#rush!niki lauda

Job hunting was exhausting. You were recently laid off since your temporary contract expired. It was your first job after college, completely unrelated to what you studied, and you took it only to pay the bills. Still, even if you didn't feel particularly inspired by the drab office and the fat man who was your primary supervisor, you did your job well and earned respect as an excellent personal assistant. The only call back you received was from the McLaren car company who needed a new office assistant for a year of someone's maternity leave. You took it, of course. Not that you knew anything about cars. It didn't matter, really, what the job was about. You would just make schedules and run about with coffee. This is how you got put as an emergency personal assistant to the newly contracted James Hunt, whose previous personal assistant left in a fury the week before the race. "And who is this little darling?" James looked down on you with a flirty smile when the manager introduced you. "That's your new personal assistant," his manager said dryly. "If I hear anything about a harassment lawsuit, your ass is mine." James raised his hands in mock surrender and winked at you. You looked helplessly at him, unsure how you were supposed to make this man do anything. "Ah, um, it's nice to meet you," you said softly, looking at him with a small smile. He huffed, muttering something. You tilted your head. "It's nothing," he sighed, "Just, I don't know, be around or something. Tell me what I have coming up in the day, things like that. Just for a week, isn't it? Don't worry about it." You nodded, lowering your eyes a bit. Didn't seem like he needed your help much. Still, you wanted to do your job well and followed him around with a perpetual bottle of water and a scheduling board. "Mr. Hunt, you have a press conference at one today," you said, arriving freshly next morning with a bottle of ice-cold water. "Do you drink coffee? I didn't know, so I brought water." "Sweety, anything out of your hands," he said, smiling at you. It seemed he was in a better mood. You blushed a little. "Okay, Mr. Hunt." For the next few days you were stationed at the McLaren camp, mostly because James was there, going over last details with their mechanics and everything about the care. You tried to keep out of everyone's way by positioning yourself in a tiny corner, flinching every time from a loud burr of the drill or the welding equipment or whatever they were using on those cars. That is, until a heavy arm descended upon your shoulders. "Unused to the noise, are you? Let's get you out of here, darlin'," James said, leading you towards the entrance of the mechanic shop. "We'll just take a walk." You nodded, eager to get away. James is a good person, you thought. No matter his reputation, but he tried to do right by his team, of which you were now part of. You walked for a while, with James mostly talking about some wild story from bar hopping the week prior, when he trailed off and you saw a full, mischievous grin grow on his face. "Oh, darlin', why don't we go say hello to our friends from the Ferrari club over there?" He practically lifted you up with the force of his excitement and you barely nodded before being dragged to the Ferrari camp where James made a direct line towards Niki Lauda.

"Niki!" You watched the curly haired man's head lift from whatever drafts he was looking at. You felt your face heat. Most people considered James the most attractive racer, you knew, but this man in front of you, with such serious eyes and confident air, made your breath stop briefly. James dragged you until you were practically at arms length to Niki, and you could see how long his eyelashes were. Niki's eyes shifted from James, whose large, blond, loud presence drew the eye, and fell upon you, basically smothered under James's arm. "That's my new personal assistant," James boasted, pushing you a bit forward, like he was showing off a shiny car. "Now don't go being all mean like always, this one is as shy as a kitten." Niki's eyes met yours and you lost your thoughts for a short, empty moment. Niki's face turned a bit rosy. Oho, thought James. Niki nodded at you. "Nice to meet you." I nodded back, smiling a little to be polite. He was handsome, but it seemed like he wasn't really interested. "Well, you'll be seeing her more often now," James said with a wide smile, "I'll be bringing her with me everywhere like a good luck charm. To every race," he said meaningfully. Niki turned his head away from him. "You'd need a charm, at this rate," Niki said, prompting James to roll his eyes. Niki stole a glance at you and looked away again. "And you," he said, clearly addressing you without even looking, "I suppose there is no harm to his image left to be done. You're safe." That made you smile. "Thank you, Mr. Lauda." "Niki is fine," he said. That was how your work with James Hunt started. Typically a day involved various engagements for his sponsorships, and you would fetch coffee or water when needed, and book hotels, things which made his life easier. It also meant that wherever James went, you went, and he often went to Niki. Mr. Lauda was a very straightforward person. He was blunt, but you saw that everything he said was true. It was annoying to his mechanics and opponents, but you thought it was a great quality to have. He would never lie maliciously, or cheat, or sabotage anyone. He was a good person, you realized. It was too bad you didn't seem to amount to much in his eyes. He almost never talked to you. James, however, insisted that it was the opposite. "Niki likes you, trust me," James said, "He even let you touch his car!" You looked at James sceptically. "It was because he knew I didn't know anything about cars. Couldn't do any harm to it." James threw his arms in the air. "You don't get it. The car!" You looked at James with scepticism. He rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."

-

A few days before the race there was a press conference. James was good at this sort of thing, talking to people. You easier with every funny joke he made for the reporters, and your attention drifted to Niki. He made clipped replies, furrowing his brows at times. "Niki, are you confident you will win?"

"Are you nervous for the race, Niki?"

You heard a fire of questions open as soon as he finished answering just one. Soon you can tell Niki has had it, with questions getting progressively more rude by the minute, and you could almost predict the moment he would stop the conference.

He waved his hand at them, signalling that the conference is over, and stepped out from the table. He saw you standing behind James and motioned to follow him. Once you were out of the interview room, Niki turned to you. "There is a party after this, I'm sure. James won't miss the opportunity. Are you going?"

You shook your head. "No, it's all a bit too loud for me. I spend a lot of time in the noise of the paddock either way, so..."

"I see," said Niki, "Then come with me to dinner." His eyes roamed your face. His eyelashes were long, you thought. Pretty.

"You won't go to the party?"

"And do what? Drink, talk to those assholes?"

You smiled. "Okay. Let's skip the party and go somewhere nice. Any suggestions?"

There was a small smile on Niki's face. "I'll drive."

-

The restaurant was a quiet, hidden spot somewhere in the tight brick-laid alleys of the city, illuminated by the lanterns beside it. The waiter led Niki and you into a booth with soft leather seats.

Niki's features grew warm in the light of the muted dimmed room. He looked at the menu and then at you, asking if you've decided on what you'd like. You nodded and he ordered for the both of you.

"What made you want to work with the McLaren?" Niki asked, in his usual blunt way, though his eyes conveyed more curiosity than you've seen before in him, "You don't seem like a car girl."

"I'm not," you said, and hastily added, "Sorry." You looked down for a moment. "I really needed the money, and they were hiring, and I was just applying for everything under the sun back then without a single call back... So it was a real chance for me." You watched his expression for disappointment, but his face barely moved a muscle.

He nodded briefly, in that Austrian curt manner you liked. "The reality of having to make a living. What would you rather do?" He looked at your embarrassed blush and raised his eyebrow.

"I think I might have gone to illustration school," you said quietly, "Not that I have any talent, but, you know. Some school, to build a portfolio, and then something. An illustrator job. Making pictures of cute animals for children's books." Niki's eyes softened.

"You should do that."

"I don't have any skill or talent," you said, laughing it off. "Not like you and racing."

Niki looked at you a moment longer. "I have ability," he said, "But there were many who had it also. I just had the last name banks knew enough of to keep giving me loans to start my career in F1. I didn't do anything else with my time. Just this."

At that moment, the food arrived. Steak course for him, pheasant with vegetables for you, and red wine for the both of you. He looked at you, eyes full of meaning. You let out a breath.

"Niki..."

"What?"

"I will have no money to survive on my own, will have to start from zero skills, and there would be thousands of artists better than me vying for the job." You cut down the pheasant breast right across the grain, dipping it in creamy sauce, chef's specialty.

"So the money is the biggest issue, is it not? You worry you would have no roof over your head and no food." Niki paused, and set his knife and fork on the plate. "Have you tried finding a lover?"

You almost choked on the piece of fowl. "Niki, I could not ask someone just fund my whole life."

He shrugged. "Why not? You are a beautiful woman. All that the men want."

You watched your static vegetables with the interest of a cat. "I don't know. It doesn't happen like that."

There was a longer silence between Niki and you, and you asked him about his hobbies outside of racing to switch to a less depressing topic. You didn't want that to be his impression of you. Niki huffed, but talked about taking flying lessons at the academy nearby, hoping to get a pilot's license so he could fly without an instructor.

"Do you like working for James?" Niki asked when you were digging into the chocolate cake with a tiny silver spoon.

"It's good," you said, "He's very extraverted. I can see he's a good person. Doesn't yell at me or anything. Though maybe it's because I'm a woman - his mechanics get some of the brunt of it sometimes."

Niki nodded, as if he already knew. "Good." He motioned for the waiter and paid the bill for the both of you without asking, making you blush at the gesture. It felt old-fashioned, but inexplicably you felt taken care of.

He drove you to the apartment complex you directed him to, in the nice part of town you picked to be close to the job, but in an old apartment which looked dark and uninviting. Niki slowed in front of it, and frowned. "You live here? Alone?" You nodded and endured the brief concern in his expression. "It was the best choice. At least the neighbourhood is not that bad," you tried to smile. Niki looked at you, and you were struck by the intense feeling in his hawk-like eyes.

Then he sighed as if nothing happened. "It was a nice evening," he said. "I would like to do another."

Your face brightened into a rosy pleasure at that. "Me too," you said, in a near whisper. You took one last look at him, and got out of the car, walking towards the entrance to the building, until you stepped inside the lobby and heard the sound of tires move.

-

The McLaren paddock was abuzz again. You walked in, noticing the workers and James all standing around something. Another piece of equipment, probably, you thought, and moved to your single little desk in the corner. James noticed you and cawed, "Darling, your secret admirer sent you some new stuff!"

Your eyes widened, blush filling your cheeks at a fast rate, making James grin in glee. "What, you won't come to see what it is?"

You moved towards the circle and when you got closer, you saw an open courier box. You chuffed; the boys probably thought it was oil or one of the car parts and opened it. Inside the cardboard box was a rather large, state-of-the-art drawing tablet, "Wacom" running along the edges of the packaging. Your breath stuttered, and you touched the pristine package with your fingertips. You noticed a small envelope sticking to the side of it and fished it out to open. You ripped the paper open at the side and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Thank you for registering for ILLU1001. Please see the class time schedule below for Section 2. Note that the final project deadline...

You looked at the words like they made you dumb. You felt James's lanky frame lean over your shoulder to read it for himself. He whistled.

"Taking classes? Shit, did they check your age when they hired you?"

You batted him away like a fly and he laughed.

"Is the Registrar's Office full of red, perhaps?" He asked, eyes glinting knowingly. You averted your eyes.

"Let's see," He put a finger to his chin, and you knew he was trying to be as annoying about it as possible. "First the flowers, then a bag," he looked meaningfully at the tote you carried everywhere now, "And now this. All anonymous, of course." He winked at you and mouthed 'of course' in an exaggerated whisper. You rolled your eyes. "Nothing to do with anyone in F1, right?"

"I don't think it's what you think it is, James," you sighed, setting down the registration slip. "I told him how much I wanted to do this, and maybe he felt pity or something, I don't know."

James looked at you, affronted. "Honeycakes, you might explain this new box like that, but men don't gift flowers and bags to women they pity. No, no, the feeling is called a bit different. Niki's smitten with you."

You hid your face in your hands. "Don't say that!"

"Why not? It's clear as day. A man like that takes his mind away from racing... sets it on a pretty thing like you..."

You shook your head. "There is Marlene."

"Ah, Marlene," James said, setting his arm around your shoulder and leaning to tell you conspiratorially, "Dear Marlene's ex-boyfriend, that actor what's-his-name, came back begging for a second chance. Lots of roses, from what I hear. Niki is unattached, though he says he is 'focused on the next race'. I can see where he is focused, " James shot a look at the box.

"He hasn't said anything," you said, chewing your lip, "I don't want to misinterpret..."

James rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, for... Fine, fine, don't say I didn't try," he said, and walked off to one of the mechanics working on suspension. You looked at his back and shook your head, but his words made something in you flutter with excitement.

The gifts that started appearing at the McLaren paddock and at your apartment's concierge booth were a surprise after that not-date at the restaurant. What concerned you was that they were going up in value with each gift. You appreciated all of them, loved them really, but you didn't want Niki to think you were a gold digger.

The work day, aside from the box, was uneventful. Just more clanking metal noises, some menacing words with James when he wanted to go bar hopping citing happy hour, some more meetings with sponsors who wanted to see the McLaren superstar for themselves.

You walked towards your apartment building exhausted by the demands of the job. It was the perfect environment for extraverts, you thought. People, noise, speed.

You stopped. There was an expensive car parked in the front, with a fire you knew leaning on it.

"Niki," you breathed out, smiling. He looked up from the book he was occupying himself with to meet your eyes and his features smoothed over into a brief softness. "What are you doing here?'

"I was waiting for you. Get in," he said, eyes focused on your face, and opened the passenger side, waiting. You tilted your head and came closer.

"Really? Where are we going?" This close you noticed that Niki was much taller than you. He wasn't as tall as James, but you nevertheless felt even safer around him. Maybe it was that he was smarter. The scent of sandalwood and motor oil clung to him.

"You'll see." Niki sat behind the wheel and started the car.

You drove through the streets until you started recognizing the more upscale areas where James and Niki lived. All of you rented, of course, races pulling you out of your home cities. F1 is a different league in many aspects, you thought when you saw the gates.

"Are we going to your place?" You asked Niki.

"Something like that," he said, driving in smooth turns through the meandering pavement that ran through the woodsy area dotted with separate lodgings. "You'll see."

He stopped the car in front of the rather large house in a traditional style, not nearly as ostentatious like some of the others you've seen during the drive, but you could still feel the money in it. Old money. It had an entrance door painted warm red and a white porch. Niki got out of the car and opened the door for you to follow.

He pulled out the keys out of his pocket. You waited for him to put them into the keyhole and open the door, but he turned to you with the keys in his clenched hand. He took your hand in his other one and you felt the moisture from it.

"I thought I should just let you see for yourself. I have a free room, and it's just me in the house. You can stop paying whatever you pay for your rent, and come live here for free." Niki was serious when he looked into your eyes. You looked back uncertainly.

"I don't want to leech..." You started, but he held out a palm and you trailed off.

"You are nothing of the sort. In fact, it is more like shoving a pill down a cat's throat and having to massage its throat to make it go down." Niki used the keys and opened the door, guiding you inside with his hand on your lower back. "You realize that most people have someone help them start out, yes? Parents who buy them a beat up car, that kind of thing. Something. It is nothing less than what you should have."

His eyes stayed locked on your face, tracking the confusion and shame fleeting through. You stayed silent for a while, and then whispered, "Why did you do it for me? I'm just James's assistant."

He frowned. "You are James's assistant. But there is nothing 'just' about you." He took your face in one hand, pinching your cheeks together, making your face ridiculous. "You know what to do with your life. Why wouldn't I invest?" He let his thumb rub your heated cheekbone.

"Say you accept."

Your eyelashes fluttered and you leaned into the calloused hand holding your cheeks. "You won't regret it? What if it amounts to nothing?"

"I won't. Even if you decide not to draw another piece of art ever again after the course is finished, I won't regret it."

You thought your heart beat stronger in your chest. You could almost feel the beats of it against your breastbone.

"I accept," you said in a whisper, looking into Niki's eyes.

He smiled.

-

You were living with him for a couple of months already. It was surprisingly easy to get used to each other's presence, to the rhythm of routines orbiting one another's. At first James made a whole spiel about fraternizing with the enemy, but after a while he had acquired the habit of dropping in at all times of day to 'check out the rat kingdom', as he put it.

The racing season was ending. Soon Niki would return to Vienna, you'd be forced to move out and find something else, and all will go back to how it was before. The thought of it often kept you up at night and showed itself in the dark circles under your eyes.

You took to sitting in the living room and watching Niki move around. He was making coffee on his day off, swirling the teaspoon to dissolve the sugar, when he spoke.

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" you said softly.

"You've been more...sad, lately," he said, and stopped the swirling motion. The teaspoon clinked against the rim. "What is it about? And don't lie."

You exhaled.

"I keep thinking of when this ends," you said, your eyes lowering, unable to look at him. Niki was pragmatic, you knew that, and maybe the thought didn't bother him as much. It was a logical conclusion. He has already done more than anyone else ever did to help you.

Niki frowned and came closer. He continued to stand even when you shifted on the sofa.

"When this ends."

You nodded. "When you move to Vienna."

"What will change?" He looked perplexed.

You blinked, now unsure of the direction of the conversation which seemed so clear to you. "You'll go to Vienna. I'll have to move back to my country. This," you gestured over the room in a swoop, "this will stop."

Niki had a small smile on his face now. You frowned at the sight of it.

"You are unbelievable," a breathy chuckle escaped him, "Oblivious."

"What?"

Niki came closer, until he was standing right next to you, and tilted your head up.

"James told me it wasn't enough to move you in for you to get a clue," he said conversationally, but you could see his pupils expand and turn his brown eyes black. "I see now he was right." And then he leaned down until his nose touched yours. "It was obvious to the whole F1 what my feelings towards you were. Tell me, darling, are you going to Vienna with me?"

A small whine escaped you, eyes watering. "With you? Together?"

Niki's eyes turned mirthful. "Yes, sweet thing, together." He kissed you. "Like this," he murmured, looking at your lips, "If you haven't realized yet."

You finally smiled. "I want to."

"Good. James will have to find a new assistant, of course," Niki said, grinning, "And it's unlikely he'll find anyone quite as pretty as you. Another loss for McLaren, but they should be used to it by now."

You laughed. "Is this when you say you won a prize again?"

Only a favour could ever get you onto one of these hellspawn racetracks. Only Tony fucking Olsworth, your oldest friend in the world, your biggest mentor, and the man who first helped you sell your photographs to some of the most prestigious newspapers across the world could get you to the Argentina Grand Prix. He was the first person to ever see you for who you were and what you could do, and believe in the success of both. Talent recognizes talent, afterall. Tony saw you, saw how good your eye was, and helped you get to where you were today. So, of course, when he broke his arm and bruised a couple of ribs in an accident and couldn’t fulfil a contract for photographs of the first Formula One race of the 1975 season, he knew exactly who to call. The only person in the world he would trust to take over for him, despite never having done any photography for driving.

You were fresh off of taking some award-winning photos for the MLB World Series in October, followed by a month of chasing insane assholes around the world while they did nonsense like free-climbing and hang gliding. Despite not being your usual niche, National Geographic paid quite a bit for the photographs along with your colleague Miguel Amalia’s multi-page spread article. You’d been hoping for a bit of a break before the start of the new year - plenty of sports took place in the early half of the year, and you had plans to be at the best of the best. You were going to go to the spa, pamper yourself, maybe even go to a few galleries.

Until Tony.

“Look at you, doll! You look wonderful. Not at all like you’ve been scrambling up mountains god knows where and camping in the wilderness. And look at you now, in beautiful Argentina, at the start of the season of the best sport in the world!” The older man cheers at the sight of you, champagne in one hand, the other in a cast from wrist to shoulder. You don’t know how he could possibly be so happy considering his broken arm and bruised ribs, but Tony’s always been a strange one. Despite not having to be here, and having you as his official replacement, he still showed up, his white-blond hair perfectly coiffed back to show off a round, cheerful face. The crows feet around his hazel eyes wrinkle further as he offers you a pearly-white, toothy smile, and you can’t help but smile at his jolly face. He’s here both to show you around, and because he hadn’t missed a Formula One race in years. He was a fan as well as a photographer.

“You’re delusional, Tony, honey, you must be getting sunstroke. There are far more entertaining sports out there where two people don’t die per season.” You retort, walking with him as he leads you through the facility and explains the different teams to you. He’s dressed for the warm weather in a salmon shirt and khaki shorts, the material breezy and loose for good air flow. You’re only half listening if you’re being perfectly honest, distracted by the sights of drivers and mechanics scurrying around cars. If nothing else, the colours will pop well in photographs.

“I want you to see the qualifying races so you can understand some of this a little better, and get the timing down. It’s a good time to get to know the drivers as well. Brabham are the ones to watch this year, you just wait and see.” Tony explains, and you hum noncommittally, “Carlos Reutemann and Carlos Pace. Argentina and Brazil respectively. This is Reutemann’s home Grand Prix.”

You nod along with Tony, looking at the drivers he points out, until he gets called away by a reporter he knows for a quick chat. He tries to bring you along, but you excuse yourself from the conversation, wandering instead. One thing you can say for Formula One in comparison to other sports is that the drivers are very different from other athletes. It’s nice to see some variation for once, though you notice throughout the drivers themselves a somewhat similar aesthetic cropping up. From a distance, you notice a dark blond, delightfully curly-haired man in a red racing suit with rather striking features. Eyes a piercing blue, a fairly obvious overbite that pushes his upper lip out in an endearing manner and makes his chin look somewhat weak in comparison, and gorgeous facial structure. Statuesque, almost, like he should’ve been sculpted from marble. He’s thin, and not particularly tall as is typical of drivers, but he looks almost soft in a way that appeals to you.

Not stereotypically pretty, certainly, but interesting. And isn’t that what you crave most of all? Some small spark in this drab, grey world of people who all seem to always try and look exactly alike? Isn’t that why you refused to go into advertising photography despite the good pay and the many offers you received? So many people nip and tuck away their unique features that would make them interesting. Crooked teeth or gaps, freckles and moles, big or crooked noses, strong brows, weak chins, sallow cheeks, belly fat or loose skin. All of it is so much more compelling than symmetry or median appearances. You loathe being bored, and frankly, you find a certain boringness in attractiveness. That’s why you let your passion (and fear, frankly) drag you up the sides of mountains, to countless countries all across the world, even in the worst weather imaginable. That’s why despite disliking extreme sports, you still accept contracts to photograph them, accepting the risk to both the athletes and yourself. You’re only human, and a selfish one at that.

