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“Fuck. Jaehyun—fuck. Your mouth feels so good. Ah—more. I need more.”
If there is anything Jaehyun revels in the most about having Taeyong on his bed, it’s the fact that the latter has no absolute remorse in filtering the words coming out of his mouth. Having been contenders on the racing tracks for most of their lives, no one would assume that their relationship could go beyond anything other than a cutthroat rivalry and burning resentment towards each other. But nay, no golden trophy or a first-place finish on any Grand Prix can amount to the pleasure their bodies give away after every single race. And they pride themselves on being able to keep what they have under the wraps for years.
Just the way they like it.
With his knees pressing against the carpeted floor of Taeyong’s presidential suite, Jaehyun sticks his tongue out and languidly laps the stretch of Taeyong’s shaft, drawing a long line of his saliva from the wet tip down to its base, where he knows Taeyong is the most sensitive. Taeyong lets out an unrestrained moan, echoing around the corners like a gospel song. A smile forms on Jaehyun’s lips at the warranted reaction. Music to his ears.
“Jaehyun, you’re so…”
Whimpers and the sinful sound of Jaehyun’s lips mouthing at Taeyong’s cock fill the room when suddenly, a familiar voice reverberates from the outside. Taeyong eyes Jaehyun in terror, but the latter is too enthralled to bringing him to the deeper abyss of sexual pleasure, not stopping even as Taeyong tries to peel himself away.
“Taeyong? Are you in there?”
Jaehyun chuckles as he repels another one of Taeyong’s lackluster attempts in pushing his head away from his inner thighs. “Answer him.”
Feeling playful, he deliberately grazes his teeth on Taeyong’s cock, wringing at his hypersensitivity. “Yes, Emil?”
Emil, Taeyong’s poor and innocently oblivious manager, raises his voice a tad louder. “I would just like to ask what you want to eat for lunch?”
Me. I am what Taeyong would probably want to eat for lunch, Jaehyun’s mind supplies. Instead, he opens his mouth widely before sliding Taeyong’s cock further into his throat. Fucking delicious. Topped with the salty, sweet, and mildly metallic taste of Taeyong’s pre-come, Jaehyun reckons that this is better than any cuisine he’s tried from constantly traveling the world for decades. And although Taeyong wouldn’t, for the life of him, admit it himself, Jaehyun never fails to make him feel just so.
“Uh, what op—fuck,” Taeyong pauses, threading his fingers through Jaehyun’s hair and begging him to stop as the latter hums on his dick, sending jolts of electric current through every fiber in his body. “What options do I have?”
“I can drive you to your favorite restaurant here in Barcelona if you want. Or the hotel has a buffet downstairs. I can go with you.”
Wetness cascades down Jaehyun’s chin as he tongues the underside of Taeyong’s cock, making him squirm. He grabs a hold of his ass and rubs it in lazy circles to force him into a standstill. Taeyong’s moans are like thunder in a rainstorm—growing louder and louder as he edges towards his peak, never strained and nor contained. And God forbid should Taeyong’s manager unmask what they’re doing behind the closed door.
“Stay still, baby.”
“Taeyong, are you okay?” Emil asks, concern laced in his voice.
Taeyong shoots Jaehyun a glare as he continues to bring him to the edge. Jaehyun can feel, with the way Taeyong stiffens, and the way his breaths hitch each time he inhales, he is merely seconds away from his release. “Yes—shit—ah, Jae —I’ll just,” a pause, “I’ll have—I’ll have my lunch with Ten today, I think. I forgot that he booked a restaurant for us. Fuck…Thanks…thanks, Emil.”
There’s silence from the other side of the door, hinting at Emil’s hesitance. “Are you sure?”
“Mm,” Taeyong moans as Jaehyun amplifies his speed, bobbing his head along his length and using his hand to grip where his mouth cannot reach. With his other hand, Jaehyun presses on Taeyong’s lower abdomen to help catalyze his release. “Yes… fuck… I’m sure.”
“Okay. Just…just don’t take too long. Your engineers need you at the paddock in the afternoon.”
Whether Emil has left or not, Jaehyun doesn’t give a shit. Taeyong fucks his mouth into oblivion in a rhythm that only the two of them would know—brutal, grim, unforgiving—the speed of two drivers on the race track, both vying for the precious championship.
“I’m close…Jaehyun…please. Please.”
Jaehyun pulls away all of a sudden. Brown, angry eyes look into him when his gaze shifts upwards, crimson blood rushing to Taeyong’s face in deep fury.
“This is mine,” Jaehyun whispers into his crotch, unheeding the desperate exhales spilling from Tayeong’s lips. “Mine and mine alone.”
“It won’t be yours for too long if you keep on testing my patient like this, Jeong,” Taeyong threatens as he gathers Jaehyun’s brown locks into his hands, twisting the strands in his fingers before aggressively yanking his head back. Jaehyun groans. “Continue. Now.”
An unceremonious giggle escapes from Jaehyun when Taeyong forcefully pushes his cock past his lips, pushing and thrusting into him ever so ruthlessly.
Tears fill his eyes as Taeyong begins convulsing above him, a hot stream of his load shooting right at the end of his throat. He uses both hands to hold Taeyong in place while his mouth continues to take and take and take. He savors the moment, seizes every second of Taeyong’s release, relishing its taste—bitter, sweet, and so piquantly Taeyong—before swallowing it in a swift, practiced gesture. When he’s finished, Jaehyun runs his tongue along its whole length, licking him clean. He plants a soft kiss on the tip before he is pulled to his feet by Taeyong, who in turn treats his mouth with a sloppy peck.
He grins. “Are you sure you’re going with Ten for lunch?”
“I have to now, do I?” Taeyong asks as he grazes his thumb on the corner of Jaehyun’s lips, picking up whatever is left of his come, before pushing his finger into his mouth so he can suck it. “Otherwise Emil won’t stop pestering me about where I had been for lunch.”
Jaehyun nods. The thought of ordering some take out for the both of them and having them eat together in Taeyong’s suite seemed like the best idea for a moment. But no mere rivals do that. Especially if they go by the names of Jeong Jaehyun and Lee Taeyong.
“Okay,” he says, mindlessly fixing himself in front of Taeyong to erase any trace of their salacious undertakings in the latter’s suite. “I’ll see you later after the qualifying?”
Taeyong’s concerned eyes give him a once over, his gaze taking a second longer on the visibly noticeable bulge on his jeans. “Okay. But what about you?”
“I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll make it up to you later,” Taeyong whispers into his ear as his hand playfully palms over Jaehyun’s crotch. Now, he has to take care of that before going into the track in his racing suit. If he wants to perform at his best, it would be ideal to get rid of his striking boner. Especially because of the fact that his number one rival was responsible for it.
“Make it up to me? On the track?”
