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MALAYSIA 2013
Lewis came awake with the unpleasant, albeit familiar, sensation of spit traveling down his crack. He thought he was dreaming, he felt a vague arousal that made him think he was probably having a wet dream. Those were rare these days, removed from the heady fog of adolescence and the hot Mediterranean nights when he woke up with a hand down his boxers and Nico rubbing up against him, panting into his ear like a dog, telling him “come on, everyone does it,” and Lewis didn’t argue with him because he didn’t have any other friends to know otherwise.
He was feeling something similar now, phantom hands on him, moving him this way and that, it was becoming harder to cling to sleep. His eyes fluttered open, the room was still dark, the AC keeping the suffocating Malaysian humidity at bay, what time was it? And then he felt the blunt pressure of a cock against his hole, pushing in. He was alert in a split second, panicked, he reached behind himself and made contact with someone’s solid abdomen. He wasn’t dreaming, there was a man in his bedroom. He tried to push him away, but his wrist was grabbed and pinned to the small of his back, forcing his shoulders down into the mattress.
Lewis struggled for breath as the man pushed his cock into him, he was too tense for it to be anything but painful. How could someone get inside his bedroom, there was so much security in the hotel. He tried to remain calm, he wouldn’t be able to get out of this if he panicked, he cast a look behind his shoulder out the corner of his eye but he didn’t see anything. He felt heat all along his back, the man’s weight bearing down on him, his cock ramming into him, and the moisture of breath tickling him, but there didn’t seem to be anyone there.
“Who are you?” Lewis asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite his fear.
No answer came, but the phantom hand around his waist tightened, and the man’s hips snapped against his ass, fucking harshly into him. Lewis panted open mouthed against the sheets, trying to tell himself that the moisture stinging his eyes was sweat and not tears. He was so numb with shock he didn’t even feel pain, just a bone-deep terror that he might be losing his mind. He chanced another look over his shoulder, hoping this time he would see a man’s cruel face, twisted either in hatred or abject, victorious, pleasure, but once again there was nothing there.
He squeezed his eyes shut with a whine, whispering, “You’re dreaming, you’re dreaming, it’s just a stress dream,” into the sheets until they grew sodden beneath his lips.
The man went very still behind him, so still that for a moment Lewis almost believed he had managed to wake himself up from whatever this was. But then he plastered himself against Lewis’ back, kissing his nape and the back of his ear, letting go of his pinned wrist to hold up his leg and fuck up into him more deeply. There was something achingly familiar about the cadence of his breathing and the way he touched Lewis like he was following a well-traveled path, instead of plundering new territory.
A well-aimed thrust had a sharp ray of pleasure breaking through the fog of terror clouding Lewis’ senses and clearing his mind. “Nico?” He asked, testing the texture of the name on his tongue. “Is that you?”
Again, no answer came, but he picked up his pace, fucking Lewis with purpose now, dragging unwelcome sounds of pleasure from his dry throat. Now that he had said it, he was convinced that Nico was the one fucking him, the greedy, possessive touch was too familiar to be anyone else. No one else would be as entitled, there was no manner of rapist more arrogant than the one who knew their victim well.
Of course, the fact that it was Nico meant it wasn’t rape. Just more of the same, more of their games. When Lewis didn’t want to play Nico changed the rules, and vice-versa, for as long as they had known each other, that was the way it had always been.
“You are such an asshole,” Lewis said, raising his hips a fraction to meet Nico’s thrusts. “I said I was sorry they called team orders on you. It wasn’t my call. I can beat you any day, every day.”
No answer again, just Nico’s fingers digging into the meat of Lewis’ ass, and his lips sucking a kiss onto the curve of his shoulder. Lewis finally allowed himself to relax into the rhythm, now that he wasn’t panicking it was obvious that it couldn’t have been anything else, anyone else. But the question remained how had Nico managed to make himself invisible? And what kind of advantage would this get him? Lewis’ first order of business come morning would be to find a way to turn himself invisible too. Their first season as teammates was off to a shaky start, perhaps they had been too optimistic.
A hand wormed itself between Lewis’ abdomen and the mattress, tugging inelegantly at his cock. Nico was losing his rhythm, which meant he was close. He was usually talkative, whispering curses or endearments, depending. Either way, Lewis always liked egging him on. If he was being called a ‘slut’ and a ‘whore’ he wanted to be the biggest one around, giving it up for anyone who wanted him and letting Nico have the sloppy seconds. If he was ‘baby’ and ‘love’ then he wanted to be the love of Nico’s life.
“Wait, Nico, wait, let me come first.”