Your camera is in your hands before you even notice what you’re doing, and you steady yourself carefully, adjusting your settings to account for the bright day and distance. The man, whoever he is, pushes his hair out of his eyes as he examines his car, and you grin as you get a rather lovely shot of him laughing at something a nearby mechanic says to him. He turns slightly and you notice his suit is undone to the waist, exposing his lovely tummy and a delicious amount of body hair that you can’t help but snap a photo of. You’re completely in the zone, oblivious to the world around you when Tony steps up beside you.

“Ahh, I see you’ve met our King Rat.” Your mentor hums pleasantly, and you blink, lowering the camera so you can peer at him in stunned confusion.

“The who?” You ask, figuring you’ve misheard him. Tony raises his eyebrows at you like he thinks you might be a bit daft, then gestures with his champagne glass widely towards the man you’ve instinctively locked in on.

“Niki Lauda, darling. He’s a driver for Ferrari, with Clay Regazzoni as his teammate. The dark-haired chap with the ‘stache. They call Lauda the Austrian Rat.” Tony explains, then gestures towards his mouth with a grimace, “You know, his unfortunate… well, overbite situation.”

Your head tilts, and you stare blankly at your oldest friend for several moments before looking around you at the rest of the people at the Grand Prix. Press, drivers, officials, mechanics and countless other people involved in making Formula One run smoothly. Countless people who must be intelligent to be able to keep this all running with minimal hiccups.

“All of them? Call him this?” You clarify, and Tony must register your shock for he clears his throat a little and looks mildly ashamed of himself.

“Well, yes, it’s not a very kind nickname but it is extremely common… unfortunately, of course. Poor chap probably doesn’t deserve it, even if he is known to be a bit of an asshole.”

You look around again, then lift your camera to peer at who you now know to be Niki Lauda, finding him frowning at a man in a similarly vibrant red racing suit to his. Clay Regazzoni, then, you put together the obvious context clues - the man certainly has a well-groomed moustache. Even with an unimpressed look on his face, Lauda is still striking, and you snap another photo of him leaning into the seat of the car to examine something before looking at Tony again.

“Is everyone in this horrid sport brainless? I’ve met more intelligent boxers, and they get punched in the face for a living.” You muse, and Tony laughs into his champagne, spluttering as he chokes on it.

“I think the point is for them to not get punched in the head, my dear.” He corrects you, and you roll your eyes. As you go back to your camera, Tony observes you, finishing off his glass, “Are you intending on taking photos of anyone other than the rat today?”

You scoff, taking a picture of the two Ferrari drivers together talking over their cars, gesturing somewhat animatedly, “Certainly, the moment one of them does anything even remotely interesting.”

Tony peers around the garages as if looking for something to contradict your blatant disinterest with, then follows your gaze.

“So, Niki Lauda standing still, talking to his teammate while gazing wistfully at his car is more interesting than any of the other drivers who might be doing the same thing?” Tony asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to make a point, but you’re not really interested in hearing him out when you know what he’s going to say.

“He’s actually compelling to look at, so yes.” You retort, and Tony exhales a laugh, fondness and amusement mixing with his annoyance to soften it nearly entirely.

“Alright, darling, take some photos of the other teams so you have at least something to sell that isn’t a photo of Lauda. Take some pictures of the Brabham team, maybe that handsome young Hunt chap that everyone is so riled up about, and then you can go back to stalking the Ferrari garage. At least you’ve found something to keep your interest in the races - I was a little nervous I might have to bribe you into paying attention.”

It’s good advice, and you know you’re meant to be taking photos for Tony, but it takes genuine effort to rip your gaze away from the Austrian driver. Tony leads you towards the Brabham area, and you obediently take several good photos of both Pace and Reutemann. Tony even takes the time to introduce you to them, and you pretend to listen while they discuss Tony’s injury. They’re nice enough, though you can blatantly tell that they’re only indulging you because you’re a woman.

This is a trend that repeats several times. Tony leads you from garage to garage, and most of the drivers are either nice enough to pose for photos, let you take candids, or tell you to stay out of their way. You’re not offended by the brusqueness. They’re preparing for a Grand Prix qualifier. Tony might not mind bothering the drivers while they’re obviously busy, but he has a relationship with most of these men. He’s known them for years.

As you meander your way through, Tony tells you which drivers will likely hit on you, preparing you so you’re not shocked. He even indicates a couple he doesn’t recommend being alone with for any length of time, though he tells you that’s for your comfort and not because he truly believes you’d be in any real danger. You’re pleased to find neither Ferrari driver on either of those lists.The Hesketh garage is abuzz as you approach it, and you raise an eyebrow sceptically at Tony, who leans in to your ear.

“James Hunt is the driver they’re all interested in. He has a lively fanbase, with a high female audience. Handsome, charming… Tall, even, for Formula One.” Tony muses, and you spot the blond in question. He’s stereotypically handsome, certainly. Blue eyes, long blond shaggy hair that looks well-maintained and soft, and enough muscle that he probably looks a little funny getting into one of those tiny Formula One cars paired with his height. His smile is wide and suave revealing nice, white teeth. Tony hasn’t met Hunt yet, but he leads you through the crowd and introduces you to a couple of mechanics he knows. Eventually, James catches your eye, and his smile reaches his eyes as he marches over. He greets Tony in a friendly way, clearly knowing him by reputation even if they haven’t met, a hand clapped gently on his cast. He expresses seemingly sincere regrets that Tony won’t be able to take photos of the race, but Tony reminds him that that simply means he gets to relax and enjoy it while you do all the work, directing the blond’s attention towards you.

“And who might this be?” Hunt asks, holding out his hand for you. When you take it to give him a handshake, he rotates it to kiss the back of your hand, and you snort.

“This work for you often, Mr. Hunt?” You ask, gently pulling your hand free and introducing yourself. He doesn’t seem put off by your dismissal of his attentions. If anything, he takes it in stride, immediately taking the clear no and getting back to business. He’s an agreeable man, letting you take all the photos you want, though you notice he struggles with letting you take candids. His awareness of the camera is almost preternatural, and you have to be particularly careful about staying out of his eyeline to get anything you’re particularly happy with. It’s a common issue - if people know you’re taking photos, they want to look their best. You don’t blame him.

Finally, Tony leads you back towards the Ferrari garage, and you sigh with relief that you won’t be wasting your entire roll of film. He keeps walking, though, closer and closer until you’re just outside of the barriers. You freeze up, snapping at Tony that you don’t want to meet this team, but he grins widely at you, his hand like a vice around your wrist.

“Come along, darling, don’t be impolite.” He teases, and you barely refrain from hissing at him like a child.

“Clay, my friend! I’ve come to wish you good luck, and introduce you to my colleague.” Tony says loudly as he approaches, and you barely wiggle your hand free before the moustached driver walks over with a friendly smile. He hugs Tony, slapping him on the back gently, then holding his cast.

“What is this? I was hoping the news about your accident was wrong.”

“I know, I know, a tragedy. I won’t be able to make you look good for once. Luckily, I brought along a dear friend who will hopefully do you justice.” Tony gestures to you, and you hold out your hand to Clay as you introduce yourself. He doesn’t try to kiss your knuckles, though you see the instinct flash in his eyes before he thinks better of it. You like him more just for that.

“A pleasure to meet you. I look best from the left, remember that.” Clay teases, and you can’t help but laugh. He’s pretty charming, in a different way than Hunt was, “Have you met Niki yet? Niki! Come socialise, it’s good for you.”

You stiffen at Tony’s side. You always hate meeting your muses for the first time, hesitant to have their allure ruined the minute they open their mouth. The Austrian driver steps out of the garage, a bottle of water in hand which he drinks from as he approaches. He looks as hesitant to meet you as you are to meet him. A certain shyness takes him over, and you examine him curiously, since he didn’t seem to have any issues with his teammate or mechanics earlier. Tony reaches out to greet Niki and introduces himself, then claps you on the back and pushes you forwards.

“My friend here will be subbing in for me, taking pictures of the race so that I don’t get a slap on the wrist. This is her first Formula One race, but she’s an accomplished sports photographer, so I think she’ll manage just fine.” Tony gives your shoulder a little shake, and you hold out your hand to Niki, who seems to hesitate for a moment before he takes your hand to brush his lips across your knuckles with the tiniest hint of a bow. Your cheeks are on fire, and you hope it isn’t obvious - you are a grown adult woman and you are not going to get flustered over a driver. And if you do, you’re going to hide it as best as you can. You freeze in place, not pulling your hand away until he drops it, and you squeeze your thighs together in a way you hope isn’t too obvious.

“A pleasure.” Niki says, and his accent is thick like molasses, sending a shiver up your spine. You smile at him, introducing yourself and trying not to wilt under Clay’s intense, almost knowing scrutiny. This is why you hate meeting your muses - you always feel so self-conscious, as if every act is under scrutiny. It doesn’t help that you’re actually attracted to this muse. Normally, it’s a platonic appreciation for someone’s form or the way they move, but Niki Lauda was a case of his own and you had to admit it, at least to yourself.

You wonder briefly if he has a girlfriend, and if he’s one of those athletes that tends to plough their way through their fans. You don’t notice a ring, but you know that that doesn’t mean anything in sports - rings interfere in many sports, and plenty of athletes don’t wear them even if they’re happily engaged in a committed monogamous marriage. You’d ask Tony, but you’re sure he’d make you regret it. 

“Not to worry, Niki, she won’t be hounding you for candids. I think she’s already got nearly a whole film roll of them by now.” Tony muses, and your eyes go wide as saucers while Niki simply looks confused.

“Tony.” You say warningly, but he ignores you.

“Perhaps she’ll spare a bit of her film for the other drivers.” He teases you, nudging your arm, and you grab Tony by his ear, earning a yelp from him.

“Excuse me, please.” You mutter to Clay and Niki, dragging Tony only a few feet away before giving him a gentle smack to his good arm.

“You’re going to make him think you’re making fun of him, not making fun of me, Tony. It’s rude. I can take a good ribbing, but you will NOT make other people uncomfortable to embarrass me, are we clear? Or I will walk off this track and you can find someone else to take these race photos for you. Am I understood?” You scold him, finger jabbing into his chest, and he looks suitably apologetic.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” Tony admits, and you jab him one more time.

“Of course you didn’t. Tease me all you like, but don’t involve other people in it. All you lot call him a rat - he doesn’t know that I think you’re all a bunch of idiots. He probably thinks I was making fun of him as well.” You put your hands on your hips, huffing at Tony while he apologises. You walk back over to the barrier, offering Niki what you hope is a sincere and reassuring smile.

“You’ll do well in your race. I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it.” You inform him, then grin cheekily and wink at Clay.

“Good luck.” You tease as you wave at them and start to walk away, “Bye boys. Enjoy your race thing.”

~

Tony apologises to Niki once you’re out of earshot, and Clay grins widely at his teammate, nudging him a couple of times, seemingly thrilled with this new development. 

“You’ve got an admirer.” Clay informs him, and Niki scoffs, watching you walk away. He observes in silence as you crouch, snapping a couple of photos of another driver before he finally tears his gaze away. Clay claps him on the back and turns to Tony.

“So, she was taking pictures of Niki?” Clay presses, and Tony glances at you as if to make sure you’re far enough away before he agrees.

“She likes people with interesting features. She finds a lot of people… well, boring, I suppose. She told me once that I’d look boring too if my cheeks weren’t so round.” Tony admits, and Clay snorts, “when we got here, she took notice of Mr. Lauda over here. I’ll admit, she doesn’t usually like meeting people she finds interesting like that, so I brought her over here to tease her a little.”

Niki looks away from Tony, watching you as you walk towards the press area, pausing briefly to snap a couple of photos of seemingly random things. He’s soon knocked out of his thoughts by Clay bumping him on the arm as Tony departs, and he says a quick goodbye before heading into the garage to get his head in the game.

~

The walk back towards the press ring is long, and you stop several times to take photos along the way, several of which you think might just earn you a pretty penny. You crouch to take a photo of a neighbouring driver from below, highlighting him against the sun in a way that you think could be beautiful. Thank god you wore bell bottoms today instead of a skirt - you’d never be able to get these kinds of shots without flashing someone.

Tony rejoins you soon enough, a little subdued, though he snaps out of it when you tell him you’re actually kind of enjoying yourself. He promises that by the end of the first Grand Prix, you’ll be hooked, and begging him to take you along for the rest of the season. You remind him that you have a strict ‘no begging’ policy, and that you’d just get your own contract if you really wanted to stick around. Tony isn’t bothered, of course, just thrilled to have you interested in his favourite sport. He gives you earplugs, and you both watch the qualifiers, with Tony pointing out tips and tricks for getting good photos. He doesn’t even tease you when it becomes clear that your best ones are of Lauda, though you know it isn’t the last you’ve heard on that matter.

With the qualifiers finished and pole position set, you depart from the track with Tony and head for the dark room you’ve rented space in near your hotel. You spend a good few hours there, but by the end of it, you’ve got several pieces you just know are going to make you a hell of a lot of money, aside from just what you’re getting from Tony. You secure your film and developed photographs, and spend the rest of your evening on the phone with a couple of your contacts, selling your photographs and earning yourself a paid trip around the world following the Formula One races.

You send off several photos to a couple of publications via express mail early the next morning on your way to the track, though your spirits are dampened by the fact that Tony left a message at the front desk for you - he’s sick, and he won’t be able to come to the race today. You have no goddamn clue how you’ll find your way around despite being there just yesterday, but you suck it up, putting on a rather lovely cream button-up shirt dress with a belted waist, suitable heels that you can walk in, and over-sized sunglasses.

You’re early to the track simply because you had to leave so early to get your mail out, and plenty of the drivers aren’t there yet. You slip out of the taxi and, admittedly, meander around for a little while trying to refamiliarize yourself. The track is busier today, even this early, and you find yourself just a little lost without Tony there to guide you. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention when he was showing you around yesterday, but how were you supposed to know he was going to get sick? The man HATED missing even a single race.

“Hey!”

You nearly jump out of your skin as a loud, familiar voice calls out to you, accent thick and instantly recognizable. You freeze like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar despite knowing full well that you’re allowed to be here, and you swear you hear the faintest chuckle from the Austrian driver. And they called him ‘cold and serious’ in the articles you read about his unique start in Formula One last season. 

“Hello Niki.” You hum as you turn to face him, pushing your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head. He’s dressed in a short sleeve button-up shirt the same colour as his eyes, and jeans that you struggle to hide your appreciation for. It’s a simple outfit, but something about seeing him out of his racing suit is attractive. His pretty dark blond hair is pushed back out of his face, curls thankfully not brushed out, and he looks hesitant to be approaching you. You almost wish you kept the sunglasses on so you could eye him up without it being so obvious.

“You’re lost.” He accuses, and you laugh, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. You’ve been walking around aimlessly.” Niki retorts, and you snicker at his bluntness, stepping closer to him with a warm smile.

“Help a girl out? I wasn’t paying much attention to Tony’s tour yesterday, and I can’t remember where I’m supposed to be.” You offer the driver your best doe eyes, and it only takes him a moment of consideration before he closes the distance between you and offers you his arm. It’s a dash old-fashioned, but you let him play the gentleman, gripping his bicep in your hand and pressing into his side. He leads you towards the track at an even pace, casual and unhurried, and you admittedly find yourself appreciating his gentlemanly behaviour as you hold his elbow and his bicep presses against your breasts.

“Clay told me that you’re helping the man from yesterday. That you don’t normally take photos for Formula One.” Niki comments, and you agree quietly, “You don’t enjoy the sport.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised by his straightforwardness and unable to help the fondness bubbling in your gut. You don’t try to lie to him to save face. You wish more people would just say what they meant.

“No, I don’t. You risk your lives for very little reward. Frankly, I think it’s unnecessary, and I prefer sports where I don’t have to be terrified that I’m going to watch someone I’ve taken pictures of die in a horrific accident.” You reply honestly, “however, I’ve been taking photos of more extreme sports lately, and while I still think it’s stupid, I have taken some very beautiful pictures. So perhaps it is not all bad.”

Niki is quiet for a moment, and a quick glance tells you he’s thinking about what you said rather than ignoring you. His arm flexes under your hand, and you give him a gentle squeeze, instinctively trying for soothing.

“There is a limit to the risk I accept. But what would life be like if we only did what was necessary?” Niki asks, and you hum thoughtfully, considering that as you walk with him. You examine his face from the side, trusting him implicitly not to lead you astray, and wish you could get your camera out and snap a photo of him from your current angle. It’s a very nice view. From this perspective, you wonder how anyone could ever call him a rat.

“Boring.” You decide, and you see a hint of a smile tug at his lips, a flash of white teeth peeking out. You grin, proud of the reaction you’ve earned yourself, and finally tune into your surroundings only to find yourself approaching the Ferrari garage, “Niki, dear, have you kidnapped me without me even realising?”

The Austrian driver cracks another smile at that, shaking his head as he leads you into the garage, not bothering to answer your teasing. Several mechanics look up at you with a hint of impressed confusion before getting back to their work, and Niki pulls out a chair for you, so you finally release his arm. You put your camera bags on the table to get them out of your way, then sit at the table with a wide smile.

“You’re early for the race. If you would rather wait out with the press and get a sunburn, go ahead.”

“Well, aren’t you thoughtful?” You coo, and he doesn’t answer you, looking hesitant once again. You dig through your bag, pulling out a stiff manila envelope filled with cardboard backing to protect its contents from bending, and hand it to the driver, “One of my favourite photos from yesterday. I hoped you might like it.”

Niki looks at the envelope but doesn’t open it, and you smile at his obvious shyness.

“I’m sure you’ve got to go get changed, right? I’ll wait right here. And I won’t snoop or anything. Your boys will keep me honest, won’t you, boys?” You ask the mechanics, one of whom laughs and mutters something under his breath that you’re sure isn’t appropriate, though it doesn’t sound malicious. You let it be, certain you’ve heard worse, and Niki looks hesitant to leave you alone but eventually begins to back away.

“I won’t be long.” He promises, and you smile pleasantly, waggling your fingers at him. Some of the mechanics keep looking at you, but you keep your pleasant expression, sitting pretty as you wait. You know that teams can be pretty tight-lipped about their secrets, so you keep to yourself to avoid the semblance of being nosy or trying to find a story. You’re not a journalist anyways, you’re a photographer. You don’t really care about their trade secrets.

“Well, well, well, look at who I’ve found.”

You turn in your seat to grin at James Hunt as he enters the Ferrari garage, nodding to the mechanics, then looking around quickly as if searching for his friend and rival.

“Hello James. Niki’s just getting changed.” You inform him, getting up to shake his hand, pleased when he doesn’t try to kiss it again.

“Ahh, he is, is he? Did he give you a ride this morning?” James asks, and you laugh as you sit back down, unable to help yourself despite the very obvious and rude implication. He’s cheeky, but he’s charming enough to get away with it. You’re not offended, anyways - you’d happily spend a night in Lauda’s bed if he invited you.

“No, James, I took a taxi from my hotel. I was far too busy in the darkroom developing my photos last night to be entertaining Mr. Lauda. Not that it’s any of your business, you nosy twat. Anyways, I’m sure you both left the track at around the same time, so you know I didn’t leave with him.” You retort, and Hunt snickers, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“I know. I was just messing with you. I wanted to see if you’d get angry.” He admits, pulling a chair over and sitting on it backwards, his arms crossed on the back of it, “So, why’re you in the Ferrari garage?”

You grin sheepishly.

“Niki rescued me from my own lack of directional skills.” You reply, and at Hunt’s raised eyebrow, you continue, “I got lost, and he stumbled upon me and took pity.”

An understanding hum escapes Hunt, and he rubs the lower half of his face as he considers your excuse. He murmurs to himself, almost like he’s lost in thought, “Right… he did, did he?”

You raise an eyebrow at the shaggy blond, “Not common for him to help out a lady in need?”

James shakes his head immediately, waving a hand as if to swipe that thought away.

“No, no, Niki’s a good man, and a gentleman with the ladies. It’s just a little peculiar for him to bring someone into the garage with him.”

“He told me I could go wait in the press area and get sunburnt instead.” You remark, and Hunt laughs.

“So, I assume you’re cheering on the rat, then? I won’t hear your lovely voice shouting my name from the stands?” He teases playfully, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a very professional photographer, thank you very much, sir. I will be taking photos of as many drivers as I can, and I will be very happy for anyone who wins,” You retort, and James raises an eyebrow with a wide grin, sensing there’s more to come, “however, if my camera malfunctions and they happen to look a bit drab in their photos, it certainly won’t be because they beat Niki and I’m a bit of a vindictive bitch.”

You giggle as James gives a loud, brash laugh, pleasantly surprised. You lean forwards a little in your seat, and Hunt looks away from you briefly before grinning brighter. God, he’s like the sun, it’s almost unnerving.

“So, what is it about the rat that’s got your knickers in a twist?” He asks, and you raise an eyebrow at him with a disbelieving snort.

