Just Keep Your Head Above
Title: Just Keep Your Head Above
Pairing: François Cevert/Jackie Stewart
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,636
Disclaimer: Never happened, don't own
Summary: Jackie, François and a swimming pool.
A/N: Inspired by this very brief clip. Yeah, it doesn't take much.
He should have known better.
Standing by the side of a pool always left you vulnerable to sneak attacks. Sneak attacks that usually ended up leaving you soaking wet or with your heart suddenly stuck in your throat from fright. Or both. But as far as Jackie was aware, everyone had escaped inside; the prospect of food after lounging out in the sun for the entire day far too enticing. Not to mention the chance to flop bonelessly onto a soft, cool sofa.
Still, he really should have known better.
Without warning he was whisked off his feet into a secure bridal hold. He caught a flash of dark hair and blue eyes before he was flying through the air, still clutched tightly within two strong arms. Together, he and his ambusher plunged into the glistening water.
Water shot up his nose and stung the back of his throat as he hit the bottom. Blinking his eyes open, he was met with the sight of long limbs kicking about close to his face. Chancing it, he grabbed at one of François’ ankles and pulled him back down with all of his strength.
He relished the look of delight on the Frenchman’s face through the bubbles before racing upwards.
They broke through the surface together, echoed gasps and choked laugher filling their otherwise silent surroundings.
In the scuffle, Jackie’s sunglasses had been knocked off. He could see the wobbly outline of them lying on the bottom of the pool; a dark shape against the bright blue of the tiles.
Just as he was about to dive down and retrieve them, François caught him round the chest; his arms coming up under his armpits to pull him against him. Jackie half-heartedly thrashed around to try and get away. Secretly more than content to stay where he was.
François chuckled behind him; a deep rumble that Jackie could feel at his very core.
“Very funny,” Jackie panted.
“I thought so,” François admitted, smothering his giggles in Jackie’s shoulder.
Jackie wriggled around in François’ grasp. His hands slipped across the Frenchman’s biceps, unable to get a decent grip on the wet skin. He risked digging his nails in, only lightly, in an attempt to regain some control and stood on François’ feet for extra leverage.
“This boarders on harassment, you know. I’ll have to tell Ken,” he sighed in mock disappointment and shook his head.
François gave him a toothy grin. “You’re going to tell on me?”
“Any future team-mate of yours needs to be suitably warned,” Jackie pointed out.
“Maybe it should be added to my contract,” François mused.
“Or theirs. ‘Must be able to put up with overly handsy Frenchman. Sign with caution.’”
“Sounds like a good deal to me,” François’ hand crept down and came to rest on Jackie’s crotch; his playful smile giving way to something much fiercer. Something that made Jackie shiver in anticipation.
"Cold?" François murmured, leaning over Jackie.
"Far from it."
François palmed him through his shorts, pushing down firmly against the growing bulge. Jackie hooked his chin over François’ shoulder, groaning as his team-mate’s wandering hand finally found its way inside his shorts. He eagerly canted his hips forward into François’ chilled touch.
“Been wanting to do this all day,” François admitted, dancing his fingers along the outline of Jackie’s steadily hardening cock.
“Such restraint,” Jackie teased.
“Well, you know me, I’m all about restraint.” François slipped Jackie’s shorts over the swell of his backside, leaving them bunched up around his thighs.
Jackie snorted. He stepped back out of François’ clutches and, somewhat awkwardly, tugged them off completely. He looked back up at François with a smirk, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
François was a gorgeous bronze. It suited him. In comparison, Jackie knew his cheeks and nose were a blotchy red. His own fault. He’d forgotten to put on any sunscreen before eagerly chasing after the boys into the sun. Until Helen chastised him and swiped some cream across his face, that is.
He molded himself back to François’ front, his cock trapped between them, and sunk his teeth into François’ neck; nipping lightly at the stretched tendons as François’ tensed under him.
François hissed and clutched at one of Jackie’s thighs; a subtle plea the Scot knew how to answer. Bracing his elbows on the side of the pool, Jackie circled his legs round François’ waist and drew him in close. He raised his eyebrows in challenge.
François paused for a moment and brushed Jackie’s wet fringe out of his eyes before breaking out into a wicked grin.