A scoff. “No. In bed. You’re still my number one enemy, Jeong. I will never yield to you on the circuit.”
Ah, figures.
“Likewise,” Jaehyun replies, tilting his head to sink his teeth on Taeyong’s earlobe. He pulls himself away after getting the reaction he wanted: a panting groan and the feeling of Taeyong wanting to melt on his knees like jelly. Then, he takes one step back, gesturing to the door. “Enjoy your lunch, Taeyongie, because I sure as hell enjoyed mine.”
“Care to explain why you decided to crash our supposed lunch date?”
Taeyong rolls his eyes for what he thinks is the hundredth time since he sat down with his best friend and his teammate for lunch. For the record, it’s not like he wanted to crash their date, it’s just that he has a disturbingly probing manager who won’t leave him alone if he isn’t assured of Taeyong’s whereabouts. Especially on a race weekend. If he had a choice, Taeyong wouldn’t have let Jaehyun step out of his suite so they can take their business a step further.
Have himself his rival for appetizer, main course, and dessert. How truly wonderful it could’ve been.
“It’s what I told Emil,” he says. “You know him. It’s like not knowing where I am is enough to give him a heart attack. Besides, if I had chosen to eat elsewhere, he'd be forced to tail around me. I don’t want him to be the one to deal with the paparazzi. It’s just the start of the season yet it feels like we’re already at the final stretch. He deserves a break before we hit the race tracks this afternoon.”
The poor man had been skirting his way around the circuits in the last nine weeks, trying to manage Taeyong and getting him into optimal shape for the races in the current season. Emil has been by his side since he entered the world of Formula 1 nine years ago. From his first start in the sport, his first points, his maiden win, and his first World Championship, not once did Emil commit to any other racer. And now that he’s a little over 30, and with three Formula 1 World Championship trophies under his name, Taeyong considers Emil as more of a brother than he is an assistant to him. Emil has certainly helped him pave his way towards the racer that he is today, together with Dupont, Taeyong’s first and only racing team in his career.
Taeyong will always and forever be grateful for him. Despite how much of a mom he can be towards him at times.
And a cockblocker too, considering the innumerable instances he’d chimed in during his sexcapades with Jaehyun. One of these days, Emil is going to walk in on them with Jaehyun fucking his brains out, or him, sucking his number one rival’s dick. Or both. Who knows?
“You could’ve just asked him to order food for you,” his best friend Ten tells him. “Make it double, because we all know Jaehyun had been screwing you in your suite when your manager-slash-assistant knocked on your door.”
“He wasn’t,” Taeyong answers truthfully. Jaehyun really wasn’t screwing him at the time, because he was giving him a messy and deliciously risky blowjob. But of course, Taeyong doesn’t say that. Instead, he turns to the other man seated beside Ten whose neck is covered with love bites and the marks of an intense round of sex. His face morphs in disgust. “And, you’re one to talk. What were you even doing last night? Those hickeys are hideous, Johnny.”
Johnny, his racing teammate in Formula 1 and, surprise-surprise, Ten’s boyfriend, raises a brow. “You don’t even wanna know, Taeyong.”
“Gross. Stop fucking my best friend while I’m literally next door, will you?”
“I’m just saying,” Ten chimes in, pausing briefly to sip from his Sangria, “if your sex life is getting dry, you should probably do something else with your sneaky link to spice things up.”
Taeyong rolls his eyes. “No need to worry about my sex life, Ten. Dare I say it’s going splendid.”
A sarcastic laugh bellows out of Johnny. “By doing what, exactly? Blowjobs and quickies with your number one in your hotel room after every race? Are you not getting bored, Taeyong? I get that he’s hot, well, you both are, but like, what else is there to it?”
Taeyong squints. “Our set-up is purely for sex. We’re not supposed to develop feelings for each other.”
He averts his eyes when a meaningful look begins to color Ten’s gaze. Okay. Maybe he was reaching. Maybe it’s not what the question meant. But still. Aren’t people friends—or rivals, in Jaehyun and Taeyong’s case—with benefits arrangement supposed to keep things as they are?
“Although there is absolutely nothing wrong with developing some feelings for each other, I don’t think that’s what Johnny means, babe,” Ten tells him. “He means that there are other ways for which you can spice up your sex life, depending on what the both of you want. Jaehyun is young and highly experienced, I can guarantee you he has a ton of kinks hidden in his sleeves.”
Words die on Taeyong’s tongue. Admittedly, he and Jaehyun rarely explore or go beyond their usual route for sex: undress, a bit of foreplay if they aren’t fighting against time, and the deed itself—which typically lasts for a couple of minutes before an oblivious individual comes to ruin their peace. Their fuck buddy arrangement isn’t one that takes risks, taking into account what’s at stake for the both of them. Jaehyun and Taeyong have been established as rivals from the very beginning. Their relationship in bed cannot be known by anyone else but themselves.
And the thing is, it’s not that they have to change how it is, either. Especially if they are both content with what they do. But it’s also in doing so that can make their arrangement more interesting. More thrilling.
But what does Taeyong need to do for it to happen?
What does he want to do to make sex more mind-blowing?
The night before race day in Barcelona, Taeyong has invited himself over to Jaehyun’s suite as a fulfillment of his promise in their earlier carouse. Sloppy kisses and love bites scatter all over Jaehyun’s chest like spilled ink, with Taeyong’s mouth being the hurried painter. Enervated from today’s activities on and off the circuit, Jaehyun lets his body regain its strength from the heat of Taeyong’s touch, hot palms tracing contorted shapes across the expanse of his bare skin.
He gasps, once, when Taeyong’s teeth start nibbling his chest, sucking his nipples as if trying to draw out blood from them. Patches of his skin will definitely swell until next week. He can only thank Formula 1’s regulations about a driver’s racewear. No strip of his body will be uncovered when he’s out on a race, which means Taeyong can have Jaehyun’s body all for himself.
“Fuck, Taeyong.”
Worry rises to Jaehyun’s chest when, all of a sudden, Taeyong’s body grows stiff on top of him. He sits back up at once, panic-stricken and in cold sweat, thinking he might’ve done something to merit Taeyong’s austere reaction.
“What’s wrong?”
Hyper aware of Taeyong’s hands laid gingerly above his chest, Jaehyun tries to modulate his breathing when the former’s fingers begin fondling with the marks on his skin, drawing invisible lines on his bosom, his abdomen, down to his crotch where a patch of jet black hair can be seen. “I want to ask you something.”
Jaehyun brings a hand to the side of Taeyong’s thigh, lightly brushing his soft skin. Not too much to give discomfort, but just enough to encourage him to speak. “What is it?”
“Do you find our setup boring?”
“What do you mean?” Jaehyun’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m not bored. Are you?”