“First, that’s wholly inappropriate talk in the presence of a lady, so go fuck yourself, darling. Second, why is everyone so goddamned surprised? He’s handsome, whether you blind idiots can see it or not. Far less boring to look at than you lot.” You retort, and James touches his heart and gives a pouty hiss as if wounded, “His facial structure is lovely - high, strong cheekbones, a well-defined jawline, wonderful little nose, and yes, an overbite. I find it quite endearing, frankly. He has nice lips, and his eyes are beautiful. I like his curls. And his arm felt sturdy and supportive under mine when he guided me here.”

James listens, a hint of softness in his eyes as you go on about his close friend and rival, though his ulterior motive is exposed when Niki steps fully into the room and sets a bottle of water on the table beside you. You nearly jump out of your skin, and your brows pull together as you connect the dots, then turn a scowl on James. He puts his hands up, then smiles at Niki.

“I just came to check in. Looks like you’re doing fine. I’ll see you on the track.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the man who most certainly just overheard you complimenting him quite liberally. Normally, you like to think you’ve got quite a strong backbone. You don’t get embarrassed easily. You’re fairly self-confident, and you can stand up for yourself. 

Not today.

“I should go to the press area if I want to get a good spot.” You practically squeak, and Niki raises an eyebrow at you. He opens his mouth to speak, but you’re already moving, shouldering your camera bags and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can get a word out.

“I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it. See you later.” You shout over your shoulder as you practically dart from the garage, your cheeks on fire as you flee. You think you vaguely hear Niki shout something behind you, but you’re already too far to make it out, and you’re too embarrassed to stop or go back. You reach the press area and get set up, talking with a few of the reporters and photographers you know. Taking the cues Tony had given you, you take some pretty fantastic pictures of the race, including one of Niki during a pitstop, Hunt finishing the race in a spectacular second place, and Niki finishing in fourth. You take photos of the winners, deftly avoiding the spray of champagne, and fleeing to the parking lot to consider how you’re going to get home.

Part of you considers waiting for Niki and asking if you can get a ride back to your hotel with him, but the other part of you that’s still a little embarrassed and very unsure about how the Austrian man might react to your fawning holds you back, and you end up calling a taxi. Your plane ride home is a redeye, and you make it from the hotel to the airport just in time to make your flight. You’ve got just under two weeks until you have to go to the Brazil Grand Prix, and you know you’ll be busy, so you don’t stick around in Argentina for any of the afterparties despite being happy enough to live that kind of party life when it’s called for.

Your next two weeks are a whirlwind. You sell even more of your photographs from Formula One than you originally expected, and you reconsider your distaste for the sport even further as the money rolls in. An entire candid series of your photos gets purchased by a popular racing magazine to show the behind the scenes of the Argentina Grand Prix, and you’re proud to see your work highlighted on the glossy pages.

A friend of yours calls on your third day home in an absolute panic, as a model dropped out of his reshoots for a perfume campaign ad that has been bogged down with nothing but problems. He’s way over his original deadline, and desperate to get this done before the publishing date of the ad campaign. You’ve modelled before - you feature heavily in the portfolios of several friends you came up in the industry with - and you have no problem subbing in despite a lack of interest in consistent modelling work. Nudity doesn’t bother you either. You do life modelling at the local art school by your house several times a semester, having become good friends with the director of the school shortly after moving to the area.

Just under two weeks later, you board a flight to Brazil with a copy of the magazine in which your photo is printed in hand, and you can’t help but cringe just a little at the sight of yourself. Thankfully, you don’t advertise your modelling, so most people you know won’t ever see it. You’re draped upside-down over a chaise lounge, oiled legs over the back of the sofa and crossed elegantly, an arm around your breasts as perfume drips onto your bare chest and rolls up your neck. You’re dressed in only pearls and a pair of heels that are hanging from your feet like you might kick them off at any second. Your head is hung over the edge of the seat of the chaise, perfume dripping up the line of your throat, and the bottle features prominently beside you. The only thing that hides your cunt from view is a small strip of silk fabric draped around your hip and between your legs. It’s a beautiful photo. Minimal retouching, stunning composition, and the black and white photo looks far more elegant than it might have in colour. You’re proud enough of it, and you have a folder of some of the rejected shots as further payment for your troubles.

You arrive in Sao Paulo midday on Friday and make contact with the owner of a darkroom, then head off to your hotel. Tony rings you up no more than two hours after you arrive to coax you into getting dinner with him, and he presses about how the rest of the last Grand Prix went, bragging about how many of your photos he’s seen in the last few days. Tony promises to drive you to the track in the morning, and comments that many of the drivers are staying in the same hotel as you both are. He tries to encourage you to get a drink with him, but you insist on heading back to your hotel room to get some decent sleep.

On Saturday, you dress in a peach crochet crop top and high-waisted denim shorts that you have to admit make your ass look fantastic. You’re far from the only person to be dressed for the weather when you arrive - it’s atrociously hot, and Tony insists on bringing a parasol that you can’t help but tease him for. You opt to slather on sunscreen and bring a bottle to reapply later, along with water so you don’t dehydrate. Once again, Tony walks you through the garages as he says hello to drivers, spending extra time with some of his friends while you take countless photos and, admittedly, eye the Ferrari garage. You nearly jump out of your skin when a loud, British voice calls out to you moments before an arm is clapped around your shoulders.

“Hello darling.” Hunt croons, pecking your temple pleasantly, and you smile up at him.

“Hello James.”

“I think you’re more fond of me than you’d like to admit. I saw the photos you took of me winning second. You didn’t make me look drab at all.” The large blond teases, and you shrug.

“Ah, well, I’ll try harder next time.” You retort, and he laughs as he uses his grip on your shoulders to turn you around with him away from Tony. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans, brown sandals, and a thin grey t-shirt, but you don’t imagine that will last long. It’s too hot for it. You’re surprised more of the drivers aren’t shirtless already.

“Now, I need something from you.” James insists almost gravely, and you raise an eyebrow as you peer up at him.

“That’s disconcerting. I promise you nothing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing much, love. Just an autograph.” James insists, pulling a familiar magazine out of his pocket and flipping it open to your photo. You wonder if he expects you to be ashamed, or embarrassed. He’s grinning widely, holding out a marker to you, and you take it blithely. Using your teeth to remove the cap, you sign your photo directly across your barely covered tits, then hand it back to him.

“Enjoy. Try not to make the pages stick together or it’ll lose all its value.” You hum crudely, and James laughs so loud you just know everyone must be looking at you. You snap a photo of him braying like a donkey, and he waves you away, his bright grin showing he isn’t actually upset. He flees with his prize, promising to see you later, and Tony leads you closer and closer to the Ferrari garage while you desperately try not to panic. Clay meets you outside, a friendly grin on his face as he greets you both. He compliments several of your photos, including one of him that he informs you his wife is particularly fond of. You promise to have a proper print made for her and take his information so you can mail it, promising to think about attending one of the afterparties for the Grand Prix. You laugh at the lack of subtlety as Clay pushes you to go into the garage while he chats with Tony, but you obey his silent command, finally feeling capable of looking Niki in the eye. You’re slightly less so when you spot a copy of the dreaded magazine on one of the toolboxes.

Niki looks up at you as you enter the garage, and you’re pleased to see that he looks at least somewhat happy to see you. Sure, he’s blushing a little, but you assume that’s because of the magazine and you’re frankly not upset about him getting a peek at you naked, and perhaps wanting another. You waggle your fingers at him, and he nods in return, stepping closer to you. He’s already in his racing suit, though it’s tugged down to his waist, and you take in the sight of his naked chest shamelessly.

“Nice to see you, Niki.” You greet him, putting your hands into your back pockets and offering him a wide smile.

“I did not know if you would show up to another Grand Prix.” He comments, and you shrug, taking a step closer to him.

“Turns out I like racing more than I thought I would. I ended up getting a contract for the rest of the season, so, I guess you’ll have to get used to seeing me around.”

“There are worse things.” Niki replies with a wry, playful smile, and you laugh, “The photo you gave me. It was decent.”

You can’t help but snort, bumping your fist against his bicep gently, “I’m glad you liked it. I’m sure I’ll get more good ones today. Have you put sunscreen on yet, by the way? The sun is harsh today.”

“I forgot mine at the hotel.” Niki admits, and you grab the strap of your bag, wiggling it, then setting your bags on a nearby table since they’re heavy enough that you don’t feel like lugging them around.

“I brought some. I’ll share, since you were kind enough to show me around.” You offer, and Niki nods as he steps closer to you. You pull out the bottle and offer it to him, but he doesn’t take it, and you look at him for a moment as a hint of a cheeky smile tugs at his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, pleasantly surprised, and you pop the cap to squirt some of the sunscreen into your hand then give it to Niki to hold so you can use both of your hands. Niki offers you his arm, and you take your time rubbing it into his skin until the white cast fades. You’re thorough as you make your way up first one arm, and then the other. He lets out a quiet sigh as you rub the thick cream into his chest, and you offer him a faint smile, a knowing look on your face.

You can feel the slight shift in the air. The way Niki leans into your hands, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. The way your heart has begun to pound in your chest, and you can feel Niki’s heartbeat against your palms. You wet your lips as you rub your hands over his shoulders, then carefully turn him around so you can get his back. You’re gentle but indulgent here, letting him enjoy the massage you’ve turned this into, and he lets out a quiet grunt as you work out a knot in his shoulder blade. Once he’s thoroughly protected, you turn him around again, carefully applying sunscreen to his neck and ears, then up over his chin and jaw. He watches you as you cup his face and gently rub some of the thick cream into his cheeks, sweeping over his nose, and up his temples to his forehead.

His stare is intense as you swipe your thumb across his lips, but you’re quick to return your hands to his chest. You apply a layer of sunscreen to his stomach, then examine him to be sure you’ve got him covered, and he finally lifts a hand to squeeze your waist, gentle as can be. The air shifts again, and your eyes go half-lidded, pupils blown. You swallow, throat dry from the spike of heat running through you, and you finally tear your gaze away from him to look around the garage. The door is open, and you can hear Clay and Tony chatting with the mechanics. You wet your lips, placing your hands on Niki’s chest and running your thumbs over his collarbones.

“Hey, Niki? Where do you get changed?” You ask quietly, but your meaning must be clear, since he cracks another grin that sends flutters through your stomach. He slips his arm around you, hand on your lower back as he leads you further into the garage towards the restricted back area where the drivers have their trailers. Niki opens the door for you, then follows you in, and you pull him closer to you the moment the door closes behind him. He raises an eyebrow when you lock it, seemingly surprised, and he cups your cheek tenderly.

“We don’t have time.” He reminds you, hushed, and maybe a twinge regretful. You smile up at him, guiding him to lean against the wall as your hand slips down his stomach and into his racing suit. A ragged gasp leaves his lips, and he bucks instinctively into your hand the moment it wraps around him, already more than half-hard. You give him a couple of gentle strokes through his underwear, then push his underwear down his thighs so you can free his growing erection and wrap your hand around him.

“We don’t have time for more, no. But I guarantee I can take care of you before anyone misses you too much.” You purr against his ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck as you begin to stroke him properly. He arches into it a little, letting out an endearing little hum of contentment that makes you smile as he braces his shoulders against the wall behind him. Niki groans as you release him briefly to spit into your hand, and his arm tightens around you, his grip sliding down from your lower back to grab a handful of your ass. He watches you as you play with him, eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly open as he takes little gulps of air, tensing every time you squeeze on your upstroke as you get close to the head. You practically moan as he starts to thrust into your hand, eyes fluttering closed as he leans into it.

“That’s it, honey. Take what you want. M’here just for you.” You whisper against his ear, unable and unwilling to hide the blatant desire in your voice, “I wish we had time. I want to feel you, Niki. I’d be so good to you.”

The Austrian groans, head falling back as his thrusts speed up, fucking into your hand with just a hint of desperation. You can feel him throbbing against you, and you moan softly, dropping your other hand to roll his balls in your palm. A gentle squeeze draws a deeper groan from him, and his hips stutter as he gets closer, so you reluctantly let go of his balls and undo your shorts. He moans softly, sounding almost pained, his pretty blue eyes half-lidded and dark with desire.

“We don’t have time.” He reminds you, voice full of remorse as he squeezes your waist, and you laugh softly as you pull your shorts and underwear down just a little.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m just giving you somewhere to… leave your mark.” You purr, and he groans, pulling you closer to him. He cups your cheek instead of your ass as you stand face to face with him and pull your underwear and shorts out a little, aiming towards your cunt. He lets out a raspy moan of your name as he tips over the edge, hips stuttering as he coats your lower belly, pussy and underwear in cum. Once he’s done, you tuck him back into his racing suit and pull your underwear up to cover the sticky mess he’s made. You wiggle your shorts back up and button them, then pat his chest gently with your clean hand, licking a couple of stray drops of cum from your fingers.

“I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it.” You murmur, and you’re gone before he can even catch his breath, hooking your arm through Tony’s, “Sorry boys, hate to interrupt, but I’ve got to take Tony here and head over to the press ring.”

Tony follows you, and Clay calls a playful sounding goodbye as he heads into the garage. You spot Hunt making his way in that direction too and snort, almost feeling bad for Niki for the ribbing he’s likely about to get. Until you remember that his cum is dripping down over your cunt, and you won’t be able to get off until the qualifiers are done. Tony asks you about your talk with Niki, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and you nudge him in the arm with a scoff. He gives you a mildly judgemental look as you duck into a bathroom to wash your hands, but he doesn’t comment, except to remind you that if ever you weren’t happy, you need only tell him and he’d fix it.

Considering Tony’s contacts worldwide, you believe him.

Together, you tuck into the press area, and Tony cheers loudly while you take photos of the drivers getting into their cars. Throughout the qualifiers, you get some fairly good photos, though you pout a little when Jarier gets pole position. With the qualifiers over, Tony pauses to speak with a couple of reporters he knows, and you linger nearby to take photos. You turn to observe the drivers scurrying around their garages, only to freeze as you spot Niki through your viewfinder. He pauses a few steps away from you, hands on his slim hips, and you smile a little at the sight of him all dishevelled from driving. His hair is a little sweaty, curls sticking to his forehead, and you have to bite back a dreamy sigh.

“It has come to my attention that you might want to go to dinner with me.” Niki comments, and you raise an eyebrow at him, biting back a smile.

“Was that a question, honey?” You ask, and Niki’s eyes darken a hint at the nickname you’d only recently whispered in his ear. Unable to help yourself, you let your gaze trail over him, head to toe and then back up, and Niki cracks a smile at your obvious desire.

“Go to dinner with me tonight?” He asks, stepping closer to you, and you shiver as his hand skims over your waist, fitting into the curve like it belongs there.

“Do I have time to go back to my hotel and change? I’m a little sweaty, and I don’t think this outfit is appropriate for dinner.”

“We’re staying at the same hotel. I will come get you when I’m done here. What is your room number?”

You give it to him without hesitation, stepping a little closer to him and watching his gaze trail over you. He leans in closer to you, lips against your ear, and you shiver with delight at the feeling as you grip the front of his racing suit to steady yourself.

“You will not wash me off of you.”

Your thighs clench, and he rubs his thumb into your side gently, almost soothingly as you lean into him a little. You suck your lower lip into your mouth, biting it gently, and Niki pulls it free with his thumb.

“It is shameful that I have not yet kissed you, with what I let you do.” Niki murmurs, and you smile as you reluctantly step away from him, fairly sure that he won’t kiss you here.

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances,” You reply, your voice playful and low to avoid being overheard, “especially if you keep letting me do whatever I like with you.”

Niki lets out a soft laugh, and you can’t help but grin at the fondness in his eyes, “I will pick you up soon. Go. Then, we will see who is doing what they like.”

~

Two hours later finds you sitting at a table in a warm, surprisingly romantic restaurant, running your foot up the inner side of Niki’s calf while you tell him about some of the work you’ve done. You’re dressed in an a-line dress of layered muted pastel gossamers with a plunging neckline that Niki seems to appreciate considering the ample attention he’s paid to your assets while you ate. He’s told you a bit about his racing career, giving you the typical highlight reel and only opening up a bit more when you ask him about himself rather than his driving. He seems more interested in talking about you, which you can understand. You know he gets asked a million annoying questions about himself in every interview, and then often gets dogged on for giving short, straight-forward, or blunt answers. You tell him about the art school near your home, and the life modelling you’ve done, which he seems curious about but not jealous in the way you’ve had previous men in your life be.

You tell him stories about some of the highs and lows - a student who drew you so beautifully that you felt on a high for the next week, another who kept making your chest bigger than it was, and a third who was kicked out of the class because they kept asking if the class could do in depth anatomy drawing classes since you were naked anyways. You tell him about the modelling you’ve done, largely for your friends who were aiming at going into fashion photography and needed to build out their portfolios. Niki admits that Clay showed him the magazine with your perfume ad in it that morning, and you smile as you sip your wine, offering him a playful wink when he inquires if you’ve done any more nude modelling.

You skim your hand across the table clearly made for dates considering how close you two are, tracing your fingertips across his, and blush as he takes your hand and holds it gentler than any boyfriend you’ve ever had despite you not being his. Contrary to the statement made by the cum still marking your cunt. With his free hand, Niki eats the last bite on his plate, and you feel excited butterflies in your stomach at the thought of perhaps going home with him soon.

“Do you want to get dessert?” He asks you, and you smile, finishing your glass of wine. You slip your hand free of his, and Niki watches as you fidget for a moment before getting up. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, leaving a hint of a wine mark behind as you slip something into his pocket. He lets you, curious and intrigued by your bold nature, and far more focused on the pretty curve of your hip beside him.

“I’ll meet you outside. Don’t make me wait.” You whisper in his ear, then squeeze his shoulder and head out of the restaurant, past the waiter who seems to be returning to your table to see if Niki wants the bill. You step outside, your clutch in hand and your white heels clicking on the pavement as you enjoy the warm air outside. You hope you weren’t too bold, but when you peek in through the window, you spot Niki staring at the lacey fabric of your underwear pulled only slightly out of his pocket. He seems to have realised what it is, and he meets your eyes through the glass, bringing a coquettish smile on your lips. You wink, and his jaw clenches visibly. He tucks the fabric away just in time for the waiter to arrive with the bill, and Niki pays it so quickly you think he must’ve just let the waiter keep the change, for soon enough he’s walking out the front door towards you.

A strong hand closes around the curve of your hip, and you lean into him, gasping as he jerks you ever closer. He leads you towards the street, hailing a taxi with a simple wave of his hand while he whispers harshly in your ear, “You tempt fate, playing with me like this.”

“Do I? It certainly seems like you’re enjoying it.” You purr, giving him a pointed once-over. He opens the taxi door for you and helps you in, then sits beside you, his hand skimming over your thigh once you’re both settled. He gives the driver the hotel name, then leans into your ear again to avoid the man hearing him.

“I already want you. You do not need to keep seducing me.” He murmurs, and you laugh quietly as you cover his hand and slip it further up under the slit in your dress.

“Is that what you think I’m doing, Niki? Trying to catch your interest and keep it?” You ask, and he squeezes your soft thigh, his eyes dark with desire, “I know you want me, honey. I don’t think you quite know how much I want you, but you’ll learn.”

Niki’s breathing gets a little harsh, and you pet his arm soothingly, doing your best not to make a scene as he rubs his thumb into the meat of your leg.

“The seduction doesn’t stop when I catch your interest,” You inform him, your voice hushed and low, “nor does it stop when you fuck me. It does not stop when you go back to race tomorrow, or when we don’t see each other for a month until the next Grand Prix, or even if you make me yours. It does not stop when we are too tired, or when we are upset. It will continue until we no longer want each other.”

Niki lets out a quiet breath, and you perk up as the taxi pulls up in front of your hotel. The Austrian driver pays for the taxi, slipping out of the car and then helping you out as well. He steadies you, his arm around your waist again as he leads you into the large hotel, heading towards the elevator in thoughtful silence. You don’t question it when he pushes the button for his floor instead of yours. In the quiet of the elevator, he pulls you closer to him, cupping your face in his hand to gently tilt your head back. He presses his lips to yours, gently at first, then a little more hungrily when you moan into his mouth. Your arms slip lazily around his neck, and he sighs into the kiss when one hand tangles into his curls, your manicured nails scraping against his scalp.

You break the kiss as you near his floor, letting him lead you towards his room, his pace just a little bit more hurried than it was before. The door clicks open, and Niki guides you through it, kicking it closed behind him while he pulls you into another kiss. Now, in the comfort of his hotel room without anyone around to see, you smoothly undo the buttons on his shirt while he sucks at your lower lip, then breaks away to nip your top lip. You pant together, both struck breathless as you finally get his shirt open and shove it down over his shoulders.

“You’re in such a rush, mouse.” Niki murmurs as he finds the zipper on the side of your dress and pulls it all the way down to your hip. You frown at him to show your displeasure at his teasing, but it doesn’t knock the grin from his face as he lets you yank his undershirt over his head. He puts a hand over your ribs, thumb tracing the soft line under your breast while you unbutton his jeans, and you sigh into his mouth as he kisses you like he wants to devour you. You’ve just got his jeans undone when he finally pulls the sleeves of your dress down your arms, and you gasp as he guides you to step back out of it, his hands already slipping back to undo your bra. He pushes you back onto the bed once it’s discarded, and you pull your legs up, scooting back a little on the mattress. He catches your ankle before you can get out of his reach, and you feel your cheeks get hot as he parts your legs to admire what remains of the mess he made of you that morning.

“I liked this.” Niki informs you as he rubs his thumb over the messy seam of your cunt, and you shiver with excitement as he pulls you open a little so he can see how far down his cum dripped.

