#zos2

No words are uttered as the two of you walk further and further away from the track, both of you aware that there is much to be said, about each other, to each other, to the team.

You drop his arm and try to shuffle ahead, wanting nothing more than to get to the truck quickly so no one has to see the daggers you're staring at each other.

You yank the truck door open as you walk up to it. You step aside, turning to Zak who's giving you a less-than-pleased expression.

"Get in," you practically bark. Zak makes no protest and steps in, you following close behind.

The door closes and Zak lets out a frustrated sigh. He sinks into the small couch, hunched over and head hanging low.

"What's going on?" You ask, standing over him like a mother admonishing a child. He doesn't say anything and makes no move to look at you.

You let out your own breath and rip the headset off from around your neck, dropping it onto the small coffee table situated in front of the couch. You study your initials etched on the headset for a moment, reminding you that you are his engineer, you are his guidance. You start to think if maybe you've failed tremendously at just that.

"Zak," you begin, cautious in your approach. "Did you know you jumped the start? You've never made these mistakes this year. What changed?"

For the first time since you got to the truck, Zak raises his head and looks straight at you, expression stony.

"You're really going to ask me that?" Zak returns almost petulantly.

A scoff escapes you. "I'm asking because I want to help you."

Zak suddenly stands, startling you as he crowds into your space. He's so much taller and he practically looms over you. You can feel the anger simmering off him.

"Tell me. Where's Franco right now?" Zak asks plainly.

It clicks in your head faster than you can anticipate. Of course. It's about that.

"Zak, that's out of your control." You attempt to take on an appeasing tone. "If Williams wants to rush your fellow rookie up into Formula 1, that's their choice."

"I was one of those choices, _______," Zak insists, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

You give him a long, hard stare. There's a crease between his eyebrows, his lips drawn together tightly. He's breathing hard and a vein pulses in his neck. Normally, you'd allow yourself to admire just how handsome he is right before or after a race. You're not blind and you're not going to deny yourself the simple pleasure of admitting that, yes, Zak is attractive. And he's kind, oh so kind, thanking the team, thanking you even when his race weekends don't always turn out the best.

But right now, with everything that went down in the sprint, it hardly seems appropriate to daydream of such things.

"I don't want to burden you with advice and solutions when you clearly need something else right now," you begin. "Why don't you just take a minute and we'll talk later."

Zak doesn't seem pleased with this. He lets out a sound of disbelief, turning his back to you and pacing around the cramped space.

You get it. He wants to fight. He wants to prove a point.

"Zak," you say a litle more sternly. "You can't let yourself make these mistakes just because you're mad at your driver academy."

"I know that!" Zak bellows. You flinch, taking a step back. He's never raised his voice at you, or at all, in the time that you've known him.

He curses under his breath, pressing his fingers into his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know what's happening to me,"

A pinch of sympathy blooms in your chest and you approach him, arm outstretched. You lay a reassuring hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Zak exhales, dropping his hand from his face to look at you.

You've seen this look before. And you're not going to lie and say you haven't looked at Zak. As in really looked, eyes wandering where a race engineer's shouldn't, especially not towards their assigned driver. Perhaps a large factor in this is that you're close in age, something you never really see in these situations, with most engineers having a full decade on their drivers or at least a few years.

It's not ideal and it's not allowed.

"You will get there. Properly. In your own time," you say. "I'm sorry if I can't get you out of whatever you're feeling right now."

Zak steps closer and you already know what it is he's asking. You wind your arms around his torso, letting him engulf you in a hug, his face burying itself in your shoulder.

You haven't hugged like this since Monaco but even that was different. That was a happy hug, a shared victory. This just feels like you trying to keep him together, holding literal pieces of him in your hands so he doesn't implode on himself.

"Can you...can you stay here for a bit?" Zak asks against your shirt and your resolve is immediately softened. You run a hand up and down his back as if to soothe him.

"Sure," you agree, pulling away. You hold Zak at arm's length, observing him.

He avoids your eyes still and you can see his jaw clench.

So he's still upset.

"Zak."

His eyes meet yours and the air shifts. You're still holding onto his arms, anchoring him to you. Zak glances down at your lips and a small gasp escapes you.

Surely, he isn't thinking of that...?

"What do you need?" You ask.

It's an innocent question. Zak is in pain, though not physically, but you know he must be seeking comfort somehow. But there's a hidden hope underneath your offer. That maybe he'd say he needs you, more than a driver needs their race engineer. It's a stupid kind of hope, bordering on delusion, but you hold on to it the same.

"I don't know," Zak says. This perplexes you for a moment but then you realize that he must not know or at least doesn't want to voice out what he really means.

You can feel it in the way his hands hover awkwardly at your sides.

You reach up and take hold of one side of his face. Zak's eyes immediately close and he inhales. His jaw ticks yet again.

"Let me," you whisper, letting your other hand settle on his neck, just above his race suit collar.

There's a flash of confusion in Zak's eyes as he opens them and you think that maybe you've read it wrong, Maybe you're crossing a line that's not worth it at all.

But Zak's own hands settle on your waist and before you can second guess yourself even more, you lean up, nearly on your toes as you meet Zak's lips with your own.

The spark is instant; Zak pulls you flush against him and immediately licks into your mouth, groaning when you so easily let him. Your fingers fumble at the zip of his suit, yanking it down as you attempt to unclothe him as fast as you can.

"Bathroom," you urge, pushing him off before tugging him further into the back of the truck.

It's barely wide enough to fit you both but you figure that doing it in the open, where all the team members gather, would be too much. You're not that shameless.

The bathroom door slams shut behind Zak and he wastes no time pressing you against the sink, the counter digging against your tailbone. All discomfort is forgotten, however, when Zak pushes a knee between your legs.