“Well, I just thought that maybe…”
“Don’t be shy,” Jaehyun mumbles gently. Never in the course of their arrangement has he ever spoken to Taeyong this way—soft, tenderhearted, and compelling—a stark contrast to a much more aggressive manner of speaking—dirty talks and degrading names and phrases because he knows Taeyong likes it. “You can tell me.”
The slight tinge of pink coloring Taeyong’s cheeks doesn’t escape Jaehyun’s eyes. His voice too, has drastically ascended two pitches, hinting at his misgivings. “I just thought we should explore more. Try…try some things we’ve never done before.”
“Like?”
“Like, you know—” Taeyong inhales sharply, “Jaehyun, have you ever experienced bottoming before?”
It takes a while for Jaehyun to process his words. Hazel eyes stare into him in anticipation, flashed with doubt and a gleam of shyness in their gaze. He weighs Taeyong’s question in his mind, chews over it a couple of hundred times. In the years he’s been with Taeyong, Jaehyun thought he knew him all along. But his question is something he hadn’t seen coming at all.
And is far better than what he thought Taeyong would say.
“You want to fuck me.”
Jaehyun finds himself smiling at the flush charming Taeyong’s cheeks, his eyes looking more doll-like than ever. Of course, the ever dauntless Taeyong would want to have him like that, not in the way they started off this clandestine relationship, but in a way that is so pleasantly different and equally ravishing at the same time.
“Baby, if you wanted you could’ve just asked.”
He chuckles, seeing the surprise pooling in Taeyong’s eyes. He shakes his head, laughing in disbelief. “You’re so…good at being assertive. I didn’t think you’d be open to the idea. And…I love being fucked by you. A lot.”
“Really?” Jaehyun teases. How fucking cute. Yes, Taeyong is his biggest competitor and yes, his entire team and fans would crucify him for frolicking with his rival to the Formula 1 championship title, but Jaehyun isn’t one to lie. He isn’t one to be a kill-joy either. To his eyes, Taeyong is the sexiest and most beautiful human he’s ever seen. Why, on God’s green earth, would Jaehyun not be open to the idea of getting fucked by him? “I’m open to doing everything with you.”
Jaehyun’s heartbeat goes on full throttle the moment Taeyong’s eyes begin to sparkle in glee. What once was an apprehensive expression has morphed into that of excitement and joy, one that Jaehyun can’t help but stare into even as Taeyong talks. “I have an idea.”
“Hmm?”
An impish smile plays on Taeyong’s lips as he leans down to rest his chin on Jaehyun’s chest, their torsos laid on top of each other. Gone is the hesitant Taeyong that looked like he was one breath away from crying before he could tell Jaehyun his thoughts. This is the kind of Taeyong Jaehyun has known all along. Planting a wet kiss on Jaehyun’s pecs, he says, “Whoever wins tomorrow’s race gets to top the loser.”
Jaehyun raises a brow. “What if I win? You won’t get what you want.”
Taeyong lets out a string of amused giggles that sends vibrations across Jaehyun’s chest. His voice rises an octave when he says, “But you won’t though. Because I will.”
“You’ve got four drivers to overtake before you can get that win, Lee Taeyong,” Jaehyun taunts, reminding him of the dramatic results in today’s qualifying session: Jaehyun in pole position, Taeyong placing fourth on the grid. It will take Taeyong some good effort before he can manage to overtake Jaehyun in a span of 66 laps, given that Jaehyun knows the circuit like the back of his palm. “And mind you, I was the race winner of the same track last year.”
“And it will be your last,” Taeyong taunts back. His lips make their way to his neck, sucking on the spots that will force Jaehyun to wear a turtleneck on tomorrow’s driver’s parade. Already aroused himself, Jaehyun bares his neck more to let Taeyong do whatever he wants to his skin. He rolls his hips once, earning him a low groan from Taeyong when their cocks brush tastefully.
Fuck. Win or not, Jaehyun has never been more excited to race in his life. He would gladly give up the first place position to Taeyong if it means he’ll get to have the latter inside him as a prize. But he knows that is not what Taeyong would want. Taeyong wants them to compete . To race.
And what Taeyong wants, Taeyong gets.
“I’ll see you after the checkered flag tomorrow, then.”
“Taeyong, it’s about fifteen seconds to the green light.”
Deep breaths leave Taeyong’s lips at the sound of his race engineer’s voice over the radio. His foot against the throttle of his Dupont race car, his helmet’s visor over his eyes, and his gloved hands grasping the steering wheel for dear life. Looking ahead, Taeyong does not dare to be fazed by the daunting race track and its tight corners where a potential mishap may transpire during the course of the 66-lapped Grand Prix.
Formula 1 may involve lots of glitz and glamour, thrills and spills at pit stops and finish lines, and the neck-breaking speeds of the fastest race cars in the world, but some people are yet to realize the dangers that this sport entails. Each race, a driver commits to their safety, hoping and praying that they make it out of their cars alive in case a disastrous crash takes place. Fortunately enough, Taeyong hasn’t met any life-threatening accidents in his nine years of being in the sport. And Heaven forbid that ever happens to him—or anyone ever.
Taeyong’s car is stationed at P4, outside of the second row and right behind the first two drivers frontrunning the race. Jaehyun’s Hermann race car is ahead of him at P1 and, considering how much superior his team’s race pace has been in the first five races of the season, it will be tougher battle at overtaking and potentially stretching some distance from him. But Taeyong is known to not give up so easily. He’s a three-time World Champion after all. And now that there is a more exciting prize other than the trophy and some crucial championship points waiting for him after the checkered flag, he’s motivated, now more than ever, to reign victorious at the Spanish Grand Prix.
“Five seconds to the green light, Taeyong.”
He shuts his eyes, bringing his raging heartbeat into a slower rhythm.
Five. Four. Three. Two.
One.
Lights out and away we go.
Taeyong’s engine roars to life, pushing his car off the track and into a fast start when almost immediately, he manages to surge past the car in front of him after the first high-speed corner going into a short straight. He is now at P3. The two frontrunners of the race, having been placed on soft tyres for better speed, have managed to set a decent gap ahead of Taeyong and the other 16 drivers behind him. Though there is nothing to worry about, really, as things may drastically change as the race proceeds.
And quickly they do. At the sixteenth lap, and as Taeyong cruises past the blur of the raging spectators by the grandstands, he observes the gradual decline of speed of the car in front of him, giving him a leeway to throttle off and overtake the driver at the long straight. His race engineer speaks over the radio to commend the agile move he made at a shorter reaction time. “You’re currently P2, Taeyong. Nice job so far.”
“Why was Nakamoto slowing down?” He asks, curious as to what might’ve caused the deceleration in his competitor’s speed. Taeyong might have overtaken him, but there is no room for complacency. Other drivers still pose a threat.
“Bodywork damage. Broken rear,” his race engineer replies. “No need to worry about him for a moment. Focus on Jeong. He’s just set a record on the previous lap.”
