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It’s the evening of Oscar’s home race, which means the entire team – but especially Oscar – is a little more exited than usually. He has been in anticipation for this race quite a while now, you know this, as the generally shy man has been talking about being on familiar soil again more and more the closer the date got.
As you are all standing in the paddock, preparing for the race, you notice Oscar glancing over to you. You expect a cheeky grin, but instead you are met with a gaze of glaring anxiety. At this, your mind starts reeling. You’ve worked on this. You and Oscar. Together. And it worked. For months now he has been better, but the knowledge of him being at home probably puts an extra load of pressure on him.
Straightening your back, you look deep into his rich eyes. You nod ever so slightly with your head, but it is enough for him to notice.
He shuts his eyes, just a fraction of a second longer than usually. Too short for anyone else to notice. Oscar looks at you again, and begins to mirror you, breathing in deeply, and out again.
The two of you do this a few more times.
Then, you let your eyes wander down to where is hands are locked, fidgeting with two fingers at the skin around his nails, in front of his stomach.
While you get to the conclusion that the breathing exercise doesn’t seem to work, you can’t help but to also see his soft abs trace through his tight shirt. His racing suit still undone, hanging around his hips.
Before what you are doing can be considered as staring, you quickly look back up. But you’re not meeting his eyes again. You want to know what he’s looking at, so you trace his view. At first he seems to be staring into the void past you. Then you realise. He is following the smooth curves of your body. You are wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a wide t-shirt – you wanted to be comfortable – which means your body isn’t revealed in any way.
Nonetheless your breath hitches. This makes the man in orange look up again, and when he looks back into your eyes, he knows that you know. The beating in your chest gains tempo, and Oscars cheeks begin to blush.
He’s cute when he’s flustered, you think.
As he averts his eyes, you cease the opportunity and take a few steps closer to him. He pretends not to notice, but you take his hand anyway and move him along with you.
The rest of the team don’t notice, still, the anxious man looks between you and the rest with big eyes. You stop. Moving up on your tiptoes to lean into his ear. Before you can get distracted by his handsome smell and sharp jawline, you begin to whisper.
“Don’t worry. They’re busy and wont even notice we’re gone. It will just be a moment. I’ll help you calm down. You’re no use to them in this state anyway.”
There’s a slight twitch in his right eye, barely noticeable, as he glares at you with a cutting edge, that’s usually only there when he’s in his tunnel vision, about to race.
You breathe once together and take up pace again. You don’t really know where you’re going, as Oscar takes over the lead, suddenly seeming in a hurry, confidently aiming at the first door in sight. You don’t know what’s behind it, and something in you doesn’t think he knows either.
Regardless, he pushes the door open and slides you inside, quickly following suite.
You seem to have entered some sort of storage room now, but that’s of no significance any more.
His breathing accelerates, as does yours, and you are pretty sure you’re both thinking of doing the same thing now.
This isn’t about breath exercises any more. You’re going to help him ground his body in entirely different ways.
If someone would’ve told you which direction this was going in when you met, or hell, even this morning you would’ve laughed straight into their face.
But now you don’t see how this could go any other way. What’s about to happen now seems inevitable, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
And judging by the fire in Oscars eyes, he wouldn’t either.
“So,” he begins. “Was this what you had in mind all along when you taught me those breathing exercises?”
Before you can even think to answer him, his hands trail up at your hips, lifting up your shirt and settling at your waist for a moment, when he tightens his grip and pushes you into the nearest wall.
Your breath hitches and the only thing you have any power left to do is shake your head, to at least offer some sort of response to his question.
His hands feel hot against your skin. You never would have thought to experience the normally so calm little Oscar Piastri to radiate such a confidence. And nothing even happened yet, which lets your thoughts scramble together a million different ways this could go, none of which repel you.
You can feel his thumbs brushing against the bare skin of your stomach.
“Please,” you manage to breathe out.
You try to lean into him, but he holds you back, shaking his head disapprovingly. A strand of his soft brown hair falls onto his forehead, the man remaining unbothered.
“Let me show you how to calm down a little for once. After raising your heart rate for a bit that is.”
You can feel the pulsing in your core becoming more prominent, so his plan doesn’t seem like one hard to achieve.
Your gaze keeps jumping to his lips, and you have to clench your legs in order to make the pulsating wetness more bearable. You feel like a mess. This shouldn’t be happening. Yet here you are, and the both of you enjoying it no doubt.
