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Sebastian looked good in red. Jenson trailed a hand down the young German’s body. He was firm, wiry, and utterly self-confident. Even now, wrapped in red satin, his lips painted the same colour, he looked at Jenson with complete self-assurance.
This was just another part of who he was. Jenson loved it all.
*
Sebastian’s clothes had always been a neat paradox. Shirts doused with sponsor names, the inevitable suits for important events, comfortable sportswear, jeans, so many pairs of sneakers. But neatly slivered in-between was lace underwear, silk dresses, high-heeled shoes, eyeliner, and lipgloss. Intertwined, and all of it Sebastian.
The fourth night they’d spent together, he’d left his suitcase open like a declaration – Here I am. Fuck you if you don’t like it.
Jenson had watched with heated interest as Sebastian had stripped off his shirt to reveal a lace-edged camisole. His skin had seemed even paler by comparison. Jenson hadn’t been able to look away. He still couldn’t.
*
They fucked with the curtains open, the spread of lights and city too gorgeous to block out. The windows were tinted anyway. They weren’t the first guests unable to resist the view.
Jenson ran a hand across Seb’s chest, his fingers caressing sensitive nipples, electing expressive moans that set his blood on fire. His hips pistoned harder, his gaze dropping to take in Sebastian bracing himself against the window, pushing back as eagerly as Jenson pushed forward. He was never going to stop being hungry for this.
Sebastian smelled of Chanel and sweat. His black dress pooled at his waist, gliding against them both as they moved. Jenson choked out a moan and gripped Sebastian’s hips. It was going to be one of those nights. They'd wake up eventually in a puddle of silk, come, and each other.
Sebastian gasped.
*
Sebastian’s heels didn’t make a sound on the hotel’s plush carpeting, but Jenson was always incredibly aware of them. It evened out their height difference, just a little bit. That was fine, as long as he was still able to tuck Sebastian under his chin. Sebastian liked that too. He was always clear about what he did and didn’t like. He often expressed such things with the grind of a sharp heel against Jenson’s instep.
And yet Jenson still liked watching those shoes. Especially when they were all that Sebastian wore.
*
The first time Jenson called Sebastian 'beautiful' was when Sebastian walked out of the en-suite bathroom wearing a deep green dress slashed at the thigh and a blatant pair of ‘fuck me’ heels. Jenson’s jaw dropped; he felt like he’d been suddenly knocked off track into the gravel. Holy shit.
The words slipped past his shocked lips “Fucking beautiful.”
Seb's ears turned pink, but his expression was pleased and his pupils widened. Jenson felt frozen in place, completely hypnotised by what was in front of him. It wasn't the first time. It wasn't the last time he called Sebastian 'beautiful' either.
*
Sebastian left marks all over Jenson's body. Sometimes they were just lipstick, usually they were vicious hickies. Sebastian was as possessive as Jenson. They both liked to use their teeth.
“God, your mouth...”
Jenson could say little else. Sebastian’s cock bulged attractively in midnight blue silk; his stocking-clad legs teased Jenson's skin and addled his brain. Sebastian's hands and tongue were thoroughly merciless. All Jenson could do was palm Sebastian's face and hold on for dear life.
Sebastian smirked and left lipstick marks around Jenson's cock.
*
They didn't confine themselves to a hotel room. Sebastian knew places where nobody gave a shit who they were.
“I've never taken a partner before,” was all he said as his driver took what was clearly a familiar route.
Jenson squeezed Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian didn’t let go when he lead the way past a nondescript door and down a flight of stairs to where music throbbed low and people crowded in from every direction. The barman wore a bustier and his colleague sported a bright-red pageboy bob and huge eyelashes. Most of the crowd didn’t give the new arrivals a second glance.
Sebastian ordered drinks, speaking German to both barmen and laughing when one gestured at Jenson.
“They want to know what your type is,” Sebastian explained, his mouth up close and personal with Jenson's ear.
Jenson chuckled and tipped his beer bottle towards the barman who winked back. “Tell them they’re looking at it.”
Two beers later, Jenson had Sebastian pressed up against the nearest wall. The German wrapped an eager leg around Jenson’s waist. Jenson mouthed kisses down the arch of Sebastian's neck, stroked a hand along his thigh, and fumbled half-right German words into his skin. Sebastian made him feel both clumsy and buoyant, like he could take off at any moment, like he was in pole position and the lights were a second away from going out.
He bit down hard and swallowed Sebastian's shout.
*
Brazil was a short track but a long race and Jenson was sweating profusely when he eventually got out of the car. He’d gotten the win, that was what mattered. He punched the air and waved to the crowd, to the photographers shouting his name, and threw himself half over the barrier into his team’s enthusiastic arms. Congratulations poured into his helmet. His ears were ringing.
When he eventually went inside, Sebastian was already there, shaking Felipe’s hand. Seb had come in third and was visibly pleased about the points. Jenson was pleased to see him. He brushed a hand across Sebastian’s shoulders. The Red Bull driver turned with a wide grin and immediately pulled him into a back-slapping hug. This was another side of Sebastian – the courteous enthusiastic professional. Jenson had to rein in his raging urge to grab Seb’s arse.
“Congratulations, you drove a great race.”
“Cheers, mate. You too.”
It was only once Sebastian left, that Jenson realised something had been slipped into his pocket – purple lace underwear. Jenson’s fingers clenched. He could smell Sebastian on them. It was both a gift and an excruciating tease. He’d just won, an achievement that came with a lot of media duties and post-race team dissections, so who knew when they’d next get time alone together?
He was going to enjoy making Sebastian pay for that. He was sure that Sebastian was looking forward to it too.
*
Sebastian shifted. He was completely nude and sleepily curled up in Jenson’s lap. Jenson ran a hand down his back, watching with lazy-eyed pleasure as Sebastian rippled under the touch. He was still fucking beautiful. His eyes were lined with kohl and something glittery, and he was wearing a new perfume. He was entirely Sebastian and he was entirely Jenson’s. Words really couldn’t describe how that made Jenson feel. So he used actions instead.
-the end