Flashes of Red
As always, click here for Master List of Fics.Title: Flashes of Red
Characters: Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen
Rating: Blue Flag
Summary: Fernando and Kimi are forced to do a fashion show. Fernando gets upset.
Warning: cross-dressing (just a bit)
Disclaimer: All fictional, not real.
A/N: Written for zecurlyone, my conscience while I drink.
Fernando should be used to fashion shows, what with the yearly Monaco event and the occasional photo shoot for the various sponsors. This one, however, is definitely outside his comfort zone. Suits he can do. He can even pose the shit out of watches. But heels?! What was Ferrari thinking agreeing to this?! He had gone to Kimi to try and rally some support before he went to management, but Kimi had just shrugged, saying it was no big deal.
So here he is, wearing tights. Tights for crying out loud! And heels. Huge ass heels that even his girlfriend wouldn’t wear. Louboutins, so he was told, like that was supposed to mean something to him, like it made it okay. The red fits with Ferrari. Perfect match, they said.
His protest had been in vain and there was nothing more to do but put the shoes on and do the show, which is why he’s wearing a pair of 5 inch heels that threaten to make him faceplant any second now, following what Dasha told him. Heel toe, heel toe, he repeats to himself as he walks the runway, feeling like a toddler who is learning to walk. Kimi, on the other hand, effortlessly walks - no, glides - around, twirls even. TWIRLS for fucks’ sake!
It’s not until that evening that Fernando finds himself at Kimi’s door, knocking on it without knowing exactly what he’s looking for.
“Come in, it’s unlocked,” Kimi calls from inside.
Fernando walks in, pushing the door aside abruptly, not caring about the dent it’ll make in the wall. Kimi frowns at him but promptly returns to watching the hockey game playing on the television.
“This was stupid, humiliating. We should say something, this kind of sponsorship stunts are stupid.”
Kimi just ignores him, laying on the couch, a shoe casually dangling from his toes as he watches the TV. And not just any shoe. A Louboutin shoe. An evil shoe.
“It’s only a show Fernando, calm down.”
But Fernando can’t calm down. He looked like a fool out there, stumbling on heels, trying to maintain whatever bit of dignity he had left while Kimi paraded around the runway with more grace than the Finn ever displayed anywhere else.
Fernando pushes Kimi’s legs aside, sending the dangling shoe to the floor, and sits down on the couch with a huff, arms crossed. Kimi sits up and glares at him.
“Careful with the shoes, they’re expensive,” Kimi says as he picks up the shoe from the floor, turning it in his hands, inspecting it, before he puts it back on again. He doesn’t ask Fernando why he’s here or tell him to leave, simply continues watching hockey as if Fernando wasn’t even here.
Fernando rolls his eyes at Kimi, not understanding why the Finn cares about a pair of women’s shoes. A distracting pair of women’s shoes, the red soles flashing in his peripheral vision whenever Kimi shifts and crosses his legs.
After a while, Fernando can’t stand the silence and gestures at Kimi’s feet. “Why you wear these? Is not right.”
Kimi sighs and turns off the TV, clearly not happy to be disturbed. He gets up from the couch and stands in front of Fernando, right between his spread legs. “Not right?” Kimi gives him a look somewhere between boredom and annoyance. “Those shoes,” Kimi says, placing a foot on the couch just inches from Fernando’s crotch, “are right. But that,” he continues, gesturing at Fernando’s face. “That moustache or beard, that is not right.”
There’s a witty comment on the tip of Fernando’s tongue, but it sticks there, unable to come out as Fernando stares at the shoe pointed at his crotch. The shoe in itself isn’t anything particularly interesting, but the way it arches Kimi’s foot, how it shapes Kimi’s calf, flexing the muscles of his leg in a way only a heel could, that is the interesting part. That’s the part that flicks a switch in his brain to a position it’s never been in before, making his hand glide up the shoe’s heel, past Kimi’s narrow ankle and up his calf, feeling the shape of Kimi’s leg with his hand.
Only when he gets to the edge of Kimi’s long shorts does he take notice of the Finn’s crotch right in front of him, and when he looks up, Kimi has that corner smirk on his face. Fernando’s hand is still on Kimi’s leg though, the soft skin under his knee like a magnet to his hand, just begging to be caressed. He wants to pull away, but the muscles shift under his hand. Kimi is inching his foot closer to Fernando, the point of the shoe pressing into the soft cushion of the couch, sliding under him, under his crotch. He lets go of Kimi and pushes himself up, but Kimi quicker, even when balancing on one heel, and pushes him back into the couch, the red sole of the shoe pressing against his privates just firmly enough that he doesn’t dare move, not with that pointy heel so close to him.
Fernando crosses his arms on his chest and stares down the Finn. “Kimi,” he warns, “let me go.”
But Kimi doesn’t listen, not that Fernando really expected him to, and starts moving his foot against Fernando’s pants, tracing the outline of his cock with annoying accuracy, rubbing with just the right pressure. Fernando keeps his eyes shut and his arms crossed, thinking of anything aside from the foot massaging his cock through his jeans. It’s more difficult that he thought though, his mind lighting up with flashes of red. His Ferrari zooming by, a shoe on the runway. A Ferrari flag in the crowd, a shoe on Kimi’s foot. Red overalls, a red sole sliding along his hardening length. His mouth goes dry and he tries to move his hips around to get out of the way but he just ends up pressing himself against the shoe, a small gasp escaping his lips. He opens his eyes when he hears Kimi’s low chuckle, and he swears there’s an actual smile on Kimi’s lips as he pushes the elastic waistband of his shorts down and pulls out his cock, shamelessly stroking it in front of him.
Fernando’s shock must register on his face because the corner of Kimi’s lips turn up even more and he shrugs, upping the speed at which his foot is moving and the speed at which his curled hand pumps his cock. Fernando frowns, confused as to how the hell he managed to get himself in this position, but he refuses to be outdone, to let Kimi have his way while he sits around being a play thing. He gives Kimi his best defiant look and undoes his pants, freeing his hard cock, pulling at it with a satisfied, but exaggerated, grunt.
Kimi gives him a curt nod, acknowledging the challenge, and spits in his hand before continuing, the point of his shoes now rubbing against Fernando’s balls. Fernando lets out a few choice curse words and spits in his hand too, not wanting to be outdone, and he lets his hand wrap around his cock, thumb toying with the head, biting down on his lip, moaning and grinding against Kimi’s foot while his free hand grabs a hold of Kimi’s calf, practically humping the Finn’s leg. But both of them are long past caring, the only thing that matters now is getting off, and getting off first.
But Kimi is faster than him, Fernando notices when Kimi comes because his foot stills, irritatingly immobile. So Fernando closes his eyes and imagines it instead, the red sole against his skin, hitting all the right spots with the perfect pressure, flashes of red on him, pushing and rubbing and sliding and Fernando comes, the fingers wrapped around Kimi’s leg pressing into skin.
When he opens his eyes, Kimi is glaring at him and when Fernando looks at him questioningly, Kimi simply taps the foot between his legs. The evil shoe. Covered in white.
“You owe me a new pair,” Kimi says as he cleans himself up and slumps down on the couch, kicking the shoes off before turning the TV back on.
Fernando almost complains about how expensive they are, but he keeps his mouth shut, knowing that arguing will only lead to him having to buy more than one pair, or lead to another one of Kimi’s lessons. In which case…
“But they are so expensive…”
.