Jackie learnt very early on in their friendship that François held a wherever, whenever policy. And whilst Jackie was more than happy with a soft bed or comfortable sofa, François was a constant source of devious ideas. Ideas he’d really be a fool to argue against.
He gradually worked a finger into Jackie. Hearing no objections, François slid another alongside it. He gently coaxed Jackie’s muscles into stretching around his fingers, massaging with his fingertips to open him up.
“I can’t believe you’re going along with this,” François murmured, creeping a hand under Jackie’s right knee to lift his leg higher.
“Well, I didn’t have much choice, did I?” Jackie arched his back.
“I heard no objections!”
Jackie huffed in amusement and pressed himself further down onto François’ fingers. “Just get on with it.”
François dragged his own shorts down, letting his cock spring free. He held Jackie’s hips, thumbs securely hooked over the bone, so he could gently guide himself in with as much ease as possible. He groaned at the tight heat that engulfed him.
For Jackie, it burned; the water providing only the barest amount of slickness. But he clenched his jaw and dug his heels harder into the small of François’ back, urging him forward until he was all the way in.
“Okay?” François asked, his voice gravelly. Water had pooled in the hollows of his clavicle, just threatening to fall and drip down his chest. Jackie eyed it in a daze, the tentative concern in François’ voice a familiar anchor against the sudden overpowering explosion of sensations.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just give me a second.”
He could feel François shaking, so obviously trying to hold himself back.
They knew every inch of each other’s bodies; where to touch or suck or bite. How much the other could take. This was nothing. He breathed in deeply and nodded. François in turn kissed him lightly on the lips, lingering and sweet, before purposely grinding in deeper.
Jackie choked on a curse and François, with a twinkling laugh, finally began to shallowly thrust.
The water splashed up between them; small tidal waves rippling across the entire length of the pool. Jackie abandoned his hold on the side of the pool to curl his hands round the base of François’ neck, leaving his shoulder blades to take the brunt of each slam. The tiles were cool against his skin, a pleasant addition to the heat coursing through his veins.
He gasped as François angled his hips in a particularly delicious way, and tugged the hair at the base of his neck in retaliation. “Jesus Christ, François. If only you could see yourself.”
François touched his forehead to Jackie’s and smiled. “For you to say that when you look like this,” he traced a finger over Jackie’s cheekbone, “is madness.”
Jackie laughed shakily and François matched it with a forceful surge deep into him.
Jackie bit down hard on his lip, desperately trying to stop himself from crying out as François hit the same spot over and over. His cock bobbed uselessly as it knocked into François’ stomach; the lack of friction almost painful.
François cupped his hand round Jackie’s as they both reached for the Scot’s neglected erection at the same time and guided him into quick, firm strokes. Jackie threw his head back, his over-sensitised nerves buzzing in relief.
“Jackie,” François growled, his grip on Jackie’s waist tightening to the point of bruising, “Je suis si proche.”
“Me too, me too.”
Jackie pulled him into a messy kiss; their lips barely finding each other in a poor imitation of cohesion as François’ thrusts became more frantic, more urgent.
It wasn’t long before François stiffened and moaned a string of French incoherencies against Jackie’s mouth as he came. Jackie soon followed, one last brush of François’ thumb against the flushed head of his cock sending him over the edge.
They stayed pressed together, sparing a moment to catch their breaths. Eventually, those ragged gasps that seem so much louder during the lingering moments of arousal evened out.
Jackie gingerly set his legs down and twisted around. His legs weren't the only parts of him burning from strain.
“So, what’s the damage?”
François brushed his fingers lightly over the indentations on Jackie’s back and wrinkled his nose. “Do they hurt?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jackie quipped, knowing he’d be feeling them tomorrow. If he was lucky.
“Oh,” François hummed happily, “I’ll have to remember that.” He tilted Jackie’s chin up and leisurely ran his tongue over Jackie’s lips before dipping it into his willing mouth.
Pinks and oranges had begun to stain the sky into the most picturesque watercolour. There was finally a light breeze to the air, but the water had yet to lose its slight warmth. No one had bothered to come find them. They probably had Helen to thank for that. François cradled Jackie’s head and deepened the kiss.
“We should probably go inside,” Jackie said with reluctance after they’d pulled apart. He was distractedly rubbing circles onto the small of François’ back, wondering if they could somehow steal one more hour together.
“Not yet.”
