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The rain hadn’t stopped all evening. It fell in slow, relentless sheets against the glass canopy above the apartment block’s front steps, collecting in silver rivulets that distorted the city lights into blurred columns of gold and white. Charles stood just beyond the doors, clutching his coat tighter around his body. His fingers were numb, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from nerves.
He’d rehearsed the walk here in his head, across the slick pavement, up the marble steps, but now that he was standing in front of the lobby doors, his body refused to move. Every rational part of him screamed to turn around, to go home, to forget this idea entirely.
But he couldn’t.
Something had driven him here, a restless ache that had followed him for weeks. It was the way his eyes lingered just a second too long across the table, the way his laughter softened when he was near, the quiet gravity that surrounded him. Seb wasn’t his, and he’d never promised to be, but Charles couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward him.
The lobby was warm when he stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of rain-damp carpet and polished wood. His reflection flickered in the glass as the doors closed behind him, a ghostly image of himself he barely recognised. He looked steady, determined, nothing like the nervous chaos he felt inside.
The lift ride felt too short. He wished it were longer, that he could stand in that small, humming box and breathe until his pulse slowed. When the doors opened on the eleventh floor, the hallway stretched out before him in muted golds and deep shadows. A single wall sconce flickered at the far end, its light barely touching the dark carpet.
His trainers made soft, deliberate sounds against the carpet as he walked. Every step seemed to echo louder in his chest. He hesitated outside the door, staring at the brass numbers until they blurred. There was a moment, one fragile, fleeting second, when he could still turn back.
But then he knocked.
The sound was so small he almost wished he’d done it again, louder this time. Before he could, the lock clicked, and the door opened.
He stood there, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the warm light from the room behind him outlining the planes of his shoulders. His expression shifted from surprise to something unreadable, something guarded.
“Charles?” His voice was low, rougher than usual. “What are you doing here?”
He could have said anything. That he’d been walking and got caught in the rain. That he’d lost his way. That he needed to talk about something important. But the words tangled in his throat.
Instead, he took a small step forward, crossing that invisible line between them. “Can I come in?”
He hesitated, just long enough for him to feel the weight of the silence between them, then stepped aside. The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded too final.
The room smelled faintly of cedar and rain. A jacket was draped across a chair; an empty glass sat on the kitchen counter. Everything felt personal, intimate in a way that made his pulse quicken.
He turned to face him, heart pounding.
Seb folded his arms, studying him. “Charles, why are you here?”
Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I keep wondering what it would feel like if you looked at me the way I look at you. Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this.
The words stayed trapped behind his lips. Instead, he said firmly, “I respect you.”
Seb gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You walked through the rain to an apartment you shouldn’t even know I have, just to tell me you respect me?”
He flushed. “Maybe.” His voice trembled. “I’m saying this all wrong.”
Seb didn’t move, didn’t speak. Only watched him, eyes steady and unreadable. The sound of the rain filled the silence, a soft, endless metronome against the window.
“Look, I respect you. As a man. As a driver, as a teacher, I respect you.”
He slowly took off his coat, letting it fall across the back of the chair. His hair was still damp, clinging to his neck. When Charles met his gaze again, something steadied inside him. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “I just, I need you to understand.”
He took a step toward him, then stopped, as if weighing something heavy in his mind.
“Understand what?” Seb asked.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Every ounce of caution he’d carried here was gone, washed away by the rain and the months of quiet longing that had built to this moment.
“Teach me,” he said.
For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved. The rain outside grew louder, like it, too, was holding its breath.
Charles felt the tremor in his hands, the sharp rush of fear and want tangled together.
It sounded smaller in the quiet of the room than it had in his head, fragile, almost foolish. But the heat of the admission lingered, curling through his chest, tightening his stomach. He had crossed the line, and there was no retreat.
Seb didn’t move immediately. He only watched him, still, his presence filling the space like a shadow Charles couldn’t step away from. He could feel his gaze, steady, measuring, and the awareness of it made his pulse pound louder than the rain on the windows.
He stepped forward, despite himself, despite the cautious, rational part of him that screamed this was reckless. “Teach me,” he said. He swallowed, fighting the quiver that betrayed his fear. “If you’re supposed to be my teacher, then teach me.”
A faint shake of his head, brief, almost imperceptible. He couldn’t read Seb’s expression; the careful mask he always wore made him a riddle Charles had spent months trying to solve. And yet, he could feel it, something soft, something dangerous, in the space between them.
“No, I promised… You’re Charles, I’m supposed to be your teammate,” he said, like he was reminding himself more than Charles.
“So, teach me,” he whispered.
