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“I think,” Lewis says into the microphone, glowing in a way he hasn’t yet in rosso corsa, brighter and somehow younger than he’s been in years. ”There was one moment we did touch, but, um. It was subtle. Just a kiss.”
—:—
Just a kiss.
What wouldn’t Charles give for just a kiss. And yes, he’s fully aware of the gaps between them, whether that’s age or career achievements, but Lewis is- he is-
Stunning. Magnetic. Unmissable, even in a crowd.
“Lewis,” Charles says, clapping the older omega on the back while he’s finishing up a conversation with Kimi. His fireproofs are humid with sweat under Charles’ palm, sticking to the contours of Lewis’ muscles. He’s still running so hot.
“Good job again,” Lewis tells Kimi, genuinely pleased for him, and leans forward. ”You did amazingly, pup.”
He pecks Kimi’s cheek in goodbye, as is appropriate between alphas and omegas who are friendly, and the young alpha scampers off, blushing up a storm in the face of Lewis’ recognition and familiarity.
Charles understands the overwhelm of it down to his bones.
“It was a great race,” he chimes in, perhaps a little jealous of Kimi even as he slips out of view. “Congratulations. P3, it’s a good result.”
“Finally, yeah?” Lewis smiles, running a hand up the back of his neck like he doesn’t know how well it puts his body on display. “Feels like stepping back in time, to be honest.”
“It had to come, of course,” Charles reassures, tracing every movement as politely as he can, blood rushing through his veins. “Some things do not change.”
It’s all physical, Charles is sure. He’s not crushing on Lewis the way he used to crush on Carlos, or Max before that; he doesn’t want to take him out for a date. He just needs to- christ.
He needs to get Lewis under him and then from under his skin. That would be enough.
It was easier last season, when everything was going wrong and neither of them had the heart or energy to indulge, especially not over the weekend. But this time around, Australia, the sprint, this race, they are so close all the time, trading places, emotions running so high in the best of directions.
Just a kiss.
It was, just a little touch when Lewis was passing him. When they were so near that the roars of their twin engines almost synced up, and Charles saw a flash of bright yellow, and then Lewis was rushing past like an unstoppable wave.
“You were brilliant today,” Charles grins through the heavy beating of his heart, hoping his blockers will hide the arousal he can feel coiling deep in his belly.
Joy and pride look exquisite on Lewis’ face. As if Charles wasn’t fucked enough, thinking what he’s thinking.
“We gave them one hell of a show, pup, that’s for sure,” Lewis hums, one of his hands wrapping around Charles’ upper arm to squeeze. Another little touch. “Fingers crossed for a short debrief.”
Charles barks out an unexpected laugh, chest shaking at the prospect of any Ferrari debrief being short, and Lewis grins wider and wider, until his cheeks are all bunched up, radiant.
“A man can hope, you know,” he says, playful lights flashing in his eyes, and then-
His thumb swipes over the inside of Charles’ arm; fire whooshes up Charles’ nerves; Charles gasps.
Lewis steps forward.
“A man can hope,” he repeats, eyes dark as his lips brush low over Charles’ cheek, closer to his mouth than is strictly polite.
An embarrassing noise vibrates up Charles’ throat, soft enough to not draw the attention of anyone but Lewis.
“See you at debrief,” Lewis hums, victorious satisfaction shining on his features, and Charles barely has the time to choke out a “See you” before Lewis disappears into a gaggle of fans ready to fawn over him the way Charles would love to as well.
—:—
“Chess?” Lewis proposes as they walk down the hallway towards their rooms later. The thick carpeting swallows up their footsteps, and Charles can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine at the invitation.
“Actually, or metaphorically?” he checks, hands in his pockets to hide his apprehension.
Lewis stops at his door, flipping the key card between his fingers.
“Actually,” he says, hesitating before he taps the reader. “At least for a little while.”
“Why start a game if we will not finish?” Charles asks, following Lewis into his impeccably organised front room. All his papers are neatly piled, laptop squared to align with the corner of the coffee table; he fluffs up a pillow as he goes past, shifting it to the other end of the sofa to make things symmetrical.
“We might finish,” he says, setting his phone down to what seems to be its designated place, plugging it in to charge. “Depends.”
“On?”
“You want me, don’t you?”