That was how he liked it, Nico fucking him through his orgasm, always on the verge of too much, Nico knew how to make it good. This time was no different, he could almost hear Nico’s pained intake of breath, but he did as he was told. Lewis came with a strangled gasp, tightening in spasms around the cock driving into him, whining as Nico sped up his thrusts, chasing the friction and the pressure. He liked coming inside, which Lewis made fun of him for, called him territorial like a dog, because he didn’t want to admit that he liked it too. But this time, Nico pulled out, and swiveled Lewis around by the hinge of his knee, holding him in place. Lewis couldn’t see anything but he heard the wet sounds of Nico jerking off, and then felt his hot cum land over his abdomen and softening cock, adding to the mess of his own.
Usually, unless they were fighting, Nico would collapse on top of him and they would make out until Lewis couldn’t handle the drying cum sticking them together anymore and dragged them both into the shower. Nothing like that happened, while Lewis caught his breath the weight of another body on the bed disappeared.
“Nico?”
A light went on and then out in the hotel room’s living area, and then a door slammed shut, and then nothing but the thin humming of the AC unit.
---
Over the next days Lewis convinced himself he had been dreaming. It was impossible for Nico to have turned himself invisible, the whole thing must have been a product of his overactive imagination. When he next saw him during the Shanghai gp weekend, everything seemed normal between them. The tension of the team order fiasco had completely blown over, and the feeling among the team was of relief. Lewis was happy about the podium and genuinely disappointed that Nico had DNF’d.
He approached him after the race, once the media was long gone. “You know, maybe we could hang out, celebrate, commiserate, whatever you want.” Lewis hadn’t been the one to start it in a while. He enjoyed making Nico work for it, he should be as hard to get as any trophy. What kind of friend would he be if he let Nico grow complacent? But maybe the dream had whet his appetite, and two podiums in a row made him feel generous.
A slow smile spread across Nico’s lips, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes and ended with a derisive tilt of the head.
“I think we should stop with all that, don’t you think? You have a girlfriend, I have a girlfriend. We’re getting too old to still be doing this.”
His words hit Lewis like an elbow to the ribs. Lewis himself had said similar things throughout the years, meaning it more in some occasions than others, but Nico had always sweet-talked him into changing his mind. Having the tables turned rankled, except Lewis would never beg for anything, no matter how much he wanted it.
He plastered on a jovial smile and clapped Nico on the shoulder, walking past him as he said, “Yeah, you’re probably right. See you on the flight tomorrow, man.”
That night it took Lewis a long time to fall asleep, he was sure it had all been a dream but what if? He kept waking through the night, expecting that phantom presence, but nothing happened. On the plane the next day Toto asked him if he had a bad night. “Hotel beds, you know how it is,” Lewis said, letting himself drop into the armchair in front of Toto’s with a sigh. Across the aisle, Nico met his eyes with a nod and a muttered ‘good morning’. Lewis didn’t say anything, and turned his head to look out the window.
MONACO 2013
Nico’s cold shoulder lasted all the way until he won his actual home race, which was what Monaco was, regardless of what he said to the German press. He liked partying hard, which surprised everyone who wasn’t Lewis. He half expected him to end the night with Vivian, but Lewis thought he’d caught him making too many trips to the bathroom, which could only mean one thing. So the knock at his apartment door didn’t come exactly out of the blue.
Lewis let Nico in, flushed and sweaty, red all the down his chest. Smiling with every teeth in his mouth and pawing at him the second he was through the doorway.
“Vivian not in a mood to put up with you when you’re this coked out?” Lewis asked, walking backwards as Nico pushed him towards the sofa.
Nico laughed, his eyes sparkled even brighter, rimmed with red. “Don’t worry, baby, I didn’t have so much that I won’t know what to do with you. You know me, I have great pace.”
Lewis fell on the cushions, Nico climbed on top of him, pushing his shirt up his torso. “I like the tattoos, I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”
Lewis made a convincing effort to push him off. He loved when Nico was like this. “Stop, Nico, who said I want you in this state any more than Vivian does?”
Nico slapped his hands away, and lowered his head down over Lewis’ chest, taking a nipple between his teeth. “You always want me, stop lying.”
He wanted to blame him for it, sometimes. How much easier would his life have been if Nico hadn’t talked Lewis into letting him do as he pleased? Logic, and other men, dictated that he would have ended up exactly with the same bone deep fear that struck him at unexpected times and convinced him to try, yet again, to make things work with Nicole. They weren’t on a break right now, there were probably unanswered messages from her Lewis was ignoring while Nico chewed on his tits. He argued a good case, with his mouth, and his hands that were suddenly everywhere, and the hard line of his cock pressing against his own. Lewis tangled his fingers into the back of Nico’s head and pushed his face down into his chest, keeping him right where he wanted him.
They ended up fucking right there, Lewis bent over the back of the sofa, looking out at the twinkling Monaco skyline through half-lidded eyes, while Nico lost his mind in five languages. Lewis wasn’t happy that Nico had gotten the first win of the season, but he was so out of it that it barely stung. The coke softened all his edges, made him electric in a way that was all gain, no pain. Lewis was still judgmental of it, he didn’t trust anything that made someone feel that good. There was always a price. One day Lewis would pay it too.
