Fic: Interconnection, Part 10a
Pairing: Mark Webber/Sebastian Vettel
Rating: M
Synopsis: Post-Singapore GP, Mark and Seb try to work through recent frustrations
Word count: 4,081
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, never will. Don’t like, don’t read.
Interconnection, Part 10
Singapore: 3am in the morning.
Only now was Mark beginning to see the humour in his ten place grid penalty for Korea. His bad luck was so typical that there almost seemed no point in further bemoaning his circumstances. Had the water pressure not failed in his car, the engine wouldn’t have caught fire, and had his engine not caught fire, then he wouldn’t have had to abandon his car. Had Fernando not been his loyal friend, Mark wouldn’t have caught a taxi lift back to parc femme. But as fate would have it, his circumstances were the perfect mix for punishment - a bitter, all too familiar cocktail.
Cocktails made Mark think of a Singapore Sling. Raiding the minibar in his hotel room, his mind filled with memories from the early days with Sebastian. His teammate had been just a boy then, freshly announced as DC’s replacement. With a smile and easy-going demeanour, the Toro Rosso driver hadn’t seemed like a threat, even with the Monza win on the scoresheet. On paper at least, their commonalities should’ve guaranteed that they’d get on well.
A visit to Singapore back then had been encouraging. Mark had noticed a timidity in Sebastian at that stage - the almost respectful silences and deferring looks. It had been up to Mark to do most of the talking in their joint media segments. A ride in a rickshaw; a cocktail-making lesson; a street food tasting; a ferris-wheel ride with Christian; a night-time interview on the top of their hotel, with a panoramic view of the city’s glittering skyline. All of it had suggested an auspicious partnership, one likely characterised by laughter and mutual respect.
How far they had come, and how things had morphed. Looking back again, Mark recalled a part they’d recorded specifically for German television, where Sebastian had gone ahead and addressed the camera in his native tongue. Not knowing how else to be part of the segment, Mark had simply agreed with whatever the younger man had said. This simple, humorous display of trust, however small, was a rather wistful memory now. Fanciful, even. Fast forward to now, and the game of trust was a dicey one. More trust was being invested, but the security wasn’t there.
Mark grabbed the bottle of gin and stared intently at the interconnecting door between his and Sebastian’s rooms. Britta had been legitimately flustered at organising ‘the mistake’ - an accidental allocation of rooms, followed by a series of swaps that placed the teammates next to each other, and settled with a reluctant ‘it doesn’t matter if they’re in adjoining rooms because they’re two adults whose rivalry can play out on-track, not off’.
The web of lies was certainly getting more tangled, but at this point, Mark wasn’t completely sure who was the predator and who was the prey. All he knew was that when Sebastian opened that door, both of them would feel a win and a loss at the same time.
*
Later, Mark heard the click of the doorknob turning. His ears had been tuned into his surroundings all too clearly. He could hear things that were clearly far off in the distance. Muffled conversations out in the hallway, early morning traffic - that sort of thing. So when Sebastian made the decision to use the interconnecting door, Mark heard a ‘yes’ in that sound. It was a slow yes, but sure one. Soon after, he was staring at his teammate.
Sebastian stood in the doorway, light from his room now flooding into Mark’s.
‘Sitting here in the dark?’ he asked, a touch of nerves making his voice waver.
Mark shifted, as if testing the balance of the mattress. He was seated at the foot of the bed, comfortable enough in his boxers and an old Red Bull Racing t-shirt (white with an outdated logo). Before answering, he continued to take in the sight of Sebastian, an action reciprocated by Sebastian himself.
In the end, Mark couldn’t find the right words. He didn’t know whether to be a bastard about things or whether humour was the best way to go. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as he ought to be, and that was likely part of the problem. He’d realised that he didn’t want to mute his experiences with his teammate; this was the same as admitting how valuable their private time was.
‘Okay then,’ Sebastian said unsurely, stepping into the room with caution. He took his time swinging the door shut, like he was giving Mark an out if needed.
Seeing that the light from the other room was being closed off, Mark registered Sebastian’s clothing: plaid shirt and plain jeans. Plus a belt that Mark had removed before.
There would be fumbling and swearing about the fumbling, he was sure of it. They were not the most choreographed or graceful of couples when it came to undressing.
‘Are you all right?’
Mark sighed and tightened the bottle cap on the bottle of gin. ‘Yeah, mate.’
Now it was dark again. In the time it took for his eyes to readjust, Sebastian closed the distance, knocking the bottle out of Mark’s hands as he awkwardly climbed onto the bed to envelope him in an embrace.
‘Better not be a pity hug,’ the Australian muttered.
‘You said you were fine.’ The words were said into Mark’s ear as the two tumbled onto their backs.
‘You believe me, do you?’
‘I’m sorry about your penalty. And the car.’
Sebastian had already said these things earlier in the night, in interviews and in the team debrief. But the words were softer now that he was lying with Mark and cuddled up to his side.
‘Ugh.’ Mark closed his eyes and saw the lights of his steering wheel. ‘That gearbox. I might just punch someone the next time I’m told to short shift.’
Before he could add something about the taxi lift, the younger man tugged on his t-shirt and started nuzzling his neck.