Freezing completely, Charles fights to not ball his hands into fists, but he still has to swallow a few times before he can croak out:
“And if I do?”
“Then we’re both in the right place, I think,” Lewis murmurs, uncharacteristically subdued as he pulls out his travel chess set and starts to place the pieces. “Sit.”
Confused, Charles sits.
“Here.” Pushing some of the pieces across the table towards Charles, Lewis then corrects the positions of some of his, making sure they are all facing perfectly forward. Charles takes the hint and sets his own.
Not properly enough, apparently, because Lewis reaches out to straighten them out, turning some and centring others on their home squares. Charles knows this is normal, for Lewis, in his own home and life, but:
“You usually let me be messy about this,” Charles notes, shifting on the couch.
“Yeah,” Lewis agrees quietly. ”But I’m nervous, and stuff being messy doesn’t help.”
Charles’ hand stops mid-air.
“Nervous?” he asks, incredulity thick in the word. “I am nervous. You are Lewis Hamilton.”
Snorting, Lewis relaxes a touch in his seat, a small smile lingering on his face as he tucks one foot underneath himself. Charles counts it as a win.
“Why would you be nervous?” Charles continues, gesturing to Lewis to make the first move.
Lewis does, humming. “What do I scent like, Charles?”
“Nothing. You are wearing blockers, of course.”
“I’m not, though.”
Charles frowns. “You are on the shot?”
“Nope. Make your move.”
Taking a moment to consider, Charles shifts a pawn forward. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m old, pup.”
It’s Charles’ turn to snort. “You finished on the podium today. I think that means you are not old.”
“I guess not, at least not on the track,” Lewis concedes, playing his turn. His smile is proud at first, but then it dims, like when the sun hides behind a cloud. “I am, though. Old. In other ways.”
“But- oh. Oh.”
Charles makes a move without really thinking about it.
Lewis is- oh.
Charles kind of forgot that this is a thing that happens. Most of his omega friends are either too young to be dealing with the break just yet or old enough that Charles doesn’t remember them going through it. His mother’s break came right after their father died, so all that Charles recalls is the scent of grief being strong and then gradually disappearing until things felt normal-ish again. At that point, Charles was just too happy that his mother didn’t scent sad anymore to fully realise that she stopped scenting of anything at all.
And Lewis, well. It would be a little early, for his break to have already begun, but not unheard of. If he’s not wearing blockers and not on the shot, there’s really only this explanation left.
“The break?” Charles tries, careful with his tone and with his fingers as he takes his turn.
“Yep,” Lewis quips, taking Charles’ knight.
“And you’re telling me this because-?”
“Because I might not be what you’re expecting. In bed, I mean.”
God, Charles is so fucking stupid sometimes.
If there’s no scent, there are fewer hormones. Without hormones, Lewis’ heats would have stopped, his libido gone down, he won’t- um.
“Lube?” Charles says very, very quietly.
“Need it,” Lewis forces out, shoulders tight as he makes his next move.
They have spoken about some difficult topics before - loss, racism, divorce - couldn’t not, when they spent so much time together over the season. But Lewis has always been open to discussion, a calm speaker. The fact that Charles can see his discomfort, well.
It means that the sensitivity of the topic must run deep.
Exhaling slowly, Charles pokes Lewis’ foot under the table, making him look up.
“It will still feel good, yes?” he asks, giving him a small smile. ”For you? If we do this.”
Lewis’ lips quirk up as well; his posture loosens.
“If you do your job right,” he jokes carefully, tilting his head.
Charles breaks into a grin, kicking Lewis a little harder while he snatches his pawn.
“I always do my job right,” he announces proudly, puffing up his chest to make Lewis laugh loud and bright, like he did after his podium, and it feels so good.
They don’t finish the game.
—:—
Charles… maybe he should have thought a little better about what it meant to his young alpha nature, specifically, that Lewis had gone through the break already.
“Oof,” Lewis says when his naked back hits the bed, arms thrown wide like a king in his chambers. He looks like it, too, dark skin standing out starkly against the sheets, necklaces glittering at his throat, tattoos running like scripture from his fingers to his arms. They curve over his collarbones and chest, too, some appearing down his legs when Charles drags his jeans and underwear off him.
“Christ,” Charles sighs, rubbing little circles over Lewis’ ankle before stroking all the way up to his waist, shivering while his warmth runs under his hand. “You look like a dream, you know.”