François let his body fall backwards into the water, taking Jackie with him.
Pairing: François Cevert/Jackie Stewart
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,636
Disclaimer: Never happened, don't own
Summary: Jackie, François and a swimming pool.
A/N: Inspired by this very brief clip. Yeah, it doesn't take much.
He should have known better.
Standing by the side of a pool always left you vulnerable to sneak attacks. Sneak attacks that usually ended up leaving you soaking wet or with your heart suddenly stuck in your throat from fright. Or both. But as far as Jackie was aware, everyone had escaped inside; the prospect of food after lounging out in the sun for the entire day far too enticing. Not to mention the chance to flop bonelessly onto a soft, cool sofa.
Still, he really should have known better.
Without warning he was whisked off his feet into a secure bridal hold. He caught a flash of dark hair and blue eyes before he was flying through the air, still clutched tightly within two strong arms. Together, he and his ambusher plunged into the glistening water.
Water shot up his nose and stung the back of his throat as he hit the bottom. Blinking his eyes open, he was met with the sight of long limbs kicking about close to his face. Chancing it, he grabbed at one of François’ ankles and pulled him back down with all of his strength.
He relished the look of delight on the Frenchman’s face through the bubbles before racing upwards.
They broke through the surface together, echoed gasps and choked laugher filling their otherwise silent surroundings.
In the scuffle, Jackie’s sunglasses had been knocked off. He could see the wobbly outline of them lying on the bottom of the pool; a dark shape against the bright blue of the tiles.
Just as he was about to dive down and retrieve them, François caught him round the chest; his arms coming up under his armpits to pull him against him. Jackie half-heartedly thrashed around to try and get away. Secretly more than content to stay where he was.
François chuckled behind him; a deep rumble that Jackie could feel at his very core.
“Very funny,” Jackie panted.
“I thought so,” François admitted, smothering his giggles in Jackie’s shoulder.
Jackie wriggled around in François’ grasp. His hands slipped across the Frenchman’s biceps, unable to get a decent grip on the wet skin. He risked digging his nails in, only lightly, in an attempt to regain some control and stood on François’ feet for extra leverage.
“This boarders on harassment, you know. I’ll have to tell Ken,” he sighed in mock disappointment and shook his head.
François gave him a toothy grin. “You’re going to tell on me?”
“Any future team-mate of yours needs to be suitably warned,” Jackie pointed out.
“Maybe it should be added to my contract,” François mused.
“Or theirs. ‘Must be able to put up with overly handsy Frenchman. Sign with caution.’”
“Sounds like a good deal to me,” François’ hand crept down and came to rest on Jackie’s crotch; his playful smile giving way to something much fiercer. Something that made Jackie shiver in anticipation.
"Cold?" François murmured, leaning over Jackie.
"Far from it."
François palmed him through his shorts, pushing down firmly against the growing bulge. Jackie hooked his chin over François’ shoulder, groaning as his team-mate’s wandering hand finally found its way inside his shorts. He eagerly canted his hips forward into François’ chilled touch.
“Been wanting to do this all day,” François admitted, dancing his fingers along the outline of Jackie’s steadily hardening cock.
“Such restraint,” Jackie teased.
“Well, you know me, I’m all about restraint.” François slipped Jackie’s shorts over the swell of his backside, leaving them bunched up around his thighs.
Jackie snorted. He stepped back out of François’ clutches and, somewhat awkwardly, tugged them off completely. He looked back up at François with a smirk, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
François was a gorgeous bronze. It suited him. In comparison, Jackie knew his cheeks and nose were a blotchy red. His own fault. He’d forgotten to put on any sunscreen before eagerly chasing after the boys into the sun. Until Helen chastised him and swiped some cream across his face, that is.
He molded himself back to François’ front, his cock trapped between them, and sunk his teeth into François’ neck; nipping lightly at the stretched tendons as François’ tensed under him.
François hissed and clutched at one of Jackie’s thighs; a subtle plea the Scot knew how to answer. Bracing his elbows on the side of the pool, Jackie circled his legs round François’ waist and drew him in close. He raised his eyebrows in challenge.
François paused for a moment and brushed Jackie’s wet fringe out of his eyes before breaking out into a wicked grin.
Jackie learnt very early on in their friendship that François held a wherever, whenever policy. And whilst Jackie was more than happy with a soft bed or comfortable sofa, François was a constant source of devious ideas. Ideas he’d really be a fool to argue against.
