Fic: Only for You
Sep. 16th, 2010 01:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eleclyaFic: Only for You
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eleclya_m
Pairing: Felipe/Rob, implied Felipe/Fernando, Fernando/everyone
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, I do not know any of the characters mentioned, none of this is true.
Summary: Felipe and Rob are pretty solid, but could Fernando come between them? Counter-part to Not Your Toy from Felipe and Rob's point of view (post-Germany fic)
A/N: Wow I really wasn't expecting that kind of response to the first part, thank you all so much, it made writing the other half so much easier. I hope this one is as well received.
As always love for mypretty_panther for always being there to reassure me when I don't trust my writing and generally being wonderful ♥
He’s seen the other man around the paddock. Of course he has, how could he not? The Spaniard is all personality, big and brash, filling every room he enters and making sure everyone looks his way. And Felipe has to admit, he’s not bad looking either. Unfortunately, he knows it. He knows that with nothing more than a significant look he can have just about anyone he wants wherever he wants whenever he wants. The rest of the paddock worships him in one way or another. Some seem to see him as god’s gift, falling over each other to get close to him, trying to impress him at every turn and make him think of them as more than just another fuck. Some go to him because they know they can, because really that’s all they want – an easy fuck, no strings, no complications. Convenient. Some see him as a rival, thinking that by taking him in the bedroom can somehow make up for an inability to take him on the track. They don’t realise what seems so obvious to Felipe – that he is calling the shots, he is in control, they can only take him because he allows them to take him.
Felipe though, he is different. He isn’t won over by big personalities and fiery tempers and striking Latino looks. No, he is won over by a quiet, intelligent, unconsciously charming man from some cold, damp town in the north of England. Their characters are just as strong, yet his is a subtle strength, a solidity and consistency that Felipe can wrap around himself like a security blanket. They quickly find that despite all of their differences, which are countless, they share an understanding the like he of which has never felt with anyone before. They barely know each other, and yet they can know what the other is feeling without a single word being spoken; they know if the other needs calming down or building up, if he needs company or solitude, if he needs heartfelt words or a silent touch. Why should Felipe want the explosive, unpredictable Spaniard when he can have that? When he can have his Rob?
So he leaves the world champion to himself and goes about his own business, growing closer to his engineer with each passing day. And when one day, drunk on champagne and adrenaline and victory, they stumble into bed together (and into the shower together. And onto the desk after everyone else has left briefing, and again up against the wall) it’s hardly a surprise on either man’s part. Nor is it a surprise to anyone else on the team, as it turns out when they are maybe a little too hasty in their need to get together and someone (Felipe doesn’t remember who – the embarrassment has blocked the face from his memory) walks into the motor-home to find him on his back on the coffee table, crying out in a continuous string of Portuguese as the older man kneels in front of him, face buried between his thighs. They are assured that their relationship will be allowed to continue so long as they are discreet about it and it doesn’t affect their work, and that no discrimination will tolerated from anyone on the team – however the next time they walk in a tub of cleaning wipes has been left on the table, leaving Felipe laughing while Rob blushes almost as red as his jacket.
It’s some years later when the Spaniard joins his team, and that’s when everything changes. Suddenly Felipe is being inundated with suggestive comments and dirty looks and unfamiliar hands trying to make themselves far too familiar. He is pretty sure the other man believes he is being subtle, but mostly he’s bordering on lewd and it’s making Felipe uncomfortable. In public he’s all smiles and hugs and happy families, but whenever possible he attaches himself to Rob’s side in an attempt to show the other man he’s not interested (well, that’s the main reason anyway. And if a little part of him happens to be very fond of curling up against his engineer well that’s just an added bonus). Rob laughs at this reaction, warning Felipe that he might not always be around to protect him from the Big Bad Spaniard, though it’s clear to see that he is proud of his lover’s loyalty. Not that it stops him from joking that he should take him up on the offer, and make sure that Rob knows all the wheres and whens beforehand so that he can conveniently accidentally on purpose walk in on them. Felipe likes to think that he means he’s intending to throw the other man off him in a fit of passion to show who he really belongs to. He doesn’t like to think about the other alternative, it makes him feel a bit funny. In a bad way, of course. Certainly not in a good way. He’s sure of that. Pretty sure anyway.
Of course, life has a rather annoying habit of putting unexpected bends in the road ahead. This particular hairpin is called Germany.
Felipe is already on edge before any of it started. With everyone talking about the significance of the date, the events that happened exactly one year earlier, he is determined to drive the race of his life; to show them that he is still there, still alive, still at the top. To show them that clichés are only clichés because they’re true, and what didn’t kill him really did make him stronger. And he does it. God does he ever do it. From the very first moment he is out there, in front, no one to challenge him. The laps are counting down and he’s there, he knows that if he keeps pushing, right to the very end, no one will get by him. He won’t allow it. This is his race for the taking.
Then the call comes. Clear as day, the call comes. Oh sure, it’s coded, if you can really call it code. For all the subtlety they’ve used they might has well have just said “do you mind slowing down a bit lad, can’t you see you’re in his way?” It hurt to do it, to step aside and watch the other car speed by, identical to his own in every way except for the value the team has placed upon it. But that doesn’t hurt as much as the next word. Sorry. Rob is sorry. His Rob, he was the one to cast that final blow, to tell him he wasn’t allowed to win today. He allows his thoughts to drift for a second, to wonder what would happen if he allowed the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes to flow, to blur his vision, to allow him to plough blind into the next corner. Would he survive it again? Would the universe be able to survive the irony?