“I had no idea you would be this sappy,” Lewis teases, legs parting a touch to let Charles closer, and Charles doesn’t have it in him to feel offended when an omega this gorgeous and capable is inviting him in.
“Mmh,” he manages, kissing up Lewis’ stomach, gently pressing his teeth where Lewis will let him. Not over his collarbones, he learns, not up his neck, either; but breath punches out of him when Charles worries around his earrings, tugs on his earlobe.
“Charles,” he exhales, arching under him, his hands resting on Charles’ waist to keep him steady.
“Mmh,” Charles repeats, dizzy. He feels high, like he’s floating; not entirely convinced yet that this is real regardless of how solid Lewis is pressed against him.
Instinctively and irrationally, he noses up into the short hair above Lewis’ ear.
He can’t help searching for his scent. That’s what makes these situations real, usually, and Charles is waiting desperately for the spice of arousal to appear somewhere, anywhere; the dip of Lewis’ throat, perhaps, or between his thighs.
“Come on,” Lewis groans when Charles slots their hips together. His leg wraps around Charles’ back immediately, naked skin brushing with electric sparks. No scent. “You can just- fuck me, just hurry up.”
Something burns in the pit of Charles’ belly, unfamiliar and strong.
“Why?” he gasps into Lewis’ cheek, leaving kisses on the heated skin there, the edge of his jaw. Lewis shudders. No scent.
“What do you mean, why?” Lewis’ face moves under Charles’ mouth, almost dislodging him, and he grumbles about it before pushing himself close again. ”Don’t you want to-”
“Why do I have to hurry up?” Charles complains, voice breathy, safely clutching Lewis’ side. ”I don’t want to hurry up.”
“Oh.”
“Want to kiss you,” Charles hums, blood buzzing in his veins at the prospect. “Like you said today. Just a kiss. Want to kiss you. Touch you, see what happens.”
It’s quiet for a moment, just two sets of breathing filling the bedroom. Charles inhales deeply, searching, desperately trying.
Fingers thread into Charles’ hair.
“Come up here,” Lewis murmurs, his eyes dark and a bit concerned as he guides Charles up. “You alright?”
“Don’t know,” Charles croaks, rolling his hips forward. Lewis moans, head tipping back, and he still doesn’t scent of anything.
A whine fights past Charles’ lips.
“It’s so- You are- I keep looking for it, for your scent,” he tries to explain, cupping Lewis’ jaw to nose along it, bite it gently. ”And it feels like I have to work harder to get it.”
“I probably won’t- get slick,” Lewis stutters out, his cheek heating with shame under Charles’ hand, which is not what Charles wanted at all. “I probably won’t scent, either, I haven’t with- anyway. I told you-”
“I know,” Charles jumps in. Heart beating harshly against his ribs, he ruts forward again, body singing when Lewis hums his pleasure even if Charles’ nose can’t find it. “I know, but I can’t help it, I just need-”
“I can’t,” Lewis snaps, and Charles startles at the frost in his voice.
Another whine spills out of him, even more frantic this time and certainly unexpected.
Lewis frowns harder. But at least he doesn’t look hurt anymore. Charles doesn’t want to hurt him; that’s the last thing his body would allow him to do right now.
“You sure you’re alright?” Lewis whispers, forehead wrinkling in concern while his fingertips massage into the hairline on Charles’ nape.
Something squirmy and anxious coils inside Charles. A gasp punches out of him.
“I just- I need to touch you, can I touch you, please?” Charles babbles, distinctly unalphalike, and starts stroking up and down Lewis’ flank because it soothes the tension.
“Okay, it’s alright, pup,” Lewis murmurs, calm and steady as he cards through Charles’ hair, and his eyes are mesmerising. “You can. Gonna make me feel good, yeah? I did win a trophy today.”
“Yes, good. So good,” Charles promises on an exhale, blinking at the older omega in relief and wonder.
He’s feeling a little dumb, to be honest. Strangely slow, and yearning for something out of reach.
But Lewis gave him permission.
“So good,” Charles mumbles again and determinedly shimmies himself down Lewis’ body to settle between his legs.
“Charles?”
“Pretty,” Charles whispers, fingers wrapping around Lewis’ hard cock to keep him steady so that he can lean in and lick over the head.