His eyes keep fixed on yours and he slides his leg between your legs, his thigh now pressing against your pussy. You let out a moan, leaning your head back slightly.
“That’s my good girl,” he whispers close to your ear.
It makes the hair on your neck stand up.
This only makes your breath hitch again and your heart beat faster.
You ignore what is left of your common sense and settle yourself onto his leg with more of your weight.
He grins at you knowingly and continues talking.
“Now if I take your shirt off, will you promise me to behave and be a good little slut?”
You hastily nod your head, but he goes on.
“You don’t want me to punish you or do you?”
At this you don’t know what to answer. You never expected Oscar to be able to act in such a way, but you’re enjoying it regardless. You like him like this. And you like that only very few people, if any at all, know this side of him.
“I see,” he lets out a huff but proceeds to pull your shirt over your head.
Your hair is now also messed up. But you don’t care.
The man seems taken aback at seeing you topless except for your black bra, which has orange buckles.
“May I?” He trails from your breasts up to your eyes for a brief moment and then your lips.
You didn’t think it possible, but the air around you suddenly feels even hotter, as if electricity were zapping through the room.
But you smile, and nod ever so softly.
It doesn’t take more for Oscar to lean in. His hands cupping your chest, stroking the soft tissue perking out of the bra.
You can feel his thigh muscle tense and then the gap between you two is closed. His soft lips pressing against yours, kissing you with just the right amount of force.
You realise the space between your legs getting even wetter and you let out another soft moan in between the kisses, what was supposed to be his name, now nothing more than air.
But he knows.
Now you slide your hands up his sides. Your left hand gliding over your chest, while the other works its way to where your cores are meeting.
A wave of excitement washes over you the moment you feel his hard dick. You wonder if he thought about this before.
Then, your hand moves into your own pants after giving him a quick squeeze.
Oscar suddenly breaks away from you and takes a step back, taking in the view of you.
“Go on,” he nods. “Didn’t tell ya to stop, did I?”
And you do as he demands. Your hand sliding down the soft curve of your belly, finally reaching your soaking clit.
You begin to stroke yourself, while Oscar clears away some stuff on a surface. He then takes and lifts you on to it. He unbuttons your pants as you arch your back and lean against the wall.
You help him get rid of your clothes, sliding of pants and slip. You also unclasp your bra.
Without the pressure of it, and the air now hitting your fully exposed skin, you can feel your nipples pebbling.
Oscar comes closer again and slides a hand through your hair, grabbing the back of your neck and panting a kiss on your forehead.
“So fucking hot,” he says, before putting some distance between you two again, and finally taking off his shirt.
You’ve seen him topless more times than you can count by now, but this time is different. You take in a sharp breath and bite your lower lip.
You may be in a closed off room, where no one really seems to go all that often but you still don’t want anyone knowing what is going on in here.
Now Oscar also lowers his suit around his hips, so that you can properly see the bulge under his underwear. He is also settled back in between your legs.
He slides a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath.
His right hand is moving toward your face, his thumb sliding over your cheek.
“Now open up,” he orders as his middle and ring finger move into your mouth.
You suck on them a little, you can feel him imagining his fingers being other parts of his body.
Then he holds them in front of you, for you to spit on. He nods and you do.
Your face now feels properly flushed, and for a moment you are grateful that the light in here isn’t good enough for him to see how red you actually are.
The spit is glittering on his fingers, which he now moves down toward your centre.
You suddenly become very aware of what is happening, so your right hand slows down a bit, working in softer circles around your clit.
A moment later you can feel Oscars fingers at your entrance.
He is slow at first. Sliding them into your wet pussy bit for bit. Making a soft, wavelike movement, back to front.
His left hand grabs your face, pulling it closer to him, so that he can kiss you again. And you follow.
You both moan as he squeezes your neck one more time, then moving down and holding on to your thigh with enough pressure that you can feel his hand sinking into the soft flesh.
Your faces are still close together, his forehead leaning on yours.
You bite your lip again, while letting out more soft sounds as he works your pussy in perfect tandem with your own hand.
Your left hand now moves toward him, and you pull down his boxers. They might be blue, but that doesn’t even matter, as long as you can finally feel his dick in your hand.
