#literally wrote this in one go so if there are any tragic mistakes please dont tell me im just here for the vibes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

damixnpriest · 2 years

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what could i possibly request other than vettin smut <3 maybe a cheeky back of the garage bj for one of them?

fic requests are open jay i cannot believe you would come to me with this, my heart is going to explode. yes of course of course. set after the 2022 montreal gp because i'm feeling very lazy about factchecking the lore. why is this 1146 words long. why can i not simply not do this.

"Where's Chris?"

It's the first thing out of his mouth when he can finally drag himself away from the media pen, Britta finally taking pity on him and calling cut on the post-race interviews, shepherding him back into the garage. It's a warm day in Montreal, even for June, but it lacks the kind of stifling quality that leaves him uncomfortably sweaty still half-wearing his race suit. Instead, he feels something more akin to a well fed cat lounging in the sun - warm, satisfied.

(Strange how a hard won P5 can feel as good as cruising for thirty laps uninterrupted onto the podium. Maybe he's finally getting older. )

Jack grins and pats his face affectionately before he jerks his head towards the back, "Quick debrief with the team at home," He pauses, snorting, "Nothing he won't put on pause for you."

"I just want to go over some of the numbers," Sebastian says, lying.

"Okay," Jack says, fully aware of that fact.

It's a slow journey to the back, the path littered with mechanics and personnel who all clap him on the back and ruffle his hair and pull him into hugs. He knows he's flushed by the time he gets there - even more so than before - because he can feel the heat in his cheeks, and because Chris raises one eyebrow mid-sentence with whatever strategist he's on the comms with. His blood is pumping and it seems to take forever to wrap up. By the way Chris is watching him with a pointedly amused expression, his impatience is clear to see.

"I'll catch up with you on Tuesday. Okay, thanks, Sarah," he says, finally turning his comms unit off, "Something I can help you with?"

"What was that about?"

"She had some questions about the tire deg before the second pit stop."

"Oh, yeah?" Seb hums, "We should find somewhere quiet, you can tell me about it."

'Somewhere quiet' is a relative term in an F1 garage, but they find an empty corner in Seb's room, where he pushes his engineer up against the wall as soon as the door is closed, and kisses him with the full force of the pent up energy coursing through his veins.

"You know there are better places for this, right?" Chris says, but his hands are already pushing the nomex up so he can stroke along the damp skin of his stomach, fingers tracing the bottoms of his ribs.

"Yeah," Seb grins, and lets his bottom lip drag through his teeth; Chris' eyes zero in on the movement with almost mechanical focus, "but we're not there, are we?"

"That's a fair argument," he says evenly.

He's not wrong though - most people wouldn't dare just wander into a driver's room without permission but it's not completely unreasonable to expect that, at some point, someone might come looking for one of them. Sebastian is more into it than he thought he might be, but that doesn't mean that he wants to test the strength of his and Otmar's professional relationship in quite such a graphic way, so he makes quick work of Chris' belt, and drops to his knees.

There's a hand in his hair immediately, a warm palm that covers most of his skull with a familiar weight, "I should be doing this for you. Congratulations, and all that."

"Save it for the podium," Seb mutters, voice muffled against the skin of Chris' thigh, "Next time. Silverstone. Special occasions."

"What's your excuse this time?"

He pauses, fingers hooked into the waistband of Chris' boxers, "Are you saying no?"

Chris just looks at him.

Seb grins, feels it stretch the skin around his smile, "Yeah, thought so."

He's still only half hard, and it's easy to take the full length of him into his mouth, hold his tongue firmly against the underside and drag it slowly and surely until he's pressing it right to the glands. When he glances up, Chris is staring at the ceiling, breathing through his mouth like he's trying to slow his heart rate.

Sebastian, a contrarian by nature, hollows his cheeks and tongues at the slit.

"Christ."

He's fully hard now, hot and straining the limits of what Sebastian can fit in his mouth with relatively little time to adjust. Luckily, he's well practiced and eager and there's just enough adrenaline in his system to push the boundaries of what's entirely comfortable - it's a line he prefers to wander along rather than on either particular side, anyway, these days, especially with Chris, who presses and protects in equal measure, who knows Seb well enough to give him exactly what he needs and withhold what he wants when necessary.

A foot nudges at his thigh, and he looks up, eyes straining at the angle where his nose is still flush with Chris' pubic bone.

"You should deal with that," he says, breathless, indicating the erection outlined by Seb's racesuit.

He pulls off with a sigh, and Chris makes a sound like he's been punched in the gut, "I don't want to get come on my fireproofs."

"Oh? No concern about my clothes, then?"

Seb bites his thigh in gentle reproach, "I'll swallow yours."

"Okay," he says, nodding, but he barely gets the word out.

Despite himself - and really, getting come out of dark green is a nightmare - he presses the heel of his hand into his hard on, the immediate sensory overload enough to make him breathe in hard, and almost choke himself on Chris' cock. But there's a gentle hand back in his hair, thumb rubbing along the shell of his ear, a soft "easy now" muttered somewhere above him. It stays there, comforting in a way that feels strangely at odds with the desperate way he's feeding Chris' length down his throat, and yet also not, until he groans and shivers, forearm pressed over his mouth as he comes.

Seb is a man of his word and swallows happily, grinding up nto his own palm to chase his own orgasm with Chris' still softening cock in his mouth.

They allow themselves a quiet moment of peace, Chris tucking himself back into his trousers almost sheepishly, which is inordinately funny to Sebastian, who just shuffles around and cringes at the mess in his racesuit. Moment of teenage self-control aside, they both know this is hardly the place to linger for much longer, but the silence as they both get ready to leave is as far from awkward as it can be.

Seb's still not entirely prepared for the hand around his elbow.

"Hey," Chris says softly, "Congratulations for today. You earned it."

He's still sweating inside his suit and hot from his orgasm, but a different kind of warmth spreads out inside him as he lets himself get dragged back, mutters thank you into Chris' mouth in a would-be kiss interrupted by both their smiles.

#i would just like to say if seb gets p5 in canada next year i think aston martin should hire me as an oracle #literally wrote this in one go so if there are any tragic mistakes please dont tell me im just here for the vibes #are there drivers rooms in the garages??? guess what. there are now #f1 rpf #rpf for ts #vettin tag #writing**

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