Chapter Text
Fernando was angry. Furious even. It was the God knows how maniest time his Alpine broke down and he was fed up. With a decent engine, he could have been 7th in the championship after the Red Bull, Mercedes and Ferrari cars. With a good car, he might even have had a chance to win the championship.
He had hoped that his car surviving the launched wheelie in Austin was a sign of improvement. He could have comfortably finished in the top ten here in Mexico, but it wasn’t meant to be. He was disappointed, but not entirely surprised.
He wanted to hit something out of frustration. Perhaps his car, perhaps himself. Instead, he punched the air, letting out a guttural scream like he had done so many times before when things did not go the way he hoped they would. This recurring engine problem of the Alpine was just one issue on a long list of DNFs due to bad luck.
After waving to the fans, their enthusiasm and support relieving him of a portion of his anger, he rested his head on his arms, leaning on the crash barrier. No matter how angry he was feeling, disappointment always took the upper hand in situations like these.
This whole week had been a mess anyway, his retirement from the race was just a cherry on top.
Sure, what he had said had definitely shown he favoured Max over Lewis, but the headlines that followed were pulled out of context. They made it sound like he was badmouthing Lewis when in reality, he was just trying to compliment Max. De Telegraaf was a Dutch newspaper after all. His Instagram statement did not do much to stop the angry messages he was receiving from Mercedes fans. He just hoped people wouldn’t take him too seriously and that it would blow over soon. Lewis was a great driver, a comment from a man who hadn’t won a WDC in over a decade and a half didn’t diminish that.
The comments and messages hadn’t been entirely wrong, however, when suggesting that Lewis was somehow always on his mind. Or well, always might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but how could he not be on his mind when he was still one of the top drivers to chase on the track? The man had seven world titles, for God’s sake. It made sense, professionally. And it wasn’t like Lewis was on his mind in his private life. He had been, every now and then, a long time long ago, but back then Fernando had been young, hot-headed and driven by emotions.
Fernando was willing to bet that, after the provoking headlines, Lewis would be amused by his retirement from the race. He was quickly proven to be right when his For You-page on Instagram showed him a video of Lewis casually sipping on a straw while watching a raging Fernando on the screen. Fernando knew two things at that moment. One, Lewis was undoubtedly trying his best not to smirk at what he was seeing and two, these fans on social media posted with the speed of light.
Lewis, although seemingly unbothered by what others said about him, would definitely not let him live this down.
Lewis had to admit to himself that seeing Fernando so angry gave him a small feeling of satisfaction after some of his quotes had been floating around the internet.
Enjoying his water, he watched as Fernando had to retire and punched the air in pure rage.
He had to put effort into not smiling a little. Fernando’s comments hadn’t hurt him, of course, but they had annoyed him a bit. Now he was sitting in the cool down room while Fernando had to deal with yet another DNF. He didn’t wish Fernando ill or bad luck, but with everything that had gone down that week, it seemed like karma.
When they ran into each other after a few interviews in the media pen, Lewis finally did smile a little, much to Fernando’s annoyance. The Spaniard stopped in his tracks and glared at him.
“What?” Lewis asked.
“You like seeing me angry because car 14 retired again?” Fernando asked. His eyes were fully focused on Lewis, staring intensely. It was like he was trying to intimidate him. It didn’t work.
“No?” Lewis answered because although it felt like karma and it didn’t affect him too much, it was never particularly fun seeing a fellow driver have to retire. "Where’d you get that from?”
“I saw a video of the cool down room.”
They were more or less alone, the other drivers either still completing their media commitments or having retired to their driver’s rooms.
“It was like your thing with Palmer.”
“Karma?”
“Yes.”
Fernando didn’t say anything and Lewis was not sure whether this was his sign to leave. Surely Fernando wouldn’t take that personally. They weren’t enemies like the press made them out to be, although they could hardly be considered friends. They were like acquaintances with a very long, eventful history together.
