#Bez is with him and tries help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

formulapookie · 8 days ago

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Torino capitale peccocele, 2.5k words

Cele comes hug him after his win, he’s still on the bike, Cele still shining from his victory, he looks so happy, he deserved it so much, coming back after two weeks spent being declared unfit, a really badly place plaque in his collarbone, and a breathtaking quali, the win was his already, and the amazing start he pulled just confirmed it.

Cele looks at him with pride, yells “Bravo” and another string of words he doesn’t really understand, too focused on the feeling of the arms he’s come to call home wrapped around him, focused on Cele’s laughter and his black curls escaping the containment of the cap, he smiles back, they look at each other, then Pecco rides to Parc Fermé.

He’s happy for the win, of course he fucking is, 10 victories in 19 races, he holds up both hands to show it, smiling under the helmet, but the other thought starts settling in.

Minus 24. Minus 24. Minus 24.

He is 24 points behind Jorge. It’s almost impossible for him to win it this year. What a fucking joke really, 10 wins out of 19 races and he’s loosing the Championship.

Mathematically, he’s still in for the fight, but realistically? He lost it. He knows Jorge won’t make a mistake, he knows that even if he wins he will not achieve the Championship. And if he does achieve it, it’s because of Jorge’s mistakes, not because he did something brilliant. That’s what’s running around his head, when people hug him, tell him he’s great, a Champion in their heart.

Everything following is something he does almost robotically, talking to Jorge, taking the Valencia flag, walking to the podium, then trophy, anthem picture, no champagne, another pic, down the podium and media duties.

On SkyItalia they ask him if he would cancel the Sprint Races for the following year, of course he would, and he says that, loud and clear, he tries to hold up a mask, something, because inside he’s just empty now, an empty shell with bones, but he has to speak, and bones don’t speak, so he forces out a polite smile, a polite answer, analyzes the fight, then he goes.

And he’s back to being a sack of bones.

The walk to his motorhome is strangely quiet, both outside and inside his mind, he doesn’t even have the strength to hate himself for losing.

He just wants his space, wants to go back home, to the person he calls home, he needs to be with Cele, alone, far from everyone, feel his heartbeat and his presence.

He doesn’t want to call him tho, he doesn’t want to bother, because no matter how many times the boy tells him he could never bother him by calling he’s scared he would, because Cele won, and he has to be happy about it, after the injury most of all, and his negativity won’t do him any good.

But when he enters his rider’s room Cele is there, sitting on a chair waiting for him, and the brightest smile appears on his face when he sees Pecco. He gets up and goes to hug him, tight, almost as if he knows he can’t hold himself up alone, he keeps telling him “bravissimo, sei stato bravissimo”, whispering it in his ear, keeping him close, and Pecco can’t hold his tears in anymore, he just goes numb in the embrace and cries quietly on Cele’s shoulder.

He spends around ten minutes there, calming down gradually as Cele strokes his back, reassuring him, calling him “campione” an awful amount of times. Cele has been out of the racing gear for hours now, and he helps Pecco change into normal clothes, a pair of shorts and an academy t-shirt.

When Cele manages to sit pecco down on the couch they’re both much more relaxed, Pecco’s head went from quiet numbness and absence of thoughts to a buzzing hive full of hateful comments towards himself, first of all for losing the Championship, and secondly for holding back Cele from going to celebrate his win.

“Celin you don’t have to stay here, you won you should go celebrate, get wasted with Bez, not here with me sulking” “Don’t give me bullshit Francesco, I’m not leaving you alone with all you have running through your head, I prefer being with you and know you’re safe rather than go get drunk with Bez and ending up throwing up in a bin somewhere in Sepang” “No Celin you have to go out and have fun not solve my issues” “Say all you want I’m not leaving you here, so hop hop let’s get to the hotel so you can rest and break away from this place ok?” “But-” “No buts, let’s go”

Pecco gets basically dragged out the garage into Cele’s rented car, who drives the short five minutes from there to the Hotel with an unusual calm, and Pecco finds himself staring at Cele’s profile, more than he usually already does, lingering on the shape on his lips and his nose, which Cele always says it’s ugly but Pecco always found to be pretty and unique, giving Cele a sort of vibe that made him look like he came straight from a 19th century painting.