“Charles,” Lewis gasps, lovely and breathy already, belly spasming where Charles can see it, feel it, when he lays his palm over the spot and licks again. Lewis tastes like betas tasted to Charles before: a little salty, a little tangy. Nice.
“Mh,” Charles sighs contentedly and drops down Lewis’ cock.
“Ah!”
God, that’s pretty. It crackles through Charles’ system like fireworks, the cry and the next one, and the moans and whimpers and a singular purr, low and unpracticed, like something long-forgotten. The omega squirms under Charles’ hands with every pass, dripping precome into his mouth, and Charles couldn’t have honestly asked for more than this, knowing what he knows.
“Charles,” Lewis pants, his shaking fingers tightening in Charles’ hair until it stings. Charles groans, the sound resonating through the room more heavily than regular pleasure, and Lewis’ cock twitches against his tongue, bumping into the roof of his mouth, and oh, it wasn’t a groan at all, was it, no-
“Again,” Lewis begs, and Charles rumbles, the noise echoing in his chest like a new engine on an early morning, deep and delighted.
He sucks a little harder, letting Lewis slide over the wet flat of his tongue; the omega throws his head back and comes, spilling down Charles’ throat with a cry.
“Pup,” Lewis trembles out, trying to tug Charles off his cock, and Charles resists, holding him inside until Lewis submits.
The omega melts into the soft sheets and pillows, exactly the way he deserves. His legs fall wide open around Charles; his grip grows lax on Charles’ hair. Carefully, Charles lets him slip out, licking him clean before he traces his mouth down the insides of his thighs, searching for a trace of a scent, even the littlest bit.
He doesn’t find it, but he keeps his mournful noise to himself. Lewis would get hurt; Charles isn’t here to hurt him. Charles is here because… because…
“Felt so good,” Lewis hums happily, stretching his arms above his head. It makes his waist tighten, muscles rippling all pretty and powerful, from his chest and stomach down to his calves.
Entranced, Charles pets down his hip, fingertips skimming the curve of his ass, and then he’s pushing his knees up towards his face, folding him in half so that he can flick his tongue over his hole.
“Fuck, Charles, Charles,” the omega whimpers, very lovely and all for him, his thighs flexing while his ankles lock behind Charles’ head.
Rumbling some more, Charles points his tongue and presses inside him.
It’s dry, at first. And tight, Lewis clenching so strongly, but Charles wriggles his hands below him to prop him up properly, giving him support and making him messy with spit, and it feels so, so good to have the omega relaxing into him, around him, soft moans filling up the bedroom alongside Charles’ occasional elated sounds.
It will work. Surely, this will work. The instincts inside him whisper that he’s doing everything right, drowning the omega in pleasure. Lewis is feeling pleasure, isn’t he? Charles is making him feel like that. As he’s supposed to.
“God,” Lewis groans, his hips working towards Charles’ mouth, the cleft of ass almost as spit-wet as Charles’ chin.
“Omega,” Charles rumbles, setting his teeth into the meat of his asscheek, only carefully. He’s not out of it enough to leave a proper mark, regardless of how much he’d love to right now.
But maybe that would make the scent finally come? A proper mark.
Yes.
“Can I bite?” Charles says, lifting his head enough to look up Lewis’ body.
His hard cock is dripping over his abdomen again, black ink overlaid by a sheen of sweat and pre-come; his pink lips part to let the answer out when their eyes meet.
“Yeah- yeah, okay,” Lewis heaves, fingers dug below his knees to keep himself open for Charles, and Charles licks just below the plush of his ass only to bury his teeth there a split-second later.
“Christ,” Lewis moans, shaking, cock spitting some more. Charles holds, careful not to break skin but patient enough to let the mark sink in. It’s harder than it looks; Lewis rolls his hips, chasing his pleasure, especially once he wraps a hand around himself.
The sight sets Charles ablaze.
Dizzy, he pulls away, smoothing over the indents with tender fingertips.
“Lube,” he croaks out, forgetting to be cautious.
Lewis stiffens.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, reaching out to fish it from somewhere next to the bed. His chest is jumping with irregular breaths, eyes flicking from one spot to another, anywhere but to Charles as he hands the bottle over.
Shaking his head, Charles makes himself sober up.