"You really know...how to...make me feel better," Zak manages between heavy breaths and wet kisses against your neck. You suppress a moan, unwilling to let him know just how much this is affecting you.

"Of course," you breathe out. "I know you."

Zak returns to your lips, hands slipping beneath your ART uniform, fingers expertly unhooking your bra from behind. You whimper when you feel it come undone, Zak already groping you beneath the fabric.

"How far?" Zak asks, voice quiet, hands stopping their movements.

"What?" You ask in a daze, the question not quite registering.

"How far will you let me...," Zak trails off. His eyes seem clearer now, as if it's dawned on him what the situation is.

He's about to fuck his race engineer.

"All the way, if you want," comes your immediate reply. And you mean it. You want it.

Zak's eyes zero in on yours. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah."

There is no hesitation in the way he discards his race suit and bottom fireproofs, elbows banging against the door and the wall as he tries to rid himself of all the barriers between you and him. You're pressed up against him as you undo your own pants, shimmying out of it and your underwear at record speed.

A startled cry escapes you as you feel yourself lift off the ground but you're immediately appeased when you feel Zak's firm arms beneath your thighs, gently letting you down on the sink countertop. You laugh in disbelief and for the first time this weekend, you see Zak crack a genuine smile before he leans in to retake your lips in his.

You shift around uncomfortably as the cold tile presses against your bare skin but you halt all movements and thoughts when you feel Zak press two fingers against your aching core.

He rubs at your wetness slowly, almost lazy in the way he swipes between your folds. You shiver under his touch, forehead resting against the side of his neck.

"You don't have to be so careful," you quip, smiling as you tangle your fingers into his hair. Zak's laugh rumbles through and you pull back just enough to look at him.

"But I need my race engineer," Zak teases back with a grin. "I don't wanna hurt her too much."

You burst out laughing, circling your arms around his neck. A few seconds pass by with the two of you just staring, taking a quiet moment to let it all sink in.

"You won't," comes your reassurance. "I can take it."

Zak's bottom lip slips between his teeth and his eyes darken at your encouragement. Your heart pounds as he pries your legs apart, reaching down to angle himself with your entrance.

You grip the counter below you as you lean back against the mirror, mewling, Zak's length pushing into you. You catch Zak glance down at where you're joined and he quickly curses, averting his eyes, as if the mere sight of his cock sheathed inside you would push him to the brink.

"Please," is all it takes from you for Zak to slam his hips against yours. Over and over, he pulls out and pushes back in, the sounds obscene in the cramped space of the bathroom.

He braces himself against the same mirror, which you now notice has fogged up. Your legs lock around Zak's waist, caging him in against you. It's effortless, how he holds you in place, pinning you down with his weight, his other hand gripping at your hip. Your eyes roll back into your head as Zak loses all inhibition, fucking you as if it's his last time doing so.

Zak glances at the mirror and trains his eyes on your face right after. He takes hold of your jaw, imploring you to look at him.

"Stand up," Zak commands, already pulling out. The abrupt stop jars you but you obey nonetheless, shakily sliding off the counter.

You gasp as Zak quickly turns you, pressing your front into the sink. He reaches over and wipes the condensation gathered on the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, Zak's broad figure a contrast from behind.

Almost instinctively, you bend over, watching the mirror in fascination, as if mesmerized at the image playing out.

"Good girl," Zak praises, slipping back inside without any resistance. Your mouth falls open as he continues, both his hands now keeping you in place by the waist.

You practically collapse against the sink with how hard Zak is going, your knuckles turning white as you hold on to the edges of the countertop.

Zak doesn't seem pleased with this and you're abruptly yanked back, the sting in your scalp eliciting a moan from you. He twists his hand even more in your hair, forcing your head back.

"Zak!" You cry out, body nearly going limp as you're overwhelmed from all sides. He's still slamming into you, his arm now circling your torso to keep you still, his other hand pulling at your hair.

"Needed this," Zak mutters straight into your ear. "Needed you."

You whimper, forcing yourself to look in the mirror, meeting Zak's eyes through the foggy reflection.

"You have me. You can have me. Always."

Zak grunts, your words seemingly spurring him on as he loses all control now, the rhythm he set up gone as he chases his release.

"How do I get you there? Tell me what you need," Zak urges through gritted teeth. You guide his hand down to your core and he understands.

Both of you forget to suppress your noises, using each other to reach the edge. Zak's fingertips toy with your clit and your walls clench down tighter and tighter around his cock. You can vaguely hear Zak repeating your name over and over through the blood rushing in your ears and you're pretty sure your mouth is moving of its own accord, cursing and begging.

And all at once, Zak stills with a groan, teeth digging into the fabric of your shirt, almost painful as he finishes inside you. You grind against his hand, determined to get there too, and eventually your vision whites out and you cum all over Zak's length.

It takes a full minute for both of you to recover, you slumping over the sink, your whole body aching and stinging in different places. Zak rests his head on your shoulder from behind, his arms cradling you almost reverently.

You straighten up as best as you can, peering over your shoulder. Zak pulls out and quickly reaches over to yank a few sheets of tissue off the roll next to the sink. He hands them to you and you accept it with a giggle, wiping yourself clean.

You discard the soiled tissues before turning to face Zak fully. His hair is stuck up in different directions and his eyes are watery but so much brighter than an hour ago. He grins, leaning in.

He kisses you, all soft and bashful. You pull away, cradling his face in your hands.

"Better?" You ask, running your thumb over his cheekbone. Zak smiles, holding your hand in place as he leans into your palm. He kisses the inside of your wrist and you feel your heart come to a stop.

"Thank you," Zak whispers. You nod, offering another smile.

"Maybe we can debrief on our own over dinner later?" Zak hurriedly adds, eyebrows raised and tone hopeful.

