#traf.fic

seb as your friendly neighbourhood private investigator!!! i cannot stress enough how much of a young young baby this one is but if i ever get around to writing it it's going to be a multi chapter fic where seb is like a private investigator who works for a lot of really high class rich ppl cases but also a lot of bro bono stuff for ppl who can't afford it (he's got a weekly office hours for those)

i'm taking inspo (aka stealing) from elementary here (rip that show i loved it a lot) and seb has like a network of experts for things he doesn't have enough knowledge of himself and one day he gets a case that involves fashion and knowledge in the fashion world which is something seb obviously doesn't but!! enter lewis who gets recommended to seb through one of his other irregulars and lewis helps him with the case and they exchange numbers only in case seb ever needs help again of course and that's how they meet!!

they start working together more and more often even though the cases have got less and less to do with fashion but lewis gets interested in seb's work and cases and loves listening to seb talk about them and helps by seeing connections seb doesn't at first and also having connections that seb doesn't and lewis just really wants to go on a stakeout once in his life and seb invites lewis to the next best case he comes across where he can pretend he HAS to do one and lewis might as well join him to make sure seb doesn't fall asleep

i do have an actual plot for this fic but since i do plan on writing this at some point (fingers crossed) i'm not gonna go into any more details but it involves PINING and some KIDNAPPING and LIFE OR DEATH!!!

“Seb,” Lewis sighs. The sound punched out, as if he’s not even thinking about it.

Lewis is still grinding against Sebastian’s clothed erection. The pressure builds, delicious, and his own moan echoes against the tiles of the bathroom.

He grips Lewis’s waist, his knuckles turning white, desperate to stop Lewis’s movements.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to ruin my pants.”

Sebastian watches as Lewis glances down at his pants before meeting his eyes again in the mirror and smiling. “I won’t mourn that pair.”

A postcard with „Greetings from Heppenheim!“ written in the centre of it finds its way into his post box. He grins looking at all the oversaturated pictures of his hometown and his smile turns wistful when he turns the card around and reads the short message in his mother’s handwriting. He hangs it up on the fridge with the last free magnet and decides to call her later.

He turns to walk back into the living room when his eyes catch on the plant Fabian brought with him last week. It’s a frail looking thing and he is not entirely sure he will be able to save it, the bottom leaves that are touching the soil are turning gooey and grey, while some other leaves are starting to turn brown and dry, but he’s certainly going to try. While he likes gardening and plants, he’s neither sure what kind of plant this one is exactly, nor how much light and water it needs, so the plant doesn’t look much better now than it did a week ago. He needs to do some research. There must be some identification keys online somewhere.

For a moment he stands still in the hallway, tapping his index against the doorframe, contemplating if it might be better to get his laptop out of his office for this. He pushes his tongue into his cheek, takes the little potted plant with him, and walks into the living room instead. Sighing deeply, he sinks into the sofa, grabs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. The browser was already open from earlier and he deletes his last search and starts again.

He's about to open the first result that isn’t an ad when the screen suddenly changes with an incoming call. Lewis Hamilton.

Sebastian pauses, then moves his thumbs out of the way to look at the screen in its entirety. He keeps staring at the name, a little surprised, a little indecisive. The phone is still ringing and waiting for him to either add it to the ever-growing pile of calls he didn’t pick up in the last 2 weeks or answer it.

Sebastian doesn’t know why it’s that particular call that’s the first one he picks up in days, but before he can think too much about it, he hits the green button.

“Lewis?” Sebastian asks, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards.

“Hey, man,” Lewis says and Sebastian can hear the smile in his voice. The sound immediately brings memories with it, some older, some newer. He didn’t realise how long it’s been since he heard it until now.  “Finally you’re picking up your damn phone.”

“Why?” Sebastian says. “Were you trying to reach me or something?”

“Yeah, you could frigging say that,” Lewis says, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

 “You should have sent me a letter then. I check my post box every day. Sometimes even twice. I got a post card just today.”

“I’m not sending you a damn letter,” Lewis laughs. “Those are more your thing. I’m gonna text you like a normal person.”

Sebastian grins, tilting his head to the left, sinking deeper into the couch and putting his feet on the coffee table.

“Wow,” he says, stretching the word much more than necessary, “you could have just told me you hated my Christmas letters. See if you get any more of them.”

“No,” Lewis says, raising his voice a decibel, more serious, “I don’t hate them. I still have them all in my office, actually. So don’t even think about it.”

Sebastian didn’t know that. In fact, he’s always wondered if Lewis even read them since he never got a reply to any of them. Now, the thought seems silly. He switches the phone from his right hand to his left one.

“Okay. I won’t.” Sebastian quietly, almost adds a promise. He doesn’t know why he stops himself from saying it.

He leans his head back on the couch, looking at his white ceiling and the way the sunlight coming in through the windows hits it, casting shapes of flowers and leaves. He hears Lewis inhale deeply on the other end of the line.

“How are you doing, Lewis?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

Lewis huffs a laugh. “Seriously, Seb. How are you? How are things?”

okay m/f sewis:

"I want to feel you come on my tongue." Sebastian gives her thighs a quick, punctuating squeeze.

Lewis raises on her knees just enough that she could lower herself on his face. She's barely reached his face when she feels his tongue swipe against her slit. 

"You taste so fucking good." He moans. 

2020 fic

He knows when exactly the news about his departure goes public, not just because they had the decency to warn him, but also because his phone starts blowing up. He’s told a few select people in advance – his family mainly – but his phone starts ringing while he’s emptying the dishwasher on that particular Tuesday morning in May and it doesn’t really stop. He sighs, hand brushing over his face, and walks to his coffee table in the living room. He looks at his phone, almost reaches for it, but it starts ringing anew and he decides to let it lie. Instead, he opens the backdoor of the house and walks into his garden, feels the wind brush over his arms, flowers and plants swaying in tandem. He’s surrounded by green, crisp air and garden patches that require his attention.

Sebastian relishes in it. Lewis is a tidal wave threatening to take him under. He’s addicted to the moment where, no matter how often they’ve done this already, he thinks that Lewis is not going to fit, that Sebastian will have to stop. He never needs to so he never does, but those few tenths of a second shoot adrenaline through him in a way he’s only ever associated with racing before this.