But Rob’s voice comes through again, that normally strong, sure voice sounding quiet, apologetic, hesitant. Worried. Pleading. “Just stick with him.” Felipe looks ahead, sees that red blob disappearing around the next corner, looks behind, sees a blue one fast approaching. Suddenly everything comes back into focus. Stick with him. He’s stronger than this; just because his team have given up on him doesn’t mean he has to give up on himself. He puts his foot down and hears a sigh of relief as his lover realises he’ll be ok. Well, as ok as can be expected.
He finishes the race with little drama. The podium is… awkward, to say the least. So is the press conference. And basically everything else, until he manages to lock himself away in the trailer with his Rob. Rob, who is currently refusing to meet his eyes, fidgeting and looking just about everywhere else instead. Felipe sighs.
“Rob?”
The engineer jumps like he’s been stung. Felipe walks over and wraps strong arms around his waist, burying his face against his slumped shoulder.
“It’s not your fault you know?”
He can feel the other man flinch without even having to look up. “I made the call.”
“You had to. Still not your fault.”
“I could’ve said no. I could’ve refused but I didn’t. I made that call.”
“No you couldn’t. Same as I couldn’t refuse to step aside for… him. We both want to keep our jobs, so did what we had to.”
“I lied Felipe. I looked those interviewers in the eye and I smiled and pretended like everything was ok. Like he really was faster. Like you weren’t robbed.”
Felipe doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he just tightens his arms around his lover’s waist.
“Rob… what’s magnanimous mean?”
The older man chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of Felipe’s head. “It means noble and generous and forgiving.”
Loosening his hold on the other man, Felipe leans back to look him square in the eye. “I could find that out in a dictionary. I want to know what it means.”
Rob cups his chin with gentle hands and leans down to press a long, searching kiss to his lips, a surprised but happy noise emerging from the back of Felipe’s throat.
“It means you’re a better man than him.”
They return to the hotel, intent on spending the night in bed watching silly movies, ordering room service and looking after each other. Instead they are greeted by a frantic, begging Spaniard. Both men realise he is there long before he announces his presence, Felipe’s shoulders tensing as he catches sight of a flash of red following close behind him (and isn’t that a familiar feeling). A soothing hand down his spine helps calm him down somewhat, but he still doesn’t like that he’s there.
“Why is he following us?”
Rob shrugs. “I don’t know baby, maybe he wants to apologise?”
“Urgh,” Felipe bristles. “Don’t want his fucking apology. Want to race without having to let him past every time he comes near. And I want him to leave me the hell alone and stop treating me like I’m a fucking trophy for him to win. Wonder how he’d like if I treated him like that.”
“Well…” Rob pauses, trying to think of the best way to word this. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” He can feel Felipe getting ready to argue. “No, no, hear me out. You can show him he can’t walk all over you, and you can get him off your back over the whole him wanting to fuck you thing. And… that was maybe the wrong phrase to use.”
“I suppose.” A smirk. “And he certainly won’t be ’on my back’, that’s for sure. But… you wouldn’t be bothered?”
“Well,” Rob is nervous now. It was always obvious when Rob was nervous; he smiles too much and fidgets and his gaze flicks away constantly. “I know you’ve been getting curious. I mean, I don’t blame you, he’s… he’s very attractive. And charismatic. And all those other things that I’m not. So either you’ll get it out of your system and come back to me with nothing more to be curious about, or you’ll realise you’d rather be with him and you can go on your way. I’ll still be here as a friend, but at least I’ll know. I’d rather know.”
Turning to stop his lover in his tracks, Felipe drags him down for a hard, passionate, intense kiss, hands roaming everywhere until Rob is melting against him.
“You’re all those things and more. And don’t argue, it’s true. I wouldn’t be with you now if it wasn’t. If you think it is good idea then I do it, but only if you promise you stop thinking those things and realise I love you always.”
When the Spaniard finally catches up with them an agreement has been reached. Before Felipe goes to the other man he stops to bestow his engineer with tender kisses and declarations of love and vows to return before the night is out to carry out truly wicked acts upon his body and Rob is kicking himself as he watches his younger lover walking away. It’s all he can do to stop himself from dragging that small, perfect body back to their hotel room (his room technically. Their room in reality), to demand that they skip the soul-destroying wait and go straight to the mind-blowing sex.
It turns out soul-destroying wait is right. He tries to occupy his mind, but there’s only so much cleaning you can do to a room you’ve only been in for four days. He pulls out a book to read, but in the silent room every noise from outside conjures up images of what might be going on just a few rooms away. A slammed door is his lover throwing his rival (team mate. Same difference) up against the wall, hard enough for his head to connect, for him to see stars (but not as many as he will see later, when Felipe sends him to the stratosphere). A creaking floorboard is quite obviously the bed springs (even though the beds in this hotel are as good as silent. He should know; they’ve tested theirs enough). The wind blowing past the window carries names, pleas, demands. Love.
When he can’t stand it anymore he reaches for the remote, turns on the TV. There’s nothing on – he has to avoid the news and sports channels for fear of an instant reminder of his situation, and every movie channel seems to be showing a soppy romance that he would never dream of watching (at least not on his own. He might watch it snuggled in bed with his driver, eating popcorn and making out like a couple of teenagers in the back row of the cinema, but no one else need know that). So he puts on a comedy channel showing repeats of some show he didn’t find funny the first time around. He still doesn’t laugh, but at least it gives him some solid background noise.