“So did I.” You admit, and his gaze flicks up to you before he pushes his jeans and underwear down over his hips. Your eyes go half-lidded with desire at the sight of his pretty cock, and you welcome him with open arms as he crawls onto the bed on top of you. He trails kisses up your body as he goes, pausing to suck your nipples into his mouth, first one, and then the other. You grasp at his hair, a happy sigh escaping you, though it turns into a ragged moan as Niki slips first one, and then a second finger into you. He crooks them, and you gasp as he strokes across that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl while his thumb presses into your clit.

“Fuck, Niki.” You moan, and he smiles against your skin, trailing kisses across your heaving chest while he pumps his fingers into you. His lips meet yours for another kiss, and you roll your hips to meet him, fucking yourself on his hand while he bites your bottom lip. He scissors his fingers, then adds a third, stretching you out and making you dig your nails into his back. He groans, biting the top of your tit and pulling his fingers free of you to give his cock a couple of firm strokes. You sit up on your elbows as he opens the drawer on his night table and pulls out a foil packet. Niki starts to climb onto the bed, but you lean up to meet him, pushing him to sit up at the head of the bed.

“You are very… bold.” Niki murmurs as you crawl up over his legs to straddle his thighs, “you wish to be on top? To take what you want?”

You hum your agreement, ripping open the condom packet and rolling it onto him while he smooths his hands up over your thighs. Thankfully, he seems agreeable, even if he’s mildly surprised.

“And what is it you want, mouse?” He asks, supporting you as you put one hand on his shoulder and reach behind you with the other, positioning him against you. He lets out a quiet moan, stroking your thighs, then skimming his hands up to grip your hips.

“You, Niki.” You moan as you seat yourself on his cock, sinking down until he’s balls deep inside of you. You drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair while the other hand grasps at his shoulder blades, and you press your chest firmly to his. He kisses you hard, grasping your hips and guiding you to start to ride him as he moans into your mouth, not so much kissing as you’re sharing breath. He’s long, filling you completely, and thick enough that it’s a little bit of a stretch to take him. The slight curve of his cock strokes against a spot inside you with every thrust that makes you whimper and grip him a little tighter, desperate for more. You break the whisper of a kiss and let your head fall back as you ride him hard, setting an eager pace that makes your thighs ache. Niki skims his hands up to cup your tits, closing his lips around your nipple and scraping his teeth across it in a way that makes you whine for more before he switches to the other one.

You gasp as Niki reaches between you to strum your clit, and he groans lowly as you tug on his hair. You begin to move faster, and Niki leans back a little bit to watch you, admiring the way your tits bounce with every thrust. He looks beautiful like this, one hand clutching your side and helping you move, lips parted around a moan, glistening with just a little bit of sweat. You wonder how anyone could ever call him a rat. How anyone could be so blind as to miss how gorgeous he is. And yet you’re happy they did miss it, because now he’s here, under you, letting you take your pleasure from him. Your thighs are burning, and you’re fairly sure you’re going to be sore later, but you’re also rattling towards a stellar orgasm and you couldn’t be happier. With Niki fucking Lauda.

“That’s it, mausi, take it. Take what you need from me.” Niki groans, circling your clit and panting for breath as he does his best to hold on until you come. You moan for him desperately, and he plants his feet to thrust up into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Thank God for Niki. He notices you about to scream as you come for him and guides your mouth to his neck, which you bite down on instinctively, clinging to him as if he’ll give you mercy. A guttural groan rumbles against you as Niki quickly finds his own peak only a couple of thrusts later, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure you’ll be bruised afterwards. 

Niki carefully guides you down onto the mattress, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he slips into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He returns to you shortly after, crawling onto the bed over you and burying his face in your chest. You pet his hair gently, letting out a sleepy laugh as he nuzzles against your breasts, humming with contentment that makes your heart swell in your chest. You rub his shoulders, and he lets out a happy, muffled moan against your skin as he slips his hands under your back to hold you.

“Sorry for biting you.” You murmur, and Niki chuckles against your chest, scraping his teeth over the curve of your breast.

“You haven’t hurt me, mouse.” He replies, “Relax. Perhaps, if you are good, I’ll fuck you again before we sleep.”

~

In fact, he fucks you twice more that night. Once on your hands and knees, face pressed into the mattress as Niki rails you like he’s trying to exorcise his demons through your cunt. Then, in the shower you take together afterwards, back pressed into the cold tiles with Niki’s forehead nuzzled against yours, more intimate than you ever thought you’d get from what you presumed would be a one night stand or a race fling. While you use another condom the second time, Niki simply pulls out after making you lose your mind on his cock in the shower, spreading your cunt open so he can cover you in his cum.

He reluctantly lets you wash it off after, and you sleepily promise that he can come on you in the morning, crawling under the sheets with him. In the morning, he takes you up on your offer, lazily fucking you from behind with your leg pulled back over his hip as he strokes your clit. This time, you reach back to stop him from pulling out, telling him you’re on birth control while he presses kisses into your shoulder. He groans against your skin, and you find yourself gasping for air as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Heat floods you, and you moan helplessly as Niki fucks his cum deeper into you, redoubling his efforts to make you come before he gets oversensitive.

The mattress shifts behind you as Niki gets up, leaning over you to press a kiss to your temple, then heading into the bathroom to clean up. You roll out of bed, and Niki returns to find you wrapped in a bedsheet and staring out the window, and you lean into him when he steps up behind you and puts his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you sigh dreamily.

“You can borrow something.” Niki murmurs against your skin, and you tilt your head to kiss him, enjoying what you know might be the last few moments of afterglow before he’s done with you. Niki breaks it reluctantly, stepping away to rummage through his luggage and find a shirt and boxer briefs for you. You get changed, finger-combing your hair to neaten it, then helping Niki button his shirt while you steal a couple of kisses before you leave.

“I’ll see you at the track.” You murmur against his lips, and he hums, giving your bottom a firm squeeze.

“Come to the garage. You can watch the race from there.” Niki replies, and you can’t help but smile.

“That’s bold. People will ask questions if you have a photographer waiting in the garage for you.” You remind him, and Niki looks at you blankly.

“They can ask all they like. My woman will cheer for me from my garage, not wait in the sun in the stands like everyone else.” Niki retorts, and you feel your stomach flip, heart beating nearly out of your chest.

“Your woman?” You clarify, and Niki pulls you closer to him, kissing you hard enough that your teeth clack together clumsily. It does nothing to take away from your eagerness, and you clench your fingers in his shirt, knees going just a little weak. You’ll never admit it, though.

“You think I am so careless to come in any woman? I have condoms for a reason, mouse.” Niki reminds you, and you gasp against his mouth, eyes rolling back as your cunt throbs, “unless, you do not want to be mine.”

“Don’t be stupid, Niki Lauda. You know what I want.”

~

After the Brazil Grand Prix, you spend the early evening bent over the edge of Niki’s bed, or grasping the headboard for dear life as he fucks out the adrenaline high of racing into your sweet body. You’re booked for another late flight home, and Niki barely lets you go in time to make it to the airport, even though he’s got his own early flight in the morning. You head home with promises to visit Niki in Vienna once you’ve settled your work commitments and sent off your photos to their respective buyers. You talk to each other at least every other evening, though you both have a lot going on. One evening, you even drag your phone into the bathroom so that you can talk to Niki while you’re in the bathtub, and he expresses regret that he can’t share it with you. It takes far too long, in your opinion, to get your business settled. But finally, nearly two weeks later, you call Niki earlier in the day than you usually do.

“I’m ready. So, if you still want me, I can be in Vienna as early as tomorrow.” You inform him instead of saying hello, and Niki’s breathy sigh crackles over the landline.

“Tell me where to pick you up, and when. I will be there.” Niki replies, and you giggle, excitement bubbling in your belly.

“So it’s a good thing that I booked a plane ticket arriving tomorrow without asking?”

“Bold, as always, mouse. What time am I picking you up?” Thankfully, Niki sounds amused rather than annoyed.

“I arrive at Vienna Airport at eleven am tomorrow. My flight leaves at 7:30 tonight. So, I’ll be getting on the plane while you’re fast asleep at 2:30 am.” You inform him, “At 11 am, it will be 4 am for me, so I’m taking a nap on the plane so I can try and beat jet lag.”

“We will have a lazy day.” Niki promises, and you sigh happily at the idea, folding a pair of jeans to tuck into your suitcase.

“Should I bring anything in particular?”

“I will take you out to dinner - something suitable for that. It is mild this time of year. Similar to your weather, I believe.” Niki comments, and you laugh as you pack a knit sweater.

“So, no requests for lingerie? Short skirts? Plunging necklines?” You inquire, and Niki gives a thoughtful hum, as if he hadn’t even thought of requesting anything.

“I trust your taste, mouse. Bring what you think I will like, and I will do my best to show you my appreciation.”

“Yessir.”

~

After an eight hour and fifteen minute flight that you entirely slept through, you pick up your luggage after going through customs, and spot Niki waiting for you from a distance. There is no dramatic reunion. You don’t run across the airport into his waiting arms to kiss his face off like in a movie. Instead, you walk calmly over to him, and he takes the handle of your luggage, putting his arm around you and greeting you with a gentle kiss to your cheek and a query as to how your flight was.

He opens the door to his car for you, helping you in, then putting your luggage in the trunk. You squeeze his thigh when he gets into the car, and you notice him smiling as he drives away from the busy airport towards his home. You stroke his thigh as he drives, and you can’t pretend you don’t notice the stirring in his trousers. It does nothing to stop you, of course. You have plenty of plans for your Niki. As you get to a less busy area of town, you hum thoughtfully to yourself, then pull your hair back out of your face. Niki glances at you curiously as you reach over towards him, unzipping his trousers.

“Woah- mouse, what are you doing?”

“Whatever I like.” You retort, pulling his half-hard cock out of his boxer briefs and swirling your tongue around the leaky tip.

“Mouse…” Niki groans softly, wrapping your hair around his hand and pulling gently as if to stop you.

“If you can’t focus, pull over.” You hum, slapping his cock against your tongue a couple of times, then taking him into your mouth. Niki grumbles to himself above your head, letting out a low, growly groan. You hear the gentle tick of the turn signal, and then the bumps and rumble of the car pulling off the road. As soon as the car turns off, Niki’s hands tangle in your hair, and you moan around his cock as he pulls.

“Fuck, mausi. You could not wait?” Niki asks, and you hum an affirmative, bobbing your head at a leisurely pace, “No, of course not. You were too desperate for my cock, weren’t you?”

You slip your hand into his underwear to roll his balls in your palm, and he groans, bucking up into your mouth then apologising hoarsely as he pets your hair back from your face. You moan around him encouragingly, then decide that Niki deserves your somewhat unique talent. He’s been good to you. Blown your mind enough times despite your limited time together. You let him slip from your mouth, swallowing the precum and saliva pooling in your mouth, then taking a couple of deep breaths.

“Feel free to thrust, if you like. I can take it, honey.” You purr, and before Niki can ask for clarification, you take him back into your mouth, sinking down until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. Niki groans, guttural and low, his head thumping back against the headrest hard. Rumbling german interspersed with the occasional english swear word falls from Niki’s lips as you swallow him down, wiping every thought from his mind until his gentlemanly ways fall lax and he begins to fuck into your mouth eagerly. You moan helplessly as he chases his release, gripping your hair tightly as he finally falls over the edge.

“Don’t swallow yet. Let me see.” He pants, and you obediently do your best not to swallow or let any of his cum leak from your overstuffed mouth. Breathing through your nose, you sit up in your seat and situate yourself, then open your mouth to show off the mess he’s made of you. Niki moans softly, tapping your chin.

“Swallow.”

You obediently do, and he leans across the short distance to kiss you, licking into your mouth to taste himself off your tongue.

“When we get to my home, I will show you around. You will put down your things, and then I am going to ruin you for any other man.” Niki whispers against your lips, and you moan softly, letting out a little whimper when he leans back into his seat to put himself away and then resume the drive home.

And ruin you he does. As promised, Niki takes you on a tour of the home, his hand tucked into your back pocket. You put your luggage in his room, and then he takes you into the bathroom to take a bath, though you’re sure you nearly cause a flood with how much water flows over the edge when he fucks you. Afterwards, nice and clean, he takes you down to his living room and you try to watch a film together, but Niki ends up not seeing much of it as he kneels in front of his couch between your legs and makes you see stars on his mouth.

You have a light lunch, then curl up together for a nap, your head pillowed on Niki’s chest with you curled around him. You wake to Niki laying you back on the couch beneath him, covering your neck and chest in kisses as he flips up your skirt and pulls down your tights.

“Is this okay?” He asks, and you moan softly as he sucks your nipple into his mouth.

“Niki, you can fuck me whenever you like. Even if I’m sleeping, you don’t have to wake me up. If I’m not into it, I will tell you, but I promise you I’ll almost always be into it.” You murmur, and Niki groans as he yanks your underwear down and positions himself. He slips inside easily, still all pliant and wet from before your nap, and you relax beneath him and let him take what he needs. You’re still half-asleep, so you don’t participate nearly as much as you usually do, but Niki seems to like the sleepy moans and whimpers he’s able to pull from you, and the way you hold onto him as if he’s the only thing keeping you together.

The rest of your visit in Vienna goes similarly. Lazy morning sex seems to be a necessity for both of you. Breakfast is always a quiet but gentle affair, curled up together while you eat. Niki takes you to art galleries, museums, and historical sites. Some days, he takes you on walks. Some days, you don’t leave the house much at all, and you begin to realise how easy things are together. You take enough pictures of your boyfriend to open a Niki Lauda gallery, and he lets you drag him to a darkroom to develop many of them, which results in Niki fucking you in the low lit room with his hand over your mouth to stop anyone from hearing you.

You fly to South Africa together, and you only spend one night in your own hotel room before Niki drags you back to his own, complaining about poor sleep. Once again, Niki is disappointed with the results of the race, and he follows you back home instead of going to Vienna to enjoy the nearly two-month break before the Spanish Grand Prix. You end up in Ibiza for a good month of that break, lazing in the sun, swimming, or giving each other couples massages. You end up being the better masseuse of the two of you, and Niki lets you work out his stress until he melts underneath you, his pretty blue eyes half-lidded and happy.

It’s bliss, honestly. By the time Spain rolls around, you’ve dropped all pretence. Everyone knows you’re together - Tony, Hunt and Clay are all beyond thrilled. Hunt asks you far too many questions about your sex life, and you answer none of them, except to inform him that you are thoroughly satisfied. Tony warns Niki that no one will find his body if he hurts you, and Niki doesn’t seem bothered by the threat, confident that it won’t be necessary. Clay simply seems pleased that Niki is perhaps more at ease, and that you’re happy together.

Spain ends up being a nightmare. The race is cancelled part way through due to dangerous conditions and crashes, and Niki needs the break to work with his team. You end up spending the break working as well, away from Niki, and while it is difficult, you make quite a bit of money. Your work is hot at the moment, and plenty of people are happy to pay for your photographs of other sporting events.

Monaco changes things. Niki wins. And he keeps his momentum, winning three Grand Prixs in a row, placing second in another, then first again in France. Great Britain is a mess all around, but Niki recovers with a third place in West Germany. Austria is another mess on par with Spain with the race ending early and only half points awarded. In Italy, Niki secures his championship with a third place, but he goes on to win first in the United States anyways as if to prove he earned it with his fifth first place of the season.

He proposes after the season is over, and you marry at the courthouse in Vienna. He goes home with you to pack your things after you manage to secure a visa due to your marriage, and you move your belongings across the ocean without a single thought of looking back. Niki only breaks the news to the press when he is caught wearing his wedding ring at a post-championship interview, and he’s not thrilled to have most of his interview questions diverted to his recent wedding, but he answers what he’s willing to. Which isn’t very much, frankly.

~

“Does that feel good?” You whisper as you stroke your hands up over your husband’s arms to squeeze his triceps almost reverently. Niki’s eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, quiet moans falling from his pretty pink lips. You watch with a smile as his muscles flex against the soft silk tying his wrists to the headboard, and you can’t help but sigh adoringly as he catches his lower lip between his teeth, emphasising his overbite in such a pretty way that you want to take a picture of him. Not that he’d ever let you. 

Not that you’d ever want anyone else to see him like this. You’ve very possessive of Niki’s submissive side.

“Mausi.” Niki murmurs warningly, and you give him a sharp look, eyebrow raised as if you can’t believe him. You can. Niki is terrible at being patient in bed, and while he enjoys submitting to you, he does not enjoy it when you tease him. Or rather, he does, but he likes to pretend he doesn’t. Male pride, you assume.

“What is it, sweetheart?” You ask, pouting at him mockingly as you run your hands down over his chest, thumbs swiping across his sensitive nipples. He jerks beneath you, letting out a raspy moan that has you cooing sympathetically, “Ohh, are you sensitive, baby?”

Niki presses his head back into the pillows, moaning breathlessly as you pinch his nipples between your index fingers and thumbs, sitting your bare ass back against his hard cock as you tweak them. A gentle pull has Niki bucking up against you, digging his heels into the bed to try and get some leverage so he can thrust up against you. It’s difficult with his ankles bound to the footboard, but he tries regardless, desperate for more contact. You pull again a little more sharply, and Niki lets out the softest whimper, an angelic look of submission on his face as he pushes his chest up into your hands rather than pulls away.

This is when you give him mercy. You lean down, cupping his pecs from below and pushing them up while you bring his right nipple into your mouth and suck harshly. Niki groans, and you flick your tongue over him a couple of times, then bite gently when his nipple gets hard. You’ve missed him so much while he was gone, nearly a week without him feeling like too much even though it isn’t the first time. You lovingly kiss your way across his chest to his other nipple and repeat the process, but this time, you adjust your hips so you’re pinning his cock between your wet cunt and his stomach. You start to roll your hips, grinding on his cock in a mimicry of the pussyjobs he’s used your cunt for in the past. He’s especially fond of them when you’re half-asleep and pliant, in the early hours of the morning with the sun's first light kissing your skin through the partially open curtains. He says you look like a painting like that, only you’re his, so he can touch the artwork all he likes.

Niki blinks up at you with hazy eyes, lips parted and panting for breath as you toy with him. His pretty blue eyes are full of love and lust, your personal favourite look on him, and you smile as he arches again, pulling on the silk binding him to the bed desperately. You smile, tangling your fingers in his hair and gently pulling his head up, forcing him to look down his own body so he can see the leaky pink head of his cock peeking out from beneath your cunt. There’s a little puddle of his precum on his belly, and he flushes as he realises how much he’s dripping.

“Do you want more, baby? Do you want your mausi to sit on your pretty cock and make you feel good?” You ask, and Niki nods as much as he can with you still holding his head up, “Do you want to fill your mausi with cum? Wanna get her pregnant?”

Niki moans eagerly, nodding again, and you grin as you release his hair and let his head fall back to the pillows. You lean down, lips pressing against his ear while you stroke his cheek lovingly, “I’ve been off my birth control since you left for testing. It’s been almost a full week, so it’s well out of my system.”

That gets a reaction out of him.

“Put my cock in your perfect little cunt, mausi. Let me stuff you full of my cum and I promise I’ll get you pregnant with my child.” Niki moans, and you practically purr with delight, scooping up his precum with your fingers and rubbing it over his cock until he’s slick and glistening. You lift your hips and rub the head of his cock through the wetness dripping from you, then notch the head against your hole. You sink down until he’s buried inside of you and you can feel his balls clenching.

“You promise, honey?”

“I swear.” Niki replies instantly, breathless, and you can feel him twitching against you, desperate to roll you over and fuck you into the sheets. He watches with wide eyes as you arch back to grab the little emergency release ties you’d learned to do since you started tying each other up, freeing his ankles from their bonds with one tug. Niki immediately plants his feet in the mattress and starts to buck up into you, and you gasp, falling forwards into his chest while he fucks up into you.

You reach up towards his wrists, tugging the release ties, and Niki surges up before you even have a chance to sit back on him. He rolls you over onto your back, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing them up, folding you in half. He plants his hands into the mattress with your knees hooked over his elbows, and you stare up at him with wide eyes as he slowly pulls out, then slams back into you. He sets a somewhat eager pace, faster than he usually takes you, and you find yourself gasping for breath as you grasp at the sheets beneath you.

“Niki!” You cry, and he groans, leaning down to kiss you surprisingly softly considering how roughly he’s pounding into you. It’s a pretty stark contrast to the sex you’ve had over the past many months, and more reminiscent of the desperate and lust-charged fucking of your early days together.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, “I’m going to fuck a baby into you, mausi. My perfect little wife.”

You can’t form words, but there are tears in your eyes as you try to catch your breath. He kisses them away, dropping his hand between you to stroke your clit, and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nod if you’re okay, mausi.”

You nod firmly, and he nuzzles his nose against yours, then kisses you again, moaning into your mouth as he gets closer. You finally find your words as you’re about to come, crying against his lips, “I love you too, Niki!”

It’s the last conscious thought you have for the next few minutes. You come back to yourself as Niki is rolling you both over, laying back on the mattress with you on top of him, your face tucked into the curve of his neck. You can feel the warmth of his cum buried inside of you, deep enough that it’s not yet leaking back out. Your husband pets your hair gently, adjusting you just a little so he’s no longer buried inside of you to avoid either of you getting oversensitive and achey. You hum sleepily, and Niki presses a kiss to your temple, his chest rising and lowering rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. You pull the blankets up over the both of you, and Niki strokes your back as you both settle in to go to sleep, too tired to move.

