Come On, Fire Me Up
Pairing: Charles Pic/Mark Webber
Rating: black flag
Summary: omega verse. Charles goes into heat for the first time.
Beta: the simply awesome larascasse
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Mark can’t remember the last time someone went into heat at a race. It’s long been dictated that anyone working in the paddock is not to go into heat on a weekend. Too distracting for the mostly Alpha drivers. But someone has - he’s been picking up faint hints of it all weekend, drifting around. Strongest in the driver’s briefing, the GPDA meeting, the subject of quiet conversations all over the paddock all weekend, and all makes sense when he bumps into a shaking Charles Pic, hiding in the toilets that all of the drivers use to give their urine samples. And it’s obvious then, that Charles is the one in heat, and he should have realised earlier. Why didn’t anyone notice before, Mark wonders, but then he realises, this is Charles’ first heat. He wouldn’t have known until it hit him - and it can’t have been that long ago, judging by how few Alphas are gathering around. Mark’s the only one, but then that can’t be surprising considering how many of the teams are still working, packing up to go to Abu Dhabi next week.
He won’t be the only Alpha around for much longer though. Not when Charles smells like this, pheromones pouring off him. His pupils are so wide that Mark couldn’t tell you what colour his eyes are, and he moans as soon as he sees Mark, knees wobbling visibly, cock hard and tenting his race suit. Mark feels himself harden in response, only he’s got jeans to hide it, but Charles knows, sense of smell heightened and tuned to pick up the scent of an Alpha's arousal, Mark’s arousal, and he groans, this time louder, fingers scrabbling at the wall of the bathroom, the other hand clamped around the edge of the sink. Mark takes a step towards him, and Charles’ lips part, pink tongue poking out, wetting his lips. Another step forward, and one of Charles’ hands reaches for him, clutches his shoulder as soon as Mark is close enough.
He knows he shouldn’t. He knows Charles isn’t thinking, brain geared towards one thing and refusing to let him think of anything other than getting fucked. But Mark’s own brain is getting foggier, the haze of pheromones that Charles is releasing hitting him full strength, and he has little power to resist those pouting lips. He leans down to catch the bottom one between his teeth, tugging at it, listening to Charles’ whimper, the way both of his hands rise to Mark’s shoulder, clutching, pulling Mark closer.
Charles isn’t the shy Frenchman that Mark’s acquainted with when he’s like this. He’s demanding in a way that Mark never would have thought he’d have been, if he’d have had enough brain left online to think that.
But he doesn’t, so he’d much rather do this, push Charles back against the wall and kiss him, breathing in that deliciously overwhelming scent, rubbing their cocks together through their clothing. He breaks away from the kiss, nearly returns after that desperate moan, but doesn’t, instead slowly drags down the zipper of Charles’ racesuit, inhaling the sudden hit of scent it releases, watches Charles’ eyes flutter open, watching them slam shut again as he thumbs over a nipple obvious through his fireproofs. “How far away is your hotel?” Mark asks, and repeats himself when Charles doesn’t answer the first time because he’s too distracted by Mark. The barely coherent answer has Mark yanking Charles after him, fingers tight around his wrist, dragging him into a car, answering a few questions from their teams as well as he can manage with Charles sprawled in the back of the car, legs akimbo, entirely unashamed of his own hand sliding between his legs, to rub over his aching hole through his racesuit.
And then it seems barely any time at all until Mark is leading Charles to his hotel room, snarling at every Alpha who dares to make the slightest of moves towards Charles. And oh god, it’s worth it, worth every bit of column space they’re probably going to get when he has Charles stood in the middle of his hotel room, shaking with need, reaching out for Mark as he walks around him, leaning in to nuzzle the back of his neck, leaving just a hint of teeth and having to catch Charles to keep him standing as his knees threaten to give out. He likes this, Mark realises, he really likes this, and he takes that as a hint to peel Charles’ racesuit from him, pulling it down muscled legs, taking the opportunity to nuzzle his nose between his legs, licking over the rough nomex of his fireproofs and tasting nothing but Charles, the fabric soaked by his slick. It must be pouring out of him, what with the way his inner thighs are soaked when Mark traces his fingers down them.