You run a hand through his hair, gently scratching against his scalp, Zak's eyes fluttering close.

"Of course. I need to take care of you," you whisper, running your thumb over his cheek, at the prominent bone that gave him the handsome look you adored so much.

"I don't like it," Zak admits. "Makes me feel useless."

You giggle. "Well then, once you're better, you best believe all your laundry will be waiting for you."

"I hate laundry," Zak complains, pouting even more.

"I know," you say with a laugh. "That's why I did it this time. Couldn't fit all your race stuff and team kits into one load. I had to do three, Zak. Three."

Zak stares at you for a moment, eyes wandering over the planes of your face, before shifting to stare directly into your own irises. His hands gently take hold of your sides, rubbing up and down, hiking your shirt up little by little as he goes.

"I don't like where this is going," you warn, moving to stop him. Zak slips further down the bed, his face now level with your navel.

"Zak...," you begin.

"You've been so great while I was away and sick. Let me do something for you. Please?" Zak's fingertips ghost over the tops of your thighs. He gently pries them apart, moving down again so he's face to face with your pelvis.

"You're ill, babe," you reiterate, bottom lip catching between your teeth as Zak's thumbs hook into the waistband of your shorts.

You sigh, knowing there isn't any stopping him once he's put his mind to things. He tugs your bottoms and underwear down, helping you lift your hips up before tossing the garments to the side.

"It's not like I'm kissing you on those lips, babe," Zak reasons with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'm kissing you down here."

This earns an exasperated roll of your eye. "Get on with it, then."

Zak grins, leaning down, tongue darting out to lick at the heat between your legs. You gasp softly, the warmth a startling sensation. Your legs are pulled even further apart, Zak's mouth now latched onto your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper when you feel his tongue flatten against your sensitive nub. He suckles on it gently before flicking repeatedly, just as he knows you like it. You shiver, never getting used to how good Zak does this.

You peer down at him, the top of his head and his eyes the only things visible from your vantage. Zak peeks up at you and your breath catches in your throat. Fingers are soon tangled in his mop of dark hair, twisting as he pushes his tongue into your waiting hole.

Without breaking eye contact, Zak starts to fuck into you slowly, that tongue of his pushing you closer and closer to release.

"Baby," you whisper, the rush of blood in your ears nearly deafening in comparison. "Fuck, babe, you feel so good."

Zak hums against you and you whine, hips bucking up involuntarily. He laughs, pulling away for a moment, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He makes a show of licking it off his mouth and you shudder, gently tugging him back down.

"Fingers, Zak," you choke out. "Use your fingers."

Zak immediately slicks up his pointer and middle finger with his spit, teasing at your entrance right after. You're about to cuss him out for taking too long when you feel both enter you at the same time.

You're rendered speechless once more as Zak fucks you with his fingers, his mouth soon joining, resuming its ministrations on your clit.

You feel the world spin around you, every inch of your skin on fire. You can sense it, the tightness in your abdomen. The pressure only builds, greater and greater with each curl of Zak's digits inside you, with each swipe of his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

It's all getting too much, like something might rip out of you, your whole body tingles and you're sure you're hurting him with how tight you're clutching at his hair, and then–

You see white. Your body explodes with euphoria, a cry of Zak's name escaping your lips. Tears are blinked out of your eyes, your vision blurry as you're unable to focus on what's in front of you.

Your chest is heaving as you're slowly brought back down to Earth. Your fingers loosen around Zak's hair, an apology already on the tip of your tongue. Zak looks up and the gasp that you let out is almost comical.

"Oh my god, did I do that?" You ask in disbelief, eyeing the sheets that are soaked with your release. Zak squints at you, one eye closed, obviously coming out as, well, collateral damage.

"Don't know who else, babe," Zak teases, using his shirt to wipe at the remnants around his face. The dark blue fabric around his neck comes out almost black.

You arrived early this morning, rushing to your hotel, and packing what you needed for the day. You tried to get some shut-eye, managing to get barely three hours of sleep. And then off to the track you went.

Zak doesn't know you're here. You had to lie through your teeth to your own best friend. You told him Monaco just wasn't in the cards and that you'd see him race some other time. In Silverstone, maybe, or Monza.

He has no clue that you're sitting here, with bated breath, as the lap count ticks down with every minute. Zak is leading but he hasn't pitted yet, and they're about to enter the second to the last lap of the race, and what the fuck are they doing not pitting him yet?

Then it happens, almost too quick for you to register. The large screen in front of your section shows a collision. Yellow flag. Virtual safety car.

You're confused for a moment, shocked exclamations erupting around you, but then you see it happen. Zak pits in the midst of the safety car, rushes out, and comes out a second ahead of the whole pack.

You don't even notice how loud you gasp as you finally realize what's happening. One more lap to go and Zak is leading.

The seconds seem to tick by awfully slow yet the race is coming to an end right before your eyes. The checkered flag waves and he crosses the line and the crowd erupts in cheers, mixed with disbelief and genuine awe.

His team gambled and he walked away with the jackpot.

Zak O'Sullivan, Monaco race winner.

Everything played out in one big blur after. You were clapping, then you were crying, running, squeezing through people, pushing, praying that you get to the paddock unscathed.

You pause for a second in front of a screen to watch the champagne spray around Zak on the podium. He's beaming, still in awe himself. You feel the tears come once more and you sprint through the throngs of people and down the streets of Monte Carlo.

You arrive at where the team support trucks are, growing nervous with each step. You came alone and sure, some of the ART people knew who you were, but without Zak, you're feeling a little lost.

You stop in front of the ART truck and it's quiet, as you expected, with all of the employees probably down at the podium celebrations. A pair of personnel clad in the team kit exit the vehicle just as you contemplate contacting Zak's trainer.