And six weeks later, you find yourself sitting in your doctor’s office with your very proud husband as your doctor tells you that you are, in fact, pregnant. Niki swears he got it done with that first stellar fuck after returning from his testing with Ferrari, but you couldn’t care less, pleased as punch to find yourself pregnant so quickly. Soon, you’ll have a baby Lauda in your arms.

Who would have ever thought that you’d meet your future husband when you went to do a favour for your best friend? Who knew you’d meet your future baby daddy at one of your least favourite sports?

They keep looking at you.

Niki's team, the ones with the radios, keep looking at you as if they expect you to fall apart as you step back into the main part of the garage while rubbing your massive belly. Which means something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, and you are a liability - or, your condition is - which means something is wrong with Niki. You'd just been in the bathroom for the 600th time you needed to pee today - the joys of pregnancy, especially carrying an active Lauda baby that liked to stomp on your bladder. You can hear the dramatic rambling of the radio announcer as you step further out, your lips pursing as he mentions a crash. Fear grips your heart, and you swear it stops dead in your chest. You feel cold.

"What is it?"

"We don't know if he was in it." One of the mechanics replies, attempting to sound soothing. Your heart drops. You cup your massive belly from below, stroking your hands over the broad expanse of it reassuringly, as if telling your baby that everything will be okay. As if they can hear everything, and might be scared for their father as well.

"But you think he was.” You whisper, wide-eyed and unsure. Almost as if you are the harbinger of your own end, your own fucking banshee telling you of your coming death, you suddenly hear the announcer. The information comes in pieces.

Niki was in a crash. His car is on fire. Two more cars have hit him, and they can't get through the flames to retrieve him. He is on fire, and they cannot get him out of the car. Niki is dying, and no one can save him.

One of the managers moves quickly to grab you as you feel your world spin, and you cling to his arms to try and stay upright. Luca, you think. He murmurs something to you in Italian, or perhaps it's English but your mind is too far gone to hear him.

"They have to get him."

Tears fill your eyes, and you blink them away, angry with your own weakness. Your husband is dying and here you are, crying like you're the one in pain.

"They will. Mrs. Lauda, come on, you need to sit down."

"I don't need to sit down, I need my husband!"

You don't lose consciousness, but a part of you wishes you had. They take Niki to the hospital and you lie about your condition to avoid being placed in a room instead of with him. Even if ‘with him’ means the waiting room down the hallway from his room. You spend hours - countless hours - in a daze as you stare down Niki's hallway while they endeavour to save him. Clay arrives with a bag of your things, and a cushion for you to make the uncomfortable hospital chairs less unbearable. Tony arrives with food shortly after, and you let him bully you into checking your blood pressure, which is unsurprisingly high. You tell the nurse in no uncertain terms that if you're being treated for the obvious results of a traumatic incident and are thus unable to see your husband the second he's stable, you will use your God-given, pregnancy-ordained leeway to have a colossal hissy fit and ruin their week.

No one protests. Well, one of the doctors protests, however the nurses bully him into leaving you alone. They're well aware that putting you in a room will only worsen your condition. As a compromise, you let them check your blood pressure every hour, you eat at scheduled intervals, and you drink a near constant stream of glasses of water. Which means you pee more than you sit solemnly to wait. Hours more pass before the priest arrives at the hospital's behest, and you scowl at him despite the seemingly sincere condolences he offers you.

"He's not dead." You remind the pastor, and he gives a gentle apology that makes your blood boil, "He'll kick you out if you start giving him rites. He needs encouragement, not to be given up on."

Despite your warning, the priest comes bumbling out of the room a few minutes later, and you hear your husband's voice, raspy and weak from the fire and smoke. It gives you a moment of relief - a brief respite that you're not crazy to think that Niki is going to survive this. That you won't be widowed so quickly after your wedding. That you won't have to learn to live without him. It seems impossible now that you've had him - like you were living a half life until you found the missing piece of you. Willi Dungl, Niki's masseuse and friend, arrives as the next in the rotating wheel of Niki's friends and 'coworkers' that seem to have been volun-told to take care of you while he recovers. He brings food and a small blanket, corrects your posture, and when you tell him that you're too pregnant for good posture, he spends a good five minutes holding your belly up to give your back a break. It's an impressive feat - you're almost eight months along, and it shows.

They let you see Niki what feels like hours later, long after Willi has left, and visitors have been limited for the night. Long after letting you know that by some miracle, Niki has stabilised. You'd nearly broken down the door to his room right there and then. Your blood pressure finally goes down enough for the nurses to give you a bit of breathing room, though you heard them tittering about the likelihood you would need an emergency c-section when you passed them by for one of your thousand pee breaks. The only reason you didn’t step in and give them shit is because you could hear the concern in their voices. They weren’t gossiping - they were planning ahead and making sure everyone was informed as to your condition.

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to crack their heads together.

As you walk into Niki’s room, you steel yourself, knowing what awaits you beyond the door, even if you don’t know the extent of it. Niki lays on his bed, his skin raw and red and weeping under once-white bandages. You sit beside him in the chair set beside his bed, lean your side against the bed, and settle in for the long run.

“I love you, Niki Lauda. So does our baby.”

He’s in a coma, but you hope somewhere, deep down, he might be able to hear you.

~

No one ever talks about how difficult recovery is. How painstaking. How long it takes to feel a little bit more like yourself. Rarely does anyone discuss what bearing witness to someone's recovery feels like. How soul-crushing it can be to watch the person you love most suffer and endure. There isn't a guide for preparing to grieve your new husband, or how best to support his recovery while nearly eight months pregnant. No one warned you about how difficult it would be to not be able to help - to be physically incapable of helping - after a life of complete independence.

You spend your days at Niki's bedside - your OBGYN appointments are moved to the hospital where he is being cared for, and you like your new doctor well enough. She is very no nonsense, but she doesn't harp on you for neglecting yourself in the wake of your husband's condition. Instead, she finds solutions. She gives a list of dietary requirements to Tony, who takes care of your meals despite your insistence that you can manage on the hospital's food. He tells you later that many of the driver wives have been helping by making meals for him to bring. Gem that he is who knows you far too well after so long, he even brings a stack of thank you cards with their names and addresses so that you can write cards for everyone. You've always been fond of cards and letters, and it gives you something to do.

Your doctor requires tests of your blood pressure - twice daily rather than hourly like the nurses had originally been doing - and gives you a list of stretches that you have to do at least three times a day. The only thing you disagree with - the only thing you're truly upset about - is that she makes you stay out of Niki's room whenever he's being treated. When they first started changing his bandages after he awoke, they would let you sit at his bedside to offer whatever support you could. They didn't let you stay in the room for any major treatments, of course, but the little things. Your doctor felt that being in the room was far too upsetting, and the benefit to Niki was negligible in comparison to the harm it would do to you.

You don't tell her that sitting in the hallway and listening to him scream is no better. The unknown is just as terrible as the image of the raw wounds in your mind's eye whenever you lay your head on your pillow to sleep for the night. Living in a hotel for six weeks as a pregnant woman isn't ideal, but you refuse to leave your husband's side for longer than a night.

~

You married an idiot.

Six weeks after his crash at Nurburgring, Niki Lauda returns to Formula One racing at the Italian Grand Prix, against all odds and against all medical advice. You follow him to Italy, also against medical advice, because you're also an idiot. Thankfully, Niki's idiocy precludes him from being able to fight you on your own idiocy. Worst case scenario, you remind him, you'll give birth in Italy. There are worse things. In the end, he concedes so long as he has a flight on standby to take you home the moment the race is done.

There's a conference in Monza first, and Niki tries his damndest to get you not to attend, but you tell him to fuck off while rubbing cocoa butter into your expansive belly. You offer him a gentle smile afterwards to soothe the damage your snippy tone may have done, reaching out to touch one of the uninjured places on his arm. He takes a breath, adjusting the hat he's insisting on wearing as armour, and you pout at him.

"I love you, honey." You murmur, then again, "Ich liebe dich."

"Ich liebe dich auch."

Standing in the back with James Hunt, who you've only just begun to forgive for baiting Niki into racing in Germany, makes you begin to regret your decision. You can see Niki's nerves even if no one else can, and the reporters are like sharks.

“And what did your wife say when she saw your face?” The journalist asks, and you take a single step before James grabs your arm to stop you in your tracks.

“She said, 'Sweetie, you don't need a face to drive. You just need a right foot.'” Niki replies, earning laughter from the other reporters, but a scowl from the bastard one. You’d actually told him that he would be beautiful to you no matter what happened, that you still wanted him even injured (which earned you a croaky, dirty laugh) and that so long as he loved you, you would never stop loving him either. That was, however, far too personal for Niki to confess to this fuckwit.

"I'm being serious. Do you really think your marriage can survive with the way you look now? Do you think your baby will be scared of you?" The asshole asks with a callous sneer. You break James' grip, weightily shoving a chair out of your way as you begin to walk towards the reporter, but James grabs you just above the belly.

"Wait, wait, darling, you can't-"

“I’m being serious too.” You distantly hear Niki say, but you’re so distracted by trying to get James’ hands off of you that you barely pay attention.

"Like hell I can't!" You shout, and the scuffle draws attention while Niki stares at you in mixed horror and adoration, "Hey, why are you asking Niki questions that should be meant for me, huh? Come ask me to my face how I feel about my husband, you shitstain fucking coward!"

Niki cuts the conference as you're mid-rant, getting up and making his way towards the door where James is doing his best to drag you without compressing your tummy. You're not making it easy on him, but the moment you notice Niki going in the same direction, you stop fighting the Brit.

"You make him pay, James, you understand me? Then we'll be even." You mutter under your breath, and James nods darkly in your periphery, his normally smiling mouth twisted into a frown. The moment Niki is within reach, you stop him before leaving the room and kiss him as softly as you can.

"Darling, they're taking photos." James whispers, and while Niki stiffens, you are not put off in the slightest. So long as you're not hurting Niki - or at least, hurting him more than he's happy to endure to kiss you - you have nothing to be ashamed of.

"Let them." You murmur, breaking the kiss and giving Niki an adoring little smile while James breaks away from you both, "I love you, Niki Lauda."

"I love you, Mouse."

When the news reaches your ears that the reporter in question disappeared shortly after the conference and was last seen with a bloody mouth and possible missing teeth, you let go of the remaining anger in your heart towards James. Well, almost all of it. Enough to begin healing.

You've never been very good at letting go.

~

Watching Niki get into the car is almost as painful as the first time you watched him try and put on his helmet after the accident, but you let him go with every ounce of strength in your body. Tony tries to make you sit, but you refuse, so he instead stands beside you with his hand on your upper back just in case. Niki's start is shaky at best, which doesn't surprise you at all - you know he's scared despite how he tried to hide it. Luca pauses in his own celebration to squeeze your arm reassuringly as Niki gets back into his stride, and you nod to him, listening to the announcer narrate the race with bated breath.

Despite his rocky start, Niki Lauda places fourth in a stunning recovery that seems to completely overshadow the victors. He deserves this, you remind yourself. He deserves to be praised for his strength and resilience, even if it hurts you to watch him race again. You smile as he's celebrated by the mechanics and his peers, nearby reporters going nuts in their attempts to take a good photograph. Tony is the only one who sees you wiping tears from your eyes, your hand cupping your belly protectively.

The flight from Italy is long, and admittedly brutal even though you leave immediately after the race. Part of that is because you're fairly sure you're approaching labour, though you say nothing to anyone until the plane has landed and you're heading towards your car. 

"Niki, my love?"

"Yes?" He asks skeptically at your odd tone, and you pause as you feel dripping down your leg. He stops with you, putting a hand on your belly, "Are you okay?"

"My water broke, honey."

Niki takes a breath, stunned, then presses his hand to the centre of your back and ushers you towards his car, "I'll drive."

Yeah, you bloody well hope so. If your racecar driver husband wasn't driving you to the hospital, you'd throw a fit. Like hell you’re waiting for an ambulance.

~

Wilhelm Lauda is born in the wee hours of the morning after 12 hours of labour. Tony and his wife Liliana, the latter of whom was meant to be your support during the birth, arrive an hour late. In their stead, the most shocking person is able to make it in time to hold your hand - James Hunt, on a two and a half hour direct flight from London, is able to make it early into your labour to replace the struggling Niki. Watching you go through such immense pain was not something he ever wanted to do, and he admitted to a certain empathy now after watching you in early labour.

Your birth plan had never included your husband holding your hand through the birth - he was traditional and wanted to wait in the hall to avoid getting in anyone's way - but that had only gotten more important since his accident. He was in too much pain to have his hand squeezed off by you, and getting even the smallest bump would likely cause him quite a bit of pain. Even after James arrived, he stayed with you through the early labour to comfort you while you made your best attempt at breaking James' hand, until, of course, it was determined that you were in active labour. Niki left before the epidural, and you focused on James' blanched face through it to distract yourself from the pain.

James was a good birth partner, you had to admit. He held your hand even when you were screaming, wiped your face with a cool wet rag when you got sweaty, and played along swimmingly when you began cursing out your husband loud enough that there was no chance he couldn't hear you outside. One of the nurses gave him a funny look when he kissed your temple, as she had already asked about him once or twice, wondering if perhaps he was a family member. She was smart enough not to push, however, considering the long list of threats you'd already made at Niki for putting you through this.

At the end of it all, Wilhelm came into the world screaming with you, wailing as he was cleaned off and the cord was cut, but quieted the moment he was placed on your heaving chest. James left you to get Niki, and you blinked blearily as your husband pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead, then cupped your cheeks and kissed your eyelids, before finally pressing his lips to yours.

"It's a boy." The nurse informs you both, and you sigh happily as you run delicate fingers over the top of his head. The babe nestles into your chest, and you let him rest there for a moment before carefully picking him up and laying him on his back in your arms so Niki can see him properly.

"What are we calling him?" You ask your husband as he pulls a chair close to the bed so he can see.

"Wilhelm. Wilhelm James." Niki replies, and James chokes on a sob, his hand pressed to his mouth in your periphery.

"A good name. Wilhelm James Lauda." You agree. The nurse steps in once you've both had a moment, taking your son to check him out while Niki sits on one side of your bed and James takes the other. James lets you sip on some water, then refreshes the cloth he'd been wiping your face with and wipes your face and neck down properly. Niki, meanwhile, holds your hand gently and tells you how proud he is of you in whispered German.

Soon enough, Wilhelm is brought back to you, and his mewling encourages the nurse to help you pull your gown down in the front to try breastfeeding for the first time. He latches quickly, and Niki smiles as he watches his son with all the love in the world. Only an idiot could ever look at him and think him cold. The nurse gives James a weird look when she realises that he’s watching you breastfeed, your other breast hanging out of your gown, and your husband gently stroking your shoulder and arm delicately. You’re sure she only doesn’t say anything because neither yourself nor Niki seem bothered.

"Hungry boy." James comments, "he'll be a little hamster like his father, constantly snacking, with chubby little cheeks."

~

Tony and Liliana arrive shortly after, and James departs to let them come in, kissing you on the forehead goodbye. He promises to visit soon to help out with the little one, sidehugs Niki gently, then heads off. You have no doubt he'll spend a night with one of the nurses before heading home. Niki helps you cover up before Tony and Liliana come in, and you can't help but smile as Liliana gives Niki's hand a gentle squeeze. It's her first time seeing him since the accident, but she doesn't stare, too kindhearted and far too preoccupied with the baby.

You're discharged in the morning after both yourself and Wilhelm pass all of your health checks, and Tony and Liliana meet you at your home in Salzburg with food and a helpful attitude. Tony brings in their baby shower gift, a rocking chair which he puts in Wilhelm's room. Then, he makes his way to your bedroom, changing the bedsheets for you since you haven't been home in a few days. He throws a load of laundry on, then sets about finding things to clean or move for you guys while Liliana forces a meal on you and Niki, then tidies the kitchen.

Not once do Tony and Liliana ask you what needs to be done - they assess the house together, then set about doing things themselves, only asking for permission if they have to touch anything personal. It takes a huge weight off of your shoulders not to have to think about anything to do with housework. Willie arrives to help Niki, which takes one more worry off of your plate, and you get to simply focus on your son. You're thrilled to find that - at least for now, as you're aware colours change - your son has inherited his father's beautiful blue eyes. He sleeps easily when you hold him against your chest, and he eats without much fuss, but finding the right way to get him to burp takes a bit of work. He fusses whenever you try to change his diaper, but you learn quickly that it's simply because he's taken after his father in another way - the babe hates to be cold for even a moment.

Tony and Liliana leave after a week, and are swiftly replaced by your parents, who take control of Wilhelm immediately and give you a chance to spend some time with Niki. Willie teaches you the exercises he's putting Niki through, and recommends a couple for you to use to rebuild strength after giving birth, though he warns you to take it very easy until you've healed. Willie cried when told the baby's name, and Niki seems very proud of getting that reaction out of the older man, boasting about it gently to you while you rub medicated cream into his skin for him. Thankfully, Niki's grafts have been healing well despite his insistence on racing so shortly after his accident. The donor site on his thigh has healed pretty well, but is still very sensitive, so you're careful even when you apply the moisturizing skin cream he was instructed to use.

Niki's brother Florian visits before your parents leave, and you all have dinner together, only interrupted once by a fussy Wilhelm who needs to be fed. Niki follows you up the stairs, slipping his arms around you while you feed your son, resting his head on your shoulder as much as he can while he rocks with you. Afterwards, he takes Wilhelm from you and burps him while you clean up and set out a change for him for after dinner. You manage to make it through dinner without the baby fussing again, but you're quick to take him upstairs to change him the moment he starts up again. Your mom is kind enough to tidy up for you, while Niki entertains your father and his brother.

Finally, after two and a half weeks of constant company, you're left alone. It's more difficult, certainly, having to maintain the house while caring for your newborn, but at first, the peace of isolation is a relief. Niki does his best to help out where he can, though it often seems that his best way of helping is laying shirtless on the couch with Wilhelm on his chest, keeping your infant occupied with a nap in the sun. Willie visits frequently enough that you teasingly tell him he should move in, and you often find him holding your son while Niki does his stretches, the look on his face soft enough to melt your heart.

Just under a week and half later, Niki flies to Japan with Willie and his team. As would be expected, you're unable to join him with a newborn to care for, and it breaks your heart. You spend the day before he leaves clingier than you've ever been with Niki, as if you need to soak up every moment with him in case it might be your last. Niki does his best to reassure you that everything will be fine without promising anything that he can't, but after his accident, his reassurances fall flat. He does his best, though, rubbing your back as you curl up in his arms for an afternoon nap, pressing kisses to your hair. He leaves on Friday morning with a tearful kiss from you and a snuggle from Wilhelm, promising you that he'll do his best to be safe. He gives you no false platitudes, even now, when you might've been soothed by a lie.

You watch the coverage of the race on television while snuggling with your son, Liliana bustling around your kitchen to ensure you eat something today. Her presence is a balm, but you can feel her gaze on you, and you know she's worried. She, too, does not lie to you. Instead, she gives you half of one of her Valium and a glass of water, then sits at your side to hold your son and rub your back. The rain in Japan has you panicking despite your best efforts, and the Valium helps to soothe your raw and aching nerves. You'll have to get a script from your doctor for the next time Niki gets in one of those death machines - because he will, no matter how much it makes you worry. You'd never ask him to stop. It would be like asking him to give up a part of himself, and you will never be a wife who does that, no matter how much you worry about him. You can swallow your own worries, chased with a little pill or a glass of wine (or six).

In the end, Niki defies all expectations as he is wont to do. He quits on lap 2 of the Japanese Grand Prix, to the great fury of Ferrari. James takes the championship by a single point, and Niki phones you to let you know he's going to attend James' championship celebration, as if he didn't just lose. You're, unfortunately, relatively sedated by this point, and Liliana has to take the phone from you to let Niki know that you're just exhausted. Whether you tell him about the Valium is your choice, not hers, so she doesn't mention it. She promises to take care of the baby, and to let you know that he'll be home soon.

Niki flies himself home, because of course he does. As he steps into your home in Salzburg, he finds you curled up in a chair in the baby's room, both of you fast asleep, while Liliana cleans up the remnants of lunch. He wakes you with a kiss to your temple, and you smile sleepily at him, leaning up to catch his lips with yours. There's nothing but love in your eyes as you look at him, even in the vulnerability of waking up, and Niki isn't quite sure how he got so lucky. He’d worried you would look at him differently, but there isn’t even a hint. You love him. You truly, deeply love him.

"I'm glad you're home." You whisper against his lips, and he smiles.

"I'm glad to be home, Mouse."

~

Willie rubs oil between his hands, warming it up before he begins to rub Niki’s back in slow but firm movements. You watch through the open door, gently rocking your son in your arms as Willie soothes your husband’s pain as much as he can. Thank god for the stern Austrian man, for he withstood Niki’s grumpier moments with ease, gave as good as he got, and found interesting ways to get Niki to do as he was told. You helped where you could - you cooked off of Willie’s strict diet plan and only rarely went off of it to make Niki his favourite schnitzel, you helped him with his stretches and exercises every day, and freely tattled on your husband when he didn’t do all of them. You cared for your son, and only rarely asked Niki for his help, though he was always eager to do the fun things with your baby boy - napping and snuggling being his usual baby duties. You kept the house clean since Niki couldn’t do too much with his healing bones and burnt lungs, on top of his still-healing skin grafts.

“Mouse.” Niki murmurs, and you blink, startled out of your thoughts. You’re still in the doorway, but you’ve stopped rocking, and the baby is stirring in your arms.