A soft curse slips out of Taeyong’s mouth. There are 50 laps to go, but P2 is not enough. He needs more pace, and if his goal is to beat Jaehyun for first place, some action needs to come out of him.
Channeling his champion spirit, Taeyong successfully gains on Jaehyun’s race car by the 32 nd lap, coming out of a pitstop and with fresher tyres. His gaze zeroes in on the rear of his rival’s vehicle about 3 seconds away from his. Taeyong pushes on his throttle to gain speed even more. But this gesture, causes him to go off the track for a brief second, earning him a firm prodding from his race engineer.
“Don’t rush, Taeyong. We’re only halfway through the race. Manage your speed.”
“What’s the gap?” He asks.
There’s a pause. “Gap to Jeong is 3.422 seconds. Try to close in on the 45 th lap. Then we’ll try to push on the last ten laps.”
Taeyong doesn’t dare to question nor overturn his engineer’s instructions, putting his trust into the team and in himself that he’ll manage to get by Jaehyun’s sprinting vehicle in the latter laps. Luckily, Taeyong was able to stretch a reasonable gap between him and the driver behind him, making Jaehyun his only worry at this point. And because of his hungry desire to catch up on his opponent, Taeyong manages to set the fastest lap one after another. By doing so, he successfully shrinks the distance between Jaehyun’s car and his in a gradual and less impulsive pace.
Following a long-awaited go signal from his race engineer, Taeyong finally pushes.
“Gap to Jaehyun is 0.197, Taeyong.”
He releases a burdened sigh after triumphantly overhauling Jaehyun in one sweep. Both cars go neck and neck at every turn, the gaps between their sidepods infinitesimally small and dangerously close to each other. One wrong steer from either of them and they are both out of the race. Taeyong can hear the mechanics back at the pitlane going ballistic at his lead when his race engineer speaks again. He lightly chuckles, savoring the slight smell of an almost victory.
It's him and Jaehyun grappling for the win at the last three laps of the race. Having to battle each other for every first place or even podium finishes in races since they were kids, there is a reason why Jaehyun and Taeyong have been dubbed as the ultimate rivals in Formula 1 history. But little does the industry know that rivalry is not the only thing they share off the track. Despite being his biggest and most ruthless competitor in the sport, Taeyong can’t deny the inherent talent in driving, charisma, and natural sex appeal Jaehyun has whenever he is in his racing gear.
But to Taeyong’s eyes and Taeyong’s eyes only, there is another place where Jaehyun displays his best talents, radiates the most charisma, and is oozing with sex appeal.
In bed. Completely naked. And while ramming inside of him.
That is going to change tonight, it seems.
“One lap left,” his engineer says, breaking him out of his trance. “One lap left in the race.”
The sound of the race engineer’s voice over the radio is muffled as Taeyong presses on the throttle of his car, rapidly cruising past the sea of roaring spectators across the straight and into the first right corner of Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya. His tires, tattered from storming the track in the last 15 laps, screech against the asphalt at a blazing speed of 300 miles per hour. Taeyong takes a deep breath. Once. Twice.
Final stretch.
Adrenaline in his veins. Fire in his blood. Taeyong cruises through the race track with a seasoned man’s flair and a racing talent no other driver in the world has ever possessed. Gritting his teeth, he thrusts on the accelerator when the familiar livery of Jaehyun’s Hermann race car comes into the view of his side mirrors. Clearly, the battle is not over yet.
“Gap from Jaehyun is 0.423 seconds,” his race engineer announces over the radio. “Careful on the next turn. It will be a tight corner.”
“Copy.”
Suddenly, the front wing of Jaehyun’s race car zooms at the corner of his eye just as they approach the said high speed turn. Taeyong refuses to let him off the hook easily, closing in on the apex so the latter will be forced to take the long way around. He manages to open some gap on a straight course but their proximity still isn’t one to be complacent about.
Jaehyun closes on him again at the hairpin, but Taeyong is quicker to speed up so his rear doesn’t touch the former’s front wing.
I’ll have you tonight, Jaehyun. The thought easily makes Taeyong squirm in sheer excitement.
“Gap from Jaehyun is 0.232, Taeyong. Focus now.”
Taeyong holds his breath at the final stretch of the race. He surges past the third sector in a breeze. From this distance, he can hear the cheers of the roaring crowd on the grandstand. So many people have come to watch and support Dupont, specifically their number one driver, Taeyong. Tonight will not be the night he is going to disappoint his fans.
He deadens all the sounds ringing in his ear as he approaches the final straight, Jaehyun tailing from not-so-far behind at the last turn. It’s so intense that he can feel the electricity prickle his skin with a deadly combination of excitement and thrill. His vision zeroes in on nothing but the glory of the checkered flag being waved through the air. His race engineer says something over the radio, but Taeyong is way too rapt in his own world to listen.
Pedal to the metal. His heel on the throttle of his race car.
Taeyong pushes one last time.
And then, the checkered flag.
Silence cloaks his ears for a second or so. Until all too familiar cheers dedicated to him blast throughout the entire grandstand and the team radio. Colorful fireworks erupt on the horizon, signaling his win and the end of another successful Grand Prix.
“Checkered flag, Champ. That’s P1. Congratulations, a job well done.”
***
Celebrations at his team’s pit garage have been immense, champagne bottles popping everywhere. Every single person he crosses paths with doesn't miss out on sending him their felicitations. Grateful as he is for all of them, Taeyong is now focused on one thing and one thing only.
“Congrats, Taeyong!” Jaehyun exclaims when they meet at the parc fermé post-race. His smile carries so much meaning to it, one that only Taeyong will be able to read. “Nice race out there. Very well deserved.”
Taeyong swallows his laughter at the gallantry in Jaehyun’s manner of speaking with him whenever people other than themselves are in attendance. So formal and uptight. So different when they’re in bed.
Then again, no one knows the two championship contenders are fucking after every race.
“Thanks. Sorry for breaking your streak, but congrats on P2!” Taeyong responds, emphasizing on Jaehyun’s placement for the race. “I’m excited to have my trophy for this race.” A pause. Then, he smirks. “But do you know what else I’m excited to have for today?”
“What?”
Cameras point towards them. Their fans scream their hearts out in the distance. Journalists flock around them. Taeyong doesn’t give a shit.
Smirking, Taeyong stands on his toes before leaning into Jaehyun’s ear.
“You.”
Jaehyun should have seen it coming when Taeyong ordered him to his hotel room in nothing but his Hermann racing suit.
Even more so, he should’ve seen it coming when he walked in on Taeyong already sprawled on his bed, freshly showered, and with a cigarette resting between his fingers.
…and naked. Completely fucking naked.
“You’re seven minutes late.”
