Chapter Text
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shitfuckshitwhatthefuckinghell-
Yuki took a deep breath.
Calm down.
He needed to stay level-headed; the race was in 10 minutes. When he rushed back to his driver’s room because he just realised he hadn’t taken his daily suppressants yet, he didn’t realise it was because he had already run out.
The young omega took deeper breaths, calculating how to proceed. He couldn’t even ask around for any spare suppressants; his was specifically manufactured for his body, and the other brands never worked on him.
He glanced around the room for anything that could help him, his eyes landing on Pierre’s scented hoodie, which the alpha had given him a few days ago. It would help him calm down, but it won’t soothe him enough for an impending heat that’s due in, Yuki did the math quickly, 2 hours. It would make great nesting material, though, and Yuki was reaching for it before he stopped himself.
Nest? Really? Right before a Grand Prix?
Stupid fucking omega biology, he thought for the millionth time that week. Yuki never liked being an omega. It was tedious, degrading, and just so stupid. Worse was that he was an omega in motor sports out of everything.
There have been other omegas before him: Vettel, Rosberg, even the aggressive Verstappen was one too. Red Bull was subjected to lots of name-calling for pairing the two omegas together, dubbed a “whore house”. Of course, Yuki and Max had simply shrugged off the omegaphobic press, like always, and went on to win.
Well, Max won. Yuki.. was struggling not to overheat right now. Sweat started to trickle down his Nomex, even though he hadn’t set foot in the car yet.
That being said, Yuki could not afford not to race today. Not when his seat is on the line.
God, why now? Why even have heats in the first place? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stu-
A knock on the door pulled him from his trance.
“Yuki, come on, we need you in the car ages ago!”
Yuki replied with a quick “yeah!” before reaching for his balaclava, determination set in his bones. He made the walk to the garage at a quick pace. At the very least, he wanted not to DNF today.
He felt slick slowly trickle down his legs as he stepped into his seat, his feet stumbling a bit. He silently prays that the Nomex is waterproof.
The lights could not have gone out quicker.
ᯓ★🏎️𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🏁 ／ ✇ ۪ᯓ★
He finished P5.
He actually scored points, substantial points, and he could hear the crowd chanting his name as he pulled up into parc fermé with a grin on his face.
It turns out that wanting the race to end as quickly as possible makes you drive faster; who knew?
Well, Yuki didn’t, that’s for sure. He spent the entire drive trying to control his breathing and drinking the cool water as much as possible at straights. It was a blur, really, and Yuki's contacts were dried up as always.
He could feel his heat coming right now: what’s with the fever, sweat, and slick raining down on him, insistent on taking him out dishonourably. There was that ache in his limbs, centred around his cramping middle, making him drop his hands as soon as the car was parked. He sat there, limp and pliant, ready to spread his legs at any alpha and boy did he smell like it.
He could feel the heated stares from the pit crew’s alphas, all sharp and knowing. God, even he felt suffocated from his own scent; he must have smelled like a five-course meal to every alpha in the vicinity right now.
Too weak to even move a muscle, Yuki sat still in the car, breaths coming out heavier and heavier. The team started to approach him, crowding him in. Deep down, Yuki knew they were only this close to check in on him, his unmoving but twitching body alarming everyone, but his inner omega was purring at the thought of being used by so many alphas right there and then. The thought made Yuki give out a loud, needy whine and just like that, all hell broke loose.
He felt hands reach out and grab his racing suit, his arms, chest, and neck, everywhere, pulling him in all different angles with hurried tugs. The scents of so many different alphas mixed into a dizzying slurry that permeated his helmet and balaclava, which were removed hastily by those same hands. Now with his face and sensitive nose freed, he could see and smell everything clearly, though still hazy with heat. If he smelled like a five-course meal then the team around him smelled like an all you can feast on buffet, sampled from so many different notes and scents that it confused him and made him hot at the same time. His ears registered what he made out to be the crowd’s gasps and shouts, filled with panic, maybe, all fuzzy in the background of the many alphas’ growls. His body could feel every hand, finger, clawing at him hungrily, desire coursing through the air, yet he could only sit there helplessly, enjoying every bit of cooling, physical touch. His chest was wildly vibrating with anticipatory purrs.
Take me.
With a sudden lightness, he felt his body being lifted up into the air, the collective strength of the many hands making it feel effortless. He was swiftly put down on his back, the car’s smooth hood a cooling cushion for his overheated torso. His legs spread for the nose cone, his feet nearly slipping, but the hands held him steady; Yuki has never been more grateful for his small, easily manhandled body than now. Now, splayed out like this, every touch felt all the more electric: the way the hands slide and rub just right, his nerve endings firing off blasts of pleasure to his brain. When he felt one of them grab at his leaking cock, he nearly burst into tears at how good it felt. He felt his mouth open, but he could not tell what he sounded like, too focused on the sensations flowing through him, but he knew he had done something right because the hands’ movements became a frenzy, a blur. He felt something wet lap at both of his cheeks, the suddenness of it pulling a whine out of Yuki, but he instinctively nuzzled his face closer to the tongues.
Use me.