He gradually worked a finger into Jackie. Hearing no objections, François slid another alongside it. He gently coaxed Jackie’s muscles into stretching around his fingers, massaging with his fingertips to open him up.
“I can’t believe you’re going along with this,” François murmured, creeping a hand under Jackie’s right knee to lift his leg higher.
“Well, I didn’t have much choice, did I?” Jackie arched his back.
“I heard no objections!”
Jackie huffed in amusement and pressed himself further down onto François’ fingers. “Just get on with it.”
François dragged his own shorts down, letting his cock spring free. He held Jackie’s hips, thumbs securely hooked over the bone, so he could gently guide himself in with as much ease as possible. He groaned at the tight heat that engulfed him.
For Jackie, it burned; the water providing only the barest amount of slickness. But he clenched his jaw and dug his heels harder into the small of François’ back, urging him forward until he was all the way in.
“Okay?” François asked, his voice gravelly. Water had pooled in the hollows of his clavicle, just threatening to fall and drip down his chest. Jackie eyed it in a daze, the tentative concern in François’ voice a familiar anchor against the sudden overpowering explosion of sensations.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just give me a second.”
He could feel François shaking, so obviously trying to hold himself back.
They knew every inch of each other’s bodies; where to touch or suck or bite. How much the other could take. This was nothing. He breathed in deeply and nodded. François in turn kissed him lightly on the lips, lingering and sweet, before purposely grinding in deeper.
Jackie choked on a curse and François, with a twinkling laugh, finally began to shallowly thrust.
The water splashed up between them; small tidal waves rippling across the entire length of the pool. Jackie abandoned his hold on the side of the pool to curl his hands round the base of François’ neck, leaving his shoulder blades to take the brunt of each slam. The tiles were cool against his skin, a pleasant addition to the heat coursing through his veins.
He gasped as François angled his hips in a particularly delicious way, and tugged the hair at the base of his neck in retaliation. “Jesus Christ, François. If only you could see yourself.”
François touched his forehead to Jackie’s and smiled. “For you to say that when you look like this,” he traced a finger over Jackie’s cheekbone, “is madness.”
Jackie laughed shakily and François matched it with a forceful surge deep into him.
Jackie bit down hard on his lip, desperately trying to stop himself from crying out as François hit the same spot over and over. His cock bobbed uselessly as it knocked into François’ stomach; the lack of friction almost painful.
François cupped his hand round Jackie’s as they both reached for the Scot’s neglected erection at the same time and guided him into quick, firm strokes. Jackie threw his head back, his over-sensitised nerves buzzing in relief.
“Jackie,” François growled, his grip on Jackie’s waist tightening to the point of bruising, “Je suis si proche.”
“Me too, me too.”
Jackie pulled him into a messy kiss; their lips barely finding each other in a poor imitation of cohesion as François’ thrusts became more frantic, more urgent.
It wasn’t long before François stiffened and moaned a string of French incoherencies against Jackie’s mouth as he came. Jackie soon followed, one last brush of François’ thumb against the flushed head of his cock sending him over the edge.
They stayed pressed together, sparing a moment to catch their breaths. Eventually, those ragged gasps that seem so much louder during the lingering moments of arousal evened out.
Jackie gingerly set his legs down and twisted around. His legs weren't the only parts of him burning from strain.
“So, what’s the damage?”
François brushed his fingers lightly over the indentations on Jackie’s back and wrinkled his nose. “Do they hurt?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jackie quipped, knowing he’d be feeling them tomorrow. If he was lucky.
“Oh,” François hummed happily, “I’ll have to remember that.” He tilted Jackie’s chin up and leisurely ran his tongue over Jackie’s lips before dipping it into his willing mouth.
Pinks and oranges had begun to stain the sky into the most picturesque watercolour. There was finally a light breeze to the air, but the water had yet to lose its slight warmth. No one had bothered to come find them. They probably had Helen to thank for that. François cradled Jackie’s head and deepened the kiss.
“We should probably go inside,” Jackie said with reluctance after they’d pulled apart. He was distractedly rubbing circles onto the small of François’ back, wondering if they could somehow steal one more hour together.
“Not yet.”
François let his body fall backwards into the water, taking Jackie with him.