Jaehyun’s feet guardedly pad the carpeted floor of Taeyong’s suite, only stopping when he reaches the edge of his bed. He studies him slowly and takes in the vehement beauty he bears. Every line, every scar, every inch of skin that has never not been laid open to his lips at least once. There is an inexplicable fervency pulsating in Jaehyun’s blood as he regards Taeyong like this: bare, raw, and unrestrained. Jaehyun cannot wait any further for what is going to transpire between them for tonight.
“I had to sneak out of the team dinner,” Jaehyun answers.
Fleeing Hermann’s post-race festivities hadn’t been a walk in the park as it must’ve been for Taeyong and his team. Luckily for them, they have mastered the art of malingering their way out of parties in the pursuit of spending time with each other in bed. Pretending to be sick or depleted with energy so they can go and prowl to each other’s rooms. Every single race.
“You were taking so long…” Taeyong eyes him innocently, bony fingers twisting around his erection. He pumps his cock lazily, driving goosebumps to prickle at Jaehyun’s skin. “I couldn’t wait for you to strip me naked any longer.”
A rugged breath leaves Jaehyun’s lips. He sneers, already liking the direction of this evening. “Come and strip me naked, then.”
“No.” Taeyong’s voice is stern and dominating, a sharp contrast to his compliant responses whenever Jaehyun is in control. He brings his cigarette to his lips, blowing out white smoke before leaving it on the ashtray to smolder. “I rightfully won today. Tonight, you will follow my rules. And rule number one is to stay in your race suit unless you’re told otherwise. You look hot as fuck in that.”
Delight reigns in Jaehyun’s insides even as his attempt at taking over is blatantly rejected. If Taeyong wishes to do it his way, fine. Taeyong can command him, dominate him, rule over him all he wants—on and off the track.
As long as he gets to do it too.
“What’s rule number two?”
Taeyong tilts his head with a smirk playing on his lips, amused at Jaehyun’s impatience. “You can’t kiss nor touch me in places I didn’t order you to do so. You’re one hell of a ravenous man, Jaehyun. And I know how much you love touching me.”
Jaehyun snickers. Confident, but Taeyong has every right to be just so. He might be beguiling in most things, but his burning desire in wanting to kiss and have Taeyong’s body all for himself is not something he would so openly lie about, either. “And rule number three?”
Hunger ignites in Jaehyun’s eyes when Taeyong brings himself to his knees, inching towards him on all fours like a feline gawking at its prey. He very slowly and very sensually snakes both arms around Jaehyun’s neck, and between the latter’s clothed legs sits Taeyong’s already pulsating dick. Without any glint of hesitation Taeyong begins rocking himself on Jaehyun’s thighs, and he can already feel the rousing effect that the friction brings to his body even with the layers of fabric separating their skins.
Taeyong’s guttural breaths are enough to make him feel wired, coupled with the prurient manner his raspy voice grazes his eardrums when he whispers, “Rule number three.” Taeyong pauses, rolling the tip of his tongue across the shell of Jaehyun’s ear. The smell of dizzying musk, nicotine, and fading whiskey fills Jaehyun’s senses, enough to make his breath hitch. “You can only come when I do. That is, while I do it inside you. Are you up for that, Jaehyun?”
Fuck.
Bearing his neck, Jaehyun lets Taeyong explore his skin using his mouth with implicit skill that never fails to melt his feistiness away. From the get-go, Jaehyun has never been more willing to try something new with him. But perhaps it won’t hurt to have a bit of a challenge.
“And if I’m not?” Jaehyun derides, his tone provoking. “What will you do if I fail to follow one of your rules?”
Taeyong does not seem rattled by his derision when he looks up and into his eyes, gaze full and coquettish, like that of a child who is used to getting everything he wants. Unblinking, he sticks his tongue out and bites at the zipper of Jaehyun’s overalls, before pulling it down, down, and down until it reaches the bottom of Jaehyun’s torso.
Jaehyun smirks when a glint of surprise flashes in Taeyong’s eyes.
Taeyong isn’t the only one who has something up his sleeves, it seems.
“Going commando now, are we?” Taeyong teasingly asks as he lays his tongue flatly against Jaehyun’s body, before licking a thick stripe across his skin, arriving from the line of hair trailing his belly button, up to the dip between his collarbones. Before making his way to Taeyong’s hotel room, Jaehyun had gone ahead and scrapped the idea of wearing any shirt underneath his suit. No bottoms. No underwear. Taeyong’s reaction was rightfully earned. “If you disobey my rules, then that means you’re not a man of your word. You lost to me in the race, Jaehyun. We had a deal.”
A shiver runs through Jaehyun’s spine when Taeyong’s teeth harshly grazes against his throat. He lets out an exhale, moaning Taeyong’s name under his breath.
“Disobey my rules and no sex for you until the summer break,” Taeyong continues, nipping at Jaehyun’s skin like a parched traveler in the scorching heat. “That’s a whole three months away. Surely you wouldn’t want that now, would you?”
Jaehyun’s immediate reply comes in the form of another raspy groan. Hell to the fucking no. Over the course of their illicit engagements, Taeyong’s body is now like a drug to him, a euphoric dose each time he releases inside him—obsessive and so dangerously addicting. Unbeknownst to the unsuspecting outside world is a tie between them and them alone. Rivals in the streets, lovers in the sheets. It stimulates Jaehyun knowing that they don’t have to share it with anybody else.
He simply cannot imagine not having the chance to worship Taeyong’s body for any time longer than a week.
Taeyong peels away from him as fast as Jaehyun’s reply. His eyes never leave Jaehyun as he lies back down to the position he was from before. Already sensing what’s about to come next, Jaehyun is not rendered shocked in the slightest when Taeyong utters his first command.
“I want you to kiss me,” he says. “I want you to paint marks on my skin the way you always do. But this time, I want you to do it in places that are obvious so people can see and wonder who owns my body: you. Make me yours, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun doesn’t need to be told twice. Eagerly, he dives into the mattress and uses Taeyong’s long legs to bracket his body, trapping him in place. He starts off with a languid kiss on his lips, slow and steady pecks just to test the waters. That is, until Taeyong grows impatient and forces his teeth down Jaehyun’s lower lip, drawing out blood from him. The fire ignites quickly like scraps of wood being thrown into the flames. Jaehyun kisses Taeyong’s mouth dry, sucking out the taste of nicotine and whiskey from his throat.
Later, his tongue, teeth, and lips trail down to Taeyong’s sharp jaw, his ears, and to his throat. He does exactly as Taeyong asked—his ivory skin a blank canvas and Jaehyun a gifted artist—painting flecks of purple and red all over the expanse of his neck.
“The press is going to be in a frenzy when they see you parading the streets with hickeys all over your neck,” Jaehyun says as he sucks in a particular spot below Taeyong’s jaw. Red marks will turn purple in the next few minutes, lasting for a couple of days—even for a week, should Jaehyun go rougher with his bites and kisses.