"Hi," one of them greets, a sprightly young woman around your age greets. Probably one of the communication people.

"Are you here for Victor or–"

"Zak," you rush out. "I'm ______, his friend. I've gone with him back in Bahrain and Jeddah this year, but I came just this morning so..."

"Oh! Yes, it's you. I remember now, Zak's friend, yeah," the other cuts in. "He was pretty bummed out today, saying something about how you couldn't make it?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks. "Yes, that's me. I wanted to surprise him."

"Well, consider me surprised."

You turn around, your heart leaping into your throat. Standing there is the best friend himself, drenched in champagne and holding his winning trophy to his side.

Zak rushes to you and pulls you into a hug, handing off his trophy momentarily to the employees. You feel his arms circle around your waist just as you feel the rest of your tears fall.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper as you bury your face into his shoulder.

"I thought you couldn't make it," Zak says, pulling away slightly to peer at your tear-streaked face. "But my luck just keeps getting better, huh?"

You meet his eyes and you can see the sparkle of victory in his irises. He grins down at you and pulls you in again, swaying you from side to side.

"Zak, we need a bit more media from you," comes a voice calling out from further down the paddock.

"I'll be a minute!" Zak calls over his shoulder, slipping his hand in yours. "Take my trophy with you but be careful!"

You giggle, glancing behind to see the ART personnel shake their heads in disbelief.

"Come here a second," Zak says, pulling you toward the entrance to their makeshift motorhome for the weekend.

You step inside, familiar with how the interior is, having seen something similar from when Zak was still in Prema last year. You're usually not allowed inside, but riding off a win, you suppose no one dared argue with Zak.

The door shuts and Zak turns to look at you. His eyes scan your face, a smile growing wider on his lips.

"You're here," Zak states as if still not believing it.

"I'm sorry I lied," you admit sheepishly. "I wanted to surprise you, maybe comfort you if the race doesn't go as planned."

Zak chuckles, stepping closer and taking your other hand. You take a good look at your best friend and you feel yourself tear up again.

"But I'm here to celebrate your first podium, a win in Monaco, instead. How about that?" You finish, letting out a breath as Zak takes ahold of your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"How about that, indeed," Zak repeats, tilting your head up so you're looking at him.

You're quite familiar with how success can make you do uncharacteristic things. It makes you reckless, unboundedly giddy. Drivers lock lips with their significant others in front of the camera after a win. Shirts discarded. Champagne poured down their bodies.

Oh, but you're not Zak's girlfriend. There are no cameras.

But you taste the champagne just the same as Zak pulls you in, kissing you with so much force it drives you back against the door.

You reach behind you, still having the presence of mind to turn the lock and bar anyone from walking in on you and Zak.

You grab at the half-undone collar of Zak's race suit, tugging the zipper down in one fell swoop. Zak pulls away, long enough to shrug his suit off, just enough so it hangs under his hips.

You understand now, that underneath it all, success makes you horny.

"Zak," you begin. "What...wait–"

Your best friend pauses, breathing heavily, hair mussed up and lips shiny from kissing you.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him with every fiber of your being.

"We can stop," Zak offers, reaching out tentatively. He brushes some strands of hair away from your face.

"I just...I was really lucky today and I thought maybe I should just gamble one more time," he explains, trailing his fingers down the side of your face, to your neck, fingertips lightly brushing against your collarbone.

You get it. Or you think you do. He wants you, too.

You pause. You turn it over in your head for a second. What this means for the both of you. If you do this, you step out of this truck as something different from when you entered.

"Come here," you whisper, grasping the back of Zak's neck before leaning in to kiss him again. He groans, large hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against him.

You can feel him poking through his fireproofs and you moan into the kiss, grinding hard against the stiffness. Your dress hikes up as you wrap a leg around Zak's waist.

"Fuck," he curses. "I didn't...god, have I had a boner all this time?"

You giggle, rubbing even more on Zak. He groans, throwing his head back, his hold on your waist almost vice-like.

"Winning does that to you," you whisper, kissing along his defined jawline.

"My race winner," you say right next to Zak's ear, biting down on his earlobe after.

Zak buries his face into the crook of your neck, rutting against you, desperate for release. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug lightly, whimpering as the friction through your underwear increases.

"Oh god, look at us," you mutter hurriedly. "Grinding and humping like a bunch of horny school kids."

"I'm gonna cum," Zak warns, pulling off slightly before reaching into his fireproof bottoms. He pulls his length out, pumping furiously.

You pull your dress all the way up to your stomach, tugging your underwear away just enough to let Zak have a view of how drenched you are. Your fingers reach down to circle around your clit as Zak continues to jerk off.

"Cum in them," you offer, gesturing to your panties. "I'll keep it on the whole day."

Zak's mouth hangs open as he finishes all over his fist and into the fabric of your underwear, the delicate material catching his sticky release. The sight of the mess pushes you over the edge yourself, your knees buckling slightly as you try to keep yourself upright through your euphoria.

You retract your hand from between your legs, panting and noticing you've worked up a sweat, as if you had just gone for a long, very sexually-charged jog.

Zak looks at you and smiles, taking your soiled hand and licking your fingers clean off. He winks as his lips let go with a pop! and you reach over to smack him in the chest.

"Naughty," you grumble, though you're grinning just as wide.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Zak taunts, pressing a kiss to your lips. You sigh against it and savor it all: Zak's touch, the smell of champagne on his skin, and the glow that seems to envelop you two now.

"They're probably looking for you," you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I'll be back," Zak reassures, stepping back. He stills for a moment and takes the image of you in once more before kissing your cheek.

You thought it was a one-off thing. Maybe a two-off. Three times is enough, you said. Your conservative estimate now would be between five and ten.

