Work Text:
The Stig can see through clothes.
He can see Jeremy’s reverse-calliper knees, and Richard’s fit new body, and James’ hidden scars. He can see their shoulders, their chests and thighs and ankles. He can see the twitches they try to hide. He can see the little fading bruises. He can see it all.
The Stig can see through walls.
He can see them from as he races around the track, sees them writhing and biting and laughing. He can see the way James’ hair falls in his eyes, the way Jeremy pushes it back, the way that Richard watches them both with a hunger that ought to be shocking after all of these years. He can see the sweat and the pleasure, the glances and the touches.
He can see them.
And he wants.