“They’re your hickeys,” Taeyong corrects. He threads his fingers into Jaehyun’s hair before tugging it rather aggressively, making Jaehyun’s eyes flutter. “And let them see. Do you know how many assholes are trying to get into my pants during press conferences and parties? As if they stand a chance.”
Jaehyun chuckles. Some people need to be put in their place. “They don’t. I own you.”
“Make me feel it, then.”
Taeyong’s demands arrive one after another. Kisses on his chest. Dirty licks on his nipples. Scratches on his abdomen. Love bites on his hips. Fueled by his thirst, it doesn’t take Jaehyun to reach the space between Taeyong’s legs—his favorite part. But the orders are clear: “I want your lips on my thighs. Feel my legs. Your mouth stays away from my cock unless I say anything more.”
The feel of Taeyong’s skin scorches Jaehyun’s palm, each touch a million times hotter than the last. While doing so, Jaehyun does a tremendous job of planting kittenish licks across Taeyong’s inner thighs. But a sudden accidental brush of his swollen lips on the base of Taeyong’s length earns him a forceful grip to his hair, a roaring groan coming out from above him.
“First warning, Jaehyun.”
“Taeyong, I want to taste you,” he begs against his skin. “Please.”
“No.”
As a firm believer of obedience yields to blessings, Jaehyun wills himself to not be disheartened right away and follows everything Taeyong asks of him diligently and with no qualms. His mouth travels down to Taeyong’s knees, his calves, and to his feet, which Jaehyun unfailingly showers the attention they deserve. Jaehyun is left hungered and wanting for more in the end, when Taeyong pulls his head back up so they’re facing each other, eyes ablaze and overflowing with zeal.
Taeyong kisses him once. “Ride my hips. Pleasure yourself with only my hips.”
Jaehyun laughs heartily, not having it in him to voice a protest. Instead, he shifts his crouched position on the bed to squarely mount Taeyong’s hips. Taeyong brings both of his hands to his mouth, kissing his palms, before placing them gingerly on his chest so Jaehyun can find his balance. They lock eyes as Jaehyun begins rocking himself on top of Taeyong, his race suit the only barrier between their greedy bodies. Taeyong’s groans, Jaehyun’s helpless whimpers, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed fill the room’s four corners as their speed rapidly increases. Jaehyun mouths a string of profanities as blood rushes to his head, unable to bridle his fervor, itching to take his only piece of clothing off.
He just wants to feel Taeyong on his skin. Please.
Please.
“Fuck. Fuck, Taeyong.”
“Keep going,” Taeyong airs, followed by a breathless moan. “Keep going, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun convulses when a shock of pleasure explodes from his spinal cord down to his fingertips. Taeyong must’ve sensed his raging release. Elated, Taeyong brings his hands to the sides of Jaehyun’s hips to halt his movements. In a swift gesture, Taeyong lifts himself up to sit on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun skirting his way around him. He ends up standing in front of Taeyong, awaiting his next directive. Excitement kicks off Jaehyun’s chest the second he deciphers what Taeyong is about to ask of him next. He smiles.
“Since you’ve been very obedient thus far, I think you deserve an award. Don’t you think so?”
Slowly, Taeyong spreads his thighs apart, revealing to him what his mouth had been craving since he stepped into the room. Jaehyun surrenders on his knees, both hands clasped at his back, grinning impishly.
He says, as if to remind Taeyong of their adversely different reality: “I will only kneel for you when we are in bed, Taeyong.”
“As you should,” Taeyong responds, one eyebrow forming an arch. “I am a World Champion. As you are. I do not compete with amateurs.”
Jaehyun laughs, but wastes no second in devouring Taeyong’s already-leaking cock. He mouths the tip, tastes the length, and sucks on its base as if it were his final meal on earth. Hot lips wrap around Taeyong’s girth, swallowing him whole and triggering his gag reflex, forming pools of tears around Jaehyun’s eyes.
But he doesn’t care. He pays no heed to the lack of air nor the agonizing way that his chest constricts as breathing slows down for him, because Taeyong’s carnal moans echoing throughout the entire room are the only things that matter. Jaehyun stops, only to catch his breath, before sinking down on Taeyong once again.
“Fuck my mouth,” he mumbles, barely discernible with Taeyong’s cock pushed into his throat. “Please. Fuck my mouth, Taeyong.”
And fuck Jaehyun’s mouth Taeyong does.
With both hands perched behind his back, Taeyong bucks his hip upwards, forceful and unforgiving. Jaehyun’s tongue circles around Taeyong’s tip as he continues to taste, relish, and devour, tears pouring out of his eyes, saliva down his chin. It’s filthy, obscene, and controversial for two individuals who are known to be the worst enemies on a racing track. And they still are, although in the form of Taeyong’s dick and Jaehyun’s mouth fighting for absolute dominance.
Jaehyun pulls away just as Taeyong begins to shake. He looks absolutely fucked out and gorgeous, the flame in his gaze similar to that of when he’s in his race car before the lights go out. Jaehyun feels so far from being a loser tonight. He put up a soulful fight for that trophy, but he feels more thrilled to have Taeyong win against him, if it means he will have him like this.
Taeyong’s next directive is easy, forward, and predictable.
“Sit on my lap,” he commands. “Sit on my lap and remove your race suit just until your hips. I want to see you.”
Jaehyun follows just as what has been said. He settles on Taeyong’s lap before slipping his racing suit off his arms and torso in one swift move, revealing his inked shoulders—a serpent lined in black and crimson, crawling its way from his collarbone until the hard hill of his left bicep. Jaehyun grins. Taeyong is so in love with his tattoo. Never does he fail to take some time to marvel at it each time they have sex.
Tonight is not an exception.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, fingertips tracing the intricacy of the artwork on Jaehyun’s skin. Planting a kiss on the serpent’s head situated on the peak of Jaehyun’s shoulder, he says, “This is the hottest thing about you, I think.”
“You think?” Jaehyun smiles. “If you were to design my next tattoo, what would it be and where do you want to see it?”
The question slightly takes Taeyong by surprise, but the gleam in his eyes tells Jaehyun he’s been waiting for that question for a very long time. Little by little, he drags his hands down to Jaehyun’s bare chest and abdomen, only stopping when he reaches his left hip. “Here, where I made you come just by kissing this part of you alone.”
Jaehyun laughs. Ah, memories. Austrian Grand Prix one year ago. Fifteen minutes before they were summoned to do the paddock for the race, Taeyong had unexpectedly sneaked into Jaehyun's motorhome with a goal to attain. After initially wanting to get fucked by Jaehyun senseless in his personal hospitality, Taeyong had opted for a messy blowjob instead to compensate for the limited time. Lo and behold, hot streams of Jaehyun’s come shoot out from his cock despite Taeyong only having to spend minutes sucking his left hip. It’s a moment that will forever be written in memory. Taeyong chaffs Jaehyun for that until this day.