Then he hears it. Not a door, nor a floorboard, nor the wind in the trees. No, this was a name. His name. His name screamed out in an unmistakable Spanish accent. His stomach flips, a combination of nausea and, undeniably, arousal setting in and taking over and leaving him feeling weak. No one should be calling out his name like that other than Rob himself. It was his right. Why did he ever think he would be ok with this? He rolls onto his side and curls up, pressing a pillow to the side of his head to muffle any more sounds that may emerge from the other room. Every time he shuts his eyes he can see them, playing like a film on the inside of his eyelids, so he settles for staring out of the window, watching the branches of a tree swaying in the wind, trying to let the motion sooth and calm him. It doesn’t work.
With his hearing cut off and no way of telling how much time has passed. Rob is caught by surprise when a warm body presses up against his back, small hands running along the length of his arm to prise open his fist and release his death grip on the pillow. Butterfly kisses are pressed all over the back of his neck, across his shoulders, in his hair as Felipe gently tugs on his arm, rolls him over to face him. Two sets of eyes meet: one pair chocolate brown, filled with concern and remorse and above all love; the other bright blue, clearly showing every ounce of hurt despite all attempts to conceal it.
“I’m sorry.”
When Rob sees the guilt clearly wracking his younger lover he desperately wants to reassure him, to tell him that he’s fine, that there’s no need to be sorry, that it was his idea anyway. But when he opens his mouth, the words that emerge were not the ones he was aiming for.
“…You smell like sex.”
Felipe reels back, not expecting that response from his usually composed engineer. He rolls over and slides off the bed, unable to take the wounded look in his lover’s eyes anymore and silently pads across to the bathroom. As the door is carefully shut behind him Rob drags his pillow back over to bury his face in it again. Why did he say that? Why couldn’t he just smile and pretend like everything was ok? He flings the pillow across the room, knocking a bedside lamp to the floor with a satisfying crash. Felipe had come back, that was all that mattered. And a damn sight quicker than he’d expected too – Rob had been resigned to spending the night alone, but there is still a fair amount of light coming in from the window. He isn’t going to achieve anything by sitting here moping about it all.
He strides across the room and throws the bathroom door open, immediately moving to slide the glass partition across on the shower cubicle before he has a chance to start over-thinking it again. Felipe spins around to face him, nearly slipping on the wet tiles as he does so. The whole room is filled with steam and Rob’s mouth is dry as he takes in the sight before him; the water streaming down Felipe’s body, plastering his hair to his head apart from that little curl at the nape of his neck, collecting into little rivulets as it runs over defined abs and strong thighs. He’s seen this body a million times before but somehow he’s never seemed so perfect as in this moment. Rob realises he’s staring when Felipe quirks an eyebrow at him, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“…Rob?”
“You came back.” His speech is fast, slurred, not particularly focused, but he knows he’s been understood when that smile disappears and eyebrows knit together in concern.
“You thought I wouldn’t.” It’s not a question.
“I thought… maybe you would want to stay the night,”
Felipe shakes his head and a single curl falls down from his hair to half-obscure his eye. It suddenly occurs to Rob how ridiculous it is to have this conversation here, in the bathroom, one man naked and dripping wet, leaning out of a shower cubicle, the other barefoot, but otherwise fully dressed.
“You thought I wouldn’t come back.”
Rob drops his gaze, unable to look Felipe in the eye as he nods in affirmation. He is therefore caught by surprise when the younger man reaches forward to grab a fistful of red material, tugging him forward until he stumbles into the shower with him. The next thing he knows he has been pushed hard up against the tiled wall under the spray and is being very thoroughly and very enthusiastically kissed by the small Brazilian, all lips and tongues and teeth. Quick, deft fingers slip buttons through holes and then wet skin is sliding over wet skin, hands roaming everywhere they can reach and Rob has forgotten what he was supposed to be scared about, forgotten that there exists anything beyond the frosted glass that separates them from the rest of the world.
When Felipe pulls back he is pleased to note that all evidence of worry has left Rob’s face. “I always come back. Always.” The kiss this time is soft, loving. Lips drag slowly over Rob’s jaw as he drops his head back against the wall, sliding down to linger over his throat, tongue flicking and sharp teeth nipping at his pulse point. The first time Rob had slept with his driver he had accused him of being a vampire, counting in the mirror the number of tiny bruises left all over his body from those teeth. A strange combination of lust and affection and sheer relief brings laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest.
“So did you mark Fernando too?”
Felipe looks up sharply, but Rob’s gaze is loving and his voice carries no hint of bitterness, only mild curiosity. He grins wickedly.
“I did. Right,” He nips sharply under Rob’s jaw, causing the engineer’s breath to hitch. “…here.” Rob tips his head to the side, granting his lover easier access. Felipe’s tongue laps at the tiny red mark, small enough to go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t looking for it.
“Anywhere else?” Rob’s voice is getting tight, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as Felipe’s hands roam over his torso, pausing to dip slightly under his waistband before sliding back up, away from where he really wanted them. “You nor…normally leave at least five or six.”