Though, admittedly, you like having Zak's attention like this. In the weeks between Monaco and Barcelona, so intense was his yearning for you that he flew you out to Yonne just to see you during the days he'd be cooped up at the sim at headquarters. You'd flown out together to Spain and ART was gracious enough (or perhaps perceptive) to provide you with passes for the next few weeks.

And now, in rainy Silverstone, your hand finds its place once again in his.

Zak rests his arm on the backrest of your chair, his head tilting closer to yours. You feel him place a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Not here," you immediately whisper, swatting at Zak's thigh.

"What? Can't I kiss my partner around here?" Zak questions, leaning in once more. You pull away before he can even make contact.

"But I'm not your partner," you say, giving Zak a pointed look.

Zak shrugs. "They think you are."

"But I'm not," you repeat, voice dropping to a whisper. "That stuff is only reserved for the bedroom, remember?"

Zak chuckles, eyes glancing up for a moment as if recalling a fond memory.

"We didn't really do it in the bedroom in Monaco–ow!"

Your fingers pinch harshly at Zak's side, eyes widening threateningly at him. He sighs, taking your hand in his before planting a sweet kiss on your palm.

"Go on back to the hotel," Zak suggests. "I'll be there right after debrief."

"I hope you like it when I'm asleep because a nap sounds good right now," you respond teasingly before giving him a playful shove.

You stand up, grabbing Zak's shoulder firmly before walking out of the tent.

-

It turns out, in fact, that you really needed that nap.

You didn't even bother changing out of the dress you had on for the day as you slumped onto Zak's hotel bed. You felt bad for a split second, figuring that if you were this tired, then Zak must feel even worse. All was forgotten, however, when the heaviness of your eyelids took over.

Slowly emerging from your slumber now, the first thing you notice is the stillness in the room around you. It's the same as when you fell asleep but the walls are awash with the fading light of dusk streaming in from the large window opposite you. But a slight shift in the air alerts you more, the remnants of sleep fading away steadily.

You feel a warm touch travel up your exposed thigh, all the way under your dress, which had hiked up considerably in your sleep.

You inhale, shifting to your side, nearly fully awake now. Zak's face swims into view, his expression etched with mild concern as he eyes you. He's back in his team kit, phone in hand as if mid-scroll, his upper body propped up against the headboard. You glance down to see that his hand still rests on your thigh, large and rough against your supple skin.

"Slept well?" he asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face. You mumble an unintelligible version of 'yes' before sidling up to his side, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smells as race day usually does–sweat, a hint of fuel, rubber, his perfume, hotel soap.

Zak chuckles and you feel the sound rumble through his body. You feel yourself drifting off again but you try to fight it, worrying that Zak might need you right now. A listening ear, perhaps, or a shoulder to cry on.

"Still tired, babe?" Zak asks, pulling you closer.

"A bit," you admit. You pull back slightly to look at him. "You should be the one resting, though."

Zak just smiles, leaning in. He kisses you firmly and you sigh, your arm weakly thrown around his neck.

"I'll rest in a bit," Zak whispers against your lips. "You should go back to sleep."

You blink, studying Zak's face for a moment. You're close to taking his advice, but you know he's itching for something and he's just too much of a gentleman to say so.

"You can...you know," you begin, reaching down to slowly undo the front buttons of your dress.

"While I'm asleep."

Zak visibly gulps, eyes going wide as he takes in what you're suggesting. You let your dress fall open, exposing your stomach and your chest. You let your eyes close again your hand lazily guiding Zak's in between your legs.

"Only if you want to, though," you add with a hint of a smirk.

"Are you sure?" Zak questions, voice low and quiet. You peek an eye open, giggling at how worried he looks.

"Yes. I trust you, Zak."

You close your eyes again and exhale, letting your breathing even out. You genuinely are still drowsy but you feel wetness pool between your legs at the anticipation of whether or not Zak is going to bite at your proposition.

Nothing happens for a few seconds and you're convinced Zak is going to refuse and the two of you will just nap until the early hours of the morning. But the bed sinks around you and you feel Zak's large hands smooth down your sides.

"Safe word is still Monaco," Zak whispers before kissing behind your ear. He makes his way down your neck and over your chest, pulling one of your bra's cups down to expose your aching nipple.

You sigh, teetering between wakefulness and sleep, as Zak suckles on your nub. His hand reaches down and slips expertly into your underwear, as he's done many times before. You groan as his fingers quickly find your clit, Zak now perfectly acquainted with your body.

The thought sends your heart thumping.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, eyes fluttering as you keep them closed. You feel yourself get wetter and wetter as Zak rubs delicately over you, his tongue mimicking the movements on your teat.

"So pretty," Zak mumbles against your skin. "Can I use you, babe? Let me blow off some steam?"

You don't answer. Zak chuckles, pulling away. He yanks your open dress off your shoulders, maneuvering you around as he pries it completely off you. The next thing to go is your panties, tugged down impatiently, in such haste that they dangle almost pathetically on one of your legs.

Your eyes fly open when you feel your body flip over, your face smushed against the pillow and your arms splayed awkwardly. You whine helplessly, glancing back at Zak. His eyes are dark as he stares down at your motionless form, his hands working to undo his belt and zipper.

"Go back to sleep," Zak coaxes, pulling his bottoms down just enough to let his cock spring free. He leans down and kisses your forehead, a sigh escaping your lips as you close your eyes once more.

"Good girl," Zak whispers. He parts your legs and you feel him angle himself at your entrance. He pushes in halfway through and you let out a strangled moan, arching back into Zak's frame.

"Fuck," he mutters, grabbing your hips and sheathing all the way in. You slump forward, burying your face into the pillow as you accommodate the stretch between your legs.