Stripping Charles out of his fireproofs is like unwrapping a present. Every Formula One driver has a good body; they have to. But he’s never seen one in this way, and he wonders why, because he’s never found anything more attractive, that lithe, toned body sprawled out, legs spread wide, hole visibly open, twitching, for him. Yes, Charles would look like this for any Alpha willing to take him, but he’s not fighting Mark in the slightest. He’s so utterly willing, so utterly wanting that he rolls onto his back, yanking Mark on top of him, rutting up against his cock, moaning at the feel of Mark’s jeans against his bare cock. And while Mark loves the reaction this gets, his face going lax with pleasure, eyes rolling back, he pulls back, stripping off, wrapping a hand around his cock not to drag himself into the action, but to watch Charles’ reaction to seeing him for the first time, the way his legs fall even further open, the way his eyes widen, lips parting, hands scrabbling in the sheets, is so insanely arousing that the next time his fingers sweep over the head of his cock, they come away dripping with pre-come.
He’s lucky, really. To be the first to stumble across Charles, to have him this willing, not fighting Mark like he knows some omegas would, to have Charles’ first heat, the first time he’ll get to experience this. And that’s special, he has to make it special, and so he kneels on the bed, hands trailing up Charles’ legs, leaning in to bite a bruise at the very apex of those lovely, muscular thighs. He mouths at Charles’ cock, aware that heats are too often focused on just fucking, but he wants to draw this out, no matter how desperate Charles is to just be fucked, get Mark’s cock inside him.
And draw it out he does. He sucks Charles’ cock until he comes, crying out, shaking under Mark’s soothing hands, smoothing along his stomach, feeling the muscles there tense under his touch.
But his cock is still hard, even when Mark’s licked away all the come, of course it is. He won’t stop wanting until he’s been knotted, and so Mark draws it out even further, rolls Charles over, pulls him up to his knees and enjoys the taste of him elsewhere. Charles has obviously never even thought of this, judging by the way his hand raises to push Mark’s face away from his hole, but he soon changes his mind about that after Mark licks there for the first time, tongue tracing around the loose ring of muscle, a finger just dipping in as Charles’ voice returns to him, as he begins to beg in broken, fractured French, and with his body too, with the way his hips move to press his arse back against Mark’s mouth, with the way his elbows wobble before they give up, but he likes this new angle judging from the repeated moans.
But just making him come won’t do anything for the desperation that Mark knows Charles will be feeling. Just making him come won’t calm the need he has for Mark’s cock inside him, and so Mark reaches for the condoms that the hotel leave, because this is a good hotel, they are prepared for any eventuality. He’s thankful for that, because while this will make column space, a pregnancy would make headlines. He does regret them, slightly, when he slides into Charles, inch by careful inch, because it’s never quite the same as doing this with a bare cock, but this is so good that he can’t complain. Charles certainly isn’t, fingers grasping at the sheets, eyes falling shut to concentrate on the sensations, head turned to the side so Mark can see every bit of pleasure shown up his face.
He stills when he bottoms out, hips pressed flush to Charles’ arse, and bends over him, pressing his chest to Charles’ back, letting a hand wander to find his cock. It barely takes a touch for Charles to come again, and it feels so good that Mark can’t stay still, let him adjust to a cock inside him, has to start moving, but Charles delights in it, moves back against him, all sorts of delicious noises tumbling out from between those bitten-red, parted lips.
It doesn’t take long. Of course it doesn’t, this isn’t sex, this in in-heat-sex, and it never does last long, no matter how much he wants it to, and he can feel his knot forming, can feel it nudging against the rim of Charles’ hole, and Charles comes again, startled gasp as Mark pushes all the way in again, forcing his knot in, feeling it grow, stretching Charles in ways he’s never been stretched before, and it’ll hurt, Mark knows, but he can’t do anything to soothe that, because he’s coming, fire burning up his spine, down every nerve in his body and he groans out his pleasure into the spot where Charles’ neck meets shoulder, biting down hard enough that Charles whimpers, crying out and coming too, shaking underneath Mark, knees giving out and yanking Mark down on top of him because of their intimate position, tied together.