They were friendly to each other, spoke during race weekends and occasionally shared a laugh. It also helped a little that being around Fernando made Lewis feel less old than he felt around the other guys.
Fernando cleared his throat, catching Lewis’s attention. “They twisted my words a little. I do think your titles are worth a lot.”
Lewis frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest, considering how to respond to this. “Sure.”
“I just think it is funny when the media thinks we hate each other.”
“Hilarious,” Lewis answered with a straight face. “I can’t stop laughing.”
“They thought your tweet with the picture was funny, no? It is, how do they say it in England? Just a bit of banter, mate.” It sounded weird coming from Fernando’s mouth and tinged by an accent that was so obviously not British. “I don’t really hate you.”
Lewis nodded, looking down at the floor, away from Fernando’s piercing eyes. “I know.”
“We had good moments.”
Was he trying to get all sentimental now? Lewis was not in the mood for that. This conversation was already taking too long for his liking.
“Yes.”
“I really never hated you.”
Fernando sounded exhausted, whether from the race or the conversation they were having Lewis didn’t know. When he looked up, Fernando’s expression was still intense and serious. Lewis smiled and shrugged. “We’re too old for that anyway.’
Lewis had never really given it much thought, but watching him up close, he could make up from Fernando’s expression that maybe he was not actually doing this just to mess with the media nor in an attempt to annoy or provoke him. It looked like Fernando was a deeply troubled person. He lashed out at others when he felt things weren’t going the way he wanted and would forget to think before he talked when he was upset or angry. Bad career decisions and constant comparison to his peers were weighing on Fernando more than he admitted.
Whereas Lewis expressed his experiences and his feelings through inspirational Instagram posts, Fernando kept it all bundled up inside and it was a matter of time before everything either exploded or would come crashing down on him.
There was no doubt in Lewis’s mind that, had Fernando been driving a Red Bull, he would’ve been right there on top, fighting for the championship. He still had the skills and the fire of motivation within, he just did not have the car he needed. Or, if Lewis was completely honest, the car he deserved. His own choice to go to Mercedes had been the best he had ever made, Fernando’s career choices seemed to be bad luck upon bad luck.
It was hard to know that you could do better if you’d have had the material to prove it. Fernando was old and had not won a championship in sixteen years, but he was far from washed up. He was quite the opposite. He never gave up. Was he starting to feel sorry for Fernando? Maybe a tiny little bit, but this was just how motorsports worked.
“They call me a bitter and lonely old man,” Fernando stated.
That wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “Well, you are.”
“Yes,” Fernando mused. “But it is not that funny.”
Was he angry or upset? Lewis couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure what to say, everyone and their mother knew that they were not exactly friends. Should he try to become friends with him? Because Fernando had been making that very hard for him ever since he first realised he was a threat. There was nothing for Lewis to feel guilty about.
“That is why no one likes me. No one really cares if I’m here or if I leave, not like you or Sebastian.”
Lewis snorted. Fernando was such a drama queen. “Don’t be so dramatic, plenty of people like you.”
“Yes, but not in a really good friend way. Not like Max and Daniel or Carlos and Lando.”
Lewis almost wanted to laugh in Fernando’s face at the insinuation of either of those pairs being ‘just really good friends’. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ve explored each other’s bodies at some point, mate. They’re definitely not just friends.”
Fernando looked at him as if that was completely new information to him, even though most of the paddock was well aware of what went on behind closed doors. It showed just how disconnected Fernando was from everyone else on the grid.
“You could always try to, I don’t know, be nice and socialise.” Fernando pulled a disgusted face, making the both of them laugh for the first time during the somewhat awkward conversation.
“For what it’s worth, I found it a bit scary seeing Lance launch you to the moon like that in Austin,” Lewis admitted. “I mean, you’re so old, I was afraid your back would just snap from the force you came back down with.” He had to quickly duck to avoid a swat to the head from Fernando.
“You’re such a huge dick.”
“The more important question is, do I have one?”
“What?” The Spaniard’s cluelessness was almost endearing.