They park in the reserved area and get in, avoiding fans who somehow found out where they slept and decided to camp outside to snap a pic of their favourite riders.

They get to the fourth floor and into Pecco’s room, they both prefer to be at his “place” after or before a race, it makes Pecco more relaxed and Cele feels welcomed.

They both go straight to the bed, sitting on it and Pecco curls in Cele’s arms once again, as the younger strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

Pecco tilts his head up and locks eyes with Cele, and he slowly comes up to kiss him, like he always does, slow and gentle, and one of his hands rests on Cele’s thigh to hold himself up. Cele kisses him back, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him more against his chest.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated, Cele’s free hand going to tug at Pecco’s hair and Pecco letting out a soft moan at the action.

Cele breaks away pretty quickly tho, and Pecco fears he did something wrong, maybe Cele doesn’t want this and he’s forcing him, oh God what if he’s forcing Cele?

“Stop thinking so loudly Pecco I can hear your thoughts, I stopped because I need to ask you something” “Ok ok” “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of the situation and if you’re not in the mood that’s more than ok” “No no I am in the mood, are you sure you are? I know we usually - after your wins we celebrate a bit more - you know what I mean” “Yeah I do I do, I don’t care if we don’t do it like other times, slow is fine you know that”

Pecco blushes, Cele is so sweet and understanding with him he doesn’t get how someone can keep up with him and all his paranoias without getting bored at some point.

Pecco opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, the blush on his cheeks increasingly becoming redder.

“Can you - like can you - Celin can you top this time? I just want to get out of my head” “Of course, whatever makes you feel better amore” “Thank you”

They resume kissing, Cele takes the hem of Pecco’s shirt in his hands and pulls it up, discarding it on the floor beside the bed, doing the same with his shirt, before resuming the kiss and moving his hands to unbutton and unzip Pecco’s jeans, cupping his erection through the briefs.

“Celin”

It’s a broken plea, coming from Pecco who’s bucking his hips in Cele’s hand to try and get some pleasure, while Cele lays him down on the bed tugging down his pants and boxers, leaving him naked surrounded by soft sheets.

He gets up to grab the lube they left in the older’s backpack, coming back immediately to a whimpering Pecco who’s stroking himself in the wait, and it kinda makes him proud, how he managed to get him needy and hard in so little time.

Cele gets on the bed, and gently opens Pecco’s legs, squirting some lube on his hand and heating it up, then slowly pushing one finger in, it’s been a while since Pecco bottomed, but he always enjoys it when the older lets go of his mental restraints and gives himself like this

Pecco whines already at the first digit, but tells him to go on, so Cele resumes his movements, pushing the finger inside until his knuckle meets the rim, then pulling out, thrusting it a few times, then adding a second finger, scissoring them to get Pecco adjusted to the stretch.

He’s a bit rushed, but the older gets it, Cele is 23, he just won and they rarely switch, so he excuses his lack of absolute control, mostly because to get out of his head he knows it’s gonna have to be the kind of sex where he melts completely, so it’s no use being fake gentle now.

When a third finger gets pushed inside Pecco grips at the sheets, parting his lips to let out a louder moan, Cele clearly aroused by the state he got Pecco in, rutting slightly against the bed.

“I’m ready Celin I’m ready”

The younger’s eyes sparkle when he hears those words, he’s getting harder every second more and rutting against the mattress is not helping in the slightest, so he sits up and unzips his jeans, tugging them off, one leg getting stuck, a string of curse words leaving his mouth before he removes his boxers as well, throwing them on the edge of the bed.