Seb said nothing, and the silence wrapped around Charles like the apartment curtains drawn against the storm outside. He could hear the rain, hear the soft pulse of it echoing against the windows, and the rhythm seemed to match his heartbeat. And then Seb stepped closer, just enough that Charles felt the warmth radiating from him, the subtle shift of air as he moved.
Seb’s eyes didn’t leave his, and for a moment, he felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. The furniture, the soft glow of the lamps, the distant hum of traffic; none of it mattered. Only the electricity between them remained. He could feel it in the tension of his stance, in the tilt of his head, in the way the rain sounded like it was applauding his courage.
Charles took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling himself tremble, but refusing to back away. “I don’t want it to be like it has been the last few races. I don’t want you to just ignore me. I want to learn from you, so please. Teach me.”
He grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.
Seb leaned forward slightly, close enough that he could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the softness that betrayed the cool exterior. “Charles,” he said, voice lower now, almost a murmur.
The words made his chest ache with longing. Charles wanted to reach for him, to close the distance, but he held back. He could feel desire pooling, unspoken, between them like the storm outside.
“You’re afraid?” Charles asked, breathless.
“Afraid?” Seb’s laugh was soft, almost tender. “Afraid of what? You’re not as frightening as you’d like to believe.”
The seconds stretched. He could feel his presence like a weight, heavy, warm, and undeniable. Every movement he made was precise and deliberate; it made his pulse stutter. He wanted to step closer, to close the distance between them, but Charles stayed rooted, letting the tension build, letting him decide.
Finally, he extended a hand, a gentle brush across Charles’ cheek. An invitation. He took it, leaning into the heat of his skin, the firmness of his fingers. The contact was enough to make his knees weak, enough to send shivers down his spine. It was electric and grounding all at once.
“You’re sure?” Seb asked quietly, eyes searching his.
He nodded, though his voice didn’t carry.
For a moment, the world held its breath with him. The rain outside pounded a little harder, and the hotel room felt impossibly small and intimate.
Charles closed his eyes for a moment, letting the electricity linger, and savouring the anticipation. The rain, the warmth, the closeness, it all felt like permission to feel, permission to want, permission to finally admit that he wanted him in ways he had only dared to imagine.
And then their lips brushed, and then they were gone, leaving the air between them taut with possibility. Charles’s jaw still tingled from the touch of his hand, a warmth that spread slowly through his chest and down his spine. He felt acutely aware of every inch of space between them.
The rain outside was relentless, a constant drum that echoed the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Charles pressed his forehead to Seb’s, trying to steady himself. He felt flushed with anticipation: wide eyes, parted lips.
Seb was watching him, silently, carefully, and the knowledge of his gaze made Charles shiver again. He didn’t know what he was thinking, but he could feel the electricity between them, thick and unspoken, like a charged current in the air.
“You truly are something,” he said finally, voice low and measured. The words weren’t of his usual teasing tone; they were heavier, as if he was already halfway past the line he had tried to draw. His stomach tightened, and he fought the urge to lean into him, to close the distance he both craved and feared.
“Please, Seb-” he began, but the words felt fragile, insufficient. He swallowed and let himself exhale, trying to slow the rapid thrum of his pulse. “Am I really so bad?”
“No,” he interrupted, his eyes holding Charles’ in a way that made the room shrink until nothing existed beyond the two of them. “I am.”
The gap between them closed again, this time with purpose.
Charles melted into him, letting the warmth of his presence wrap around him. Their lips moved together seamlessly, tender and heavy. He became acutely aware of his own bare skin, the rise and fall of his chest as it brushed against Seb’s shirt buttons. He could smell the faint scent of the other man’s cologne mingling with the rain that clung to his hair.
The air between them seemed impossibly thin, charged with the kind of tension that made Charles’ muscles tremble, and his chest tighten. He tangled his fingers in the hem of Seb’s shirt, gripping the soft cotton.
He tilted his head, opening his mouth against his, letting his tongue run along Seb’s lower lip. The taste of him made his pulse quicken. His heartbeat seemed to echo through his entire body.
Charles slipped his hand under the shirt he was clinging to, brushing the waistband of Seb’s trousers, just a fraction. The contact was subtle yet enough to set his skin alight. His stomach tightened with anticipation and something softer, something tender, something he didn’t quite have words for.
“You’re so beautiful,” Seb said quietly, almost a whisper against his lips, and Charles’s breath caught.
He let out a gasp, small and uncertain, and in that moment, the storm outside seemed to swell, the rain louder and more insistent, as if it mirrored the rhythm of his pulse.
The tension snapped like a fragile thread. One moment, Seb was restrained, the next it was as if the lights had gone out, clutch released, foot flat to the floor.
Seb pressed him back against the kitchen counter, warm hands running up his back, pressing him impossibly closer. His skin tingled, his chest ached from the intensity. He felt truly alive.