“A huge dick.”
“Oh.”
Lewis noticed Fernando’s eyes quickly flit down to his crotch area, checking it out for a second before quickly making eye contact with him again. He shrugged.
“Meh. Does not look too impressive.”
Now it was personal. “But it does its job. At least it does its job.”
“What are you trying to say? That mine does not?”
Lewis feigned innocence. “No, I said nothing.”
Fernando quickly looked around to see if there was anyone that could see them. There wasn’t. Then he stepped forward and leaned in closer to Lewis.
“You know, they do not call me Magic Alonso for nothing.” Fernando’s mouth was so close to Lewis’s ear that he could feel the hot breath against his skin. If Fernando noticed how Lewis tensed up and how the goosebumps formed on his skin, he didn’t mention it. Instead, the bastard just smirked and walked away, leaving his long-time rival behind, confused and somehow already half hard. This had escalated very quickly.
Barely two minutes later, Lewis’s phone vibrated, signalling that he had received a message. The name of a hotel and a room number. He smiled to himself, not even wondering how or when Fernando had gotten hold of his phone number.
Lewis couldn’t quite explain how their earlier banter had resulted in him standing in front of Fernando’s hotel room door, reconsidering whether he should knock or leave. Literal days ago Fernando’s comments to De Telegraaf had made him want to scream in frustration and hit his head against a wall because why was that man like this? Now he was about to join him in his room to… yeah. To what exactly?
Rationally, Lewis knew he shouldn’t be doing this. His relationship with Fernando was practically non-existent or strained at best. He was the last person out of anyone on the grid that he should be visiting late at night to do things with that would never be spoken about again.
He knocked on the door twice. No way back now.
Fernando looked freshly showered when he opened the door, hair only half dry and a towel dumped on the floor in the middle of the room. He looked good. Objectively, Lewis had to admit, Fernando became better-looking with age. Or maybe it was just the combination of that fluffy brown mop on his head and the facial hair that made him look so ruggedly handsome?
There it was again, that smirk. It stayed plastered on Fernando’s face as he stepped aside to let Lewis in, seemingly enjoying the slight discomfort of the other man.
“So…” Lewis began, unsure of whether to sit down on the bed or the small sofa against the wall or to stay standing. He’d never done anything casual before. “So,” he repeated. “Magic Alonso then?”
Within a second Fernando’s hands were on him, pushing him backwards until his back hit what he assumed was the door. Lewis wasn’t having any of it. He was not going to let Fernando push him around, literally and figuratively. He leaned forward to randomly run his tongue over Fernando’s neck and in the brief moment of confusion (he couldn’t blame Fernando for that, it was just the first thing that came to his mind), he grabbed the older man by the hips and switched their positions so that Fernando was now trapped between him and the door.
Lewis stood very close to the Spaniard, using that small height difference they had to his advantage. Fernando, despite clearly having imagined the events of this night differently, did nothing to stop it. Lewis took that as a sign to continue.
When their lips touched, it was quick and hard and desperate. There was nothing romantic about it, but it had everything of a quick release. Just two touch-starved, lonely men so desperate for affection that they even believed their nemeses to be good enough to provide it.
“You know, I’ve always kind of wondered what that would be like,” Lewis admitted.
He was met once again with that sly, evil grin of Fernando’s. “And?”
“Not too bad.”
“So not good either?” He knew what he was doing.
“I haven’t made up my mind, could you demonstrate again?”
Fernando didn’t waste a second before fulfilling that request. The second kiss wasn’t nearly as desperate or quick as the first one, but just as intense. It didn’t take long before Fernando opened his mouth to let Lewis’s tongue in. It seemed like even now Fernando was set on beating Lewis, as their tongues fought for dominance.
When it became clear to Fernando that he was not winning, he pulled back a little, sucking on Lewis’s lower lip for a moment. He bit it softly and, then a bit harder, causing Lewis to moan. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure and it was music to Fernando’s ears. Lewis’s hand settled on the back of Fernando’s head and kept him close, capturing his mouth again.