You grab it by the shaft and slide your thumb over the leaking tip.
He didn’t expect this. His breathing speeds up a few paces and he lets out a soft grunt.
You’re very close to coming now, and Oscar knows.
You clench your lips together around his fingers and slightly move your hips.
“Fuck,” he moans, “you’re so close, right?”
This isn’t a question he needs an answer to. Which is good, because the only thing your capable of doing is moaning louder.
“Now, now, we don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”
And with that he slides the fingers of his left hand into your mouth and puts more pressure into the movements of his right hand.
The grip of your hand around his cock loosens up, as fireworks erupt within you.
One moment you were looking up at the man before you, now your arching your back, still sucking his fingers.
You’re breathing heavy, heart beating fast.
“Can you keep going?” he asks, and you let out a soft hum of affirmation while trying to regulate your breath. “Good girl.”
He pulls you in for another passionate kiss and then adjusts his cock in the perfect position, so that it can slide right in.
You let out a small scream when he pushed into you for the first time.
His dick filling you out perfectly, as if you two were made for each other.
And then he moves rhythmically, in and out.
He grabs your boob and starts squeezing it, the stimulation of it all nearly too much, but exactly perfect at the same time.
Your back arches again and you lean back onto your arms.
You take in the view of this beautiful man, fucking you raw, just before a very important race for him.
He thrusts into you a few more times before spitting onto your cunt. He rubs it in with one hand and then trails it back up your body.
Your moves become one.
Your breathing in sync, just like you two have practised for all these months. Only this time, in a totally different context. Well, for the most part at least, you think to yourself, there has never been anxiety fucking before. A soft, breathy giggle leaves your mouth, before his hand cups your cheek and his thumb pushes into your mouth.
He slides his thumb to the back of your jaw and keeps your mouth open like that.
His thrusts continue at a steady pace, and you can feel your second orgasm come close.
Oscar pulls your head closer and moves his hand in a way, that it is now holding your jaw open at the front. He leans toward you again, lets his hand loose a little and kisses you deeply.
He pulls his face back slightly and lets spit drabble into your mouth.
You let out a small sound and he tells you to swallow.
You do.
“Good girl. Someone might even deserve some reward after this,” he lets out with a huff.
“And your so tight. Fuck. You feel so good princess.”
Your pussy clenches together again and you have to bite your lip another time, in order not to cry out. But under your breath you moan out his name again.
Oscars thrusts are getting a little slower and you can feel his muscles tense.
And a few pushes later you’re both coming. He slides his dick out of you and comes over your belly and thighs, your pussy dripping with your own.
You two are breathing heavy again, looking into each others eyes, trying to make your heart rates slow down again.
Oscar must enjoy the view of looking down on you, if the grin on his face can be any indication.
He reaches behind himself, grabbing a roll of paper towels. He rips a few of and starts cleaning you up.
You want to stop him, telling him he doesn’t need to do this, but his eyes say it all, so you enjoy his last touches on your skin.
“This was incredible,” you say as he reaches you your clothes.
He doesn’t say anything. There’s only that cheeky, knowing grin left on his face. And every time you catch a glimpse of his eyes, he looks like he wants more. Like this was just the appetizer, and he has an insatiable hunger.
He also puts his shirt back on, and when you’re both done, you stand opposite each other, only centimetres keeping you apart.
He leans into you again, whispering “You know we’re not equal, right? I only came half as often as you and I don’t like inequality. So you better meet me at my room after the race. Understood?”
You nod. Unsure, of whether you even could have managed to produce any coherent words or sounds.
He pecks a little kiss on your cheek and straightens himself up again.
“Thank you. I’m feeling much better by the way.”
You release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “No problem.”
“Now the race is starting really soon, so I better get back to the others. And I don’t know how good it would be for them to see us coming back together, looking like this. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” you smile. “And good luck”
He leaves the small room first, your eyes following his muscular back before the door falls shut again.
You wait a minute or two, repeating in your mind what just happened between you. Reassuring yourself that it wasn’t a dream.
Then you tidy up your hair a bit more, and also leave this place of prickling memories. You quickly go to your lodging to take another shirt. If anyone asks, you spilled your juice or something and needed to change.
When you’re back at the track, the drivers are all in their positions, about to take off.
You spot Oscar and smile to yourself, thinking about what he might have in mind for after the race.
And then the race begins.