Felipe shakes his head. “No. Just one. One where everyone can see.” He slides further down, lips never leaving Rob’s skin as he places them in the centre of his older lover’s chest. “Didn’t leave one here.” And Rob is arching off the wall, pushing forward against the other man as he licks and nips and sucks and kisses and leaves his skin tender and sensitive. His hands are on Felipe’s shoulders but he doesn't know if he’s pushing or pulling, if he wants more or less, if it’s too much or never enough.
As he gracefully slides to his knees, Felipe looks up to his engineer through his eyelashes, smiling innocently while his hands make quick work of undoing Rob’s belt buckle. He doesn’t unfasten the other man’s trousers though, instead hooking his fingers into the belt loops and pulling down until they strain against his hips, uncovering an inch of new skin.
“Didn’t leave one here.” He drinks in the water streaming down his abdomen before fastening his lips over soft skin next to a sharp hip bone, giving it the same treatment. This time there is no doubt for Rob; his fingers thread through Felipe’s dripping hair, pulling him closer, rolling his hips forward to push against that hot mouth.
Felipe finally moves to unbutton Rob’s trousers, the heel of his hand just brushing over the prominent bulge there but moving away quickly, too quickly. Rob whines in the back of his throat, the noise stuttering and hitching as Felipe drags the drenched material down, slowly, deliberately running his thumb along the length of his lover’s cock as he does so. He leaves them bunched around his thighs and rocks back onto his heels to take in the picture before him – the Englishman leaning back against the wall, shirt still hanging off his shoulders, the thin red and white clothing clinging to his chest under the steady stream of water. Strong thighs are straining against the material still restricting them, trying to spread them as he pushes his hips forward, blindly seeking the Brazilian’s touch once more. One hand is scrabbling for purchase on the wet tiles behind him while the other grips tightly onto the shower rail above him, stretching his torso in the most delightful way. Felipe takes a second, drinking in the sight, locking it away in his memory for the next time they are apart. He wonders how Rob could possibly think he would ever want anyone else when he can have this.
When Felipe’s touch doesn’t return he forces his eyes open, looking down to seek out his young lover. The look that Felipe sends his way is thick with lust. He reaches out to trail a single finger slowly down the inside of Rob’s thigh.
“Definitely didn’t leave one here.” He surges forward, and the mark he leaves this time is the biggest yet. Rob can feel his knees weaken as his cock brushes repeatedly past Felipe’s cheek as he sucks enthusiastically, and he's pretty sure the only reason he’s still standing is because Felipe is pinning his hips back firmly against the wall. When he finally turns his head to run his tongue along the length of his lover’s full cock a string of pleas and curses and exclamations echo around the room until they are even less coherent than they were when they left the Englishman’s mouth. Felipe is grasping at his own cock, unable to ignore his own need anymore while he focuses on making Rob feel as needed, as wanted, as loved as he possibly can. His other hand he twines around Rob’s, placing it on his head, encouraging the older man to take control. Rob does exactly that, sinking his fingers into the Brazilian’s soft hair and thrusting into his mouth. Felipe tightens his grip around his own flesh, groaning around his lover, the vibration causing his hips to buck forward so he is nudging against the back of Felipe’s throat. As a deft tongue swirls clever patterns across sensitive skin, Felipe’s free hand grips onto Rob’s thick thigh, fingernails digging into soft flesh, thumb pressing hard against the bruise he left there earlier. Rob’s head hits the wall with an audible thud as he comes, flooding Felipe’s mouth and shouting out his release to the world. Felipe swallows as much as he can, the water instantly washing away any that he misses.
As the driver’s grip on him relaxes, Rob slides down the wall ending up in a heap in the corner of the cubicle. Felipe moves over to help him to drag his sodden trousers down with no small amount of difficulty, sliding the cubicle door open to toss them out into the bath. He slides arms around the engineer’s waist and kisses him, stopping him from taking the shirt off too.
“Leave it on. You look all…”
“…debauched?”
“I don’t know that word so I just say ‘well fucked’.”
Rob laughs and pulls the small body over to straddle his lap. “You didn’t come yet.”
He shrugs. “I was thinking more about you coming. I sort myself out.” But his hand is slapped away before it reached its destination. Rob’s hands slip around to Felipe’s arse, pulling him closer so his cock is trapped between both of them, making him instantly arch up, moaning, rutting against his lover’s abdomen, the warm water easing the movement. The Englishman leans down to take Felipe’s nipple between his teeth while he runs one finger between his arse cheeks, rubbing firmly over his entrance. Felipe’s movements become frantic until Rob just slips a fingertip inside him. He clamps down on the intrusion as he comes, torn between pushing forward to rub more firmly against his belly and pushing back to get more of that sweet burn.
Curling up against Rob’s side he pulls the taller man down to crush their lips together. When they separate Rob regards his lover with a lustful look, running his thumb across Felipe’s swollen lower lip, marvelling at its fullness, its redness.
“Fuck me I love that mouth.”
Felipe laughs and pulls him down for another kiss, long and searching and full of tongues. He’s pretty sure he could spend the rest of eternity kissing this man and he would never get bored. But instead he gets to his feet, offering Rob his hand so he could do the same.
“And I love you.” He finally pushes the shirt off Rob’s shoulders. “But I think maybe we clean up now, or the hotel will send us the water bill.”
Reaching for the shampoo, Rob pours some out into Felipe’s hair, pushing his fingers in to massage his head while he works it in. When Felipe groans, murmuring his thanks and subconsciously pushing back against him, Rob wonders how he ever thought he could possibly let this go.