“People say that I live rent-free in your head. Do you really think about me so often?” Lewis teased when they pulled back for air. He ran the palm of his free hand over the growing bulge in Fernando’s trousers. A sharp inhale of breath was followed by a deep sigh. Fernando had his eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying what Lewis was doing to him.
“I’ll take that as a yes then.”
Fernando didn’t respond but Lewis could feel him growing harder.
It was a mental game as much as it was a physical thing, for both of them. In all honesty, they would both admit to being surprised it hadn’t happened before. They had come quite close a few times during that year at McLaren together.
After that first year, Lewis had only felt a physical pull towards another man again just once. It had been requited and they had had a few beautiful years together before it all came crashing down and now they were on even worse terms than he was with Fernando.
All in all, it had been a long time since he had been with a man. This was different. His previous experiences with a man had most of the time been sweet, slow and meaningful. This thing with Fernando was anything but that. They were not going to make love. It was going to be a one-time thing, a sort of anger and stress relief for the both of them. In two weeks, when they would see each other again in Brazil, they wouldn’t talk about it, they’d just pretend that nothing happened. That they weren’t currently ripping off each other’s clothes to get as close to the other as physically possible, desperate to touch every inch of the other’s skin.
It took no time for them to undress each other, hands flying everywhere, set on roaming around every piece of bare skin that could be touched. The desperation and impatience in their kisses increased by the minute.
It was Fernando who took the first step to go further. He lowered himself to his knees, his mouth never losing contact with Lewis’s skin. He left behind a trail of saliva, something that Lewis really shouldn’t have found as hot as he did. Fernando winced slightly as he sat on his knees and Lewis had to restrain himself from commenting on his age again.
He’d never had Fernando Alonso on his knees in front of him. Not literally at least. He’d imagined it a few times when he was 22 and became Fernando’s teammate. Back when they still got along fine. Who didn’t like the idea of having a double World Champion kneel in front of them anyway?
He tried not to moan too loud when Fernando took him in his mouth, keeping in mind that there was a considerable chance that Esteban or another member of the Alpine team was staying in a room on either side of Fernando’s. It was hard not to though. Lewis wondered where Fernando had learned these skills because he most certainly had had practice. The likes of Jenson and Mark flitted through his brain and an inexplicable sense of jealousy bubbled up.
With every bob of Fernando’s head, he could feel his stubble scratching his skin and there was no doubt he was going to be left with some degree of beard burn on his thighs. He couldn’t find it in himself to care though, as Fernando worked his cock, using his hand on the part his mouth couldn’t reach.
Lewis’s hands found their way to the back of Fernando’s head to keep him in place as he began to carefully buck his hips forward a little. Fernando looked way too good with his nose nuzzled in Lewis’s pubic hair. Looking up at Lewis, all wide-eyed and cheeks sucked in, he looked almost innocent, nothing like the cocky champion he actually was.
“Stop.” Lewis panted. Fernando complied, although he wanted nothing more than to continue. As much as he had wanted to blow Lewis just as some type of ‘sorry’ (which he hadn’t told him, of course, because he knew that Lewis wouldn’t have stood for that), he was now thoroughly enjoying it, showing off his skills. He waited for Lewis to explain, wondering if he was already regretting even doing this.
“You don’t have to-” Fernando didn’t let Lewis finish his sentence, not just picking up where he had left off but picking up the pace as well. Lewis said he didn’t have to, but Fernando wanted to.
Lewis had quickly given up on trying to stay silent, not caring anymore if anyone heard them. What were they gonna do about it anyway? He doubted they would even dare mention it around either of them and that was if they even noticed it was Lewis at all.
His moans became increasingly louder the closer he got. His hands gripped Fernando’s hair tighter as he could feel his orgasm coming up.
Fernando took that as a sign to suck even harder, not shying away from using his teeth a little too. That was what did it for Lewis and with a quick last warning that Fernando ignored, he spilt into his rival’s mouth.