It’s a good five minutes before they come back to themselves. Charles whimpers again, drags Mark out of the pleasured haze fogging his brain. “You ok?” He rasps, coughs a little to clear his throat. Charles groans, blinks his eyes open, looking up at Mark with his head still turned to the side, the pair of them having not moved since Mark came, and Mark sighs with relief to see them mostly clear of the hormonal haze that heat puts on them. It must be a relief for him, to finally have a clear mind, to not have his thoughts dominated by the need to be fucked, impregnated, bred.
“I-“ Charles whispers, turning his head, almost in an attempt to hide from Mark, but he can’t, and Mark nuzzles the forming bruise on the back of his neck, brushing a gentle kiss there.
“Come here.” Mark murmurs, slides an arm underneath him, carefully rolling them over, trying to hurt him as little as he can because now Charles isn’t desperate, he’ll feel everything and it won’t register as pleasure this time, just pain, and it will hurt, because Mark knows exactly how big his knot is, and there’s no way they’re going to be able to move apart for a while, not if Mark’s still coming. He shudders, suddenly, halfway through shifting them to lie on their sides, spooning, and Charles yelps, hand flying back to clutch at Mark’s hip. “Ssssh.” Mark soothes, rubs his stomach, smearing the come there. The pained whimpers turn to pleasured ones when Mark lets that hand slide downwards, deliberately rubbing his cock against Charles’ prostate as he palms his cock, and that works, that distracts him from the swollen knot tying them together.
They lie in silence for a good while, Mark occasionally rocking forwards, unable to resist his urges, Charles occasionally pushing back against him, his own hand sliding down to satiate his own urges. “You ok?” Mark asks again, once they’re finally satiated, just waiting for Mark to relax enough for his knot to subside, allow them to pull apart; and this time, Charles answers, quietly, says he’s ok, a little sore. “You will be, I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault that I am an omega.” Charles answers, sniffles. Mark murmurs soothing things, whispering them into the soft skin of his shoulders, the delicately sensitive skin of the back of his neck.
“No, it’s not.” Mark murmurs, fights to get the arm trapped beneath him free so he can run it through Charles’ hair. “It’ll change things, you know that, but you’ll be ok.”
“Yeah?” Charles asks, shyly twisting his head around to glance at Mark.
“You’ll be fine.” Mark nuzzles his shoulder, feeling oddly protective of the young man in his arms.
He feels oddly bereft when he carefully pulls out, careful to take the condom with him, tying it off, feeling utterly drained, understandably so, as he thanks the hotel mentally for stocking Alpha strength condoms in the free packs of toiletries they give out. Charles rolls onto his back, whimpering, understandably sore. Mark gathers him up, carries him into the bathroom, holding him up on wobbly legs in the shower. “How long, uh, does this, uh, last?” He asks, blinking up at Mark from beneath clumped together eyelashes, hair plastered to his head.
“Depends.” Mark shrugs. “It’s your first heat, maybe two or three days?”
“I will feel like that for days?” Charles exclaims, shocked.
“Only once a year.” Mark points out, but Charles scowls, unhappy.
“It feels horrible, so empty, so-“ He frowns, presses closer to Mark, arms sliding around his waist. He’s clingy, but that’s understandable too, and Mark feels the same way, so he clutches Charles closer, kisses him again because he can, because it means that Charles will let one of those pretty, breathless moans loose into his mouth.
Everything goes swimmingly from there. There’s some arguing that goes on between Mark and both of their teams, while Charles sleeps, head resting on Mark’s bare thigh, but it’s worth it because they barely leave the hotel room until Charles’ heat finally breaks, spend three days doing little other than fucking and sleeping, cuddling and learning about each other. The media shit-storm isn’t as bad as feared, and Charles honestly makes Mark proud, the way he handles it, the way he goes out and races in Abu Dhabi the week after, and it makes him think that, yeah, maybe he should stick around with this one for a long while to come.