He let his desire take over as Seb’s lips moved across his jaw and down his neck. Charles dropped his head back, dizzy with want.
“Seb, please,” he gasped. “Please, I want this.”
“Shh.” His lips slid back up, nipping at Charles' jaw. “You said you wanted me to teach you.”
He pulled away, taking a step back.
“Let’s teach you some patience.”
The room seemed to pulse with them, with possibility. He could feel every nuance of his presence: the subtle warmth that radiated from his skin, the calm authority in the way he held himself. Charles held his breath, waiting.
Slowly, Seb trailed his hand up his own chest and started to work at his shirt buttons. Charles’s eyes followed as his hands made their way to the last button before the shirt was discarded. He reached out, pulling Charles towards him. He felt drawn as though the gravity of the moment had already decided for him.
Down the hallway, shadows stretched and flickered with each movement. The soft press of footsteps on the floorboards echoed in the stillness, deliberate, unhurried. When they reached the doorway, there was a pause, a heartbeat suspended, before they entered, the world narrowing to the warmth of that single space and the promise that filled it.
Charles fell back against the bed sheets, the lights of the city illuminating his flushed chest. He let himself breathe. His pulse had slowed, but the tension in his chest remained, a taut thread connecting them.
He stayed quiet as Seb stalked towards him. The silence was charged, alive. Every time their eyes met, every subtle movement spoke more than any words could. And Charles felt himself leaning into it, letting the quiet draw them closer to the edge of something he had both feared and desired.
Seb tilted his head, watching him, studying him, and he felt exposed in the most exquisite way. Every part of his skin tingled, every thought sharpened by the awareness of him, by the intensity in the room.
Charles felt the world shrink until it consisted solely of their shared silence and the quiet patter of rain outside. It was almost unbearable, and yet he didn’t move.
Seb ran his hand up Charles’ leg as he crawled over him, dropping a bottle of lube he’d retrieved from a drawer onto the sheets next to him.
Charles’s chest rose and fell with a sudden, shaky breath.
The quiet hum of the room seemed to thicken as Charles reached for the button at his waist. The motion was slow, deliberate. Fabric whispered against fabric as he slid the zipper down, the sound impossibly loud in the hush. A breath lingered, caught somewhere between hesitation and invitation, before he felt Seb tug the trousers off, fingers tracing the shape of movement with soft finality.
He tilted his chin up, capturing Seb’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He could feel Seb fumbling with his own belt, his knuckles brushing over the bulge in Charles’s underwear. The light contact made him gasp into Seb’s mouth, stealing his breath.
He ran his hands up the taut arms that caged him to rest behind Seb’s neck, his fingertips twirling at the longer strands there.
Having worked his own trousers off, Seb reached up and pulled Charles’s hands away, pressing them into the pillow above his head.
“Be a good boy and keep these here for me.”
Charles shivered at his careful demand. He nodded, troubling his lower lip between his teeth as Seb started to trail his kisses lower.
Seb’s hands were everywhere, tracing patterns across his flanks, running up the inside of Charles’s quivering thighs. He felt dizzy with it, both terrified and exhilarated by how easily Seb made his head spin. Charles arched up into him as Seb’s fingertips brushed over his pebbled nipples. He moved his mouth from where it was busy worrying the delicate skin over Charles’s collarbone to lick firmly over one of the pert buds. Seb’s hands, meanwhile, carefully worked the waistband of his underwear down.
Charles pushed his hips up and brought his hands down to try to push Seb’s underwear in the same direction. His fingers had barely made contact with the soft fabric before his wrists were pinned firmly back over his head.
“You’re clearly not taking this lesson seriously,” Seb whispered against his lips with barely-disguised amusement.
“No, please, Seb. I’m sorry, I’m trying, please.” Charles felt giddy, high on Seb’s deliberate control. He met his appraising gaze before Seb sat up and pushed his underwear off. Charles barely had a chance to stare at Seb’s hard cock before he started to work his mouth down, right to where Charles wanted him most.
He kissed the sensitive skin over his hip bone, and before Charles had time to process, licked a wide stripe up Charles’s cock.
Charles gasped, seeing stars. He moaned, open and wanton as Seb swallowed him down. He felt his legs quivering as he desperately tried to stop from thrusting up into the warm wetness of Seb's mouth.
Charles lost himself in the drag of Seb’s tongue, the pleasure overwhelming. He let himself sink into the feeling as Seb bobbed his head. Just when Charles felt some semblance of control over himself, a dry finger brushed over his hole, and his hips jerked.
All at once, that warmth was gone, and Charles was flipped onto his front, his face pressed crudely into the sheets. Seb grasped each of his wrists, bringing them firmly to the small of Charles’s back. He pulled Charles’ hips firmly up and back, before grinding his hard cock against Charles’ naked skin.
