Chapter Text
“Are you sure it's safe?” Yuki whispered against Pierre's neck.
“Who could be looking for us?” Pierre leaned back against the wall of his driver's room. “Quali is over. We've done our press, we've done our debrief, everyone is going back to their hotels. It's totally safe.”
“Then why have the door open?”
In spite of his questions, Pierre couldn't help but notice that Yuki wasn't slowing down his unbuttoning of Pierre's jeans. His fingers were as deft and sure as ever. Yuki was eye level with the little divot between Pierre's collarbones, which made him annoyingly short to kiss, but the perfect height for Pierre to slip his hands under Yuki's hair and tease at the ticklish spots behind his ears. Yuki shuddered.
“Because it's fucking hot,” Pierre said. Yuki tugged Pierre's pants down and dropped to his knees. “You know I love this. The risk. Maybe getting caught. Knowing anyone could walk in, and catch us, and ruin everything we worked for. Throwing it all away for one, hot, amazing f-fuck me that's so good.”
Yuki had taken Pierre into his mouth. God, he was magical at this. In spite of Pierre's insistence on indulging his little kink, he knew that he could come like the Bellagio fountain for Yuki if they were in a locked bunker under the CIA Headquarters with anti-intruder sensors on every door. It was ironic, Pierre often thought, that Yuki spent the most time kneeling, but Pierre was the one who had been thoroughly and comprehensively brought to his knees.
He moaned a little. The sound of his own excitement heightened the sense of danger – someone could hear, and that might drive them to investigate. Then they could look in the door and see, and then they might –
“-WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT BOY?”
Later, Pierre would thank Yuki for not biting down when he got such a fright. His lover just started, enough to drop what he'd been relishing, leaving Pierre to scramble and stuff himself back into his pants while Fernando Alonso screamed into his face.
“He is TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD, how could you?” Fernando grabbed Pierre by his t-shirt and lifted him off his feet.
Behind him, Yuki flailed and protested. “Nando, leave it, please! We both wanted this! We're together!” Yuki tugged on Fernando's sleeve.
The older man didn't flinch. Pierre found himself remembering the gym selfies Fernando liked to post on Instagram – he was a short, older guy, his dark hair and stubble laced with grey, but he was tough. Pierre's feet were dangling uselessly in midair, scrabbling for anything solid, while Fernando hadn't popped a vein or broken a sweat holding Pierre. One of Fernando's hands – Pierre hoped it was the dominant one – shot up to catch Pierre under the jaw, where he somehow managed to keep Pierre aloft without causing any pain. Being held by the jaw was terrifying enough.
“I am going to put you down now,” Fernando said, very softly. “I will put you down slowly and safely. And then you will explain to me what you were fucking thinking. And then I will decide if I pick you up again.”
True to his word, Fernando lowered Pierre gently til his trainer-clad feet touched the floor. Pierre bent double and breathed deep, from fear rather than pain.
Yuki was by his side, a hand on his shoulder. “Are you OK, Pierre? Are you hurt?”
“I'm fine. Just... rattled.” Pierre managed.
“Look at me,” Fernando hissed.
Pierre straightened up. He was an inch taller than Fernando. It counted, at a time like this. “None of this is your business.” Pierre tried for a snooty tone. It didn't work.
“Yuki is...Yuuuki,” Fernando said. He shot an affectionate look in Yuki's direction. “He is the grid baby. We look after him. We don't let...how old are you? Thirty?”
“Twenty-seven,” Pierre mumbled.
“Really? You look older,” Fernando snapped. “We don't let experienced drivers exploit the younger ones. Yuki is miles from home. He's young. He's our boy and you don't get to mess with him. You don't get to mistreat him and use him.”
“He didn't!” Yuki insisted. Fernando turned to look at him. “He didn't make me do anything or take advantage,” Yuki went on. “I started it. I hit on him.”
“He should have turned you down,” Fernando said.
“Oh, should I? Are you jealous?” Pierre instantly regretted saying that when he saw the black fire in Fernando's eyes.
“Don't be stupid. Yuki could be my son.”
“Except I'm so much better-looking,” Yuki joked. Fernando couldn't help a tiny smile – Pierre saw him try to suppress it. “Fernando, I promise he didn't make me do anything.”
“I'm sure he didn't...force you, but you're so young. You could be... coerced or manipulated or anything.”
Fernando had turned his attention fully to Yuki now, and took his hands. “You'll understand when you're my age. It's so easy for someone to make you a promise, or lie, or...misrepresent.”
“Our age gap is the same as you and Mark,” Pierre spat out. As he heard his own words, Pierre wondered if he had a kink for being punched by angry Spanish men.
“And we did not start dating when I was 22.” Fernando dropped Yuki's hands and gestured at Pierre. “The door was open! If I could catch you, anyone could catch you.”
“Why were you up here anyway?” Pierre asked, ignoring the fact Fernando had just confirmed the grid's worst-kept secret about his relationship with Mark. Well, not ignoring it. Filing it away for later.
“I don't owe you an explanation.”
“Spygate Part Two?” Pierre asked.
“Was collecting a jacket for one of the engineers – Pete. He was on my crew last year, married a Spanish girl. We're going for dinner tonight. He said was fine, no confidential data up here. How wrong he was, eh?”
“Fernando...” Yuki began. “I appreciate that you care. But this none of your business.”
“You made it my business with that fucking door open. You both should know better.” For a second, Pierre imagined Fernando as a schoolmaster, saying “you've let me down, you've let the FIA down, but most importantly, you've let yourselves down.” Both he and Yuki had lowered their eyes like naughty kids.
Fernando shook his head. “I should go before Pete and Romina come looking for me.” Fernando reached down to where he had tossed the engineer's jacket, and dusted it off. “This -” he pointed a sharp index finger from Yuki to Pierre, “- isn't over.”