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Rating: black flag
Summary: omega verse. Charles goes into heat for the first time.
Beta: the simply awesome larascasse
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Mark can’t remember the last time someone went into heat at a race. It’s long been dictated that anyone working in the paddock is not to go into heat on a weekend. Too distracting for the mostly Alpha drivers. But someone has - he’s been picking up faint hints of it all weekend, drifting around. Strongest in the driver’s briefing, the GPDA meeting, the subject of quiet conversations all over the paddock all weekend, and all makes sense when he bumps into a shaking Charles Pic, hiding in the toilets that all of the drivers use to give their urine samples. And it’s obvious then, that Charles is the one in heat, and he should have realised earlier. Why didn’t anyone notice before, Mark wonders, but then he realises, this is Charles’ first heat. He wouldn’t have known until it hit him - and it can’t have been that long ago, judging by how few Alphas are gathering around. Mark’s the only one, but then that can’t be surprising considering how many of the teams are still working, packing up to go to Abu Dhabi next week.
He won’t be the only Alpha around for much longer though. Not when Charles smells like this, pheromones pouring off him. His pupils are so wide that Mark couldn’t tell you what colour his eyes are, and he moans as soon as he sees Mark, knees wobbling visibly, cock hard and tenting his race suit. Mark feels himself harden in response, only he’s got jeans to hide it, but Charles knows, sense of smell heightened and tuned to pick up the scent of an Alpha's arousal, Mark’s arousal, and he groans, this time louder, fingers scrabbling at the wall of the bathroom, the other hand clamped around the edge of the sink. Mark takes a step towards him, and Charles’ lips part, pink tongue poking out, wetting his lips. Another step forward, and one of Charles’ hands reaches for him, clutches his shoulder as soon as Mark is close enough.
He knows he shouldn’t. He knows Charles isn’t thinking, brain geared towards one thing and refusing to let him think of anything other than getting fucked. But Mark’s own brain is getting foggier, the haze of pheromones that Charles is releasing hitting him full strength, and he has little power to resist those pouting lips. He leans down to catch the bottom one between his teeth, tugging at it, listening to Charles’ whimper, the way both of his hands rise to Mark’s shoulder, clutching, pulling Mark closer.
Charles isn’t the shy Frenchman that Mark’s acquainted with when he’s like this. He’s demanding in a way that Mark never would have thought he’d have been, if he’d have had enough brain left online to think that.
But he doesn’t, so he’d much rather do this, push Charles back against the wall and kiss him, breathing in that deliciously overwhelming scent, rubbing their cocks together through their clothing. He breaks away from the kiss, nearly returns after that desperate moan, but doesn’t, instead slowly drags down the zipper of Charles’ racesuit, inhaling the sudden hit of scent it releases, watches Charles’ eyes flutter open, watching them slam shut again as he thumbs over a nipple obvious through his fireproofs. “How far away is your hotel?” Mark asks, and repeats himself when Charles doesn’t answer the first time because he’s too distracted by Mark. The barely coherent answer has Mark yanking Charles after him, fingers tight around his wrist, dragging him into a car, answering a few questions from their teams as well as he can manage with Charles sprawled in the back of the car, legs akimbo, entirely unashamed of his own hand sliding between his legs, to rub over his aching hole through his racesuit.
And then it seems barely any time at all until Mark is leading Charles to his hotel room, snarling at every Alpha who dares to make the slightest of moves towards Charles. And oh god, it’s worth it, worth every bit of column space they’re probably going to get when he has Charles stood in the middle of his hotel room, shaking with need, reaching out for Mark as he walks around him, leaning in to nuzzle the back of his neck, leaving just a hint of teeth and having to catch Charles to keep him standing as his knees threaten to give out. He likes this, Mark realises, he really likes this, and he takes that as a hint to peel Charles’ racesuit from him, pulling it down muscled legs, taking the opportunity to nuzzle his nose between his legs, licking over the rough nomex of his fireproofs and tasting nothing but Charles, the fabric soaked by his slick. It must be pouring out of him, what with the way his inner thighs are soaked when Mark traces his fingers down them.
