#alecca

Charles opens his mouth to retort back in bratty fashion, but Carlos merely licks a wet stripe up his bare stomach and he moans, embarrassingly eager for Carlos’ tongue on hyper-sensitive skin. He gazes down, cheeks flushed, cock already half-hard in Carlos’ deft hand that’s stroking idly, and Charles feels so pathetic that he could be reduced to mere babbling, incomprehensible noises when Carlos hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Does she do this to you?” Carlos wonders, swirling his tongue over a pert brown nipple, and Charles hisses when Carlos’ teeth graze the sensitive flesh there. He suckles and nips and doesn’t stop his hand’s slow, torturous glide over his cock, and Charles wants to rut into his grip so that he can experience more of that delicious friction. “Does she know you’re sensitive here?” 

Charles makes a noise, and grips the sheets so that he can distract himself from the electrifying heat of Carlos’ mouth. But there is no escape from Carlos’ heated gaze - his dark eyes so full of lustful intent that Charles feels giddy, lit aflame. God he wants to come - preferably all over that smug, sexy face.

Thankfully Carlos’ mouth releases his nipple with an exaggerated pop, but Charles knows that Carlos is an explorer - he won’t be content to traverse just this one piece of him alone.

Sure enough - Carlos’ mouth is an expert cartographer, mapping a wet, hot path up to his neck, cataloguing the moles and muscled lines of definition along his chest, his clavicle, his neck. Charles lets a sigh leave his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as Carlos moves over his body with a patience that leaves him breathless. God he could die like this, from the way Carlos savours him. 

By the time Carlos ends up between his thighs, Charles is rife with tension - dizzy with desire. Carlos surveys his cock with a knowing look, wetting his lips. Charles is ashamed how much he’s holding his breath for this - for Carlos to grip him by the base and put his mouth over the tip of him, sucking with a slow, even pressure that makes him yelp in this harsh, high-pitched way -  making Carlos smile. “More,” he begs, rutting his hips desperately in rhythm with Carlos’ mouth that’s starting to slide down his cock.

“Are you eager like this for her? Or is this all just for me,” Carlos says, more teasing than cruel. All the same, Charles’ hips jut up, eager for the friction his mouth is offering. “Does she know how much of a slut you are for it?”

Charles whines, feeling stupidly hot all over. 

Carlos makes a muffled sound, the words garbled in his throat because his mouth is so full of cock. Charles recognises the acquiescence, and slides his hand into Carlos’ hair and tugging like his life depends on it. The thick, syrupy heat of pleasure builds inside him, even as Carlos gets sloppy with it, faster now, his spit and god knows what else dripping over his chin, over Charles’ dick, his fingers.

But it’s not the tight, sweet suction of his mouth that eventually gets him to come, nor the twisting strokes that Carlos makes expertly at the base of his dick. 

It’s the look Carlos gives him right before he comes - the all-knowing smugness in those beautiful eyes. Carlos knows him, not just in name, not just as a fellow driver. Not just in the superficial lines they have to cross as teammates - not just in the set up of his car, or what he’d rather be doing if he weren’t an F1 driver.

Carlos knows his soul, his body. The way Charles likes being praised, how his hand likes to be wrapped up in Carlos’ bigger, warmer one. What makes him belly-laugh, eyes scrunched up so tightly he can barely see. How he loves to be praised after a great drive, or a tough workout session. How he needs to be held through night terrors and the worst, spiralling thoughts he has - of crashing, dying… of losing a teammate and a soulmate at the end of the season.

He can’t hold back when comes into Carlos’ mouth, gripping his hair tight and erupting wet and hot - a mess. He shivers in the aftermath, his eyes glistening. He must’ve said Carlos’ name, because he hears the echo of it ricochet back to him, reverberating in the beat of his heart. 

Carlos grins at him and in the hazy afterglow, he feels his chest expand with the free-falling feeling of being in love with Carlos all over again. Carlos looks so ravaged, wet with spit and his come, but so handsome as he’s panting, voice hoarse from the blowjob. 

He watches Carlos wipe his mouth, reaching for his phone. There’s only the briefest flutters of panic - the post-nut clarity setting in, realising Carlos is taking a photo of him like this - panting and sweaty and splotched red with the force of his orgasm. He’s so boneless he couldn’t move if he tried. Instead he asks, “Carlos, what are you doing?” 

Carlos grins at him. “What do you think? Reporting you, of course.”

He giggles at the realisation, before spreading himself out more, as slutty as he can be for the photo. He’s always loosened up and reckless after an orgasm, ready to play, ready for round two. 

“That’s it. Keep still for me, sweetie,” Carlos says, laser focused as he snaps the shot. He types a few words, and sends the photo - Charles doesn’t need to see to know it’s incriminating, delicious. He feels nothing but calm, relaxed numbness, as Carlos settles beside him and holds out the phone for them both to see. 

Almost instantly, the reply comes back in blue text - Alexandra sends a bunch of blushing emojis, one with a tongue sticking out.

He looks like he had fun. 

“I did,” Charles admits, tucking his cheek against Carlos’ shoulder. 

Carlos smiles, replies - He always does. And I hope you did, too.

The three dots appear - and they wait for the response together - eager for what she has in store. 

Alex doesn’t disappoint, and Carlos’ breath hitches at the collection of photos they’ve been sent.

At first, it’s so innocent and sweet - their girlfriends in the car in a half-hug, wide smiles and sparkly eyes, progressing to selfies at dinner, sharing burrata and wine. Rebecca planting a friendly kiss on Alex’s cheek, her arm around her waist. Cute. 

Carlos swipes and the photos grow increasingly suggestive - tongues out, and clothes slowly being stripped away as the hotel room comes into view. One with Alex sprawled on the messy bed in a pair of sheer panties - Charles makes Carlos pause on that one, just for a little bit longer. 

And then the next few make them lose their minds - their girlfriends in an intimate embrace, bare skin for days. Alex’s tongue along the underside of Rebecca’s breast, one hand between her thighs and her eyes wide, wanting. Another one with Rebecca’s face between her legs, tonguing her clit, and Alex’s mouth open in gorgeous ecstasy. Then, a video, where they’re just kissing and grinding against each other - slow and soft the way girls just instinctively know how to. 

He turns to Charles who looks absolutely enraptured, cheeks pink and breath not altogether steady. It’s hot, watching him get turned on by this little arrangement that they have.

Carlos nudges him playfully, snapping him out of his horny stupor. “Charles. We can’t let them win, can we?”

Charles giggles, and reaches to hit record on the phone he holds, before pulling Carlos on top of him for a filthy kiss.

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