And he thanks whoever might be listening that he didn’t have to try.
Author:
eleclya_mPairing: Felipe/Rob, implied Felipe/Fernando, Fernando/everyone
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, I do not know any of the characters mentioned, none of this is true.
Summary: Felipe and Rob are pretty solid, but could Fernando come between them? Counter-part to Not Your Toy from Felipe and Rob's point of view (post-Germany fic)
A/N: Wow I really wasn't expecting that kind of response to the first part, thank you all so much, it made writing the other half so much easier. I hope this one is as well received.
As always love for my
pretty_panther for always being there to reassure me when I don't trust my writing and generally being wonderful ♥He’s seen the other man around the paddock. Of course he has, how could he not? The Spaniard is all personality, big and brash, filling every room he enters and making sure everyone looks his way. And Felipe has to admit, he’s not bad looking either. Unfortunately, he knows it. He knows that with nothing more than a significant look he can have just about anyone he wants wherever he wants whenever he wants. The rest of the paddock worships him in one way or another. Some seem to see him as god’s gift, falling over each other to get close to him, trying to impress him at every turn and make him think of them as more than just another fuck. Some go to him because they know they can, because really that’s all they want – an easy fuck, no strings, no complications. Convenient. Some see him as a rival, thinking that by taking him in the bedroom can somehow make up for an inability to take him on the track. They don’t realise what seems so obvious to Felipe – that he is calling the shots, he is in control, they can only take him because he allows them to take him.
Felipe though, he is different. He isn’t won over by big personalities and fiery tempers and striking Latino looks. No, he is won over by a quiet, intelligent, unconsciously charming man from some cold, damp town in the north of England. Their characters are just as strong, yet his is a subtle strength, a solidity and consistency that Felipe can wrap around himself like a security blanket. They quickly find that despite all of their differences, which are countless, they share an understanding the like he of which has never felt with anyone before. They barely know each other, and yet they can know what the other is feeling without a single word being spoken; they know if the other needs calming down or building up, if he needs company or solitude, if he needs heartfelt words or a silent touch. Why should Felipe want the explosive, unpredictable Spaniard when he can have that? When he can have his Rob?
So he leaves the world champion to himself and goes about his own business, growing closer to his engineer with each passing day. And when one day, drunk on champagne and adrenaline and victory, they stumble into bed together (and into the shower together. And onto the desk after everyone else has left briefing, and again up against the wall) it’s hardly a surprise on either man’s part. Nor is it a surprise to anyone else on the team, as it turns out when they are maybe a little too hasty in their need to get together and someone (Felipe doesn’t remember who – the embarrassment has blocked the face from his memory) walks into the motor-home to find him on his back on the coffee table, crying out in a continuous string of Portuguese as the older man kneels in front of him, face buried between his thighs. They are assured that their relationship will be allowed to continue so long as they are discreet about it and it doesn’t affect their work, and that no discrimination will tolerated from anyone on the team – however the next time they walk in a tub of cleaning wipes has been left on the table, leaving Felipe laughing while Rob blushes almost as red as his jacket.
It’s some years later when the Spaniard joins his team, and that’s when everything changes. Suddenly Felipe is being inundated with suggestive comments and dirty looks and unfamiliar hands trying to make themselves far too familiar. He is pretty sure the other man believes he is being subtle, but mostly he’s bordering on lewd and it’s making Felipe uncomfortable. In public he’s all smiles and hugs and happy families, but whenever possible he attaches himself to Rob’s side in an attempt to show the other man he’s not interested (well, that’s the main reason anyway. And if a little part of him happens to be very fond of curling up against his engineer well that’s just an added bonus). Rob laughs at this reaction, warning Felipe that he might not always be around to protect him from the Big Bad Spaniard, though it’s clear to see that he is proud of his lover’s loyalty. Not that it stops him from joking that he should take him up on the offer, and make sure that Rob knows all the wheres and whens beforehand so that he can conveniently accidentally on purpose walk in on them. Felipe likes to think that he means he’s intending to throw the other man off him in a fit of passion to show who he really belongs to. He doesn’t like to think about the other alternative, it makes him feel a bit funny. In a bad way, of course. Certainly not in a good way. He’s sure of that. Pretty sure anyway.
Of course, life has a rather annoying habit of putting unexpected bends in the road ahead. This particular hairpin is called Germany.
Felipe is already on edge before any of it started. With everyone talking about the significance of the date, the events that happened exactly one year earlier, he is determined to drive the race of his life; to show them that he is still there, still alive, still at the top. To show them that clichés are only clichés because they’re true, and what didn’t kill him really did make him stronger. And he does it. God does he ever do it. From the very first moment he is out there, in front, no one to challenge him. The laps are counting down and he’s there, he knows that if he keeps pushing, right to the very end, no one will get by him. He won’t allow it. This is his race for the taking.
Then the call comes. Clear as day, the call comes. Oh sure, it’s coded, if you can really call it code. For all the subtlety they’ve used they might has well have just said “do you mind slowing down a bit lad, can’t you see you’re in his way?” It hurt to do it, to step aside and watch the other car speed by, identical to his own in every way except for the value the team has placed upon it. But that doesn’t hurt as much as the next word. Sorry. Rob is sorry. His Rob, he was the one to cast that final blow, to tell him he wasn’t allowed to win today. He allows his thoughts to drift for a second, to wonder what would happen if he allowed the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes to flow, to blur his vision, to allow him to plough blind into the next corner. Would he survive it again? Would the universe be able to survive the irony?