Zak presses his weight down on you, effectively trapping you beneath him as he fucks you harshly. He grunts loudly in your ear, nearly animalistic in the way he moves. You let yourself get manhandled, limp as a ragdoll as Zak pulls you even closer against him, the desperation evident. He's angry, of course. Annoyed. Frustrated. The past three weeks have been hell for him, this weekend, especially. A home race to forget.

"Oh, sweetheart," Zak coos sweetly. "So good for me, letting me use you like this."

It's almost a crushing feeling in your chest with the way Zak has you pinned down, but you gasp and sigh and mewl, drooling all over the sheets, all the while your eyes are still closed.

"Z-Zak...," you manage to croak out.

"I know, baby, I know," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm almost there. Wanna cum in you so bad."

You whine in mock protest, making a move to grab at Zak's arm that's snaked around your torso. He holds you even tighter against him.

He doesn't let up in the slightest, slamming his hips down roughly against yours repeatedly. He's digging his nails into your hips now and you know for a fact that you'll wake up tomorrow bruised in several places. But you don't mind. Not when it feels this good to have Zak take his anger out on you.

"God, fuck–!"

Zak doesn't even finish speaking before he groans right in your ear, pressing further into you as he spills himself inside. You pant as the exhilaration in your chest comes to a boil, the feeling of Zak twitching and emptying himself in you turning you on even more.

You take in a big gulp of air as you feel the weight lift off you, Zak hastily rolling onto one side of the bed. A yawn escapes you as you blink the bleariness away from your eyes.

"Feel better?" You ask, reaching for Zak's hand.

He grins, so widely it makes you laugh. Zak squeezes your palm, pressing a long, tender kiss to the top of your head.

You raise your eyebrows at this. "Ollie told you? You talk often?"

"Don't change the subject," Marta says rolling her eyes. She sidles up to you as you start to walk out of the garage, back to Prema's service truck.

"Come on, Amna and Hamda will be there, it'll be fun," Marta pleads, nudging you lightly.

You sigh, contemplating on it. A few days in Mallorca, with friends, and for sure, free-flowing alcohol. The FRECA season hasn't been good to you lately and a trip like this one before the season picks up again in Imola might do you well.

It's a no-brainer. And yet...

"Is...he going?" You tread cautiously, already rolling your eyes at the way Marta grins at your question.

"Zak? Yeah, he is. What's the deal with you two?" Marta asks, just as you two arrive at the service truck.

You two let yourselves in, momentarily distracted by the strategists and engineers who congratulate you and Marta's qualifying positions. Mostly Marta's P5, though. Not much to celebrate about your P17.

"The deal is..." you begin once you're settled in the small sitting area on the second floor. "He and I are just kind of awkward around each other. He's always so standoffish when I'm around. So I don't push, 'cause I wouldn't want to bother him if he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Standoffish?" Marta asks. "Like, Zak ignores you?"

You nod. "Never knew why but I guess he just doesn't like me that much."

"That's crazy. What's there to dislike?" Marta asks incredulously.

"Ask him," you say. "He's left Prema and all and he still hasn't said a word to me other than, 'hi', 'bye', or 'see you'."

"Maybe he likes you," Marta suggests, plopping down on one of the chairs.

"No," you immediately interject. "Don't give me that, 'he avoids you so he must like you' theory. It's so cliche!"

Marta just shrugs. "Cliche, yes. Impossible? No."

You let out a breath, opening your driver room door. Just then, Rafael comes bounding up the steps, grinning, fresh from his pole position celebrations.

"That's pole, ladies!" He exclaims. "My mind's already celebrating in Mallorca."

Marta throws her balaclava at Rafael, who catches it with ease.

"At least someone's happy about Mallorca," Marta comments, turning to look at you knowingly.

You huff, slamming your door shut.

-

"Hi."

You already know who the man standing in the aisle next to you is. This was your connecting flight to Mallorca from Heathrow Airport and the moment Zak texted the group chat that his flight was the exact same time as yours, you already knew you'd run into him.

You look up and sure enough, Zak has his lips pursed as he eyes the seat next to you.

Great. Not only are you on the same flight. He's sitting right next to you, too.

"Hi Zak," you mumble quietly, the feeling of his name in your mouth so unfamiliar that you almost cringe.

"You can take this seat and I'll just move," you hurriedly add, not wanting to stretch the conversation any longer. You scoot over to the middle seat before hauling yourself all the way to the one next to the window.

Zak blinks, giving you a look. He shakes his head, situating himself in the seat you were previously in.

"And if someone comes along and says they have that seat, what then?" Zak asks, glancing your way briefly before averting his eyes back to his phone.

You take a deep breath, your stomach flipping around weirdly. You haven't ever been this physically close to Zak, always making sure to keep your distance. The proximity makes you feel all jumpy now.

"Boarding's almost over, I'm sure no one–"

"Hi, sorry, I believe that's my seat?"

You're cut off mid-sentence by a sweet old lady, peering over at you from the aisle. Zak quickly gets up and motions for her to enter your row, smiling all gentlemanly, even guiding her by the arm. You grit your teeth as you exit the cramped space, letting the woman shuffle into the widow seat.

"Aisle seat is yours," Zak says with a smirk, gesturing to the place he just vacated.

"Wouldn't want you to bear the inconvenience of the middle one," he adds.

"Thanks," you reply quietly, settling back down into your original place as Zak takes the space between you and the old lady.

"Long time no see, _______," Zak greets, smiling at you politely.

"Yeah," you say rather flatly. "Leaving the team kind of does that."

"I didn't leave," Zak counters matter-of-factly. "I was...There wasn't enough space left for me at Prema. That F2 seat wasn't going to be for me, anyway, unless I find another team."