“Yes, love?” You ask, resuming your rocking, and he pats the table gently to call you over. You crouch beside the massage table, and Niki presses a kiss to Wilhelm’s fuzzy little head, breathing in the scent of your baby. He takes your hand, and you kiss his knuckles, then lean in to press the softest kiss to his lips while holding Wilhelm’s head to avoid him wiggling and smacking it. You whisper that you love him, then kiss below his grafts to avoid irritating anything, and he sighs as he processes the dual sensation of Willie’s firm hands on his back, and his wife’s gentle touch. Niki smiles at you, and your heart melts, the burdens weighing down your shoulders temporarily lifted by his love.

“I’ll leave you two alone. I’ve got to get ready to feed the baby before he gets fussy.” You hum as Wilhelm begins to stir again, and Willie scoffs.

“Strong boy doesn’t get fussy. His papa gets fussy. Wilhelm is simply hungry for he is growing.”

You laugh, smudging your thumb across the tip of Niki’s nose teasingly, offering Willie a friendly wink, then carrying your son down to the living room to get settled on the sofa while you feed him. You rub your belly, still pretty round even almost a month after giving birth, and flip through a motherhood magazine to make yourself feel bad about not having magically lost the baby weight yet. Guilt has been a place you’ve lived for the last couple of months while doing the best you could and finding it not quite enough. Advice from other women who’ve raised a baby before you has done nothing but make you feel worse, and yet you keep seeking it out. Maybe this magazine will have the miracle cure that will make it all make sense. Maybe this magazine will give you the piece of advice you’re missing that will make you feel less like you can’t measure up to the women who came before you. You were fine when Liliana was here - with her help, you were almost able to manage the baby, keep the house clean, care for Niki, and maintain your appearance to the degree you had before your pregnancy. Now, you were struggling to balance multiple plates, and wishing you were an octopus.

Wilhelm smacks his chubby hand against the side of your breast with a nipple-smothered cry, and you roll your eyes, giving him your finger to hold like he likes to when he’s breastfeeding.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bad mommy. Sorry, little man.”

Later that evening, after putting the baby to bed and cleaning up what you couldn’t during the day, you snuggle up with your husband, curling around him from behind while he sighs blissfully under the gentle stroking of your hand on his stomach. Just as you’re beginning to drift in that hazy, comfortable place between sleep and wake, Niki shifts against you with a shiver. Instinctively, you press a couple of kisses to his shoulder, sliding your hand from under his shirt into his boxers to find him hard and leaking. You still can’t have sex, according to your doctor, so you carefully roll Niki onto his back and crawl down between his legs.

“You don’t have to, mausi.” Niki whispers, but his cock throbs as you tap it against your tongue.

“Let me make you feel good, Niki.” You murmur back to him, then pop the head past your lips while he groans deeply in response. His fingers tangle in your hair, and you take your time warming him up, looking up at him through your lashes because you know he needs to see it. You know that he needs to know how much you want him, burns or not, and this is the best way for you to show him while you’re still recovering from childbirth. You take your time making him come, and you swallow it down without a second thought, then snuggle up against him again with a lazy yawn. You’re exhausted. You’ve never before been so bone-deep tired.

“Goodnight, love.” You whisper, already drifting.

“Goodnight, mausi.”

~

James arrives three weeks later to a spotless house, a home cooked meal, a freshly changed and swaddled baby curled up to nap on Niki’s chest, and the fresh, wafting scent of body wash from upstairs. Niki greets him with a hug, though James is quick to take the baby from him, cradling him delicately in his arms. Niki smiles at the sight of James with his son, watching the way the tall blond man strokes his fingertips delicately across the baby's chubby cheeks and thumbs his little chin as if he's made of glass. It's easy to see that he's already smitten. Niki slips an arm around James' waist, and his friend leans into him a little bit, but doesn't put any real weight on him.

"Is she upstairs?" James asks while gazing at the baby, and Niki nods, his lips pulling into a frown before smoothing out, "What is it?"

"She ran around the house like mad all day, cleaning and cooking. She ran upstairs for a shower before you arrived, claiming she has to look nice if we're having company." Niki replies, and James scoffs.

"I barely count as company - I'm more of a lapdog, really. She didn't have to do all of this."

"This is what I told her. She has been..." Niki trails off, then sighs, stroking his fingertip over Wilhelm's little nose, then steering James towards the dining room to eat, "You will see."

James hands Niki a couple of papers that were rolled up in his back pocket, watching as the other man unfolds them and looks them over. Clear STD tests. He folds them and tucks them into James’ back pocket again, a bit of a grin on his face. Niki had discussed having sex again with James when they spoke on the phone, and seeing that all three of you were interested, James got a test. It was the responsible thing to do, and it would allow for a better experience since you were back on birth control.

“Then, I suppose it is a good thing that I did not buy condoms.” Niki murmurs, and James snorts, nudging him gently while he puts Wilhelm into his highchair.

“I would not have appreciated the late night run to the store.”

You join them a few minutes later, and James instantly knows why Niki is so worried. You look stunning, as always, but you have dark circles under your eyes, and your smile is strained. You're wearing a dress that suits your frame, and your hair is done up nicely to accentuate your face. He's never seen you put this much effort into your appearance - he's used to you wearing Niki's shirts and jeans, or simple but pretty dresses. You look lovely, certainly, but there's a certain lack of surety in your eyes that he's never seen before.

"Hello darling." James murmurs, handing the baby to Niki so that he can stand and wrap his arms around you, "You didn't need to do all this, love, it's only me."

"It was no trouble, James." You insist, and he presses a kiss to your cheek, then pulls you up in a big squeeze.

"I'm here to help, darling, put me to work all you like. Come sit and have dinner, take a load off." He insists, pulling out your chair, and you melt a little under the gentle affection. Niki notices, but he's not jealous of James. He knows where your love and lust lies, and the care you've given him since his accident has eased much of his initial worries. Instead, he realises how little time he's had with you since Liliana left. He spends plenty of time with Wilhelm, cuddling while you bustle around and do the things you can't do with a baby in your arms. But his wife? He only spends his nights with you, frequently interrupted by the baby for feedings.

When is the last time he kissed his wife beyond a peck on the cheek?

"I don't know if I'll be able to get through a whole meal. Wilhelm is probably going to get hungry soon. But I'll eat what I can, and come back after he's done." You say before taking a bite of food, and James raises an eyebrow.

"I'll feed him while you eat, it's no trouble. I'll get some cuddle time." James replies, and you hesitate.

"Oh, I haven't been pumping."

"... God, that must be exhausting, darling. Why not? My sister-in-law swears by it, says it makes it so much easier to do things while my brother feeds the tykes."

You hesitate, drumming your fingers anxiously against the table, then shrug, "I... well, a lot of the mommy magazines I've been reading say it isn't good for babies not to be fed naturally."

James and Niki scoff in unison, but soften when they notice your clear distress.

"They say that to make you feel bad, lovey, not to help you. Plenty of mums formula feed their tykes and they end up fine. I reckon the writers of those magazines use them themselves while telling other mums not to." James insists, and you soften a little as he strokes his hand over yours, then squeezes your fingers.

"I would like the chance to feed Wilhelm." Niki comments, and you soften even further, even cracking a smile as your husband rubs his foot against your calf under the table soothingly, "We have a pump - Regazonni's wife sent it as a gift."

"I... well, I could try. I do produce a lot of milk... it would be nice not to have to constantly drop everything every two to three hours." You admit, and Niki nods.

"I will get it out of the baby closet and we will try it." He states firmly, and you nod your agreement, digging into your meal with a bit more gusto now that you feel a little bit better about your circumstances. Your husband compliments the meal first, thankful as always that you’ve made him something delicious, but even more so because he knows that this schnitzel breaches Willie’s diet. James gives you a gentle nudge as he swallows a mouthful, letting you know exactly how delicious this meal is and how nice it is to have someone cook for him. You’re sure it’s a little pathetic how quickly your heart races to get a little bit of appreciation, but you can’t help yourself. Niki always appreciates everything you do for him, but even he will admit he sometimes forgets to say - he’d warned you when you married him, so it did not come as a surprise.

You knew how he felt for you. You knew that he loved and appreciated you.

You knew. And yet…

~

“Get your pre-pregnancy body back? You gave birth to a human being. How could this be possible? What is this scheiße?” Niki asks, and James scoffs, rolls his eyes and rips the page out of the magazine.

“Listen to this garbage - How to keep your husband happy. The first suggestion is to wear a fancy dress, put makeup on, do your hair up, and greet your husband at the door when he gets home from work. Suggestion two, give your husband a massage or rub his feet after a long day at work. Bloody hell. Suggestion three is to tell your husband to go golfing or for a drink with his buddies and not to complain about him not spending time at home. And then it scolds women for daring to miss their husbands while they’re at work all day, tells them off for being selfish for wanting their husbands to do chores or help with the kids after a long day of work, and reminds women that men provide their lives for them. Is this from the forties? You can’t tell me this was published this year.” James rants as he tears several papers from the magazine, and Niki sneers, watching as Wilhelm slobbers on a chewy ring, enjoying some tummy time.

“I’ve got yet another article on how to lose the baby weight by starving yourself and working out somehow with the no time you have while raising a baby and keeping a house.” Niki rips a page out, followed by a second, “Ah, and another diet plan. Willie would have a heart attack if I showed him this.”

“Why are you ripping pages out of my magazines?” You ask as you step into the living room, and James pats the sofa between himself and Niki.

“We’re taking the nonsense out.” He informs you, and Niki greets you with a soft kiss as you sit beside him, earning himself a happy noise that has him grinning.

“And James is taking the knitting patterns.”

“They’re half-decent.” The Brit excuses himself, pecking your cheek.

“I can’t believe you’ve been reading this, Mouse. Every article was written by someone who hates women, you understand this, yes?” Niki asks, and you hesitate until his arm slips around your waist.

“That blond woman down the road, Bauer… She gave me one. She’s got three kids, so I thought…” You trail off, then sigh, leaning your head gently on Niki’s shoulder.

“You should take your child-rearing advice from your friends and family, Mouse. Liliana is a phone call away.” He reminds you, and you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I know. I just want to be a good wife and mother-”

“You are. You are my perfect wife, Mouse, and you have been a good, attentive mother to our son. Nothing in these magazines will improve you.” Niki cuts you off, and James pats your knee, then lays down on the floor with Wilhelm, letting the baby hold his finger in his tiny hand. You let Niki guide your head down onto his shoulder, closing your eyes and settling in, and as you melt into him like chocolate on a hot day, Niki realises exactly how starved for affection you’ve become. He sighs quietly, picking up the breast pumps from the dish towel beside him and handing them to you.

“This does not look comfortable.” You inform him, but you obediently unzip your dress from the side, letting it fall around your waist but no lower. James glances at you over his shoulder, wiggling his fingers for Wilhelm, and you let him look all he likes as you remove your bra and drop it beside you. You get situated against Niki, then get the pumps set up and begin the process.

“How is it?” James inquires a few minutes later, and you give him a small frown.

“There isn’t a tiny jaw mashing my nipple, but it's only marginally more comfortable.” You reply, nostrils flaring as you squeeze the pump. Uncomfortable didn't even begin to cover it.

“You’ll get used to it, love. Niki’ll make them feel better afterwards, won’t you, mate?” James coos from the floor, and you kick his foot gently, huffing a quiet laugh. For once, you have nearly an hour of full, uninterrupted time in which your baby has someone else physically capable of caring for him. He’s been fed recently enough that he should be fine for a bit, and he’s happy, and when he does begin to fuss, James offers to change him rather than make you stop pumping and get up. Having help is blissful.

“Have your feelings changed regarding James?” Niki asks quietly, and you shake your head, happy that he keeps checking in even though he asked you this same question before James arrived to visit, “Good.”

“Have yours?” You inquire, fairly sure you know the answer.

“No, Mouse, they haven’t.”

“Good.”

You feed Wilhelm some time later, change him for bed, then rock him to sleep in your arms. It takes time - your little one takes after you in having trouble falling asleep - but eventually you’re able to transfer him into his crib and head back downstairs. Niki and James are still in the living room, however they’ve moved since you left. Niki is mostly in the same spot, sprawled across the sofa to get comfortable. But, where once James sat on the floor, stretched out like a lazy lion, he now lays across your sofa. He’s lost his shirt in the transition, but otherwise, both men are still clothed. They’re kissing, which is a lovely sight, and James’ hand has slipped up under Niki’s shirt to stroke his trembling stomach. You can see the way Niki arches beneath James, his hips rolling up into the Brit’s in a needy way that tells you you haven’t been taking care of him as well as you thought you had.

You’re not jealous - truly, you’re not. It isn’t jealousy that festers in your guts. No, the rot that has taken a hold within you has been growing as your body changed. As who you are changed. As you brought your blessed son - the thing you love most - into the world, a disease had taken root. You once thought that you couldn’t love anything as much as you loved Niki, until Wilhelm was born with your heart beating in his chest along with his own. And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? You were failing as a wife or as a mother no matter what choices you made, weren't you? Or had you simply placed the bar out of your reach in order to punish yourself for not being able to grasp it?

Everything had changed in a matter of months. You had gone from a newlywed preparing for your first child with your husband to a wife, mother, and caregiver who was struggling just to tread water. This new you - this exhausted, sad, disorganised you laden with baby weight and dark circles - was inferior to the old you, wasn’t it? Change for the better was an ideal, and something to strive for, but you had not improved, had you? You now exist as a lesser thing than the woman that Niki loved, and that he and James had so craved.

Your downward spiral is interrupted by a breathy gasp, and a low moan that you recognise as if it were your own. Your focus returns to your present, and your eyes meet the stormy baby blues of your husband. His mouth is lax with pleasure, but in your surprise, you find honesty awaiting you etched into the lines of his face. His love is plain to see, written in the softness of his gaze, the jumping pulse visible in his neck, and most obviously in the way he reaches for you.

Niki reaches for you. While blanketed by the sun incarnate, by his rival and close friend, by a man desired by countless people across the world, Niki Lauda reaches for you. The sun moves atop him, golden skin flexing over built muscles, and the blue of the sky on a warm summer day finds you. Warmth suffuses you, sinking deep into your bones and heating you up from the inside out as James grins. He doesn't love you, but there is a deeply held affection in his gaze as he looks upon you. He doesn’t love you, but he has had you more than once, and he keeps coming back for more, something he has always been reticent to do in other relationships.

“Started without me?” You ask, and your voice cracks, but you swallow down your emotion and let yourself be infected by their lust. You lace your fingers with Niki’s as soon as you’re within reach and sit at his head, shifting over a little bit so Niki can rest his head in your lap. You grasp his other hand and hold both gently in your hands, lifting them so you can kiss his fingers. James takes the opportunity you give him, kissing his way down Niki’s chest and nipping gently at the curve of his stomach. You transfer both of his hands into one of yours, then let the other trail down Niki’s body, combing your fingers back through James’ hair to grab hold of it.

“Ahhh, fuck.” James rumbles, letting you pull his head back, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Would you mind helping me out, puppy?” You ask in a light, playful voice while letting go of his hair to instead stroke his cheek. He sighs blissfully, leaning into your hand to nuzzle gently, nodding his head, “Good boy, pup. Yes, you are. Good puppies don’t use their words, they just wag their tails and do as they’re told, don’t they?”

James nods again, his hips pressing into Niki’s and forcing a broken groan from your husband’s lips.

“Good boy. Now, would you mind undressing my husband for me, puppy?”

Niki lets out a little laugh as James hops right to it, pushing Niki’s shirt up to tangle around his arms that you’re still holding in place. You release his hands, pulling his shirt up to tangle around his wrists, then reach down to stroke your hand over his chest. His pecs have a little layer of softness overtop, giving you something to grab ahold of and squeeze, drawing a shaky gasp out of Niki’s lips.

“Is this comfortable, Niki? Or would you prefer your arms lower?” You ask, and Niki stretches a little, then settles.

“It is fine. I will let you know if I am uncomfortable.” He promises, and you hum your approval, rolling his nipples between your fingers as a reward while James wiggles Niki’s pants down over his slim hips.

“Puppy, leave Niki’s underwear for now. Be a good boy and take your own clothes off now. Puppies don’t wear clothes, do they, silly thing?” You croon, and James hops off the couch quickly, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it, then hurrying to unbutton his jeans. You stroke your hands down over Niki’s body, and he moans as your breasts brush against his face, pressing a kiss into your cleavage while you slide your bare palms down over his stomach. You begin to sit up more, but Niki moves his ‘restrained’ hands to grasp at your chest, and you giggle nervously as you catch them.

“Naughty, Niki, love.” You hum, but he’s already got you figured out, and you soon find yourself pressed back into the sofa beneath your husband.

“Why aren’t you letting me touch you?” Niki asks, and you hesitate, “Is this more of the bullshit from magazines?”

“I look different, Niki.” You mumble, and he sighs, looking over your fully clothed body with love and regret in his eyes.

“I have not shown you enough affection. I forgot to tell you how beautiful you are - I have not told you since the hospital, have I?” Niki muses, and James scoffs, giving your husband a gentle push to the shoulder.

“Christ, mate, no wonder-”

“James, you may help or you can be dog. Pick one. But dogs do not talk.” Niki cuts him off while coaxing you to shift so that he can unzip your dress. James sits beside you, running his fingers through your hair and tilting your head so he can kiss you, soft and gentle but no less passionate.

“My perfect little Mausi, taking care of me, and the house, and our son with very little thanks. You must tell me when you have needs, Mausi, I cannot read your mind. And do not give me bullshit about not wanting to be a burden. You are my wife - you could never be a burden. You take such good care of everyone, Mausi. You make it look so effortless that I have clearly taken you for granted, haven’t I?” Niki murmurs as he rids you of your dress, then kisses his way down your neck, unclasping your bra as he goes.

“The Rat hasn’t told you how beautiful you are, Mouse, so let me.” James whispers against your lips, stroking your cheeks as you lean into his hands, “Look at you. How did a woman as stunning as you become touch-starved? You’re so beautiful, Mouse. Don’t give me that look - you are! And no less gorgeous than you were before, either. Motherhood has made your body softer and all the better for holding.”

You shiver as he kisses his way down the other side of your neck, pausing only to help Niki take your bra off and discard it. They trail down together, and you nearly jump out of your skin as warm hands grasp your breasts and squeeze gently. Niki is the first to take initiative, swirling his tongue around the soft bud of your nipple then popping it into his mouth. He moans around a mouthful of you, and it takes everything in you to avoid grabbing his hair, and to instead be gentle with him. James watches for a moment before following suit, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking, thrilled to find you much less gentle with him. Your fingers tangle in his golden locks, pulling sharply on his hair, your head thrown back on the sofa cushions with astonishment.

“Tastes so good, Mausi.” Niki moans as he swallows a mouthful of milk, his eyes half-lidded with desire, “you’re so soft. I’ve never felt anything so soft.”

You whine, cheeks hot with embarrassment and delight intertwined as you struggle to comprehend the message that they’re both clearly trying to drill into your thick skull. James adjusts a little, and you pet his hair as he rubs the length of his cock against your thigh, grinding in little circles.

“You’re so hard, James.” You manage to squeak out, and he moans around a mouthful of you, blinking open those sky-blue eyes to stare up at you as he grinds a little harder, “Niki got you worked up, didn’t he?”

“Niki started it. You got me here.” James replies after finally releasing you with a wet smack.

“The chance to have me raw got you-” You begin to excuse, and Niki cuts you off with a kiss.

“Getting to feel you without a rubber in the way is exciting, Mouse, but the important part of it is because it’s you. I’ve never cared about having to wear a condom. But getting to have you? I’d do a hell of a lot for a chance with you.” James corrects you, squeezing your hips and groaning at the plush of them, “Can’t decide if I want to face you or take you from behind, y’know? Perfect bloody tits and those soft lips, or that fucking beautiful ass of yours pressing into my hips. Think I could have both?”

You giggle into the kiss even as you nod, and Niki breaks it to kiss your cheek, “I know how I want you.”

“Do you?” You inquire playfully, already feeling like a weight has been lifted from your chest.

“Mmm, but you might have to stretch first.” Niki teases, and you laugh, brushing your thumb delicately over his cheek while you cup his face softly in your hand.

“As long as you help me.” You purr, stealing a kiss from your husband and stroking his hip, then tugging his underwear down his thighs, “Take these off now.”

Niki obediently kicks them off, getting comfortable beside you while you pull James into a kiss and nip his bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth. You pull the golden blond closer to you until his pelvis presses against your thigh, then give his ass a firm squeeze, nipping him as he chases your retreating lips.

“Go ahead, puppy. You can hump my leg if you want.” You purr, turning your attention back to your husband and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s achingly hard in your hand, the tip flushed red and leaking precum which you swipe up with your thumb to ease the glide. Niki wraps his lips back around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the hard bud while James snuggles closer and follows suit. You find yourself lost in sensation as James rolls his hips into your thigh and Niki fucks the tight precum-slick circle of your fingers, both moaning around you. You’re not surprised that Niki cracks first, crawling between your legs and spreading them open into the space he was once occupying.

“Mausi?” Niki murmurs like a question, and you know what he’s asking. You pull him closer, kissing him so softly it’s barely a whisper.

“I told you, you don’t have to ask me, Niki. I always want you.”

The reminder of your words from so long ago rings heavy for Niki, full of love and promise, and he doesn’t ask again before pressing the head of his cock inside of you. It’s been a very long time, and thus it takes a moment of gently rocking his hips to get all the way in, but you both sigh at the sensation. Niki is gentle as he pushes your leg up against the back of the couch to get a bit more room, making sure not to stretch too far. James lets out a soft whine you barely thought him capable of, sweet as sugar, and you smile at him as you bring him down into a kiss.