“Okay?” he checks, thumbing over the mark he left on Lewis’ thigh, and watches a shiver trip through Lewis’ body.
“Yeah,” Lewis whispers, throat bobbing. “Yeah, I want it. I deserve it.”
The way he says it makes it feel like there is something more; something that cuts deeper than Charles has been allowed to look.
But this is not the time nor the place to go uprooting things purposefully hidden.
“You do,” Charles confirms simply, pulling himself up on his knees so that he can see all of Lewis: the sweat gathering in the dip of his throat, the way his fingers are tangled in the pillowcase. There is tension, too, and Charles soothes it away with his hands and mouth, caressing everywhere he’s allowed until Lewis opens for him again, plaint.
“Can I?” Charles hums, steadfastly trying to ignore the niggling feeling of absence that plays along the edges of his consciousness. Considering his efforts, the air around him should be sweet with the omega’s contentment right now; the place he’s about to press his fingers into should already be wet.
“Mmh,” Lewis sighs, long lashes fluttering when Charles rubs his slick fingertips over his hole. “Yes. Charles.”
And by god, Lewis is too beautiful for Charles to keep ruining the moments with thoughts like those.
Pushing, Charles groans deeply when his pointer easily disappears, swallowed right up.
“Fuck,” he whimpers, Lewis’ tight heat squeezing down on him, and desperation floods him all over again. He buries his nose into the crease of Lewis’ thigh. “Fuck, feels so- you feel so- Lewis.”
“More,” Lewis grunts, rolling his hips into Charles’ hand as if it doesn’t make Charles’ heart rate explode.
“More,” he repeats faintly, squeezing another dollop of lube onto his fingers as he presses in with the second, then the third. He has to stretch him properly, be diligent about it; if Lewis is to take the knot Charles can feel forming around the base of his cock, then-
Well, he will need all the prep and slick Charles can give him.
Twisting his fingers, Charles rubs up, and Lewis’ whole body spasms.
“Jesus, pup, that feels- god,” Lewis purrs, a frantic little noise Charles wasn’t at all prepared to hear from him tonight. It rings through his being like a gong, reminding him that he’s been hard for an entire age; and that a cock and a knot are the final two options Charles has to coax Lewis’ scent out of him.
He doesn’t want to think about this. He doesn’t. Lewis is perfect, squirming underneath him, panting, but it sort of feels like Charles will be a failure of an alpha if he doesn’t manage it.
What good is he as a partner, really, if he can’t even make an omega excited enough to scent up the bedroom?
“Come on,” Lewis begs, gripping Charles’ shoulders tight to drag him closer.
Charles lets him, nosing into his hairline and nipping on his ear again, just to hear him moan.
“Okay,” he concedes, shaking. “Okay, let me- fuck, where-”
“Here.” Tearing open a condom, Lewis reaches between them to roll it down Charles’ painfully hard cock.
The noise that forces itself out of Charles is barely human.
“You’re alright, pup,” Lewis croons, stroking a few times before he lines them up, the tip slotting perfectly where Lewis is stretched open. “In.”
“God,” Charles keens and presses forward.
And it’s tighttighttightfuck-
“Charles,” Lewis mewls, fingers clawing into the back of Charles’ neck as his stomach jumps, clenching down further, how the fuck is Charles supposed to-
“Omega,” Charles groans, shaking against him, and ruts forward without thinking, chasing his pleasure, Lewis’ pleasure, Lewis’ scent, Lewis, Lewis-
Shuddering, Lewis pulls one of his knees back up to his chest to give Charles more space to move, and Charles grits his teeth hard against the need to fuck him quickly, immediately, right away, the need is locking his muscles and forcing air from his lungs.
Instead, he slows himself down and prepares to take care.
He promised Lewis that he would make him feel good, make the night good for him; he intends to keep his word all the way to the end.
Bracing properly, he shifts his balance, languidly rolls his hips away, and then snaps his cock back inside.
Lewis gasps loudly, pretty eyes clouding over as they meet Charles’. Trembling, one of his hands curls into Charles’ shoulder, the other into the corner of a pillow, gaze never wavering.
Overwhelmed, Charles gently pulls back and does it again.
It’s dizzying.
