carelessly, callously.
wolff t./rosberg n., nc-17
1199 words
nico crossdresses and lets toto fuck him. it's all for the contract beyond 2014, nothing more. (written for ateliers. inspired by edward hopper's hotel lobby.)
You enter the hotel lobby, footsteps soft. Light filters in through the glass panels on the ceiling, and shadows cast by the lamps placed around fall across the marble floor before you.
You look around. The carpets, the armchairs, the people milling around. All these do not matter. You seek only one thing.
Sure enough, there is a figure perched daintily on the chair closest to the front desk. Golden hair, bare legs crossed, reading a book. You walk over, and you clear your throat as discreetly as you can.
'You're here.' A tight lipped smile, an arm linked with yours.
Your hotel keycard feels heavy in the pocket of your trench coat as you enter the lift and press hard on the button for the doors to close.
Nico is beautiful. You have always thought so, right from the beginning. Even when he had decided to cut his hair short and grow out his stubble, to show that he was no longer the boy from Williams but a man capable of holding his own against Michael Schumacher, seven time Formula One world champion. Even more so now as he presses against you in the confined space of the lift, lips painted red and cheeks flushed. His golden hair curls up just so above his collar, and he looks down at the ground, unwilling to meet your gaze.
You turn your head, wanting to steal a kiss before the lift doors open.
He demurs, cocking his head away from you. 'Toto,' he says, voice strained.
There is the telltale chime of the lift arriving at its destination. Nico tugs at his clothes, getting rid of an imaginary crease, and you smile.
You fist your hand in Nico's hair, kissing him hard the moment you slam the door shut behind him. He yelps when you tug hard, and when you pull away from him you smirk, satisfied that his lipstick is now an utter mess. You cup his cheek, letting your fingers trace his jaw and his neck and his collarbones. You study his expression closely when you touch him - he does not flinch under your scrutiny, but he winces when your gaze falls upon his chest. It is full and voluptuous underneath the dress, and you reach for him only to have him hit your hand away.
'It'll ruin the illusion,' he says in English. You stare at him curiously, but he does not offer any further explanation. So your eyes travel lower, taking in his form underneath the blue dress he has on. His hips seem to be fuller, his waist impossibly tiny and he stand before you in those killer black heels, making your cock twitch when you realise that yes, he has shaven his legs.
'Turn around,' you say. In German, of course. There is no one else around to hear you right now, why should you speak in English with Nico?
'Don't you want to do this on the bed?'
English again. You look at him, eyes assessing, and he holds your gaze.
'Alright,' you say, still in German.
He stands in front of the bed, then he turns around, bends over and braces himself on one hand and sticks his arse out. His dress hikes up, then he reaches for the fabric and pulls it up. His buttocks are framed perfectly in white lace, and he looks back at you. 'Like what you see?'
If he wants to continue in English, so be it. You ignore his words in favour of pushing him down on to the bed, and he grunts, pushing his arse up so that you are able to reach for him. You cup his cock through his panties, already hard and leaking and you apply pressure, relishing in his moan. 'Look at how wet you are already,' you murmur. You shift, and he cries out when you pull his panties aside to reveal the cause of that curious little bulge that is almost imperceptible in between his arsecheeks.
'A plug,' you say, and he mewls as you push it further into him, holding it there. 'So you couldn't wait for me to fill you,' you drawl and he sniffs, muttering something incoherent about coming prepared. You laugh, slowly easing the plug out as he shivers beneath you before pulling it out. By now he is all too ready for you to fill him, and you align your cock to his entrance, barely pushing the tip of your cock past his rim before he is pushing back against you, eager for more.
'Such a slut for cock,' you say, thrusting into him. He groans, hands fisting in the bedsheets as you fuck him, gripping his hips tight.
Like this, from behind, Nico is just like a girl. Just like the beautiful girl you had always thought he would be, never mind that he is really a boy, no, a man by now. It is 2014 and he is within contention for the title but oh, what does it matter to you when you have wanted him like this since his Williams days, too pretty for words with his long golden hair?
(But you don't fuck boys, you fuck girls only and this, you tell yourself, is your way of reconciling that with your lust for Nico)
Nico's arse is tight and hot, he clenches around your cock and he demands that you move faster, that you fuck him harder and you oblige. You are rough with him, you bruise his skin and you rip part of his panties and when you come you do it inside him, ignoring his protests.
Afterwards, you lie on the bed, unmoving as Nico shuffles around beside you. In the dim light of the room you see him pull down his panties, stepping out of them before producing another pair from his purse to put on. Since when did he have the purse anyway? You had not noticed it before.
'Nico,' you say, patting the empty space on the bed beside you. He comes closer, and when he climbs on the bed you realise that while he looks feminine with his makeup on, some parts of him are undeniably masculine, like the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows and your cock twitches again, looking at a stain on his dress that looks unmistakably like bodily fluids.
'Here,' he says, pressing something into your palm. He closes your fingers around it, and then he gets off the bed.
'You're not staying?'
He gives you a scathing look, and you stare at him, momentarily at a loss for words. 'The contract,' you say finally, moving to get up. 'I have it with-'
'The paperwork has been already finished, hasn't it?' Nico says, in German now. 'This is merely your signing formality.'
You look at him, mouth dry, and he smiles, but his eyes are not filled with mirth. What is this, no more pretenses?
'Good evening, Toto,' he says. Then he is out of the door, closing it gingerly behind him.
You are left alone on the bed, with his soiled panties in your hand feeling like he had played you for a fool from the beginning.