But he envied the loss of control, he couldn’t let his body out of his sight like that, who knew what could happen. These days, he got scared even of getting drunk. It was only a matter of time before he gave it up for good, he could tell. He liked that Nico indulged, though, for the both of them; Nico gave Lewis the advantage without even realizing.
Afterwards, sweat cooling on their bodies, draped sideways all over Nico’s lap, trying not to get cum onto his nice upholstery, Lewis admired the way Nico just lounged there; wrists limp over the back of the sofa, neck thrown back with his eyes closed, as if he were a marble statue catching a breeze. That was the thing that first drew him to Nico, he moved with the lassitude of a prince. It pissed him off too, of course, but it was easy to forge a friendship out of standing out, at that age. Lewis often caught himself wondering if they would be friends at all had they met as adults.
“I’ll get the next one,” Lewis said, playing with Nico’s sticky pubic hair.
Nico snorted, cracking open one eye to smirk down at him. “We’ll see about that. You forget, it was my team first.”
Lewis tugged on a thatch of hair until Nico yelped and slapped his hand away. He was feeling charitable, so he didn’t set Nico straight, it had been Michael’s team first, and going forward, Lewis would ensure it was his.
SILVERSTONE 2013
Lewis didn’t get the next one, Nico did, again, at Silverstone of all places. He declined the team celebrations, begging off with a headache. Nico shot him a look, when he was making his excuses. Lewis could almost guess what he would have said: “It’s always a headache with you, you’re worse than a woman.” Or something in that vein, as he had all the other times Lewis turned him down. To which Lewis would shoot back with some Britney related insult, or a more pointed “does your girlfriend know you love carrying her purse, because you wish you could have one of your own?”, “You have a purse.” Lewis didn’t, he had a handbag.
That night he locked the door of his motorhome and put a chair below the handle for good measure. He was fairly sure the whole thing had been a dream, but whatever, Nico could sneak in even if he wasn’t invisible.
He woke up with a start to the sound of fists pounding on the door. “Lewis, come on, don’t be like this.”
Lewis said nothing. Nico would tire himself out, or someone from the team would notice the spectacle he was making of himself and come collect him.
More banging, Nico was slurring his words now, drunk off his ass. It was almost enough for Lewis to feel sorry for him, but not quite. Maybe if he had won anywhere else. There was silence for a moment, and then, oddly quiet, “I want to win as much as you do, I always have. Just because you think no one wants it as much as you, doesn’t make it true.”
That got Lewis up and off the bed, but when he opened the door with a wrench there was no one there. Just the cold Silverstone night, and the semi-circle of the other motorhomes surrounding his.
He went back to bed but had trouble falling asleep, and once he did, he slept fitfully the whole night, waking up with the feeling of eyes on him, phantom touches on his skin, phantom kisses on his lips.
HUNGARY 2013
Lewis’ win finally came two races later, and the only thing he felt was relief. Silence for the critics who had called him mad for switching Mclaren for Mercedes, even as Mclaren floundered in one of the worst seasons in memory. Still, he’d had four wins with Mclaren the previous season, and now only one with Mercedes halfway through the season. It wasn’t enough to relax, his chest constricted with fear and he became paralyzed with the recursive thought that any win could be his last. The only thing to do was win again, to put the terror to bed, for one night at least, until he woke up in the morning after and had to fight to do it all again.
That’s what Nico didn’t understand, Lewis had to be the best, he must, or it would kill him. He didn’t know what that looked like, matching Schumacher’s record or beating it, but one day he would wake up the morning after a win and he would no longer think about the next one, and he’d know.
Nico was enthusiastic in the celebrations, generous, but then he could afford to be, he had two wins. Toto was ecstatic, Niki too, their praise made Lewis’ giddy, and self-conscious about it, he knew what he looked like because Nico had told him. “It’s like you’re on the verge of breaking out into giggles, you want to touch your hair, but you can’t, so you touch your ears instead.” Just one of those things that Nico could say with an insouciant smirk that left Lewis feeling flayed open. Sometimes being seen through was no different than being stabbed.
He came up to Lewis holding two flutes of champagne. “My motorhome or yours?”
Lewis accepted the flute and smirked at Nico over the rim. “’You have a girlfriend, I have a girlfriend. We’re getting too old to still be doing this’ Or whatever it was you said to me.”
Nico clicked his tongue. “It’s like that, then?”
“It’s like that,” Lewis said, pleased beyond measure to be turning Nico down. He had won, and he didn’t want him.
“Is Nicole around?”
“She isn’t, but it’s not like she is my only option.” He took a sip of champagne. “I’m not hurting for company.”