But Rob’s voice comes through again, that normally strong, sure voice sounding quiet, apologetic, hesitant. Worried. Pleading. “Just stick with him.” Felipe looks ahead, sees that red blob disappearing around the next corner, looks behind, sees a blue one fast approaching. Suddenly everything comes back into focus. Stick with him. He’s stronger than this; just because his team have given up on him doesn’t mean he has to give up on himself. He puts his foot down and hears a sigh of relief as his lover realises he’ll be ok. Well, as ok as can be expected.
He finishes the race with little drama. The podium is… awkward, to say the least. So is the press conference. And basically everything else, until he manages to lock himself away in the trailer with his Rob. Rob, who is currently refusing to meet his eyes, fidgeting and looking just about everywhere else instead. Felipe sighs.
“Rob?”
The engineer jumps like he’s been stung. Felipe walks over and wraps strong arms around his waist, burying his face against his slumped shoulder.
“It’s not your fault you know?”
He can feel the other man flinch without even having to look up. “I made the call.”
“You had to. Still not your fault.”
“I could’ve said no. I could’ve refused but I didn’t. I made that call.”
“No you couldn’t. Same as I couldn’t refuse to step aside for… him. We both want to keep our jobs, so did what we had to.”
“I lied Felipe. I looked those interviewers in the eye and I smiled and pretended like everything was ok. Like he really was faster. Like you weren’t robbed.”
Felipe doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he just tightens his arms around his lover’s waist.
“Rob… what’s magnanimous mean?”
The older man chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of Felipe’s head. “It means noble and generous and forgiving.”
Loosening his hold on the other man, Felipe leans back to look him square in the eye. “I could find that out in a dictionary. I want to know what it means.”
Rob cups his chin with gentle hands and leans down to press a long, searching kiss to his lips, a surprised but happy noise emerging from the back of Felipe’s throat.
“It means you’re a better man than him.”
They return to the hotel, intent on spending the night in bed watching silly movies, ordering room service and looking after each other. Instead they are greeted by a frantic, begging Spaniard. Both men realise he is there long before he announces his presence, Felipe’s shoulders tensing as he catches sight of a flash of red following close behind him (and isn’t that a familiar feeling). A soothing hand down his spine helps calm him down somewhat, but he still doesn’t like that he’s there.
“Why is he following us?”
Rob shrugs. “I don’t know baby, maybe he wants to apologise?”
“Urgh,” Felipe bristles. “Don’t want his fucking apology. Want to race without having to let him past every time he comes near. And I want him to leave me the hell alone and stop treating me like I’m a fucking trophy for him to win. Wonder how he’d like if I treated him like that.”
“Well…” Rob pauses, trying to think of the best way to word this. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” He can feel Felipe getting ready to argue. “No, no, hear me out. You can show him he can’t walk all over you, and you can get him off your back over the whole him wanting to fuck you thing. And… that was maybe the wrong phrase to use.”
“I suppose.” A smirk. “And he certainly won’t be ’on my back’, that’s for sure. But… you wouldn’t be bothered?”
“Well,” Rob is nervous now. It was always obvious when Rob was nervous; he smiles too much and fidgets and his gaze flicks away constantly. “I know you’ve been getting curious. I mean, I don’t blame you, he’s… he’s very attractive. And charismatic. And all those other things that I’m not. So either you’ll get it out of your system and come back to me with nothing more to be curious about, or you’ll realise you’d rather be with him and you can go on your way. I’ll still be here as a friend, but at least I’ll know. I’d rather know.”
Turning to stop his lover in his tracks, Felipe drags him down for a hard, passionate, intense kiss, hands roaming everywhere until Rob is melting against him.
“You’re all those things and more. And don’t argue, it’s true. I wouldn’t be with you now if it wasn’t. If you think it is good idea then I do it, but only if you promise you stop thinking those things and realise I love you always.”
When the Spaniard finally catches up with them an agreement has been reached. Before Felipe goes to the other man he stops to bestow his engineer with tender kisses and declarations of love and vows to return before the night is out to carry out truly wicked acts upon his body and Rob is kicking himself as he watches his younger lover walking away. It’s all he can do to stop himself from dragging that small, perfect body back to their hotel room (his room technically. Their room in reality), to demand that they skip the soul-destroying wait and go straight to the mind-blowing sex.
It turns out soul-destroying wait is right. He tries to occupy his mind, but there’s only so much cleaning you can do to a room you’ve only been in for four days. He pulls out a book to read, but in the silent room every noise from outside conjures up images of what might be going on just a few rooms away. A slammed door is his lover throwing his rival (team mate. Same difference) up against the wall, hard enough for his head to connect, for him to see stars (but not as many as he will see later, when Felipe sends him to the stratosphere). A creaking floorboard is quite obviously the bed springs (even though the beds in this hotel are as good as silent. He should know; they’ve tested theirs enough). The wind blowing past the window carries names, pleas, demands. Love.
When he can’t stand it anymore he reaches for the remote, turns on the TV. There’s nothing on – he has to avoid the news and sports channels for fear of an instant reminder of his situation, and every movie channel seems to be showing a soppy romance that he would never dream of watching (at least not on his own. He might watch it snuggled in bed with his driver, eating popcorn and making out like a couple of teenagers in the back row of the cinema, but no one else need know that). So he puts on a comedy channel showing repeats of some show he didn’t find funny the first time around. He still doesn’t laugh, but at least it gives him some solid background noise.