‘Can we fool around, or are you still mad at me about the Britta thing?’ Sebastian asked.
The Britta thing was an issue that had cropped up in Spa. Flustered that Sebastian had lied to her about his whereabouts on the Saturday night, she’d sought Mark out after the race on the Sunday. Admittedly, it had been a rash decision on her part - her embarrassment clear as soon she came face to face with him. For her to have bypassed her boss and also Mark’s PR people was daring to say the least; it had shown just how thrown off she’d been.
‘I know I’m overstepping my bounds here,’ she’d said as soon as he’d let her in. ‘But it is my job to manage his media issues. Not only that, it is my job to keep him happy.’
‘Issues, ey?’ Mark had laughed in disbelief, not at the existence of issues, but at the understatement.
The laughter proved to be a mistake, leaving him with no choice other than to side-step out of the way, not only so she could have room to pace, but so he could also avoid her fierce gaze.
‘I don’t really think it’s a laughing matter. He lied to me about where he was last night. Lied to me to my face last night and this morning. When I don’t know things, I can’t protect him. I am always policing questions about you - a secret meeting is something I should know about. Any media outlet could’ve been tipped off. It would’ve been terrible for the team’s focus.’
‘You mean his focus.’
‘I don’t understand - who initiated this?’
‘Does it matter? I wasn’t aware I had to run my decisions past someone else’s PA. You manage more than interviews, do you?’
‘I do.’
Fire had flashed in her eyes, and Mark noticed that her accent had also gotten stronger. But he too had never been one to waver in honest conversations.
‘And you think Seb needs that much protection?’
‘I do.’
‘And you think coddling him is better than telling him to grow the fuck up?’
‘Yes, I do. And it is not coddling. That is a negative word.’
‘A negative word for a negative reputation.’
They’d engaged in a stare-off. Eventually Britta had given in, somehow not able to take Mark’s sneering any longer. Sensing danger, he’d then been forced to made it clear to Sebastian that they could not meet privately that night if his team were suspicious.
The same principle ended up applying to Monza, much to their frustration.
In between Monza and Singapore, Britta had asked Sebastian point blank about his moods when it came to Mark. He’d thrown a fit at her decision to schedule certain time-slots for the Frankfurt Motor Show, ensuring he and Mark would not cross paths during appearances. Not only that, but she’d rejected a bunch of party invitations on his behalf, citing his teammate’s attendance as a reason not to make an appearance.
‘How am I supposed to repair the friendship like this?’ he had argued. ‘I’m going to have tea with him - whatever Australians call it. A catch-up.’
‘But where? In private?’
‘Yes, in private. Stop worrying.’
Stop worrying. It’d been a hilarious request in the circumstances.
In fact, it still was.
On that note, Mark brought himself back to the present before he began to worry about the implications of their Frankfurt hotel meeting again.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Sebastian’s cologne, as well as the faint smell of alcohol on his shirt.
‘Your inner circle is rather intense,’ he noted. ‘Britta isn’t stupid, you know. She probably noticed the interconnecting door. Heikki too. Both of them are confused, but especially her.’
Sebastian lightly punched Mark in the stomach. ‘You don’t give me enough credit. I’m the one who organised the adjoining rooms.’
‘You don’t feel bad about stressing her out?’
‘Obviously I care about her work. But…This is for us. I wish I didn’t have to lie, but it is the way it is.’
‘Seb, I’m having trouble looking her in the eye.’
‘Yeah? How do you handle looking Ann in the eye?’
Normally the older man would’ve scolded him for such an insensitive dig, before also asking him the same in regards to Hanna. However, it was true that having adjoining rooms was convenient. They’d been able to make out for an hour after qualifying - in between bouts of annoyance from Mark over tyres and Grosjean being third on the grid, that is. At the end of the day, it had been Britta who had organised the ruse.
In light of this, he toned down his remarks accordingly.
‘It’s just unfortunate that Britta has kinda been dragged into this,’ he broached carefully. ‘She doesn’t know what this really is, yet she’s putting her neck on the line to facilitate our time together. She thinks it’s good for your mental health now - a conversation a day keeps the nasty teammate away. Unbeknownst to her, we’re just getting nasty.’
‘Just accept the gift. We’re lucky she’s not accusing us or anything like that.’
‘But she can’t accuse you - she works for you. You really don’t feel guilty?’
Sebastian grunted. ‘Why are we back here again? I do feel bad. But it is necessary to have time with you. So why are you still so cranky with me? I keep telling you: how was I to know Heikki would immediately blab to her about the hotel visit in Spa?’
‘Okay, okay.’ Mark tried to placate him with a kiss on the forehead. ‘Maybe I’m cranky about other things. You wanna fool around then?’
‘Yeah, obviously.’
As predicted, it was then a mad scramble to undress each other. In the dark, both men grabbed at each other’s clothing, fumbling, unbuttoning, pushing, pulling, all while trying to land bruising kisses and cheeky gropes. The mattress shifted as they shifted. Mark was naked first - the last remaining garments were Sebastian’s pants and boxers.
Both men were fumbling with Sebastian’s belt buckle in desperation.