Nico’s smirk turned nasty. “I know, you’re so popular.”
“Should teach you to not take me for granted, and yet...”
Nico leaned in towards Lewis, whispering into his ear as if they were sharing a joke. “I don’t take you for granted, I take you exactly how you want me to.”
Lewis didn’t have a smart answer for that, he was thinking about that night when he woke up in the middle of the night with someone in his room he couldn’t see. Had he wanted that? By the end, for sure. It wouldn't be the first time Lewis confronted Nico over something he'd done in his dreams.
Nico patted him on the shoulder, and walked past him. “You know where to find me.”
Lewis didn’t stay long at his own party. Nico had managed to sour his mood somewhat. He didn’t like when Nico got like that; ‘only I understand you’, ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking, what you want’, especially because it didn’t go both ways, he didn’t get Nico at all, sometimes, or rather, he feared that what he thought Nico wanted from him, for real, would be the kind of thing that would make it impossible to remain friends, to remain anything.
He scrolled through his contacts sitting alone in his motorhome, wondering who he should invite. Maybe he should call Nicole? He had a congratulations text from her, which he still hadn’t replied to. Nico’s offer hung in the air, but Lewis wasn’t going to take it. But maybe, this time, if Nico banged on his door like a crazy person he’d let him in.
But the time passed and Nico didn’t show up. Typical. Contrarian bastard, always doing the opposite of what Lewis wanted him to. Lewis could bait him, though, he ignored Nicole’s messages and went straight down to his chat log with Nico. “I had a dream about you the other night.” He thought Nico would make him wait, but the answer came within seconds. “About what?”, “you woke me up for sex in the middle of the night, but were invisible.” “If I was invisible how did you know it was me?” “Do you think I need to see you to recognize you?”
This time Nico didn’t reply, but Lewis had a feeling he’d gotten what he wanted. Minutes later he heard a knock at his door.
They ended up doing their approximation of what Lewis called ‘making love’ in the privacy of his head. There was more kissing and less teeth, and sometimes Nico would stop and look down into Lewis’ eyes like he wanted to say something but he always stopped himself at the last moment. It wasn’t ‘I love you’, they said that all the time while they were fucking, while they were just spending time together, they said it as friends, when other people were watching. Lewis never asked him, he was afraid it was related to that thing that would change them forever, something that couldn’t be taken back. He was always relieved that Nico managed to stop himself.
The slower pace made Lewis impatient, he hadn’t done anything slowly ever in his life, but Nico pinned him in place with one hand around the hipbone and made him take it, the slow drag of his cock drawing out winding whines from his throat. There was no cajoling Nico, or trying to seduce him into speeding up when he had a plan, he whispered a mixture of languages into Lewis neck and kept his other hand tangled into Lewis’ curls, taking him along for the ride.
Doing it slow like this always reminded him of their teens, when they had to be quiet as mice, to make sure Nico’s parents didn’t hear them. Any sound of footsteps made them freeze, Nico holding still inside Lewis with one hand over his mouth to prevent him from making any noise. Lewis could only hear his own heartbeat, and the sound of blood rushing in his ears. In those panic-stricken moments he told himself that nothing was worth feeling so afraid, that he was going to put a stop to it. But then the footsteps moved away, Nico went back to fucking him, now smirking smugly because they’d gotten away with it, the relief was so strong that Lewis always came within seconds, and the pleasure washed away the fear so intensely that he forgot all about his decision of moments before. Until the next time, which was never the last.
Nico had promised him, “One day we’ll be as loud as we want, no parents, no coaches in the next room. When we’re in formula 1 we’ll have our own places and we’ll fuck as loud as we want.”
And they were, so many times, so it was funny, that when they wanted to be gentle with each other they became quiet again, back to being those scared boys terrified of being caught, but not enough to stop touching each other.
Like all those times, Lewis came with a strangled sob which he buried into the crook of Nico’s neck. He held Nico through his own orgasm, wrapping his legs around his waist to lock him in place until he was done coming.
“I don’t like it when we fight,” Lewis said, in answer to Nico’s mumbled German. He didn’t understand the words, but recognized the shape of them, endearments, promises.
“Then don’t start it,” Nico said.
“I didn’t, you did.” He turned his face into Nico’s neck and tugged on his earlobe with his teeth.
“When? How far back should we go?”
“Enough,” Lewis said, and kissed Nico. “I just said I didn’t want to fight.”
They made out for an age, just like they used to as kids, when they first discovered kissing and did it all the time just because they liked it so much, not because they expected it would lead to sex. When Nico suggested he should leave, Lewis wrapped himself around him tighter and told him to stay. They spent the night talking about everything but racing.
In the morning they would be teammates again, but if they kept talking long enough maybe they’d outrun the dawn, they had done more improbable things.
Neither of them would win another race that season.