There's a moment of silence as you suddenly feel bad for wording it the way you did. You glance up at Zak and find that he's already looking. You look away, heart leaping in your chest.

"Sorry," you mutter under your breath.

"You're good," Zak says with a sigh.

-

You blink your eyes open, finding yourself rather warm in the airconditioned aircraft.

Then the smell hits you. Perfume, vaguely manly. And then the feeling of a soft wool sweater against your cheek registers in your mind. Someone is leaning their head against yours from above.

That's when the dots connect in your head.

You've fallen asleep on Zak's shoulder.

In that short amount of time from when you took off and the moment you fell asleep, you managed to cuddle up to your...enemy? Ex-teammate? Ferenemy?

You shift your eyes downward and see that your arm has coiled around his own, his fingers loosely wrapped around yours, as if the two of you were just holding hands. Zak must have felt the sudden rigidness in your body because you feel him wake up as he raises his head, pulling away from you.

You retract your own arm, smoothing your hair down, and avoiding eye contact. Zak clears his throat, busying himself with his phone.

"We're about to land," Zak says.

You merely nod, your chest squeezing tightly.

"I was about to wake both of you, but you two looked so peaceful," the old lady suddenly says, drawing both your and Zak's attention.

"What a lovely couple," she adds, grinning at you both.

You smile weakly in return and Zak mumbles a nervous 'thank you'.

-

"This villa is huge!" Hamda exclaims, bounding through the foyer of the beach house your group has rented for the week.

You pull your suitcase past the landing, neck craning as you take your temporary residence in.

The ceiling's high, with a balcony overlooking the entrance from the second floor. The kitchen is to the right and the living room is to your left. Large glass double doors are straight ahead, leading to a garden which then leads to the beach.

"It says there are six rooms," Marta declares, peering at her phone. "And there's twelve of us, so that's perfect."

"I'm rooming with Dino," Paul cuts in, already hauling his stuff up the stairs. Dino gives the group a thumbs up as he follows Paul.

"Okay, there should also be two beds in each room," Marta adds. "So no one can complain about their roommate punching them in their sleep."

The Al-Qubaisi sisters stalk off on their own, automatically roommates. Arthur and Ollie decide to room together, with Rafael and Gabriele racing up the stairs to see who gets to their room first.

Doriane sticks around with Marta, helping the older organize the kitchen before they retreat to their own room.

That leaves you and Zak because of course it does.

"I can room with the other guys," Zak offers as the two of you stand around the living room.

You give it a thought. Marta did say it would be two beds.

"I'd feel bad if I had a room to myself while everyone has a roommate," you reason, hauling your luggage along.

"I mean, if you don't want to room with me, that's fine–"

"No," Zak cuts in quickly. "I mean, it's fine. We can share a room."

"Are you two roommates?" Marta asks from the kitchen, peering through the doorway. Doriane gives the two of you a look before nudging Marta not-so-discreetly.

"Yep," you respond, trying to act casual. "That happens when there are more guys than girls."

You're about to drag your stuff up the stairs when Zak slips his own hand into the handle of your suitcase. You pull your hand back, as if burned, peering up at him.

"Let me," Zak offers, bounding up the stairs easily, both your and his things in his hands.

Unbeknownst to you, a violent blush creeps up your whole neck and face.

You follow Zak to one of the two remaining rooms. He pauses by the door and turns to you. "You wanna take this one?"

You nod, just wanting to get settled down and bond with the other girls. The image of Zak's hand around yours is still fresh in your mind and you don't like the way it sends flutters through your stomach.

You need to get far away from this man before you say or do something drastic.

He sets the bags down and pushes the door open. There's a short hallway leading to the actual room, concealing the rest of it from view. Zak shuffles in, past the bathroom to your left and the closet to the right. You follow at a distance, startling when Zak cusses.

You approach, peeking at where Zak is looking and your heart sinks.

"Dino and I were supposed to pick this one, but it only has one bed."

You turn to see Paul standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face. Dino peeks from behind him and gives you a kissy face which he quickly drops when Zak turns to look as well.

"We can let Marta and Doriane have this one," you offer up to Zak, already grabbing the handle of your bag.

"They already picked the other one," Paul says hurriedly, reaching for the doorknob. "We'll leave you guys to unpack. Bye!"

He swings the door closed and you're about to protest when you decide against it. Knowing the rest of them, they probably planned this ahead of time and they'll give both you and Zak hell if you refuse.

You turn to Zak who looks just as confused as you. You sigh, setting your things down at the far end of the room, just beneath the large window looking out into the ocean.

"It has a nice view," you comment, watching as the clouds breeze past in the sky. You feel Zak come up behind you and you freeze, trying not to crowd into his personal space.

"Huh," Zak begins. "It does. I guess that's one good thing about this room."

You turn around fully, facing Zak as he looks out through the window. He glances down at you and you realize how close the two of you are standing together.

He has his glasses on, which you always thought made him look cuter than usual. You blink the thought away as you brush past him, seating yourself on the bed.

"At least it's queen-sized," Zak remarks, kneeling down beside his suitcase. He unzips it, rummaging through his things.

"Yeah," you agree, half distracted by the way his jaw clenches.

"I won't give you a hard time, I promise," Zak says with an apologetic smile.

"Likewise," you reply.

The two of you fall into silence for a few seconds. Zak makes a face and you can't help the laugh that escapes you.

"Did we ever figure out why we're so weird with each other?" Zak asks, pulling himself up to his knees so he's level with you as you continue to perch at the edge of the bed.

If you reach out now, you'll be able to touch him. His hands hover awkwardly in front of him as if he's deciding whether to lay them on your thighs or not.

You shake your head, pulling yourself further up the bed before rolling off of it completely.

"Don't know what you're talking about," you brush off, heading straight for the door.