“Such trouble you are, I should’ve known.”
Charles could practically hear the smirk in Seb’s voice, teasing and taunting him.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped against the soft sheets, turning his head to look back at him. “I want, please-”
“I know what you want.” Seb cut him off. “Always pushing, never satisfied.”
“Please, Seb, please.” Charles begged, “I’ll be good, I promise, please.”
“Hmm, we’ll see,” he murmured, dragging a dry palm up the back of Charles' leg, before bringing it down firmly onto his exposed buttock.
Charles jolted forward, ears ringing, skin smarting. He was still reeling from the shock of the hit when he felt something warm and wet over his hole.
“Oh-” he groaned, as Seb licked into him, slow and teasing. He squeezed his hands where they were still crossed behind him, vision blurring as he desperately tried not to grind back onto Seb’s tongue. There was a click, and then he felt a slick finger press its way into his hole.
Seb worked him open with brutal efficiency, tongue and fingers stretching him. Charles felt hot all over, so dirty, as Seb sucked at his rim, dragging his teeth over Charles’s entrance.
“So desperate,” Seb said with awe. “Letting me do what I want with you. You’d take whatever I gave you.”
Charles whined as three fingers rubbed firmly over his prostate. He was too incoherent to formulate a response, his mind empty, only able to focus on the stretch of the fingers inside him, the throbbing from where Seb had spanked him.
Charles clenched down as Seb withdrew his fingers. He felt empty and off-kilter as Seb flipped him back over. He lifted his head to look at Seb as the pillow from under Charles’s head was shoved under his hips, and his breath caught at the look of reverence on Seb’s face. He lowered his body down over Charles, guiding his cock to press against Charles’s entrance.
The world around them blurred into soft edges; all that remained was the warmth of skin against skin, the slow interlacing of their fingers next to Charles’ head felt like a promise.
When Seb’s eyes lifted to meet his, time seemed to still. In Seb’s gaze, he saw something raw and honest, something that reached beyond words. Seb squeezed his hand gently, and he answered without speaking, his thumb tracing small, nervous circles against his. The contrast between the tenderness now and Seb’s teasing fingers had Charles reeling.
Seb pushed in with one smooth motion.
Charles’ world was split apart and made whole.
Seb gave him no time to adjust, starting steady thrusts as Charles desperately tried to draw air into his lungs. He was burning up, tears wetting his lower lashes, mouth open, but no sound came out.
“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to have you like this,” Seb groaned.
His hand gripped Charles’ thigh, pressing it into his chest as he nailed Charles’s prostate.
Charles managed a strangled moan as he clenched around Seb’s cock.
He felt huge inside him, touching every part of him.
“Oh God,” he choked.
Seb ducked down to capture Charles’ lips in a claiming kiss. Charles could only cling on, as Seb’s tongue muffled the obscene noises coming from Charles’ throat.
Seb sat up again, moving his hands to press at Charles’s chest, toying with his nipples. “You look so good like this,” he panted.
The sensation was overwhelming. Charles’ eyes rolled back as he hurtled towards the edge.
“Please, Seb, I’m gonna come.”
“Yeah, baby, come on, come for me.”
Charles was done. He clenched down, arching his back, as his cock spurted over his chest. Stars sparkled across his vision as he felt Seb follow him over the edge.
—
The rain had stopped. Only faint streaks of water clung to the windows, glittering faintly in the hotel lights. Outside, the city shimmered, damp and quiet, like it had been cleansed by the storm. Charles let himself exhale fully for the first time since he’d stepped into the apartment.
Seb’s chest was warm under his cheek, the weight of his presence both grounding and thrilling. The room smelled faintly of rain, of warmth, and of him, comforting but intoxicating. He had expected his heart to settle by now, to slow to a calm rhythm. Instead, it still fluttered, tethered to the unspoken promises lingering in the air. He closed his eyes and let himself remember the way Seb’s gaze had held his, steady and unhurried, full of something he couldn’t name, a closeness that went deeper than words.
“You’re quiet,” Seb said softly, and Charles looked up to him.
“I’m just taking it in,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Seb smiled, and Charles felt a warmth spread through his chest. The space between them felt intimate, charged with the residue of everything they had shared.
“I don’t want this to be it,” he added softly, almost to himself, almost afraid the words might shatter the fragile tension that remained.
Seb tilted his head, assessing him. “Then stay.” Seb’s voice was low and sincere.
Charles didn’t reply. He shifted closer, laying his head back down, eyes closing again, the calm after the storm.
Outside, the world had resumed its rhythm. The rain had stopped, the storm had passed.