Then he hears it. Not a door, nor a floorboard, nor the wind in the trees. No, this was a name. His name. His name screamed out in an unmistakable Spanish accent. His stomach flips, a combination of nausea and, undeniably, arousal setting in and taking over and leaving him feeling weak. No one should be calling out his name like that other than Rob himself. It was his right. Why did he ever think he would be ok with this? He rolls onto his side and curls up, pressing a pillow to the side of his head to muffle any more sounds that may emerge from the other room. Every time he shuts his eyes he can see them, playing like a film on the inside of his eyelids, so he settles for staring out of the window, watching the branches of a tree swaying in the wind, trying to let the motion sooth and calm him. It doesn’t work.
With his hearing cut off and no way of telling how much time has passed. Rob is caught by surprise when a warm body presses up against his back, small hands running along the length of his arm to prise open his fist and release his death grip on the pillow. Butterfly kisses are pressed all over the back of his neck, across his shoulders, in his hair as Felipe gently tugs on his arm, rolls him over to face him. Two sets of eyes meet: one pair chocolate brown, filled with concern and remorse and above all love; the other bright blue, clearly showing every ounce of hurt despite all attempts to conceal it.
“I’m sorry.”
When Rob sees the guilt clearly wracking his younger lover he desperately wants to reassure him, to tell him that he’s fine, that there’s no need to be sorry, that it was his idea anyway. But when he opens his mouth, the words that emerge were not the ones he was aiming for.
“…You smell like sex.”
Felipe reels back, not expecting that response from his usually composed engineer. He rolls over and slides off the bed, unable to take the wounded look in his lover’s eyes anymore and silently pads across to the bathroom. As the door is carefully shut behind him Rob drags his pillow back over to bury his face in it again. Why did he say that? Why couldn’t he just smile and pretend like everything was ok? He flings the pillow across the room, knocking a bedside lamp to the floor with a satisfying crash. Felipe had come back, that was all that mattered. And a damn sight quicker than he’d expected too – Rob had been resigned to spending the night alone, but there is still a fair amount of light coming in from the window. He isn’t going to achieve anything by sitting here moping about it all.
He strides across the room and throws the bathroom door open, immediately moving to slide the glass partition across on the shower cubicle before he has a chance to start over-thinking it again. Felipe spins around to face him, nearly slipping on the wet tiles as he does so. The whole room is filled with steam and Rob’s mouth is dry as he takes in the sight before him; the water streaming down Felipe’s body, plastering his hair to his head apart from that little curl at the nape of his neck, collecting into little rivulets as it runs over defined abs and strong thighs. He’s seen this body a million times before but somehow he’s never seemed so perfect as in this moment. Rob realises he’s staring when Felipe quirks an eyebrow at him, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“…Rob?”
“You came back.” His speech is fast, slurred, not particularly focused, but he knows he’s been understood when that smile disappears and eyebrows knit together in concern.
“You thought I wouldn’t.” It’s not a question.
“I thought… maybe you would want to stay the night,”
Felipe shakes his head and a single curl falls down from his hair to half-obscure his eye. It suddenly occurs to Rob how ridiculous it is to have this conversation here, in the bathroom, one man naked and dripping wet, leaning out of a shower cubicle, the other barefoot, but otherwise fully dressed.
“You thought I wouldn’t come back.”
Rob drops his gaze, unable to look Felipe in the eye as he nods in affirmation. He is therefore caught by surprise when the younger man reaches forward to grab a fistful of red material, tugging him forward until he stumbles into the shower with him. The next thing he knows he has been pushed hard up against the tiled wall under the spray and is being very thoroughly and very enthusiastically kissed by the small Brazilian, all lips and tongues and teeth. Quick, deft fingers slip buttons through holes and then wet skin is sliding over wet skin, hands roaming everywhere they can reach and Rob has forgotten what he was supposed to be scared about, forgotten that there exists anything beyond the frosted glass that separates them from the rest of the world.
When Felipe pulls back he is pleased to note that all evidence of worry has left Rob’s face. “I always come back. Always.” The kiss this time is soft, loving. Lips drag slowly over Rob’s jaw as he drops his head back against the wall, sliding down to linger over his throat, tongue flicking and sharp teeth nipping at his pulse point. The first time Rob had slept with his driver he had accused him of being a vampire, counting in the mirror the number of tiny bruises left all over his body from those teeth. A strange combination of lust and affection and sheer relief brings laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest.
“So did you mark Fernando too?”
Felipe looks up sharply, but Rob’s gaze is loving and his voice carries no hint of bitterness, only mild curiosity. He grins wickedly.
“I did. Right,” He nips sharply under Rob’s jaw, causing the engineer’s breath to hitch. “…here.” Rob tips his head to the side, granting his lover easier access. Felipe’s tongue laps at the tiny red mark, small enough to go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t looking for it.
“Anywhere else?” Rob’s voice is getting tight, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as Felipe’s hands roam over his torso, pausing to dip slightly under his waistband before sliding back up, away from where he really wanted them. “You nor…normally leave at least five or six.”
Felipe shakes his head. “No. Just one. One where everyone can see.” He slides further down, lips never leaving Rob’s skin as he places them in the centre of his older lover’s chest. “Didn’t leave one here.” And Rob is arching off the wall, pushing forward against the other man as he licks and nips and sucks and kisses and leaves his skin tender and sensitive. His hands are on Felipe’s shoulders but he doesn't know if he’s pushing or pulling, if he wants more or less, if it’s too much or never enough.
