Lewis said, handing it back. Max looked at it, feeling slightly lost.

"Sorry," he said, turning around, and going to the elevator, tucking his thumb back in his mouth.

"Wait a moment, I'm coming with you," Lewis said, closing the door behind him and following Max, who shrugged, not caring either way.

Lewis had been surprised to hear the scrabbling on the outside of his hotel room. At first, he had thought it was the room next to him, but after a while he realised it came from his door. He had been very surprised when he opened it and saw that it was Max who had mistaken the room for his;

The man was acting a bit weird, and Lewis had difficulty with containing his surprise when he saw him put a thumb in his mouth. He quickly followed the man to the elevator, curious about his weird behavior, and observing the man, who was looking at the key card and then at the rows of buttons in there, seemingly having difficulty with finding the right one, so Lewis pressed it for him.

"Max," he asked during the silence of the elevator going up another ten floors, "are you a little?"

"Yeah," Max said, "going in headspace,"