He aligns himself with Pecco’s hole and starts pushing inside, grabbing his hips with both hands to keep him still, stroking his hip bones with his thumbs.

He lets out a deep groan once he manages to get inside all the way, Pecco feels tight, not an uncomfortable kind of tight, but he needs to move or he’s pretty certain he’ll die by just staying there.

“Gonna move ok?” “Yeah do it do it”

The first thrusts are more controlled, tentative, soft almost, because despite wanting to go faster and harder Cele also wants to keep himself in check not to hurt Pecco. But the older clearly either doesn’t care or simply doesn’t feel that pain because he immediately wraps his legs around Cele’s waist and forces him to go deeper.

“Don’t hold back I want to feel you all the way” “Ok fuck you feel good” “You feel amazing”

And both are true, Cele might not be thick like Pecco, maybe just a bit longer, it’s not like they told eachother their exact lengths, and he manages to make him feel so fucking good.

As soon as his thrusts become deeper and faster Pecco is moaning, one hand gripping the sheets and the other thrown over his eyes, occasionally shifting to comb back his hair, curls falling over his forehead, sticky from the heat and uncomfortable.

Cele picks up the pace once again, Pecco’s string of thoughts getting replaced, going from words of self-despise to just pleasure. He can only think about that, how Cele feels inside him, how their moans get mixed together in the silence of the hotel room, how he can let himself be just him and not some persona for the media, how Cele cares for him.

The younger shifts a bit to get more comfortable, moving his hand to go look for the one Pecco is gripping at the sheets with, locking their fingers together, thrusting deeper, feeling Pecco squeeze his hand with force, the older’s legs pulling him even closer, tightening their grip on his waist.

He barely has manoeuvre space, but the one he has is enough to get Pecco closer with each thrust, finding his prostate takes a bit longer than he’d like, but once again, he hasn’t topped in a while and he gets overwhelmed by having Pecco in bed with him.

Sometimes he still can’t understand how he gets to have him. Like- this one right here moaning under him is a 3xMotogp world Champion, he’s now a 10 times gp winner in a single season, he’s won so many races, and he’s the one he looked up to as a kid. When he was younger he always said “I want to be like Pecco when I grow up” and now he finds himself fucking him into the mattress of a hotel in Malaysia after they both won the race and Pecco is begging for him to go harder and harder.

When he shifts his gaze from Pecco’s face to his dick he sees it basically shiny with precum, hard and red, the vein he usually passes his tongue over when he blows him being the first thing he notices.

“You’re so hot”

The only answer Pecco gets out is a moan, arching his back slightly, mouth in a perfect o shape as Cele keeps fucking him with the same intensity as before, their moans getting mixed with the sound of skin slapping.

Cele moves the hand he’s got on Pecco’s hip next to his head to lean in and make out with him, swallowing all the pretty sounds he’s making, slowly moving down, kissing his jaw, then onto his neck, leaving a few bruises he’ll watch proudly for a few days, never stopping his thrusts, because they’re both getting closer to the edge, Pecco especially, looking anything but the composed and put together version he shows media and fans.

Pecco’s free hand goes to tangle itself in Cele’s mop of hair, so unruly he found himself many times having to comb them somehow, they’re still wet now, from the race, the sweat, the heat.

They’re as messy as him, and Pecco loves to run his hands through them when they’re laying on his couch, Cele’s head on his lap as they watch a movie.

A harder thrust gets him back to the present, the feeling of Cele hovering above him, hot breath on his neck, he still smells like a race, the acrid sting of leathers and fuel on both of them, attached to their skin.

The younger almost glistens with sweat now, he looks like a vision.

Cele can’t hold on anymore, he’s so damn close, he needs to come, so he wraps a hand around Pecco’s dick, stroking it fast, not in time with his thrusts, much faster, and Pecco comes like a fucking fountain all over Cele’s hand and his own abs, as Cele thrusts a few more times before coming inside him, moaning his name directly into his ear, before pulling out and immediately laying beside Pecco, resting his head on his chest.