Lewis makes the most beautiful noises when he’s being fucked, keens and moans, sweet little purrs that fill Charles’ chest with the contentment of a job being done well. The way he holds himself open lets Charles go so deep, too, deep enough that Charles feels like he’s forcing the sounds right out of him, one hiccupping whimper at a time, and he’s so gorgeous, writhing on the ruined sheets, cock flushed and wet at the tip where it bounces over his belly with every thrust.
But it’s the eyes that are running Charles to the ground. The way Lewis shuts them when things feel too intense, but blinks them open when Charles speaks to him, caresses him; asks him to.
“Look at me,” Charles begs, voice raspy and overused, throat achy from Lewis’ cock, and Lewis’ lashes flutter before he opens his eyes to drown Charles whole.
Charles’ elbows give, and he collapses on them, covering Lewis enough to take in his purrs as vibrations rather than sounds.
“Can I knot you, omega?” he chokes out, nosing desperately over his throat, searching again. Lewis makes an upset noise, and Charles remembers all at once that he’s not supposed to touch there. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to-”
“Yes,” Lewis gasps, tilting his hips to let the swelling around the base of Charles’ cock slip in and out more easily. “Knot, please, yes.”
“Fuck,” Charles manages to force out, pace stuttering as heat floods him with the inescapability of a tidal wave. “Lewis-”
“Yes-”
“Christ.”
Lewis keens high and lovely when Charles comes, knot expanding to fill the omega snugly, pressing in all the right places. He goes wholly pliant under Charles, muscles giving like Lewis has just needed to feel a little fuller in order to submit better, and Charles strokes a reverent hand down Lewis’ side, settling at his waist.
Lewis shudders, clenching on Charles to milk him. It pulls an unholy sound from Charles’ throat, a whiny, whimpery sort of noise.
Lewis’ lips quirk.
“Make me come,” he drawls, satisfied and satiated even though his cock is still dripping over his abdomen.
Obediently, hazily, Charles circles his hips until Lewis spills with a cry, locking on the knot inside him just that little bit harder.
A sharp “Ah!” is all that Charles manages for a good long while after that.
Lewis is scritching over the small of his back, sending occasional shudders up his spine. He’s purring, also, on and off and on again, like it only works when he forgets himself.
And Charles- Charles just breathes softly into the bend of Lewis’ shoulder, forehead in the pillows, the metal of Lewis’ earrings smooth where it’s pressed against Charles’ skin. Most of his body weight is resting on Lewis, but the omega is not complaining, so Charles doesn’t bother moving.
There’s still no scent. The void of it hangs like a stone on Charles’ soul, his instincts shivering in disappointment, eager to analyse what went wrong.
But nothing went wrong. It was never going to happen in the first place. And it was incredible without it anyway.
Right?
“You okay?” Charles murmurs to distract himself, nuzzling into Lewis’ shoulder.
“Yeah,” Lewis hums, contentedly continuing his scritching.
He’s so mellow under Charles, his voice tinged with a tired sort of playfulness that relaxes the tangles in Charles’ stomach.
“Amazing, if I’m being honest,” Lewis carries on, tugging gently on Charles’ curls. ”All this over little track-fighting?”
Charles grins slowly, remembering the race. The adrenaline of it, the ruthless focus; the care they took with each other
“I suppose so,” he confirms, picking himself up to take Lewis in.
He’s gorgeous, of course. He was already before, but now, naked and glowing with pleasure, he couldn’t be anything else.
“You still haven’t kissed me, you know,” Lewis says quietly, eyes sparkling.
“I haven’t,” Charles nods, heart skipping, then tilts his head in question. “Would you let me?”
“I think I would.”
“Mmh. Can I?
“Yeah,” Lewis whispers, somehow more shy now than he has been the entire evening.
Charles cups his face, thumb sweeping over his cheek in gentle warning, and kisses him.
“Yeah,” Lewis repeats with a contented sigh.
The word is sweet on Charles’ tongue as their lips part, and Charles doesn’t think he’s ever had a kiss like this.
It’s-
God, it’s-
Soft. Deep. Careful, perfect; setting Charles’ body abuzz in a different sort of way. Wandering hands sparking off shivers, the slick noises their lips make on each other, the air tinged with something rich, full-
“Coffee,” Charles murmurs into Lewis’ mouth, mind glazed, soul inexplicably, inexpressibly soothed. “Coffee and warm chocolate.”