Stripping Charles out of his fireproofs is like unwrapping a present. Every Formula One driver has a good body; they have to. But he’s never seen one in this way, and he wonders why, because he’s never found anything more attractive, that lithe, toned body sprawled out, legs spread wide, hole visibly open, twitching, for him. Yes, Charles would look like this for any Alpha willing to take him, but he’s not fighting Mark in the slightest. He’s so utterly willing, so utterly wanting that he rolls onto his back, yanking Mark on top of him, rutting up against his cock, moaning at the feel of Mark’s jeans against his bare cock. And while Mark loves the reaction this gets, his face going lax with pleasure, eyes rolling back, he pulls back, stripping off, wrapping a hand around his cock not to drag himself into the action, but to watch Charles’ reaction to seeing him for the first time, the way his legs fall even further open, the way his eyes widen, lips parting, hands scrabbling in the sheets, is so insanely arousing that the next time his fingers sweep over the head of his cock, they come away dripping with pre-come.
He’s lucky, really. To be the first to stumble across Charles, to have him this willing, not fighting Mark like he knows some omegas would, to have Charles’ first heat, the first time he’ll get to experience this. And that’s special, he has to make it special, and so he kneels on the bed, hands trailing up Charles’ legs, leaning in to bite a bruise at the very apex of those lovely, muscular thighs. He mouths at Charles’ cock, aware that heats are too often focused on just fucking, but he wants to draw this out, no matter how desperate Charles is to just be fucked, get Mark’s cock inside him.
And draw it out he does. He sucks Charles’ cock until he comes, crying out, shaking under Mark’s soothing hands, smoothing along his stomach, feeling the muscles there tense under his touch.
But his cock is still hard, even when Mark’s licked away all the come, of course it is. He won’t stop wanting until he’s been knotted, and so Mark draws it out even further, rolls Charles over, pulls him up to his knees and enjoys the taste of him elsewhere. Charles has obviously never even thought of this, judging by the way his hand raises to push Mark’s face away from his hole, but he soon changes his mind about that after Mark licks there for the first time, tongue tracing around the loose ring of muscle, a finger just dipping in as Charles’ voice returns to him, as he begins to beg in broken, fractured French, and with his body too, with the way his hips move to press his arse back against Mark’s mouth, with the way his elbows wobble before they give up, but he likes this new angle judging from the repeated moans.
But just making him come won’t do anything for the desperation that Mark knows Charles will be feeling. Just making him come won’t calm the need he has for Mark’s cock inside him, and so Mark reaches for the condoms that the hotel leave, because this is a good hotel, they are prepared for any eventuality. He’s thankful for that, because while this will make column space, a pregnancy would make headlines. He does regret them, slightly, when he slides into Charles, inch by careful inch, because it’s never quite the same as doing this with a bare cock, but this is so good that he can’t complain. Charles certainly isn’t, fingers grasping at the sheets, eyes falling shut to concentrate on the sensations, head turned to the side so Mark can see every bit of pleasure shown up his face.
He stills when he bottoms out, hips pressed flush to Charles’ arse, and bends over him, pressing his chest to Charles’ back, letting a hand wander to find his cock. It barely takes a touch for Charles to come again, and it feels so good that Mark can’t stay still, let him adjust to a cock inside him, has to start moving, but Charles delights in it, moves back against him, all sorts of delicious noises tumbling out from between those bitten-red, parted lips.
It doesn’t take long. Of course it doesn’t, this isn’t sex, this in in-heat-sex, and it never does last long, no matter how much he wants it to, and he can feel his knot forming, can feel it nudging against the rim of Charles’ hole, and Charles comes again, startled gasp as Mark pushes all the way in again, forcing his knot in, feeling it grow, stretching Charles in ways he’s never been stretched before, and it’ll hurt, Mark knows, but he can’t do anything to soothe that, because he’s coming, fire burning up his spine, down every nerve in his body and he groans out his pleasure into the spot where Charles’ neck meets shoulder, biting down hard enough that Charles whimpers, crying out and coming too, shaking underneath Mark, knees giving out and yanking Mark down on top of him because of their intimate position, tied together.