They’re panting hard, now the smell of sex joining the one of racing, Cele leaving kisses on Pecco’s chest, taking the older’s hand in his again, while Pecco plays with his hair as he always does. They’ll think about getting cleaned up later on, right now they just need this, a moment to themselves, to be just them, close, in the post sex haze where they feel like one and not two people, where both feel at home.

#alice writes #my fic<3 #peccocele #motogp rpf #motogp smut #motogp fic #so yeah this one's a bit idk #but fuck it we ball

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toni-peperoni · 20 days ago

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I'm BACKKKK with more Kinktober!!

Kinktober Prompt Day 27: Biting

This one is for @ray935sworld !!

Posted here on ao3 or under the cut

Mild TW for Blood

This was not good. This was everything but good. Marc was sure he had fed enough the last time he went out with his brother to recharge, was what they called it.

How could he be running low already again. That dosage usually lasted him for a week. He needed to find Alex. He needed to get to their emergency rations. Otherwise this could go really bad.

Marc tried to rush his way through the paddock but all it really lead to, was a lot of unsecure steps and a few near falls. He was praying that no one was paying him attention out that late at night.

Especially not Bez. It was still so fresh, what had developed between them against all odds, over the course of the season, from when Bez first swallowed all his pride and came to him after another race to forget, asking him how he did it. How he made the GP23 work for him just like that.

Marc had been startled by the visitor to say the least, but Marco had looked so desperate for advice and there definitely had been tears in his eyes, Marc couldn't bring it over himself, to send him away.

Marco himself probably hadn't expected to be invited in, maybe it all had be an operation to get a new reason to not like Marc because 'he is performing better than me right now' sounded incredibly childish, or maybe he just wanted to pick a fight to have something else to concentrate on, but Marc would never know, because when he stepped aside Bez did eventually follow him in.

The conversation had been awkward at best, but Marc truely tried to explain how he did something and how the bike felt when he knew it was time for a certain move.

Bez tried to follow as best as he could, throwing in some of his own feelings when on the bike, where it blocked and what worked more or less. Marc didn't know why he was trying to help Bez so much, giving up information in the process that clearly put him ahead and Bez didn't know why he was pouring out his heart to Marc Marquez of all people. He could've asked Diggia just as well. He was making the bike work too after all.

But asking your teammate for advice? Yeah, no probably not.

The Italian went out of that talk more confused than before. Not on how the bike worked, he had a much clearer idea now. But why Marc had been so nice to him when he, well when he wasn't particularly known for saying nice things about Marc.

It was what first caused the change in their dynamic, because there certainly was one, Bez felt like he was drawn in by Marc, found that he wanted to be close to him, acknowledged the raw talent radiating off of Marc. Maybe if he just stayed close enough in his vicinity, some of it would drip onto him and he could absorb it through his skin.

They met again. And again. And again. And all of the sudden Bez found himself with a beer in his hand in Marc's motorhome laughing with him, as their legs pressed together.

They both noticed that their relationship had changed and Marc was tiptoeing around it, trying not to overstep. He liked Bez, liked how expressive he was, liked how he would go for a good sulk every now and then, but still let Marc make him laugh.

He couldn't remember how it happened in the end, but it didn't suprise him, when he suddenly had Bez lips on his own for the first time. He tasted sweet, so very alive. Marc knew he was playing a dangerous game. But his entire life was a dangerous game, choosing a safe option just wasn't like him.

He stumbled into his own motorhome. "Alex? Alex are you there?", he called out. Alex was at his' most of the time's anyways. Instead of Alex though, it was Bez sitting on his couch.

"Marc, are you okay?", he asked, looking concerned.

Shit. This was the last thing he wanted to happen. He knew he had to tell Bez eventually, but it was still so fresh. So early.