Distracted, he did not hear the race suit’s long zipper being undone. All he knew was that the sweaty thing was tugged off his head along with his inner shirt. Bare for the world to see, his hardened nubs were instantly nabbed by a pair of wet, warm mouths. The feeling of having his sensitive spots teased so fast had him experiencing whiplash: His mouth hung wide open in surprise, with his eyes closed in bliss. An opportunistic hand found its way to his mouth, and as if on cue, fingers lay on his tongue, and Yuki, ever the good omega, obediently sucked on them. They tasted like that saltiness Yuki recognised as precum. He moaned aloud at that, the fingers garbling his sounds. He needed more than fingers, though, preferably in other areas. Another dollop of slick wet his inner thighs.
Breed me.
As if they could hear his thoughts, several alphas started to pull his pants apart (who thought leggings were a good idea, Yuki?), leaving his bare bottom to the charged air filled with growls and pants. Immediately after, he felt a harsh tug at his leaking cock, a small one even by omega standards, the entirety of it engulfed in an alpha’s grip. Yuki whimpered, the sudden overstimulation consuming his brain. He could feel himself spread his legs wider, his hole begging to be filled. The hungry, crowding alphas took that as an invitation and started shoving fingers up into the slick-soaked hole. Yuki's groan was so loud it cut through the alphas’ growls, the sound enticing them further.
Stuffed with fingers from both ends, Yuki was being pleasured to no end. His mind was going into heat haze, barely conscious enough to feel nonstop gratification. His inner omega was delirious with it, making him whine and moan and release even more of that delicious spiced vanilla scent, unconsciously turning even more alphas feral. He could feel spurts of liquid, cum, his brain supplied, being sprayed over his body. He opened his eyes to see so many alphas, most of them with their pants unzipped, towering over him. His senses scanned through the strong, almost rutting scents of the bodies surrounding him.
None of them smelled right.
His mind, the human one, reminded him that none of these scents belonged to his alpha: that specific leather and tobacco scent that fit his own vanilla so well. His alpha that could solve this heat craze from his body, who could satiate his thirst and mark him so well.
Where is he?
As if on cue, his nose picked up the distinct subtle notes he was looking for. He might be hallucinating, but he gave out a loud whine, the only thing he could manage out with fingers fucking his mouth, in search of his alpha. A reverberating growl he knew all too well replied.
Just like that, the crowd of alphas around him dispersed with harsh shuffling and shoving while Yuki's ears could hear loud shouts and warning growls. He felt the fingers slip out of him too quickly and moaned. He could not feel any more touches on his body, the absence making him whine more and reach out his arms for something.
Before he knew it, a pair of strong hands gripped his outstretched hands, and Yuki could feel the soft warmth of lips pressing a kiss to his fingers.
“I’m here, ma moitié."
Hearing the French syllables awoke Yuki from his daze. He jerked his eyes open and saw beautiful blues staring back.
Oh, Alpha.
Pleased, his omega sent a loud chirp, making his alpha smile even wider. His eyes scanned over his alpha’s face and found a few scratches on his cheekbones. Shocked, he trailed his eyes downwards to the alpha’s body and found his half-unzipped race suit to be messed up more than usual.
“Pierre, are you okay? Why are you hurt?”
Yuki's voice was hoarse, but he thought his English sounded audible enough. With his left hand, he cupped the Frenchman’s face, hovering over the injured cheekbones.
Pierre’s eyes widened in shock before letting out a laugh in disbelief.
“Oh, Yukino... Worry about yourself, please.”
Yuki's omega found the question weird: he was with his alpha now, so he’s more than okay; why should he worry about himself? He only gave a questioning whine in reply, tilting his head which was starting to feel heavy again.
Noticing the discomfort in his omega, Pierre quickly looked around him, assessing their surroundings before nodding to the security team behind him. Pierre got a big blanket seemingly out of nowhere and wrapped the soft material around Yuki's damp, overheated body.
“Come on, mon mignon, let’s get you out of here,” was all the warning Pierre told Yuki before hoisting the younger man up into a bridal carry. Yuki, too pliant and soft, simply crossed his arms behind Pierre’s neck and nuzzled his face into the alpha’s scent glands, inhaling deeply. The alpha only shuddered a bit in response.
As the alpha was walking along the paddock, cameras flashing behind the security team around them, Yuki found himself burying his face deeper into Pierre’s scent glands, eager to get some reprieve for his omega’s needs. He purred softly, letting Pierre know how content he was. He felt the alpha’s nose nuzzling his sweat-sodden hair.
“I’ll take care of you right, Omega.”
The bustling crowds could only watch as Pierre Gasly trudged faster through the leftover mess of the hormone-high grid, eager to get his Yukino somewhere safe for his coursing heat, with his back turned against the hungry world because his own world has become one being and one being only. Tucked safely in his arms and he thanked the Lord for creating such a lovable person, space, and world that fits so well within him and what his simple arms could carry. He thanked Him again for gracing him with the opportunity to love, to feel each touch, heat, breath from his beloved alive and safe. His feet were steady, careful not to jostle the snoozing omega in his arms. His lips pressed a feather light kiss to the mess of black hair.
“I’m sorry, Yukino. I’m so sorry.”
He swore to repeat the words as many times as possible.