‘Let me do it, let me do it,’ Sebastian urged, swatting Mark’s hand away.
‘Come on then. Not fucking fast enough.’
‘Why don’t you turn the lamp on and get ready to lube up in the meantime?’
‘Ugh. So bossy.’
Lube up in their context only meant Mark lubing up his fingers. This was all still new for them. In Frankfurt the previous weekend, Sebastian had convinced him to try; they had to take the next step if they were ever going to have sex. It’d been with great trepidation and squeamishness that Mark had obliged that night.
Sebastian had been tense at the time, a result of his frustrations after his argument with Britta about the Motor Show. Even kissing hadn’t done much to quell his tension. Added to the mix was the sheer vulnerability that came with fully undressing in front of another person. So Mark had left it up to Sebastian to call the shots. After groping and touching till they were both painfully hard, Sebastian had gotten on all fours before sinking on his elbows and leaning his head into the pillow with his eyes closed. Improvising, Mark had knelt behind, in between Sebastian’s legs and slightly angled to the side for leverage’s sake. Doubtful as to how relaxed his teammate was, the older man had been hesitant and clinical when finding Sebastian’s hole and pressing gently at his entrance. Thoughts about doctors and procedures and enemas and gay porn and bodily functions had all shuttled through his mind at dizzying speed. Finally he’d figured it was best to just try without psyching himself out.
Sebastian had been tight, prompting Mark to give soothing encouragement verbally while he used a single finger to push into him and coax him to loosen up. A few frustrating minutes passed by where it seemed Sebastian wouldn’t be able to get over how foreign Mark’s lubed finger was; for every nervous moan was a frustrated hiss.
‘Seb, relax,’ Mark had said. ‘You want me to fuck you one day, right? Think of how good that’ll feel.’
‘Okay, okay.’
A few deep breaths later, Sebastian had relaxed enough for Mark to get his finger in deeper, drawing groans of arousal from both men as Mark slowly moved in and out. Sebastian’s mewls finally led to Mark conquering the disgust associated with the fact his finger was up his teammate’s arsehole.
‘Mark…,’ Sebastian had groaned.
‘Mmmm?’
‘It’s so strange but good.’
On instinct, Mark had hooked his finger a little in response, and that was when he’d hit a sweet spot.
‘Oh fuck!’
‘What?’
‘Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.’
Mark had never heard Sebastian growl in such a primal way. The younger man struggled for breath as if someone had winded him - it had turned Mark on even more and made him curious as to what insane pleasure he himself had not had the experience of feeling just yet.
To think that this particular experience had only happened last week made Mark feel as though time was distorting again. Last week he’d managed to get two fingers in Sebastian for a while - before they both turned their attention to their raging erections. They hadn’t discussed expectations for their second encounter. In all honesty, Mark wanted to know just how much they’d have to practice this before they’d be ready to try having sex.
Sex. With Sebastian.
The thought was so obscene and dirty that Mark felt himself blush as he psyched himself up for this second try. He clambered over to the bedside table to switch on the lamp to its dimmest setting. He didn’t want to see too much. Brightness wasn’t his friend. Their first sexual adventure had gone relatively well considering they were two straight men with no experience, but the fact of the matter was they were still a little clueless.
In the top drawer of the bedside table was a tube of lube. Squeezing some of the cool liquid onto his fingers, Mark suddenly became shy again.
‘You naked yet?’ he asked.
Sebastian snorted. ‘What do you think? Why are you not looking at me?’
Indeed, Mark was looking anywhere else. ‘Because part of me is still scared shitless, mate. Not exactly normal to be this hot for you.’
‘Whatever. I’m gay for you too. Just have to accept it.’
It was certainly a difference to when Sebastian freaked out about their first blow job.
‘For sure.’
‘Stop mocking me.’
‘Make me.’
In due time, Sebastian was begging Mark to use a third finger on him. His body was burning and hot to the touch, but most importantly, increasingly ready. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the bliss that was in store, as if quantifying it was even possible. It would be like multiplying something without bounds.
Sure, Mark’s cock was big, but Sebastian wanted him so achingly bad. He thought of Mark in every spare moment, and even in the moments that were occupied by other things in his life. He didn’t care how gay it sounded - he wanted Mark to fuck him.
He was struggling to hold himself up though, and was now wishing he was on his back. Next time, he thought. He’d heard about bottoming or whatever the term was. If only Mark wasn’t so adverse to such ‘research’.
‘God, I want you so bad,’ he told Mark between groans. ‘We need to do this more.’
‘Only after races. You were sore last week. Afterwards, I mean.’
‘Worth it.’ The lust made Sebastian sound astoundingly desperate. It almost scared Mark to hear him like this - like the younger man would do anything and everything to have Mark pleasure him.
‘Want a hand?’ Mark asked, referring to Sebastian’s erection. It was difficult to get the offer out when all he wanted to do was to get Sebastian to suck him off so he could come in his mouth. ‘My spare one, I mean.’
‘Not yet.’
Waiting was a strange concept compared to driving at three-hundred kilometres an hour. Then again, when they drove that fast, at least they were in control.
For the most part, this was already out of control.
*