-

You sigh as the cool air of the room hits your freshly showered skin, the faint scent of body wash reaching your nose as you scan the room.

Zak is nowhere to be found and you fight against the twinge of disappointment that pokes through your chest.

He'd been weird with you the whole day. More so than usual. Or, at least you think he was.

The group decided to spend the rest of the daylight hours on the beach, splashing around and sitting out in the afternoon sun. You were having trouble with your sunscreen, particularly reaching over your shoulder to your back. Zak just so happened to see you and offered to do it for you.

"Move your hair a bit, yeah?" He said when your reply came as stunned silence, brushing some of your hair away over your shoulder.

You felt his hand move over your upper back, traveling lower with each swipe of the product. You flinched when you felt him brush against the small of your back.

"Thanks," you said, in a hurry to pull away. You've just spotted the others watching you two like a bunch of vultures, happily taking in every interaction you and Zak had.

It also didn't escape your notice the way he'd help you out of the water each time, the sand weighing your bare feet down.

"Talk about a change of heart," Marta had whispered to you as you were entering the villa just after sunset.

"He was watching you and not the sun when it was going down," Marta added, elbowing you playfully.

And now, you're looking for him, though subconsciously, but you're aware enough to know that something had indeed shifted today.

"Hey."

You turn to see Zak in the doorway, hair still damp, and a fresh set of clothes on.

"Where were you? I thought I'd let you shower first," Zak asks, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"I showered in Marta and Doriane's room," you reply. "Thought I'd let you have a moment alone."

Zak's eyebrows furrow. "I'd like a moment with you, though?"

Your eyes widen and you laugh, all nerves and uncertainty.

"You have all night with me, Zak, seeing as we're sharing a bed," you remind, patting his shoulder goodnaturedly as you scurry past him into the hallway.

"Sounds great!" Zak calls out from behind you, your lips spreading into a smile.

-

Dinner was a fun affair, with the food prepared mainly by Marta and Paul. The drinks came out not too long after.

And now, some bottles of beer later (mixed with whatever cocktail Ollie came up with), you're stumbling into your room, trying to walk in a straight line. Keyword is trying.

You nearly jump right out of your skin when you hear the door close behind you.

"Whoa, sorry, it's just me," Zak says with a chuckle, holding his hands out toward you as if scared you're gonna topple forward.

"I need to sleep," you mumble, words slurring around the edges.

You climb onto the mattress, burrowing yourself under the fluffy covers. You watch with bleary eyes as Zak moves to the other side of the bed, sliding in beside you.

The bed shifts under his weight and you close your eyes trying to will yourself to sleep, but despite the alcohol, your heart beats wildly in your chest, more so when Zak's arm momentarily brushes against yours.

"I'll turn the light off," Zak announces. You merely hum in return.

The room is plunged into darkness as the lamp goes off, the room filled only with the steady hum of the air conditioning. Neither you nor Zak move, but you're nearly a hundred percent sure that he's still awake.

The minutes tick by but you're still lucid, watching as the moonlight filters in through the window. Zak finally rolls over and you assume that he's fallen asleep by now.

That is until you feel his hand reach for yours under the cover.

"Zak," comes your hushed whisper.

"Hm?" Zak questions.

He threads his fingers through yours but you feel a slight tremble in his hand, like he's waiting for you to reject him and pull away. You make no indication of doing so, running your thumb over his skin.

"Why are we weird with each other?"

Your question hangs in the air for a few seconds. Zak shifts even closer and you let him, finally looking over to his side of the bed.

You can see the faint outlines of his features, his eyes wide and looking straight at you. Turning over to your side, you notice just how close your faces are.

"I thought you would have figured it out by now," Zak says, voice low.

You hear the blood rushing in your ears. Your heart hammering against your ribcage. Your hand shaking as you bring it up to rest against Zak's cheek.

He closes his eyes at the contact, expression softening as if finally letting himself feel you. Really feel you.

You push yourself up on your elbow, hovering over Zak as your hair falls, curtain-like around your face. He tucks it behind your ear, hand resting on the back of your neck after.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean down to kiss Zak, catching him by surprise as he freezes for a moment. He quickly springs into action and parts his lips against yours, sighing into the kiss.

You swing your leg over his torso, situating yourself on him, giggling as his hands fly down to grip your waist.

"You like me," you whisper, breath fanning against Zak's face.

Zak laughs, palms smoothing down your sides before stopping at your ass, fingers squeezing at your flesh.

You gasp, swatting Zak in the chest.

"Yes, I fucking like you, I have for years now," Zak confirms, leaning up to peck you on your lips.

You kiss him fully once more, your own hands creeping up under his shirt.

"Worth it?" You ask.

Zak bites his lip as you rake your nails over the bare skin of his abdomen.

"Definitely."

-

"The walls are very thin, you know." Paul points an accusatory finger at you and Zak as you walk into the kitchen the next day.

"We had a 'no partners' rule for this trip! How come they get to fu–"

Doriane smacks Gabriele's arm to shut him up and it's at this moment you feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"They're free on a technicality," Marta says matter-of-factly. "They weren't partners when this trip started.

"You owe me a hundred euros," Arthur says, nudging Ollie.

"A hundred? We said fifty!" Ollie protests, still clearly hungover.

"Yes, but we said fifty if they kiss and get together on this trip, they clearly did more than that," Arthur points out, giving you a knowing smile.

You meet Zak's eyes and he shrugs sheepishly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

You see the whole group physically recoil, averting their eyes as if they've just intruded on an intimate moment.

liked by paularon_, liakblock, and 498 others

yn_ln hey you, long time no see

⤷zak.osullivan i love you (there are witnesses)

⤷@/zak.osullivan i love you too (nerd)

f2wags gorgeous couple as always