It’s a good five minutes before they come back to themselves. Charles whimpers again, drags Mark out of the pleasured haze fogging his brain. “You ok?” He rasps, coughs a little to clear his throat. Charles groans, blinks his eyes open, looking up at Mark with his head still turned to the side, the pair of them having not moved since Mark came, and Mark sighs with relief to see them mostly clear of the hormonal haze that heat puts on them. It must be a relief for him, to finally have a clear mind, to not have his thoughts dominated by the need to be fucked, impregnated, bred.
“I-“ Charles whispers, turning his head, almost in an attempt to hide from Mark, but he can’t, and Mark nuzzles the forming bruise on the back of his neck, brushing a gentle kiss there.
“Come here.” Mark murmurs, slides an arm underneath him, carefully rolling them over, trying to hurt him as little as he can because now Charles isn’t desperate, he’ll feel everything and it won’t register as pleasure this time, just pain, and it will hurt, because Mark knows exactly how big his knot is, and there’s no way they’re going to be able to move apart for a while, not if Mark’s still coming. He shudders, suddenly, halfway through shifting them to lie on their sides, spooning, and Charles yelps, hand flying back to clutch at Mark’s hip. “Ssssh.” Mark soothes, rubs his stomach, smearing the come there. The pained whimpers turn to pleasured ones when Mark lets that hand slide downwards, deliberately rubbing his cock against Charles’ prostate as he palms his cock, and that works, that distracts him from the swollen knot tying them together.
They lie in silence for a good while, Mark occasionally rocking forwards, unable to resist his urges, Charles occasionally pushing back against him, his own hand sliding down to satiate his own urges. “You ok?” Mark asks again, once they’re finally satiated, just waiting for Mark to relax enough for his knot to subside, allow them to pull apart; and this time, Charles answers, quietly, says he’s ok, a little sore. “You will be, I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault that I am an omega.” Charles answers, sniffles. Mark murmurs soothing things, whispering them into the soft skin of his shoulders, the delicately sensitive skin of the back of his neck.
“No, it’s not.” Mark murmurs, fights to get the arm trapped beneath him free so he can run it through Charles’ hair. “It’ll change things, you know that, but you’ll be ok.”
“Yeah?” Charles asks, shyly twisting his head around to glance at Mark.
“You’ll be fine.” Mark nuzzles his shoulder, feeling oddly protective of the young man in his arms.
He feels oddly bereft when he carefully pulls out, careful to take the condom with him, tying it off, feeling utterly drained, understandably so, as he thanks the hotel mentally for stocking Alpha strength condoms in the free packs of toiletries they give out. Charles rolls onto his back, whimpering, understandably sore. Mark gathers him up, carries him into the bathroom, holding him up on wobbly legs in the shower. “How long, uh, does this, uh, last?” He asks, blinking up at Mark from beneath clumped together eyelashes, hair plastered to his head.
“Depends.” Mark shrugs. “It’s your first heat, maybe two or three days?”
“I will feel like that for days?” Charles exclaims, shocked.
“Only once a year.” Mark points out, but Charles scowls, unhappy.
“It feels horrible, so empty, so-“ He frowns, presses closer to Mark, arms sliding around his waist. He’s clingy, but that’s understandable too, and Mark feels the same way, so he clutches Charles closer, kisses him again because he can, because it means that Charles will let one of those pretty, breathless moans loose into his mouth.
Everything goes swimmingly from there. There’s some arguing that goes on between Mark and both of their teams, while Charles sleeps, head resting on Mark’s bare thigh, but it’s worth it because they barely leave the hotel room until Charles’ heat finally breaks, spend three days doing little other than fucking and sleeping, cuddling and learning about each other. The media shit-storm isn’t as bad as feared, and Charles honestly makes Mark proud, the way he handles it, the way he goes out and races in Abu Dhabi the week after, and it makes him think that, yeah, maybe he should stick around with this one for a long while to come.
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