Fernando swallowed it all, satisfied with his work. He made eye contact with Lewis as he ran his tongue over his lips to get rid of every last drop of Lewis’s come. He was beaming with pride at having managed to get Lewis all hot and bothered.
Lewis wanted to kiss that annoying grin off his face. He could tell from Fernando’s face that he knew what he was doing to him. He could also see that Fernando was rock hard but when he tried to reach for him, the older man stepped away. “I want to come together.”
Who was Lewis to deny him that request?
They didn’t speak, didn’t have to, as they moved to the bed. Lewis walked Fernando backwards until his legs hid the frame and he fell onto it. Fernando crawled a little further back to get comfortable and spread his legs for Lewis to settle in between them, an invitation the younger man eagerly accepted.
They kissed some more before Lewis moved to suck on a sensitive spot on Fernando’s neck. It was certainly going to leave a hickey, which was exactly his intention. He’d leave it up to Fernando to try and cover it up or explain to people how it got there. Fernando did not seem to mind it one bit if the breathy sounds he was making were anything to go by.
When Lewis was satisfied with his work, he moved further down to prepare Fernando for what this night was inevitably leading towards. The entire reason he had shown up here in the first place.
“Do you have any…” “No.”
Lewis considered it for a moment. “We’ll have to make do with spit then.” Fernando hummed in agreement, desperate for Lewis to just get on with it.
“Turn around,” Lewis ordered.
Fernando looked confused but did what he was asked anyway. He just wanted Lewis in him already.
Lewis had other plans.
Fernando let out a surprisingly high-pitched gasp when he felt something wet probing his hole. It took him a moment before he realised it was Lewis’s tongue. The man was actually rimming him and it was making Fernando a whole different level of horny.
“If you don’t stop, I will… por favor.” Fernando huffed after a few minutes. Lewis didn’t need to understand Spanish to understand that Fernando was getting very desperate for something other than his tongue to pleasure him. He gave Fernando one last lick and then leaned forward, his chest touching Fernando’s back and his chin resting on his shoulder.
“Suck.” He held his fingers out for the Spaniard to suck. Fernando did as he was instructed but when Lewis grabbed Fernando’s hip with one hand while he used the index finger of his other hand to circle Fernando’s hole, the older man reached back with one arm to swat Lewis’s hand away.
“No, is not necessary. I prepared myself a bit in the shower.” He’d been expecting Lewis to turn up then.
“How much is a bit?”
“Two fingers.”
“You could probably use some more preparation then.”
“No, is okay, you can hurt me.” Lewis stopped in his tracks. This was going in a direction he wasn’t particularly comfortable with. Fernando was a menace and a pain in the arse, but to cause Fernando literal pain (and not just in the arse) just wasn’t doing it for Lewis.
“Yeah, um… let’s not do that.”
Fernando looked at him over his shoulder. “I deserve it.”
A pause.
“Ask your fans.”
Lewis let go of Fernando’s hips and sat back down. Had this been his agenda the whole time? “We’re not gonna do this if this is some kind of weird, masochistic game of yours. What have people been saying to you?”
Fernando whined at the loss of contact and turned around, uncomfortable with his arse up in the air now that Lewis wasn’t intending on doing anything to it anymore. He didn’t see the issue. He gave Lewis permission to hurt him, practically asking him to. He assumed there wasn’t anything wrong with it as long as he consented to it, which he clearly had done.
“Is nothing.”
“It is if you think this is the right way to deal with it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Lewis understood that. It wasn’t really a conversation he wanted to have either right now, while they were sat naked on the bed of Fernando’s hotel room, aching for both literal and figurative release. But he still refused to do something that would hurt Fernando.
At the end of his relationship with Nico, there had been a lot of sex purely to hurt each other. It had always been consensual, but the intention to cause the other pain had always been there, as dumb as Lewis now realised that sounded. He regretted it and did not want something like that for Fernando. No matter how much he got on his nerves sometimes, he had done nothing to deserve that.