"Please go. I can't explain right now, you have to go."

"No, you look unwell. I'm not leaving you."

"Marco, I promise to tell you what's going on, but I need you to go right now. Please find Alex for me", Marc was almost begging. He could see how Bez was fighting with himself he really didn't want to leave, but Marc sounded like it was urgent. And he definitely wanted to help.

"Okay. Okay I'll get him for you. Just stay here."

Marc finally relaxed a bit, when Bez left the room, finally allowing himself to breathe again, but Bez sweet smell lingered. It was intoxicating. Marc needed to feed now or something bad could happen.

He sat down on the couch, immediately slumping back against it. He couldn't remember the last time he was that hungry.

Alex came barging through the door not five minutes later.

"What is it Marc, what's wrong?", he asked urgently, but as soon as he saw his brother he knew. "I'll get it for you, it's going to be alright, we have enough with us."

Bez was lingering in the door, leaning against the frame.

"Either come in, or stay outside, but close the door", Alex barked an order into Bez's direction, he glared at him for a second, but then stepped into the room.

The sweet smell was messing with his head, but he could see Alex already at the fridge opening the container they kept the blood reserves. It was just a soup can, but it flew under everyone's radar.

"Please look away Bez. I'll explain, but please, please."

Bez actually turned away without much of a fight, which Marc didn't expect, but he was very glad. Because he would have probably refused to drink until Bez did so. And Bez probably knew that he would have refused whatever.

"Here Marc, drink", Alex said, holding the reserve directly to his mouth. Marc immediately sank his teeth into it, piercing it in the process, to get every last drop. "That's it. Drink up."

Marc drank an entire one without stopping once and Alex already had a second one ready. Usually, he didn't need more than two a week, but it seemed like that even two wouldn't be enough right now. Only when the third one was empty Marc felt something close to sated.

Alex eyed him worriedly. This was definitely not normal. Marc swiped his hand over his mouth and licked of the rest of the blood from his skin.

"This isn't good", Marc said outloud with both of them were thinking. "I can't remember the last time I had to take that much in one go. Especially when I already had my week's share."

Alex nodded.

"But you feel fine?", Marc asked his brother. If he had a problem, it wasn't too far fetched, that Alex would too.

"No I'm fine. But you look like you are still hungry, maybe we should-"

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on", Bez cut Alex off. The two definitely knew what had been going on and Marc looked a lot better now, but from what he was hearing? It couldn't just be, that Marc hadn't eaten enough, could it? What kind of a weekly share? That all sounded very sketchy.

The two brothers looked at him, as if they had forgotten that he was there in the first place. Alex's shoulders dropped. "I'll leave you two to talk, but we have to talk about this Marc."

Marc nodded heavily, as Alex left for his own motorhome, so basically just a door further. Bez was quite positive, that Alex could still hear everything that was going on from his side of the wall.

Marc beckoned Bez over, gesturing for him to sit on the couch with him. He had thought about how he should tell Bez this, had spent countless nights debating, especially those in which he was holding Bez, pretending to sleep himself.

"Are you okay now?", was the first thing Bez wanted to know.

"I'm better, but not okay", Marc answered honestly.

"What has just happened there?", was Bez's next question.

"I- you won't believe me", Marc blocked it first.

"Marc. You said you would tell me."

"Yes I did. And I want to tell you. I always wanted to tell you eventually, but not this early. It's complicated. I can't tell people, because it would endanger Alex and myself of course, you can't tell anyone, I need to be able to trust you on that."

"Marc you are worrying me."

"I just- you need to promise me, that even if you think I'm completely insane, you can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

"Of course you can trust me!"

"Promise me."

"I promise", Bez said what Marc so desperately needed to hear.

"Okay. But I want to tell you in one go. Please just let me finish."

Bez nodded and Marc began to talk.