“Wait your turn, pup. I promise I’ll let you have me.” You murmur, but you’re generous (and conscious) enough to wrap a slick hand around his aching cock and give him something to fuck into for now. James’ refractory period is notoriously short, and his libido is high enough to keep up with two partners easily, so you know you’ll have to take care of him more than once. Especially with Niki’s condition being what it is - capable of sex, but certainly not of anything too strenuous.

Your husband seems to be trying to prove you wrong, each rough thrust going deep and pulling soft ‘ah ah ah’s from his lips. He’s pent up, your poor love. His cheeks are pink with the effort, eyes hazy and darker blue from how blown his pupils are. You pull him down into a gentle kiss, rolling your hips to meet him while your other hand remains busy with James. It’s a bit clumsy - you surprised Niki, and he hadn’t aimed very well - but you’ve never been particularly good at multitasking, and you’re sure James prefers you focusing what little dexterity you have to the hand stroking his cock.

“Close.” Niki whispers into the kiss, and you practically purr, nuzzling your nose against his.

“Good. Come for me, Niki.”

“Fill her up, Nik, I wanna fuck your cum into her.” James groans, and Niki shivers, his rhythm breaking for a moment. He never quite recovers, but you don’t blame him. You hug him close to you, releasing James in order to hold your husband while he shatters in your arms, his hips rolling in sloppy grinds to try to get deeper and maintain the sensation for as long as he can.

“I love you.” You whisper, and Niki gasps it back to you as he lets you take his weight. Sensing James’ impatience, your husband sighs as he pulls out of your blissful heat, swapping places on the couch so he still has a good view.

“Do you think you’ve earned it, puppy?” You ask, and James grins, rubbing your hips.

“Oh, definitely.”

A snort leaves you, but you lean in for a kiss despite his impertinence, “How do you want me?”

“Hands and knees, please.” James replies in a bit of a sing-song voice, and he helps you adjust, his large hands finding home on your hips. You open your mouth to tease him, but he’s quicker on the draw, and you find your words lost as he thrusts into you. His groan is one of bliss - you know he’s fucked other women raw before, so you’re unsure why he’s so thrilled with the chance with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Having him want you - need you - this badly is almost more than you can handle. What did you do to deserve this? Why does James keep coming back to you when he’s so obviously desirable - capable of having anyone he wants whenever he wants. You’d say it’s for Niki, but James knows he can fuck Niki if he wants and he’s chosen to fuck you instead.

“You feel so good, Mouse. So fucking good. Sloppy with Niki’s cum. So hot and tight and pulling me in deeper.” James praises you, pressing a line of kisses up your spine that have you shivering, “If it were to be anyone, it would be you two.”

Your heart swells, and you rock back into him eagerly, heat coursing through you at the idea of having James around more often. You’ve never resented him for not being around all the time, and you were with Niki before James became a part of your relationship, but you do miss him when he’s gone. You know Niki does too. You wish sometimes that he could be with you two all the time, but you know he needs his freedom. You know that he wouldn’t be able to give up his flings, and the fun he has when he’s not with you and Niki. You know that it would stifle him, and you’d never want to ask that of him. You’re happy in your marriage, and if James found a relationship that worked for him, you would never hold it against him should he break it off with you. That being said, you were happy to have him while you could. James fit with you and Niki - not like a missing piece, but like a welcome and enriching addition. You and Niki are whole without James, but having him around is special.

You breathe his name, eyes rolling back in your head as James angles your hips and plunges deeper on his next thrust. He presses a firm hand in the centre of your sweaty back, low moans falling from his lips as he fucks you harder, deeper, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm.

“You’re driving me mad, love. Fucking mental. How’s a man meant to keep his head with pussy this fucking good?” He croons, stroking his hand down the curve of your back to smack your ass gently.

“I-I thought it would be worse after giving birth.” You admit shakily, and James scoffs, spanking you a little harder almost as punishment.

“Ridiculous. No, you’re fucking perfect, Mouse. Feel like heaven, so tight and wet and sweet. I’m fucking all of Niki’s cum out of you, making a mess of the sofa, yeah? Don’t worry, I’m gonna - fuck - I’m gonna replace it all. Fill you up.”

James grunts as he redoubles his efforts, fucking into you harder, his breathing harsh as he gets closer. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, and you nearly yelp as familiar fingers press and roll your clit just right while James clutches your hips so tightly it nearly hurts. He fucks you harder, a desperate groan slipping from his lips as he tips over the edge and fucks his spend into you like he’s trying to plant it in your womb. You’re sure your cervix is going to be sore later, but you couldn’t care less right now.

No, all you care about is the way James tips back on the couch, dragging you with him to lay back against his chest, still balls deep inside of you.

“You look good together.” Niki murmurs, sighing as he gets shakily to his feet, “Let’s move to the bedroom - there’s not enough space down here.”

Later that evening, after having to crawl out of bed to feed your son, you snuggle down between Niki and James while they stroke your bare skin and whisper gentle praises. James strokes his thumb under your eye, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“You look tired, Mouse. Get some rest.” He whispers, and Niki peppers kisses across your shoulders.

“We should go to Ibiza. Get away, enjoy the warmth, and find someone to help with the baby to give us time for each other.” Niki murmurs, hugging you tightly from behind while James pets your hair back out of your face. You’d love to say that you agreed wholeheartedly and kissed them both goodnight, but truthfully, you were asleep before Niki even finished his sentence.

The next morning, you all pack up your belongings and head to the airstrip. Niki flies you all to Ibiza, and you get a call less than an hour after getting to your lavish home from Liliana.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, honey. Tony and I have hopefully very good news!” Liliana coos, and you pin the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you position Wilhelm in your arms to let him latch.

“What’s the news? Sorry, Lil, we just flew out today. You must have gotten the voicemail from me before we arrived.” You reply, watching as James and Niki rub sunscreen into each other by the pool.

“We’re moving to Ibiza, honey. We want to be closer to you. I’m getting bored being at home with nothing to do while Tony’s gone, and we were talking, and we thought maybe I could help you out a little. You’ve got so much on your plate.” Liliana rambles, clearly thinking you might be upset, though you can’t imagine why.

“Liliana, please, stop. I’m thrilled. I miss you both so much, all the time. It’s hard being here alone, without my family. And I do need help. I was just talking to Niki about getting someone to help us. Having you here with me would mean so much to me, and to Niki too. He loves you and Tony. If there’s anything I can do to help you guys, let me know.” You interrupt, and Liliana giggles.

“Well, about that. We might have already bought a place. We’re packing up our apartment right now.” Liliana admits, and you cheer, “So, we’ll be in Ibiza in a week, and our belongings are going to be arriving a little while after us.”

You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to Wilhelm’s forehead as he gurgles, milkdrunk and happy.

“I can’t wait to see you. We’ve got a bright future ahead of us, Lil.” You murmur, and Liliana laughs happily.

“There’s my girl. You sound like you’re a bit more yourself, don’t you? I’ll call you when we get to town, okay?”

“Okay. Love you both. Tell Tony I can’t wait to see him lying by the pool like a boiled lobster.” You tease, and Liliana’s cackles make you beam. Finally, you have hope for the future. And perhaps now, knowing help is coming, you’ll be able to enjoy having James around. James had promised to stay with you for as long as he could, unless you got sick of him. He’ll help both you and Niki find and care for your happiness - and you both clearly need the help. Together, you will figure out how to move forwards.

Together.

You knew what you got into when you married Niki Lauda. He warned you that he would forget your birthdays, and anniversaries. He warned you that he wouldn’t be good at making friends, and he wouldn’t be great in social situations. He told you that his driving was a strong priority, and that wasn’t likely to change. He would be busy with his racing season, and might have to miss out on her own work achievements and priorities. You would have to travel with him during the Formula One season, or be alone quite a bit throughout the year. If you did travel with him, you might be limited in what you could do for work throughout the year, and might have to dedicate yourself almost solely to Formula One for half the year.

What you did not expect was how frequently James Hunt would feature in your life. He visited while he was in Vienna, and again while you were back home in New York City to pack your belongings. He invited you and Niki to his home in London shortly after the 1975 season ended, but before your marriage. Three visits in a few short months, all quite impromptu but pleasant enough, with the excuse that he was in the area and thought he ‘might as well’. After visiting Ibiza for your honeymoon, Niki proceeded to buy a house there with enough privacy for the both of you to enjoy the off season together. Of course, shortly after you both finished settling in, Niki received a phone call which had him sequestered away in the house for nearly an hour while you lay out in the sun, naked as the day you were born. Your husband returns to you with a hesitant smile on his face, leaning down to cup your chest and give you a gentle squeeze from behind while pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Mouse.” He murmurs against your skin in greeting, and you know he’s about to say something he thinks you might not like. There’s a hint of hesitance to his tone that he only uses those rare times when he’s nervous about your reaction about something.

“Honey.” You reply, and he huffs a quiet laugh, stroking his hands down over your body, enjoying the sunkissed heat of your skin. His thumbs stroke over your nipples, and you hum, stretching lazily like a cat under his hands.

“That was James. He is coming to visit us.” Niki murmurs, and you roll your eyes, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“You mean he’s coming to visit you, with the benefit of my company as a delightful bonus.” You retort, and he presses kisses down your neck to your shoulder.

“I dare say he likes you a fair bit more than me, mouse, he is just… unsure how to react with you. He is used to women who are willing to have an affair with him, and your disinterest makes him unsure how to act with you.” Niki replies, and you snort, twisting his curls around your fingers.

“I didn’t want James before we started dating.” You remind him, and Niki smiles against your skin as if that pleases him, then gently scrapes his teeth across your shoulder.

“I know. He is unused to that. Which is why he treats you like one of ‘the guys’ when he’s around, and yet he still admires you.”

“Admires me?”

“You have not seen him? He looks at what is mine, mouse. You wore that low-cut shirt in London, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of your chest. In Vienna, you wore the dress with the slit to dinner and he kept looking at your legs.” Niki replies, and you hum thoughtfully.

“I’m pretty sure I caught him looking at your ass once.” You muse, and Niki chokes on his own spit. You can’t help but laugh as you pat and rub his back, guiding him to sit on the edge of your lounge chair. Niki’s cheeks are red as he catches his breath, and you giggle a little as you skim your hand down his back to give his bum a squeeze, “I don’t blame him. It’s a very cute butt.”

Your husband gives you a flat look, but the corner of his mouth twitches, and you tap your lower lip while pouting at him. With a quiet sigh as if you’re asking for so much from him by silently demanding his affections, he leans down and kisses you softly while skimming his hand up over your bare thigh.

“He will be here in a couple of hours. You’ll need to wear a bathing suit for once.” Niki reminds you, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Will I?”

Niki gives you a somewhat stern look, and you begin to crack, starting to smile despite your attempts at holding back.

“What? I’m not allowed to swim naked anymore? You told me you liked watching me do things naked.” You tease, and Niki smiles a little, getting up from the chair.

“At least a bikini, mouse. You have plenty of them - let them see some sun.”

You reluctantly agree, leaning up to steal another kiss, “Why’s James coming to visit, anyways?”

“He lost his drive. Hesketh went under, and he needs a break while he looks for a new one.” Niki replies. You nod sympathetically.

“A mini vacation will be good for him.”

~

Niki leaves to pick James up a couple of hours later, and you put on some music in the house, dancing around while you change out the sheets in the guest room, set towels in the attached bathroom for him, and hang a spare robe on the back of the door. You spare a thought for the bookshelf where you’ve put all of the magazines you’ve modelled in, the unused outtakes tucked between them in mini albums. In the end, you leave them, unashamed of the work you’ve done before. James has seen your ads before anyways, it’s nothing new to him.

By the time James and Niki get back to the house, you’ve changed into a knee-length white linen skirt and a powder blue crochet crop top with your newest white bikini underneath. You greet them at the door, and James grins at the sight of you, looping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground to give you a squeeze.

“Hello darling! Look at you, the sun has somehow made you even more beautiful, hasn’t it?”

“It certainly hasn’t hurt, dear. You could use some, couldn’t you? You’ve lost some colour.” You give his cheeks a squeeze, and James laughs, reluctantly putting you down but holding your waist for a few seconds longer.

“Niki, how do you get anything done?” He asks, finally letting you go and clapping your husband on the back as the Austrian lugs his suitcase in.

“Unsuccessfully.” Niki retorts, and his frank tone of voice makes both yourself and James laugh. James follows Niki up to the guest room, chattering away with him, though you can see a certain stress and sadness in him. You leave him to Niki for now, setting out a tray upon which you put your sunscreen, the magazine you’re reading, a cocktail, some sliced fruit, and a spray bottle you’ve taken to using when you get a little overheated. You head outside to the pool again after putting on your sunglasses, putting your tray down, then taking off your top and skirt.

The boys join you soon after while you’re rubbing sunscreen into your legs, and you hum happily as Niki sits behind you to take the bottle from you. James grins widely at you, a certain sparkle in his eye that you’re especially fond of, as he strips his shirt off.

“Mind doing my back, darling?”

You laugh, patting the chair in front of you while you lean into Niki’s firm hands as he rubs your back. James hums as you rub sunscreen into his tanned skin, and you ignore the touch-starved way that he rubs your legs, as if finishing the job you’d been doing when they interrupted you. You sigh as Niki slips his arms around you to rub your stomach and chest, and James makes a rather adorable curious noise when he hears you.

“What are you two doing back there? Are you feeling each other up? You know, it’s only fair to include your guests if you’re going to be touching each other up.” Hunt teases playfully, and you roll your eyes, reaching around him to squeeze his pecs.

“There, satisfied, dear?”

“Well, I’m certainly not lonely anymore.”

Niki snorts, giving you a gentle pat on the hip and a kiss to the shoulder, “Done, mouse.”

You release James, handing him the bottle of sunscreen, then giving him a gentle push.

“Alright, both of you, get. This is my lounge chair, go get your own.” You insist, and Niki pecks your cheek before he gets up, settling in the chair to your left. You scowl at him when he steals a sip of your cocktail, but he only gives you a smug grin, laying back and pulling his hat down over his eyes so he can relax. James rubs sunscreen into his chest, stomach and arms, then wipes what remains on his face. He stretches, then dives into the pool, and you sip your cocktail as you watch him muck about.

“Niki! Get in with me.” Hunt calls, and you watch your husband peek out from under his hat sceptically.

“Why? So you can dunk me?”

“Oh, don’t be a bore. Get in with me! It’s boiling out, and you have to be overheating.”

Niki looks at you as if for support, but you simply raise an eyebrow at him.

“He’s right, love. Go swim with the big puppy dog, he’s lonely.” You hum, taking a sip of your cocktail, “Would you two like drinks? I’ll make you something.”

Both men agree to your terms, and you head back into the house, glancing back only briefly over your shoulder to catch two sets of pretty blue eyes glued to your ass. You make them both punchy little cocktails, heading back out to the pool, and beaming at the sight awaiting you. James and Niki are splashing each other, both smiling and laughing together. James’ hair is stringy, and he looks a bit like a wet dog, while Niki’s curls only seem to get curlier when wet. You pause by the back door, watching them fondly as Niki tries to dunk James, only to have his wrists grabbed, both of them wrestling for the upper hand. James’ grin is blinding as the sun, his hair flying around his head like spun gold as he tries to avoid being knocked over by your husband. In this light, he’s no longer boring, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of two handsome men play-wrestling like children.

You haven’t the heart to interrupt them, so you put the cocktails on your tray and lay back on your lounge chair to observe. It doesn’t take long for them to tire themselves out, but by the time they do, you’ve finished your cocktail and your magazine. James leans over your chair when he gets out to collect his drink, and you squeal as he drips all over you, then anchors his hands on either side of you and gives a mighty shake like a big dog.

“Niki!” You cry for help from your husband, but he only stands over you and rings out his hair over your head, “Oh, you bastard! You’re both awful men. Awful, bad, bad men.”

James laughs gleefully, slinging an arm over Niki’s shoulders, their prior wrestling forgotten with the united purpose of harassing you. You pout at them both, fleeing from your lounge chair, and only barely dodging James’ reaching hands that would no doubt try and toss you into the pool. You don’t give him a chance, circling towards the deep end, and dive into the water to swim across the pool. When you surface, you find yourself once again being watched, and you smooth your hair back out your face to peer at the boys.

“What?” You ask. James tilts his head like a confused dog, but his eyes are intense as he stares at you, and you blink at him.

“Mouse, your swimsuit is not as thick as you thought it was.” Niki comments, his own stare fixed firmly on your nipples where they show through the fabric. You glance down at yourself, raising your eyebrows with shock when you see how transparent the white bikini has gotten.

“Oh.” You hum, and James echoes you, then grunts when Niki elbows him in the ribs.

~

Dinner is a lazy affair, all three of you exhausted from the sun, the swimming, and the play fighting. You make a spread of easy but filling tapas paired with wine, so all of you can just grab what you like. You drape yourself across one of the shorter parts of the C-shaped sofa, and smile as James thumps down on the longer part, plopping his head into your lap. You pet his hair, smiling at Niki as he enters the room and claims the other short side of the sofa, draping James’ feet over his lap without a care while he nurses a glass of wine. James practically purrs as you tuck his hair behind his ear, shivering when you trace your nail around the shell of his ear.

“I hope you weren’t looking to party too much, darling. We’ve been enjoying a lazy vacation.” You muse, and James nuzzles his cheek against your thigh.

“No, this is what I wanted.” He replies, and you smile, setting your wine glass aside so you can put a couple of braids in his hair. Together, you all watch a couple of television programs and doze together, until finally, Niki gets up from the sofa to tidy up the kitchen. Taking his queue, you stroke the back of your fingers across James’ cheek, gently coaxing him awake. He yawns, stretching across your lap dramatically, and you laugh as he wiggles and fusses like a giant golden retriever.

“Okay, okay, up you get, dear.” You croon, and he obediently sits up, pecking your cheek loudly as he slips from the sofa.

“God, is it really that early? Are we going to bed at Niki-o’clock?” Hunt teases, and you snort, getting up from the sofa to drink your wine.

“It’s nearly eleven, dear, it’s far past Niki-o’clock.” You retort, stretching, nearly jumping out of your skin when Niki puts his still-slightly-damp hands on your bare sides, “Oh! Niki, your hands are cold!”

Your husband is unapologetic, wrapping his arms around your waist and putting his chin on your shoulder.

“James, if you need anything during the night, what’s mine is yours. The fridge is stocked, as is the bar cart. We’ll have breakfast in the morning, then decide on plans for the day.”

“I’ll see you both in the morning, then.” James replies, and you all head up the stairs together, splitting off at the guest room. Niki squeezes your hips as you enter your bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him, then dragging you into the bathroom with him. You take a blissfully warm and lazy shower together, and Niki promises to fuck you in the morning since Hunt is never up early and neither of you are awake enough to manage tonight. You pull on one of Niki’s shirts to sleep in, forgoing underwear, and Niki only tugs on a clean pair of boxer briefs. He drags you into his arms the moment you crawl under the sheets with him, and you sigh happily as he curls himself around you, tangling his legs with yours.

~

Warm skin brushes against your legs, and you come to consciousness quite suddenly, groaning softly as the bed dips beside you. You blindly reach out, hands sliding over planes of muscle without the normal softness that you’re used to. You let out a confused noise, and are gently hushed, warm hands gently stroking your arms and sides until you relax and melt into a sleepy puddle. The hands leave you, and you chase after them, wrapping your arms around a frame far bigger than what you’re used to. You snuggle closer, pressing your face into the bare expanse of warm back in front of you, and wedge your leg between the thighs of the body you’re clinging to. It isn’t Niki, which should be disconcerting, but the smell of it is familiar enough that your brain isn’t waking up.

Niki moans quietly, a waking-up sort of moan that tickles your brain, and the body in front of you vibrates as it once again shushes, except this time it isn’t aimed at you. Finally, you blink your eyes open and yawn as you take in the golden tan skin of the man in front of you. You reach past where your hands are currently laid on his stomach and find the softness of your husband. You put two and two together, and blink blearily as you realise that James Hunt is in bed with you, and he’s spooning your husband, while you spoon him.

“James?”

“Mmm?”

“Why are you in bed with us, dear?”

“... I was lonely.” James admits, and you sigh quietly, stroking your hands over the man’s stomach soothingly.

“So you thought it was good idea to get in bed with us?” Niki asks sleepily, his accent even thicker when he’s only just waking up. You peer over James’ body, your chin resting on his ribs in a way that you’re sure isn’t comfortable, but you couldn’t care less. Your husband hasn’t moved to try and get away from Hunt - the Brit’s arm is wrapped around him, and you can see him stroking his stomach. A smart plan. Niki is easily soothed with petting.

“I was lonely. You said what’s yours is mine.” James reminds him, and Niki huffs, stretching leisurely in Hunt’s arms. You drop your head back down onto your pillow, shifting a little to get comfortable, and James’ breath hitches. He shifts a little against you, and you grumble, petting his chest soothingly to get him to stop squirming.

“What is it, Hunt?” Niki snaps after a moment, then makes a weird squeaky sound, continuing after a suspiciously long pause, “are you hard?”

“Sorry, sorry.” James mutters, pushing at your knee gently to try and get it out from between his legs. You only obey after quite a bit of pushing.

“What is it?” You ask, and he scrunches up a little, pushing Niki’s arse away from the curve of his body.