He signed. “I am not going to hurt you. Is there something we can use? Oil maybe?”
Fernando nodded and gestured towards the vague direction of the bathroom.
“Stay here.” As if Fernando was going to leave now. It was his hotel room anyway.
To the great relief of both him and his dick, he quickly found a bottle of coconut oil. A quick look at the ingredients told him it was safe to use.
Despite Fernando’s pleas to hurry up and use a little more force, Lewis took his sweet time preparing him. If this had been anyone other than Fernando, Lewis would have thought of this as foreplay, maybe romantic even. He was a Sir, after all. A proper gentleman. Teasing Fernando was just a bonus.
When he deemed Fernando fully prepared to take him, he spread a generous amount of coconut oil on his dick. He lined himself up behind Fernando, who was getting more and more impatient by the second and wriggled around before Lewis stilled him with the strong grip of his hand on Fernando’s hip.
“Lewis.” Fernando was properly whining right now. Lewis felt on top of the world now, never having thought he could have this effect on anyone, let alone Fernando Alonso. Another call of Lewis’s name turned into a muffled groan as Lewis entered Fernando. He made sure to be slow and careful. It would become more frantic soon anyway.
Lewis knew it was no use asking Fernando if he was okay to start moving, considering what he had said barely fifteen minutes earlier. Fernando had hidden his face in his pillow. Whether it was out of shame, pain or an attempt to stay quiet was a mystery. When Fernando raised his head and pushed his hips backwards, Lewis took that as a sign to start moving.
He had been right, within no time they were thrusting, gasping and screaming in pleasure. At one point Lewis even had to cover Fernando’s mouth to not make potential hotel neighbours, be that from Alpine or just in general, angry, or worse, curious.
When Fernando seemed to be feeling nothing but pleasure, Lewis decided to indulge Fernando’s earlier request for pain a little, nothing too extreme. While his left hand remained on Fernando’s hip, the other tangled itself in the Spaniard’s hair for the second time that day. A good choice, it seemed.
With each thrust of his hips, he pulled on Fernando’s hair. Initially, it was only a hesitant pull, to see how Fernando reacted, but when it became clear that Fernando was into it and was getting closer to his orgasm, he dared to pull harder. He pulled back Fernando’s head far enough for an open-mouthed kiss.
“Wait.” Instant panic set in as Lewis worried he had hurt Fernando after all. “I want to see.”
He pulled out of Fernando, confused. They didn’t like each other, why would Fernando want to see him while they were doing this?
As it turned out, he had to thank Fernando and the heavens above for putting this idea into his head because Fernando’s face during sex was something else. Nothing like the press smile and nothing like his concentrated race face. It was relaxation, relief, pleasure and joy all rolled into one. It was just so incredibly... Fernando. It was difficult to describe.
Lewis could tell when Fernando was nearing his climax and he was impressed that he had even managed to last that long. Fernando’s legs, which he had wrapped around Lewis after their switch of positions, tightened their grip, giving Lewis no chance to escape, not that he wanted to. Lewis increased his pace and in a moment of complete ecstasy, Fernando came untouched, covering both of their bellies in cum.
The combination of seeing Fernando experience such pleasure and relief and feeling him tighten around him pushed Lewis over the edge too, spilling into Fernando before collapsing on top of him. They were both exhausted, completely spent after the race and now this.
They remained in that position for barely a minute before Lewis scrambled up, leaving an exhausted Fernando naked on the bed. They weren’t going to do any post-coital snuggling. Despite the desire, the kissing and everything else, they were still nothing more than rivals. They weren’t friends and they certainly weren’t lovers.
Neither of them said a word while Lewis went around the room to collect the clothes he had been wearing.
Neither of them said anything when Lewis got dressed and moved to the door, on his way back to his own hotel room.
Lewis looked at Fernando one last time. The Spaniard opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again.
That was Lewis’s cue. With a polite nod, he left the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t quite understand why he felt like he should have stayed.