"I'm a vampire. I need blood to survive. Not a lot and animal blood is more than enough, though not ideal. I can eat normal food too, but it doesn't help my survival. I barely ever sleep, I can, but I don't need to. And I had my ration for this week already, but something must be wrong, you saw the state of me. Alex and I have a safety stash wherever we go for emergencies and I just drank like half of it. That usually would last as for three weeks to a month. I know, this is a lot to take in, but you have to believe me this is the truth."

Bez just sat there for a moment, Marc wasn't able to read his face. Usually he always could. But right now? No clue. Eventually the Italian got up and faced away from him.

"You know Marc, I am actually worried about you. I was actually scared for you. The least you can do is tell me the truth."

Marc's face fell. Bez left, before Marc could stop him. Alex, who apparently had seen him leave came into his living room.

"He didn't believe you?", Alex asked, eyes full of pity.

Marc just shook his head and dropped back against the cushion. He put his hands in front of his face. He would cry, if he actually could, no, he was crying, there where just no tears in his eyes anymore. There hadn't been for years.

Alex just held him close.

"You are still hungry, aren't you?", Alex asked after a while. Marc just nodded.

"I haven't fed on a human for years", Marc whispered.

They were fine on just animal blood most of the time. But every now and than they needed human blood. They hadn't actually tested how long they could go without, they usually had at least one person around they could ask if they could feed on. But Marc, well he might have just found out how long they could go without it.

"Marc", Alex warned.

"I know. But I can't feed on anyone here."

"But Bez-", Alex began only to be quickly shut down.

"Bez was my best bet, but he doesn't even believe me. I'll just have to get through the weekend and when we get home, I'll find someone."

"We only have three reserves left. This could be dangerous."

"There is no other way."

Marc's face was set and Alex knew there was nothing he could do now.

"Will you stay with me tonight?", Marc asked his brother.

"Of course", Alex smiled at him.

________________

Marc was even worse the next day. Before Qualifying had even started he had downed the last three reserves and had just barely dragged himself through Q2, somehow still ending up with fifth.

His skin had a distinct gray tinge to it, when he was sat on the grid, getting ready for the sprint. He tried to get in the zone, concentrate, but all the sweet scents clouded his mind. Especially the one a row in front of him. He tried to stare ahead and not just at Bez.

He knew he looked incredibly unwell. He was incredibly unwell. But when the visor came down, that was the least of his cares. He just rode like he had done so many times before.

He ended the race in fourth, Alex coming fifth, who practically had to catch his brother the second he was back in the garage and more or less fell of his bike, into Alex's arms.

Alex dragged him back to his motorhome and dropped him on the bed.

"Marc you can't race like that tomorrow."

Marc knew it himself.

"And you need to feed. You can't go on like that."

A sharp knock at the door.

Alex looked in the direction, not sure if he should open it.

"It's Bez", Marc said, sounding as weak as he looked.

The smell seeped through the little cracks of the front door, through the living room to his bedroom door and into his senses. It was intoxicating.

"Let him in."

Shortly after, Bez was standing in his room.

"You weren't lying."

"I wasn't", Marc whispered, barely able to produce more than that.

"Why are you still miserable?"

"We think, that the reason why Marc can't sate, is because he hasn't been drinking human blood for too long", Alex just layed out the cards.

"Okay, I'm here now."

"No Bez, I don't want you just agreeing because I'm miserable right now. I don't want to use you."

"No need help. Let me help. Please Marc."

"I would hate myself, if you would regret it."

"I won't", Bez came close to touch Marc's cheek. "I want to help you, because I like you. More than like you. And you should know that."

He glared at Marc and Marc even managed to laugh a bit.

"Okay. But you should know the side effects", Marc said, as Alex slipped out of the room.

"What can happen?", Bez asked.

"Well you won't become a Vampire, which is good. But the bite will act like a kind of aphrodisiac."

"Well we should loose a few of those clothes then", Bez said, stripping himself out of his shirt and sweatpants. