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Fernando Alonso can do anything on the track, they say. Felipe knew that. What he didn't know was that Fernando Alonso could get pretty much what he wanted off it, too. Like a key; the one that opened the door of his teammate's hotel room in Italy.
Fernando was stealthy, that was for sure.
Felipe stood under a hot shower, letting the pressure of it pound his muscles, easing his shoulders after two hours of sitting tensed up in the car. Steam had already filled the bathroom, such was the temperature of the water. Felipe loved the heat, and a shower was the first thing he craved after a gruelling race like today.
He'd wanted, needed that podium. He turned around and leant his head back, letting the water blast onto his face. He shut his eyes, gasping for breath a little at the shock of the water against his mouth. He replayed the moment when Fernando had overtaken him over and over in his mind.
'Would have gotten past me anyway. Tyres were fucked. But that podium. That fucking Monza podium...'
Felipe hadn't even realised he'd been talking out loud to himself until he heard another man reply.
"I know. I know."
"What the fuck?"
Felipe whipped around, eyes open now and heart pounding.
"Felipe... I... "
Fernando shrugged, as if at a loss for what to say.
Felipe opened the clear glass shower door, his hand reaching to switch the water off.
"No, leave it on," Fernando said quietly. He was clad in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, and Felipe was suddenly aware that he was completely naked. He saw Fernando look him up and down, an expression on his face that Felipe had never seen before, and couldn't quite place. Nervousness? Fernando? Nervous?
"What are you doing?" Felipe tried to laugh, but it sounded strangled and fake. "You need something? Or you have some news?"
"No." Fernando shook his head, edging closer to Felipe. "I just came here to... to do this."
Felipe took a step backwards, allowing Fernando to follow him back into the shower.
"Your clothes... "
"I don't care," Fernando whispered, letting the water soak his jeans. Within seconds his t-shirt was saturated and clinging to his muscular frame. He held Felipe's shoulders gently, turning him around so that his front was pressing against the cool slate tiles of the shower. He leaned in, his lips just brushing against Felipe's right ear as he spoke.
"I just wanted to thank you for today. You need to be thanked."
"You would've gotten past anyw... "
"Shhh," Fernando implored him. "You made it easy for me. Please just relax."
Felipe was tired, slightly sore, emotionally exhausted from the loss of the podium that his dreams had promised him. He let Fernando stand behind him, running his hands across his shoulders, then down his arms before lingering on his waist.
"They saw what you did. They all saw."
Felipe closed his eyes, hearing Fernando flip open the small bottle of hotel shower gel. He gave a small 'oh' as Fernando began to apply the cool gel to his body, his fingertips digging into Felipe's shoulders; massaging them; painful but delicious all at the same time.
"You're tense," Fernando commented lowly.
"You expected something else, huh?" came the reply.
Felipe felt Fernando's hands smooth against his biceps and chest, his touch searching and gentle. He gave a long sigh and surrendered to the fact that this felt nice. This felt good. The hands travelled south, and Fernando's palm was soon resting against the small of Felipe's back. His thumb traced a circle there, and Felipe arched back into the touch, giving an 'mmm' of satisfaction. Fernando took that as an invitation to move his hands lower, sliding them across Felipe's taut buttocks. He pressed himself against Felipe's body, knowing that Felipe wouldn't reject him, that he'd relish the bodily contact too. The steaming hot water continued to cascade down upon them, and the air was filled with the slightly musky, heady scent of the shower gel.
"I've always wondered what you looked like," Fernando said, leaning into Felipe's ear once more, his voice coming out huskily. "How tanned the rest of you was. Whether your chest was covered with dark hair." He paused. "What size you were... "
Fernando held his breath as his hands reached across Felipe's front. He smoothed them against Felipe's wiry stomach, allowing them to travel downwards. His right hand found Felipe's cock, and to Fernando's immense relief and expectation, it was hard.
"Oh, Felipe... "
The suds from the shower gel were trickling down Felipe's body, adding lubrication to Fernando's hand as he began to work Felipe's dick. Felipe's eyes were closed, his head thrown back against Fernando's shoulder, and his body relaxed and accepting. Fernando's breath caught in his throat as he relished the feel of Felipe's cock in his hand; warm and thick, heavy yet smooth to the touch.
Felipe put his hand against the tiles to steady himself as Fernando began to jerk him. His breathing turned into panting as he felt Fernando's erection against his ass, but he wouldn't give Fernando the gratification of rubbing himself back against it. This was his time now. His chance to get what he wanted. And Fernando was good at this; his index and forefinger circled with his thumb, rubbing up and down Felipe's shaft. Fernando's thumb brushed against the tip, and Felipe gave a short moan as he began to circle the head of it, whispering something in Felipe's ear, his mouth so close that Felipe could feel Fernando's moist tongue against his earlobe.
"The tifosi. They haven't forgotten. They won't forget. They saw... They remember. They still love you... "
Fernando pumped his cock as he spoke, and as Felipe cried out, his body jolting with his orgasm, in his mind's eye all he could see were red Ferrari flags billowing in the wind.