“A drawing of my signature, so you know to whom your body belongs.”
Thrilled by the idea, Jaehyun leans down and buries his face in the crook of Taeyong’s neck. He mouths at the skin, licking a spot right behind Taeyong’s ear. “I’m reminded of it. Every weekend. Just like this.”
Their fuzziness is cut short when Taeyong brings his hand back up and pushes his finger into Jaehyun’s mouth. Jaehyun, in return, sucks on it dry, careful and meticulous, fully knowing why Taeyong had to do it.
“I will go slow. I may want to fuck you right now, still, I don’t want to hurt you.”
A characteristic pop rings in Jaehyun’s ears as Taeyong pulls his hand away, his finger making its way back out of his lips. Inserting his hand inside Jaehyun’s overalls, he carefully brushes the wet finger against his entrance. Jaehyun bites his lip, preparing himself for the imminent sting of the first breach.
“Shit—Taeyong—ah.”
Fucking hell. Jaehyun can’t even begin to imagine the pain it must feel for Taeyong when control leaves his system. On hastened hours, Jaehyun sometimes forgoes this specific step and goes straight in, Taeyong demanding him to get into it already. Rough sex is more common to them than it is not, and it absolutely baffles Jaehyun that Taeyong has to go through this each time.
“It hurts. Baby, I…Taeyong—fuck.”
“It’ll be gone after a while,” Taeyong reassures him, voice calmer than the ocean into his ear. “You’re doing so well, Jaehyun. So good for me.”
He feels a weird rush of déjà vu upon hearing the very words he whispers into Taeyong’s ear coming out of the latter’s mouth each time he prepares him for his dick. One finger gradually becomes two, then three, until Jaehyun is nothing but a whimpering mess on Taeyong’s lap with four fingers shoved right up his scathing hole. Taeyong provides him consolation in the form of lethargic kisses on his neck, his other hand fondling their brushing cocks together in leisured strokes. Fuck, he doesn’t even know when or how his zipper had gone down from his stomach and to his crotch. Either way, Jaehyun can only be thankful that it did.
Not once did Jaehyun have to beg Taeyong for something.
But as they say, there’s a first for everything.
“Taeyong please,” Jaehyun pleads, gritting his teeth. He is yearning—no— aching for Taeyong. This has been going on for too long that Jaehyun doesn’t know how much more he can take. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Please.”
“Very well.” Taeyong gently pulls his fingers out of Jaehyun’s entrance, making him squirm due to the lack of contact. “Since you’re asking for it, how about we make the most out of this opportunity, hm?”
Jaehyun’s clueless eyes stare into Taeyong’s deep, brooding ones. Whatever question that flashes through his mind is quickly answered the second Taeyong points to a veiled part of his suite—the balcony, overlooking the tranquil waters of Barceloneta Beach. Slowly, the pieces of Taeyong’s unsaid thoughts connect in Jaehyun’s mind.
He wants to fuck him outside, by the terrace and where anyone can sight them easily.
Jaehyun almost falls to his knees.
“Behind the railings, Jaehyun,” Taeyong instructs. “And face the sea. Suit off.”
Fina- fucking- lly. Jaehyun keenly follows Taeyong’s directive with no ounce of hesitation in his strides. But before he can step outside, Jaehyun walks out of his racing overalls, matching Taeyong’s nakedness at last.
He sets his feet shoulder-width apart and braces himself on the railings in front. Chilly gusts of wind lick every inch of his skin, but no gust of cold breeze can topple the heat Taeyong radiates whenever he touches his body.
As Jaehyun waits for Taeyong, his eyes quickly scan the picturesque view from below. People run to and fro the sandbar, totally oblivious to the absolute carnality transpiring on the balustrade of Taeyong’s suite. And holy shit. How long has he been orchestrating this plan and why haven’t they done this sooner? For the longest time, Jaehyun and Taeyong have been living up to quick fucks in each other’s hotel rooms and away from the public eye. It feels good: to endanger their reputations this way. Never did Jaehyun would have ever imagined he will one day discover a penchant for fucking in public. How ironic that his number one rival in the sport that brings him life, would be the one responsible for that?
Jaehyun tries not to disintegrate to a million different pieces when Taeyong presses up on him from behind, hard cock brushing and poking his back. Long arms bolster him into place. Chills erupt from Jaehyun’s spine and to every single fiber of muscle he has in his body when Taeyong, in the hottest voice he has ever heard him say, whispers into his ear.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Jaehyun catches his bottom lip between his teeth, jerking the curve of his ass so Taeyong’s length can glide smoothly between his asscheeks. Taeyong lets out a moan, making his stomach swell with pride. “You won. Fair and square, Taeyong. Now,” he stops, one hand reaching from behind, grabbing a hold of Taeyong’s throbbing cock and guiding its tip towards his puckered entrance. “Claim your prize, Champ.”
In a one swift move, Jaehyun and Taeyong become one, their bodies connected with the latter thrusting inside him at a torturous pace. Jaehyun screams. He doesn’t give a flying fuck if anyone can hear. They can listen all they want. Watch all they want. Orchestrate tabloid gossips about the biggest F1 rivalry fucking on one of the drivers’ veranda all they want. Tomorrow, their names will be on the headlines and Jaehyun still wouldn’t care. All he cares about is Taeyong having to fuck him to nothingness, make him feel the way he makes him feel every time they do it the other way around, do him however he wants.
Savagely. Ruthlessly. Mercilessly.
The next thing Jaehyun knows, Taeyong is already pouncing on him from behind, each thrust forcing a breath out of his lips and his own release inching so, so close.
“Look at you. Do you hear yourself, Jaehyun? Moaning and breathing my name like this is the night you’ve been waiting for,” Taeyong says against his shoulder. “You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you? You wanted me to fuck you with my cock and make you scream until every single person in the world hears about us. You wanted some dirty, aggressive fuck, didn’t you?”
“Taeyong—Taeyong, please,” Jaehyun responds, feeling his arms almost wanting to give up on him. The deadly combination of his exhaustion from today’s race and having Taeyong fuck him from behind is taking a toll on his strength. But he’s far from wanting this night to end.
Jaehyun can want this forever and ever and would not get tired of it.
Sweat trickles down his chest, his back, down to his legs that are held down by Taeyong’s own. He tilts his head back and rests it on Taeyong’s shoulder. Taeyong kisses his cheek, before turning his head to lap at his mouth and spitting in it.
Some of Taeyong’s saliva dribbles from his lips and to his chin. “Swallow.”
“Ah—Taeyong—I’ve never…I’ve never felt this—fuck, please—I’ve never felt this good.”