1199 words
nico crossdresses and lets toto fuck him. it's all for the contract beyond 2014, nothing more. (written for ateliers. inspired by edward hopper's hotel lobby.)
You enter the hotel lobby, footsteps soft. Light filters in through the glass panels on the ceiling, and shadows cast by the lamps placed around fall across the marble floor before you.
You look around. The carpets, the armchairs, the people milling around. All these do not matter. You seek only one thing.
Sure enough, there is a figure perched daintily on the chair closest to the front desk. Golden hair, bare legs crossed, reading a book. You walk over, and you clear your throat as discreetly as you can.
'You're here.' A tight lipped smile, an arm linked with yours.
Your hotel keycard feels heavy in the pocket of your trench coat as you enter the lift and press hard on the button for the doors to close.
Nico is beautiful. You have always thought so, right from the beginning. Even when he had decided to cut his hair short and grow out his stubble, to show that he was no longer the boy from Williams but a man capable of holding his own against Michael Schumacher, seven time Formula One world champion. Even more so now as he presses against you in the confined space of the lift, lips painted red and cheeks flushed. His golden hair curls up just so above his collar, and he looks down at the ground, unwilling to meet your gaze.
You turn your head, wanting to steal a kiss before the lift doors open.
He demurs, cocking his head away from you. 'Toto,' he says, voice strained.
There is the telltale chime of the lift arriving at its destination. Nico tugs at his clothes, getting rid of an imaginary crease, and you smile.
You fist your hand in Nico's hair, kissing him hard the moment you slam the door shut behind him. He yelps when you tug hard, and when you pull away from him you smirk, satisfied that his lipstick is now an utter mess. You cup his cheek, letting your fingers trace his jaw and his neck and his collarbones. You study his expression closely when you touch him - he does not flinch under your scrutiny, but he winces when your gaze falls upon his chest. It is full and voluptuous underneath the dress, and you reach for him only to have him hit your hand away.
'It'll ruin the illusion,' he says in English. You stare at him curiously, but he does not offer any further explanation. So your eyes travel lower, taking in his form underneath the blue dress he has on. His hips seem to be fuller, his waist impossibly tiny and he stand before you in those killer black heels, making your cock twitch when you realise that yes, he has shaven his legs.
'Turn around,' you say. In German, of course. There is no one else around to hear you right now, why should you speak in English with Nico?
'Don't you want to do this on the bed?'
English again. You look at him, eyes assessing, and he holds your gaze.
'Alright,' you say, still in German.
He stands in front of the bed, then he turns around, bends over and braces himself on one hand and sticks his arse out. His dress hikes up, then he reaches for the fabric and pulls it up. His buttocks are framed perfectly in white lace, and he looks back at you. 'Like what you see?'
If he wants to continue in English, so be it. You ignore his words in favour of pushing him down on to the bed, and he grunts, pushing his arse up so that you are able to reach for him. You cup his cock through his panties, already hard and leaking and you apply pressure, relishing in his moan. 'Look at how wet you are already,' you murmur. You shift, and he cries out when you pull his panties aside to reveal the cause of that curious little bulge that is almost imperceptible in between his arsecheeks.
'A plug,' you say, and he mewls as you push it further into him, holding it there. 'So you couldn't wait for me to fill you,' you drawl and he sniffs, muttering something incoherent about coming prepared. You laugh, slowly easing the plug out as he shivers beneath you before pulling it out. By now he is all too ready for you to fill him, and you align your cock to his entrance, barely pushing the tip of your cock past his rim before he is pushing back against you, eager for more.
'Such a slut for cock,' you say, thrusting into him. He groans, hands fisting in the bedsheets as you fuck him, gripping his hips tight.
Like this, from behind, Nico is just like a girl. Just like the beautiful girl you had always thought he would be, never mind that he is really a boy, no, a man by now. It is 2014 and he is within contention for the title but oh, what does it matter to you when you have wanted him like this since his Williams days, too pretty for words with his long golden hair?
(But you don't fuck boys, you fuck girls only and this, you tell yourself, is your way of reconciling that with your lust for Nico)
Nico's arse is tight and hot, he clenches around your cock and he demands that you move faster, that you fuck him harder and you oblige. You are rough with him, you bruise his skin and you rip part of his panties and when you come you do it inside him, ignoring his protests.
Afterwards, you lie on the bed, unmoving as Nico shuffles around beside you. In the dim light of the room you see him pull down his panties, stepping out of them before producing another pair from his purse to put on. Since when did he have the purse anyway? You had not noticed it before.
'Nico,' you say, patting the empty space on the bed beside you. He comes closer, and when he climbs on the bed you realise that while he looks feminine with his makeup on, some parts of him are undeniably masculine, like the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows and your cock twitches again, looking at a stain on his dress that looks unmistakably like bodily fluids.
'Here,' he says, pressing something into your palm. He closes your fingers around it, and then he gets off the bed.
'You're not staying?'
He gives you a scathing look, and you stare at him, momentarily at a loss for words. 'The contract,' you say finally, moving to get up. 'I have it with-'
'The paperwork has been already finished, hasn't it?' Nico says, in German now. 'This is merely your signing formality.'
You look at him, mouth dry, and he smiles, but his eyes are not filled with mirth. What is this, no more pretenses?
'Good evening, Toto,' he says. Then he is out of the door, closing it gingerly behind him.
You are left alone on the bed, with his soiled panties in your hand feeling like he had played you for a fool from the beginning.