“Your leg keeps rubbing against my dick, and you’re not wearing knickers, and I can feel it. Plus, Niki’s arse pressing back on me.” James retorts. Niki hums, and you swear you hear a hint of sympathy in his tone. You can’t help but practically purr behind the Brit as you realise he’s hard. James Hunt is hard over you and your husband. James Hunt is at least somewhat bisexual, just like you. Niki knew about you - you had discussed it before, despite having minimal experience with women, and he didn’t judge you at all. He didn’t admit to any feelings for men himself, but he wasn’t close-minded at all, so you weren’t necessarily surprised to find him feeling arousal for a man he had an emotional connection with.

“She doesn’t like wearing underwear if she doesn’t have to.” Your husband explains, a bit of heat in his voice as he glances back over his shoulder at you both. James groans, a hint higher and more submissive than you expected from him, and you pet his tummy reassuringly.

“Shh, it’s okay. Poor pup, you’re just needy, aren’t you?” You whisper, and Niki lets out a quiet, approving moan. James freezes between you both, and you sigh blissfully, sitting up and climbing on top of the Brit who snuck into your bed, straddling his lap while he lays on his back beneath you. Niki rolls over, propping himself up on his arm and peering at James with pink cheeks and desire darkened eyes.

“Is this what you wanted, James? When you crawled into our bed?” Niki asks, and you smile, leaning down to pull him up into an eager kiss while James stutters out a shaky ‘yes’ in response. Your husband sighs against your mouth, cupping your cheek, and you gently bite his lower lip.

“Are you okay with this?” You whisper, and Niki nuzzles his nose against yours, then presses your foreheads together.

“I am, mausi. Is this what you want?” He asks, and James watches you two with eager, wide eyes, his blond eyelashes fluttering as he breathes heavily.

“I suppose I could be persuaded to indulge our dear guest.” You reply with just a hint of dismissiveness in your voice, and James grabs your hips as you roll your bare cunt down on him, gasping for breath. He stares up at you with blatant desire on his face, chest heaving as he reaches out with one hand to grasp at Niki’s thigh while the other digs into your hip. Niki licks his lips, reaching out to pet your other hip, and turning his gaze on James.

“Do you have condoms? You are not fucking my wife without a condom.”

James laughs shakily, letting his head fall back on the mattress, disbelieving of how lucky he’s found himself. He lifts you so easily you let out a loud gasp, then lays you down beside your husband, who begins to strip your shirt off while Hunt heads for the door.

“In my room. I’ll be right back. Feel free to get started without me.” He calls as he practically bounds back towards his room. You immediately reach for Niki, finding him hard and aching against your palm, and you giggle. Niki curls over you to steal a couple of gentle kisses, and you arch beneath him as he sweeps his hand over your ribs to cup your breast, pinching your nipple. You roll your thumb over the head of his cock, tapping the pad of your thumb against the precum beaded at the tip to show the string of cum connecting the two.

“Ahh, my poor husband. Did the big handsome golden retriever get you hard?” You coo, and he sighs blissfully as you wrap your hand around him fully and give him a couple of strokes. Niki bats your hand away, pressing you back into the mattress while he crawls between your legs and swipes his tongue through the wet heat of your cunt. You gasp, and he pushes two fingers into you, scissoring them to spread you open. James rejoins you both with a box in hand, dropping it on the night table and smoothing his hand over Niki’s ass. Your husband moans into your cunt, and you grin, leaning up to meet James in a gentle and somewhat tentative kiss.

“You’re very occupied with his ass. You can take his boxer briefs off, if you want.” You offer to Niki’s delight, as evidenced by the way he sucks eagerly at your clit and crooks his fingers. James obediently helps Niki out of his underwear, then smoothes his hands over Niki’s ass, squeezing. You watch through half-lidded eyes as James stares, somewhat awkward and unsure. A soft laugh makes James blink at you, and you slip up from the mattress to give James’ hip a squeeze. 

“You’ve never done this before?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Not with a man.”

“It’s not that different, darling. Niki, love, lay on your back for me. I’m going to show James what I reward you with when you’re very, very good.” You coo, and your husband is quick to follow your directions. James tilts his head curiously at the obvious excitement, and you offer James a wink as you lay on your belly on the bed and push Niki’s legs up. Gentle strokes to start with, your hand slick with spit and precum mixed, squeezing gently around the head on each upstroke. You swipe your tongue over Niki’s hole and he groans deeply, head tossed back into the pillows at the mixed sensations. James watches, fascinated, while you lap at your husband and stroke his cock, stopping briefly to roll his balls in your mouth before returning to your work. When he’s suitably relaxed and pliable, you open the night table drawer and hand James a bottle of lube. 

“Warm it up with your fingers. Go slowly - I’ve only put two fingers in him before, and mine are much smaller than yours. No such thing as too much lube, so add more if you need it. And this is a marathon, not a sprint, darling. Take your time.” You purr, your arms around James’ waist, hands stroking over his chest and stomach while he coats his fingers and rubs the viscous gel over Niki’s hole. You release James to duck into the bathroom and brush your teeth, returning to find James two fingers deep in your husband, whose hands are fisted in the sheets while he moans for more.

“It’s easier after what you did. Last time I did this, it took longer.” James admits to you as you approach, kissing across his shoulder, then wrapping your hand around him loosely. He gasps, then groans lowly, leaning back into you but continuing to fingerfuck Niki.

“Niki likes to be treated gently.” You reply softly, your voice full of love and desire in equal measure, and James looks back at you with a hint of longing in his big blue eyes, “He’s much easier to play with when he’s nice and relaxed, aren’t you, honey?”

Niki grunts an affirmative as James adds a third finger, “Show him where it is.”

You giggle, crawling onto the bed with Niki and leaning down to kiss him.

“Aww, are you missing how easy I find it every time, love? We’re not looking to make you come yet. Have patience.”

Niki frowns, and James chuckles as he crooks his fingers awkwardly, seeking but missing the mark. You would help him, but you know your husband. Prostate orgasms always take him out of commission for much longer than anything else, and you want to make this last a little. You fetch a condom and roll it onto James while he sighs blissfully at the feeling of your hands on him, though it turns into a groan as you pour a generous amount of lube in your hand and shamelessly coat his cock in it.

“He should be okay.” You murmur, and James carefully pulls his fingers out while Niki whines at the empty feeling, quickly replaced by a whimper as you notch the head of the Brit’s cock against your husband’s hole, “Go ahead, puppy. Don’t worry about making him come, I want that for myself.”

Niki makes a ‘huh?’ sound at your declaration, though it quickly turns into a deep, shaky groan as James slowly begins to push his hips forwards. You watch closely as James bottoms out, drawing moans from both himself and Niki, and you frown as James begins to pull out a little too quickly. He starts to thrust at an even pace, lost in the pleasure, while Niki scrunches up his face in discomfort but doesn’t voice any complaints. You grab James’ hips, holding him still with just the tip inside of your poor husband, digging your perfectly manicured nails into his skin a little.

“Naughty puppy. How inconsiderate. You’re being very ungrateful when we welcomed you into our bed, mutt. You have to be gentle, and take it slow. Niki hasn’t done this before.” You scold the big blond Brit, and he pants for breath, dropping his hand to rub Niki’s thigh soothingly.

“Sorry Niki, sorry.”

“Fuck off.” Niki retorts through gritted teeth, and you pout, stroking his softening cock gently.

“Was that unpleasant? Lookit you, poor thing. Lemme help, honey.” You purr, taking your husband’s cock into your mouth and giving him the softest, wettest blowjob possible just to ease him back into things. Niki tangles his fingers in your hair, breathing heavily as he starts to get hard again, and you drop your hand to stroke your fingers around his rim so that you can feel him relax. Only when you feel Niki loosen up do you pat James’ stomach again. He starts to thrust slowly, measured and gentle, and Niki grips your hair a little tighter to guide your head and keep himself interested. You guide him through it for a little while longer, bobbing your head in slow, leisurely movements until he’s starting to really enjoy the gentle thrusts.

A pouty moan leaves Niki’s lips as you let his cock slip from your mouth and slap wetly against his stomach, and you kiss your way up his body, then lay back on the bed to watch them together.

“You can hump Niki a little faster, puppy.” You purr, and James immediately speeds up, clinging to Niki’s hips for dear life, “Does he feel good?”

“So fucking good. So tight.” The Brit moans over the loud slap of skin on skin, and you smile as he lets his head fall back, stomach muscles rippling with every thrust. Niki reaches for you desperately and you lovingly curl up behind him, the back of his head pillowed on your tits while you pet his plush little tummy. You brace him as James picks up his pace a little more, losing his rhythm as he gets closer. Niki doesn’t look anywhere near coming, but you’re happy enough with that. You want him to fuck you once James is done with him, and you know he’ll be desperate, which is just how you like him.

“Are you close, pup?” You coo, and James groans out a ragged yes, struggling to make and maintain eye contact with you, “poor, desperate mutt. Go ahead and come.”

James practically howls as he gives a couple more sloppy thrusts, clinging to Niki as he comes, his fingers leaving marks in your husband’s plush thighs. He’s quick to pull out, pulling off his condom and tying it off, then heading into the master bathroom with his typical swagger, buckass naked. He returns a few moments later, collapsing onto the bed next to you both and humming pleasantly.

“Fuck, darling, you two are far more fucked up than I thought you’d be.”

“Are you complaining, mutt?” You ask, and James scoffs.

“Is that nickname going to stick? Not that I’m complaining.”

“No? Should I get you a collar?” You coo, then giggle as Niki gets up after a moment of resting his poor abused hips, dragging you across the bed towards him, “Ohh, hi honey, what could you possibly want?”

Niki manhandles you onto your stomach, and you gasp, then dissolve into eager giggles as he yanks your hips up. You give a playful little wiggle, practically purring as Niki squeezes your ass, rubbing the head of his cock against you. James watches curiously, surprised to find you being so submissive when moments before you’d been domming the shit out of him. As Niki pushes inside of you, he pushes you down into the mattress, his hand planted firmly between your shoulders. James reaches out to take one of your hands as you cling to the sheets, knitting his fingers with yours and squeezing gently.

“Fuck, mausi, you’re so wet. Have we neglected you?” Niki asks, and you moan plaintively, offering James a pout since you can’t see your husband, “was that a yes? My poor wife, taking care of me while we neglect her sweet, soft little pussy.”

James offers you a pout, worming a hand under you to squeeze your tits while he recovers, “is she tight? Do you think she could fit both of us?”

You moan at the mere idea of it, shaking your head, but Niki plants his foot in the mattress and pounds into you before you can say anything.

“She could, but not both in her cunt. She’s too tight.” Niki replies through grunts, digging his hands into your hips as sweat drips from his forehead. James chuckles, getting up onto his knees and stroking your cheek.

“Let me have your mouth for a while, darling. Once your husband is done, will you let me have you too?” He asks, and you hum, blinking glassy eyes up at him.

“Condom.” You remind him, and he sighs, pouting as he fetches another condom. He rolls it on reluctantly, and you flick your tongue over the head of his cock, kissing it gently.

“Tease.” he mutters, and you grin, then pop the head into your mouth, sucking lazily while Niki reaches around you to stroke your clit. You moan around James’ cock, and he pushes forwards a little greedily, his eyes rolling back in his head when you don’t gag. You nuzzle your nose into his pubic hair, your fingers holding the base of the condom to provide complete coverage, and James’ low rumbly groan sends shivers down your spine.

“Niki, mate, how do you not spend all day fucking her throat? Even with the rubber, she’s fantastic.” The Brit muses, and Niki grunts, stroking your clit just the way you like, the praise and gentle touches sending shivers down your spine.

“You should feel her raw. My wife is talented - her clever little tongue works magic, and her cunt is so sweet, the way she sucks me dry. She loves it when I come inside of her.” Niki rasps, and you hum your agreement around the length of James’ cock, lazy little bobs of your head encouraging the Brit to grab your hair and hold on. You pull back as you get close to the edge, not wanting to accidentally bite, and Niki speeds up his thrusts to that sloppy but eager rhythm he always melts down to when he’s about to come.

“Can I come on your face, darling?” James asks, and you blink at him, then shake your head and prop yourself up a little.

“Gimme a pearl necklace.” You purr, and Niki accommodates your fun by pulling you back against his chest instead of shoving you down into the mattress. His hips stutter as he gets closer, and his rhythm on your clit suffers, but you take over for him. He groans as he fills you up, his hands digging into your hips tight enough to bruise. James paints your chest and neck with cum a moment later after tearing off the condom, his fingers tangled in your hair, holding your head back almost lovingly.

You stroke your clit, whining plaintively when Niki pulls out to avoid oversensitivity, and you roll onto your back. Niki pants beside you, snuggling up to your side and slipping his hand between your legs, pushing two fingers into you and crooking them until he finds your spot. He strokes in time with you, peppering kisses across your cheeks, eyelids, temple and finally your lips until you come with a ragged cry that sounds almost ripped from you. You pull your hand away, but James simply replaces it with his own, skillfully strumming your clit while Niki grins against your shoulder and plays along.

“Wait, wait, s’too much.” You mumble, grasping for James’ wrist, but he simply grabs your hand in his free hand and pins it above your head.

“You deserve another.” He coos, and Niki immediately joins in, stroking your hair with his free hand while he devastates you with the other.

“You did so good for us, mein mausi. Take another, let us treat you right. You’ll let James fuck you after, won’t you? I think he deserves the pleasure of your sweet cunt.” Niki whispers praise against your ear, and you arch between them, lip caught between your teeth as they bring you hurtling towards the edge so quickly after the last orgasm. It doesn’t take long to get you there, between their filthy praises, their skilled fingers, and Niki’s mouth softly pressing butterfly kisses across your face. You scream this time when you come, head thrown back, grasping at the sheets so tightly you nearly rip them.

While James fetches another condom, Niki coaxes you through the aftermath, his love whispered sweetly directly against your ear as if it were too precious to be heard by anyone else. You let Niki clean you up with his tongue despite it being far too sensitive, whimpers escaping you that only seem to make him more eager. James gives him a gentle shove out of the way, already a little over half hard and sheathed in a condom, his eyes glazed over with eager desire.

“That thing is demonic. There’s no way his refractory period is that low.” You mutter, and Niki snorts, kissing your temple.

“Enjoy it, mausi.” He murmurs, holding your legs open as James slaps his cock against your cunt none too gently. The Brit sighs as he grinds himself against you, then notches the head against your hole and mercilessly thrusts into you, balls deep in one go. Niki hums a little at the sight, sliding his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“God, you’re still tight.” James growls, and you gasp for breath as he sets an almost cruel pace, rutting into you like the animal you claimed he was. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you can see Niki staring at them approvingly.

“Good, fuck her hard. It makes her tits jiggle.” Niki instructs, and James gives a devilish grin that makes you squirm a little. You squeeze Niki’s hand tightly, and he kisses your knuckles soothingly as if he didn’t just tell his dear friend to fuck you hard and make your boobs bounce. Each thrust makes you cry out, tossing your head back into the sheets as the overstimulation makes your nerves sizzle. It’s too much, too fast, but neither James nor Niki seem sympathetic to your plight. Niki releases your hand to instead strum your clit, and James pushes your legs up a bit so he can fuck you deeper, until you can practically feel him in your lungs. You clench up, throwing your head back as you come so suddenly you barely even know what’s happened to you.

“Yeah, that’s it, come on my cock, darling. Let go for us.” James moans, and Niki echoes him, stroking his hand up over your stomach to gently soothe you while he whispers in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, mausi. So fucking perfect for us.”

You start to drift a bit, lost in sensation, too much and not enough and overwhelming in the best and worst ways. You’re a conflicted mess. You can hear Niki whispering to you, and James panting as he ruts into you, but you can’t understand what Niki’s saying, let alone muster the strength to respond. A slap to your clit jolts you, and you cry out, tears in your eyes as Niki says something in an angry tone, followed by gentle stroking against your cheek that makes you blink to try and see through the blur. James groans above you like he’s been shot, and you shudder as he pulls out, leaving you empty and shivering.

“Mausi?” Niki asks, and you blink at him through the slight blur of tears as sensation floods back in, first sight, then sound, then the smell of Niki’s cologne, “mouse? Are you okay?”

“Is she alright?” James asks, voice shaky, his breathing heavy as he lays down beside you and brushes a hand over your stomach. Niki pets your hair back, and you lean into his touch.

“I’m okay.” You croak, and Niki breathes out a sigh of relief, “I just got… overstimulated or something.”

James presses a soft kiss to your cheek, “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t realise you were that out of it.”

You hum, leaning into his lips, and blinking your eyes closed.

“S’okay, I didn’t expect it. Couldn’t warn you.” You mumble, and Niki kisses you softly, helping you crawl up the bed to curl up with him.

“You need to sleep, mouse,” he purrs, and you stretch and wiggle to get comfy, “we can play more tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

“Can we?” James asks, like he thought this was a one time only thing. You shrug, nuzzling your face against Niki’s chest.

“Sure. C’mere, come cuddle me. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

~

After a luxurious shower in which Niki eagerly stakes his claim, and a quiet breakfast in which James does his damndest to eat you out of house and home, you all curl up on the sofa to figure out what you’d all like to do. A visit to the beach occupies most of your day together, along with lunch on the boardwalk. You head home together, sun-drunk and happy, and in James’ case perhaps a little tipsy as well. You only had one drink, and Niki didn’t drink at all since he was driving.

Once you get home, you make everyone cocktails, and you raise an eyebrow when you return to the living room to find Niki and James whispering with each other. Niki pulls you into his lap, stroking his hands up your bare legs before taking his cocktail from you. James takes a sip of his, then leans down to peck your cheek, leaving his drink on the coffee table as he runs upstairs to ‘get something’. You give Niki a suspicious look.

“What are you two planning?” you ask, and Niki nuzzles against your ear, then takes another sip of his drink.

“Debauchery.” He retorts with a soft laugh, and you giggle, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“What kind?”

“Which of us would you prefer fuck your ass, mouse?” Niki asks instead of answering your question, and you practically purr, leaning up to kiss him softly. He guides your shirt off, then wiggles your shorts down over your hips, discarding both.

“You. Puppy’s sloppy and overeager.” You reply as James thumps down the stairs with a bottle of lube and condoms in his hands. He grins at you, shameless in his mischief as he tosses both onto the sofa then tears his shirt over his head, “See what I mean?”

Niki hums thoughtfully, nodding against your shoulder while he strips off your bikini as well. “Lay on your stomach, mouse.”

You obey immediately, and James watches with an eyebrow raised as Niki digs his hands into your back. You moan loudly, clinging to the couch cushions as Niki makes you melt underneath him with ease. He’s done it enough times that he knows your body as if it’s his own, and it’s not long before he has you relaxed enough that he’s sure you can handle getting prepped. James watches as Niki pours lube into his hand and warms it up, then coats you liberally, fingering a bit of it into your cunt then trailing back to your ass. He pushes one finger into you, slow but steady, and you moan quietly as you relax even further to make it easier.

“God, she takes it well. You do this often, Nik?” James asks, and Niki laughs, adding a bit more lube and a second finger.

“It was a honeymoon gift. She’s indulged me once or twice since then.” He replies, working you open slowly and carefully. James hums, sitting close to your head and running his hands gently over your back to continue the massage Niki has been giving you earlier.

“If we do this again, I’m getting an STD test first so you’ll let me go without a condom.” James mutters, and you laugh, patting his thigh soothingly. You wiggle your bottom, and Niki grins as he fucks three fingers into your pert little ass. You thought you would be nervous about this, but you’re completely at ease, and even a little eager to take them both. You know Niki will take care of you, and so will James, even if he’s a little overeager.

“Condom, James.” Niki reminds him, and James eagerly obeys, rolling a rubber on and sipping his cocktail. You crawl into James’ lap, letting him pull you down on his cock, and you hum as you snuggle up against his chest lazily. Niki situates himself behind you, stroking your back as he presses his cock into you slowly. You’re more full than you’ve ever been before, and you moan softly, almost eagerly, as Niki bottoms out. He takes over the pace, though James does bounce you in his lap, and you find yourself constantly full of one of them as they seem to match paces. Whenever Niki pushes in, James is pulling out, and whenever James thrusts up into you, Niki pulls out.

It feels like endless pleasure. A never-ending fall into hedonistic ecstasy between your husband and one of his closest friends. Niki pants against the back of your neck, murmuring praise against your skin while he chases his pleasure. You can feel his sweat drip against your back and roll down your spine, mixing with your own, and you cling to James’ shoulders desperately as the pressure and pleasure builds inside of you. The Brit strokes your stomach and breasts, murmuring gentle praise to you about how beautiful you are, and how good you are. His voice raises in pitch, a heady moan slipping from his lips as he gets closer, but Niki comes first, groaning raggedly and biting down on your shoulder to quiet himself.

James strokes your clit as Niki pulls out, thrusting up eagerly into you, his other hand clinging to your waist. He makes you come with his lips around your nipple, thumb rubbing against your clit while he bucks eagerly into you. He follows you soon after, his sweaty forehead smacking into your shoulder, a deep groan vibrating in his chest. James lays you down in Niki’s arms as he gets up from the couch, stretching as he walks naked to his bathroom. He discards the condom, washing up, then rejoins you both and collapses into your waiting arms. None of you feel fit to move. Niki lays his head on your chest, while James lays his head on Niki’s stomach in a sweaty little cuddle pile that none of you seem eager to abandon.

James leaves early the following morning, and is signed with McLaren shortly afterwards, his mood cheered up the moment he gets the news. He calls you both to celebrate, and you promise to all see each other when the next Formula One season starts.