“You belong to me,” Taeyong whispers as he sinks his teeth into Jaehyun’s skin. “You’re mine. You’re mine, Jaehyun.”
“Taeyong…”
Planting one hard slap to Jaehyun’s ass, Taeyong commands him again. “Say it.”
Jaehyun whimpers. “Fuck—yes, I’m yours. I’m yours, Taeyong.”
On a normal weekend, Jaehyun would last much, much longer. Some nights would even be spent doing multiple rounds before Jaehyun can arrive at his release. But tonight is different. Very. Taeyong is inside him, propelling him in a way that he would like, as if they’ve done this before—a hundred, thousands of times before.
And they are outside. They are fucking outside.
It’s one thing to act affable with one’s own contender, and another to be seen getting completely fucked out and gone by them in the face of public scrutiny. And as much as he is a risk taker, Jaehyun can’t quite gamble on this yet.
Besides, if the public were to find out, they’ll be forced to be away from each other—guarded and not a second unsupervised as though they were little kids.
Jaehyun can’t possibly let that happen. No. He wants this so much. He wants Taeyong so much.
And with much conviction, Jaehyun will want Taeyong for a long, long time.
Drowned in his thoughts, Taeyong does a particularly hard thrust as if he were trying to call his attention. Which works, because Jaehyun almost gives up on his frail knees, raising one leg and perching his foot on the railing for better leverage and support.
He’s close. So, so close.
“Do you like this? Do you like this, Jaehyun?”
Jaehyun whimpers when Taeyong’s unrelenting cock brushes his prostate. “Fuck—oh my God, Taeyong.”
Taeyong does it again. “Answer me.”
And again. “Ah—yes. God. I like it. I love it so much. Fuck—Taeyong—fuck.”
“I see,” Taeyong responds, delighted. “This is how you make me feel each time you hammer inside me. Feels good right?”
Jaehyun gasps. “Taeyong I—”
One hard thrust after another. “Rule number 3, Jaehyunnie,” he warns. “Can’t come until I finish. Disobey me or you will be punished.”
In the face of desperation and helplessness, Jaehyun tries bottling his raging release because God forbid should that happen. He grips the railing hard, knuckles turning white, devoid of his blood. Jaehyun whimpers Taeyong’s name, praising him like he was his god and this is his religion. “Taeyong. Taeyong, you’re so…”
“So, what, love?” Jesus Christ. “Our race in Monaco is in a week. Tell me what you want to do next.”
“I want to fuck you on a boat,” Jaehyun responds without hesitation.
A heavy chuckle rumbles out of Taeyong. He thrusts into Jaehyun’s hole twice. Grinds his hip on Jaehyun’s plump ass thrice. Four times. Five. Six. Squelching sounds ring in the air, characterized by the unrestrained groans slipping out of Jaehyun’s mouth and the curses from Taeyong’s lips. “I didn’t know you have the knack for public sex, Jaehyunnie. I like it. You’re enjoying this a lot?”
The view, the risk, Taeyong fucking him from behind. This is perfect from every way possible. Jaehyun knows just so, except his thoughts are nothing but a blank wall, memories wiped away by Taeyong’s eagerness until this is the only thing he can remember.
“How about this: if I lose to you in Monaco next week, I will let you fuck me on my yacht in Monaco. In broad daylight, when anyone can see. You like that?”
“Yes. Yes, fuck, yes, Taeyong.”
Jaehyun is out of breath, but Taeyong will not stop until he gets his answers. Jaehyun’s tip is toeing the shades of crimson, angry at the delayed suppression of his release.
He can feel Taeyong closing in on him, too. His body shivers, each exhale becoming more and more erratic. “And if you lose to me, I will have you again. And again, and again, and again like this.”
Jaehyun nods in agreement, although he is far from rationality to even think of a proper answer. “Taeyong, please.”
“Please what?”
“I’m so close.” A sharp gasp. “Please let me…please let me—”
“Come, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun rolls his head back as stars fill his eyes. He blacks out for a slight second, the only recognition of his release is the warm feeling of Taeyong’s seed filling him to the brim. Jaehyun is still shaking when Taeyong kisses all of his shock away. It takes a while for him to catch his breath, and the next thing he knows, Taeyong is already guiding his body so he can twist and face him squarely.
Taeyong plants a kiss on Jaehyun’s swollen, parched lips. “Mission accomplished, Jaehyun.”
“That was…fucking amazing,” Jaehyun barely manages to say, his forehead finging its home in the crook of Taeyong’s neck. “You’re fucking amazing, Taeyong. Thank you.”
He laughs. “I hope I didn’t fuck away your memory of agreeing to my new deal. For Monaco, next week.”
Jaehyun smiles, finding the urge to attack Taeyong’s lips with slow and sweet kisses. Taeyong’s favorite—when they’re still in the high of post-sex glory.
“No, I completely remember.”
“And you agree?”
Jaehyun hums. “When did I ever back out from a challenge with you?”
Taeyong bursts into laughter. Just when Jaehyun thought it was over, he feels Taeyong beginning to reach for his back before his fingers arrive at his still-pulsating entrance. Running his middle finger across the puckered surface, Taeyong mirrors the gesture Jaehyun never fails to do after each round of mind-blowing sex. It doesn’t matter how long he does it, as long as he gets to take care of Taeyong first. It’s so perfectly rewarding to experience it for himself, especially with Taeyong.
Especially by Taeyong.
Silence cloaks over them for a while. Jaehyun ought to return to his own suite soon, before his manager comes knocking into an empty hotel room. And Emil, who is always on Taeyong’s tail 24/7, starts complaining about weird noises coming from his chambers.
But an idea surfaces in Jaehyun’s mind.
“Taeyong?”
“Hm?”
He smiles. “Can you fuck me again?”
Jaehyun wins the Monaco Grand Prix.
Garbed in nothing but slinky lingerie, Taeyong pads his way towards the deck, where the new winner is already waiting for him. Taeyong’s yacht is anchored offshore and away from Port Hercules, its stern facing against the Rock of Monaco and towards the majestic Mediterranean Coast. It was Jaehyun’s idea to have the bow of his yacht facing the sea, not because he’s wary of the people who might see, but whatever plan he has kept hidden in his sleeves.
Jaehyun’s broad and bare back is facing him when Taeyong arrives.
“Jaehyun?”
Turning around, Jaehyun pans his vintage camcorder on Taeyong’s slender body, focusing in on the convoluted lines on the fabric of his lingerie, obviously Jaehyun’s choice. Taeyong’s shyness leaves him when Jaehyun begins whispering words of praise as he regards his body. When he’s finished, Jaehyun lays the device on the edge of the seat in front of them, carefully setting the angle so they are captured in the right frame.
He then walks towards Taeyong and presses his already naked body against his.
Jaehyun beams. “My turn, baby.”