As he gracefully slides to his knees, Felipe looks up to his engineer through his eyelashes, smiling innocently while his hands make quick work of undoing Rob’s belt buckle. He doesn’t unfasten the other man’s trousers though, instead hooking his fingers into the belt loops and pulling down until they strain against his hips, uncovering an inch of new skin.
“Didn’t leave one here.” He drinks in the water streaming down his abdomen before fastening his lips over soft skin next to a sharp hip bone, giving it the same treatment. This time there is no doubt for Rob; his fingers thread through Felipe’s dripping hair, pulling him closer, rolling his hips forward to push against that hot mouth.
Felipe finally moves to unbutton Rob’s trousers, the heel of his hand just brushing over the prominent bulge there but moving away quickly, too quickly. Rob whines in the back of his throat, the noise stuttering and hitching as Felipe drags the drenched material down, slowly, deliberately running his thumb along the length of his lover’s cock as he does so. He leaves them bunched around his thighs and rocks back onto his heels to take in the picture before him – the Englishman leaning back against the wall, shirt still hanging off his shoulders, the thin red and white clothing clinging to his chest under the steady stream of water. Strong thighs are straining against the material still restricting them, trying to spread them as he pushes his hips forward, blindly seeking the Brazilian’s touch once more. One hand is scrabbling for purchase on the wet tiles behind him while the other grips tightly onto the shower rail above him, stretching his torso in the most delightful way. Felipe takes a second, drinking in the sight, locking it away in his memory for the next time they are apart. He wonders how Rob could possibly think he would ever want anyone else when he can have this.
When Felipe’s touch doesn’t return he forces his eyes open, looking down to seek out his young lover. The look that Felipe sends his way is thick with lust. He reaches out to trail a single finger slowly down the inside of Rob’s thigh.
“Definitely didn’t leave one here.” He surges forward, and the mark he leaves this time is the biggest yet. Rob can feel his knees weaken as his cock brushes repeatedly past Felipe’s cheek as he sucks enthusiastically, and he's pretty sure the only reason he’s still standing is because Felipe is pinning his hips back firmly against the wall. When he finally turns his head to run his tongue along the length of his lover’s full cock a string of pleas and curses and exclamations echo around the room until they are even less coherent than they were when they left the Englishman’s mouth. Felipe is grasping at his own cock, unable to ignore his own need anymore while he focuses on making Rob feel as needed, as wanted, as loved as he possibly can. His other hand he twines around Rob’s, placing it on his head, encouraging the older man to take control. Rob does exactly that, sinking his fingers into the Brazilian’s soft hair and thrusting into his mouth. Felipe tightens his grip around his own flesh, groaning around his lover, the vibration causing his hips to buck forward so he is nudging against the back of Felipe’s throat. As a deft tongue swirls clever patterns across sensitive skin, Felipe’s free hand grips onto Rob’s thick thigh, fingernails digging into soft flesh, thumb pressing hard against the bruise he left there earlier. Rob’s head hits the wall with an audible thud as he comes, flooding Felipe’s mouth and shouting out his release to the world. Felipe swallows as much as he can, the water instantly washing away any that he misses.
As the driver’s grip on him relaxes, Rob slides down the wall ending up in a heap in the corner of the cubicle. Felipe moves over to help him to drag his sodden trousers down with no small amount of difficulty, sliding the cubicle door open to toss them out into the bath. He slides arms around the engineer’s waist and kisses him, stopping him from taking the shirt off too.
“Leave it on. You look all…”
“…debauched?”
“I don’t know that word so I just say ‘well fucked’.”
Rob laughs and pulls the small body over to straddle his lap. “You didn’t come yet.”
He shrugs. “I was thinking more about you coming. I sort myself out.” But his hand is slapped away before it reached its destination. Rob’s hands slip around to Felipe’s arse, pulling him closer so his cock is trapped between both of them, making him instantly arch up, moaning, rutting against his lover’s abdomen, the warm water easing the movement. The Englishman leans down to take Felipe’s nipple between his teeth while he runs one finger between his arse cheeks, rubbing firmly over his entrance. Felipe’s movements become frantic until Rob just slips a fingertip inside him. He clamps down on the intrusion as he comes, torn between pushing forward to rub more firmly against his belly and pushing back to get more of that sweet burn.
Curling up against Rob’s side he pulls the taller man down to crush their lips together. When they separate Rob regards his lover with a lustful look, running his thumb across Felipe’s swollen lower lip, marvelling at its fullness, its redness.
“Fuck me I love that mouth.”
Felipe laughs and pulls him down for another kiss, long and searching and full of tongues. He’s pretty sure he could spend the rest of eternity kissing this man and he would never get bored. But instead he gets to his feet, offering Rob his hand so he could do the same.
“And I love you.” He finally pushes the shirt off Rob’s shoulders. “But I think maybe we clean up now, or the hotel will send us the water bill.”
Reaching for the shampoo, Rob pours some out into Felipe’s hair, pushing his fingers in to massage his head while he works it in. When Felipe groans, murmuring his thanks and subconsciously pushing back against him, Rob wonders how he ever thought he could possibly let this go.
And he thanks whoever might be listening that he didn’t have to try.
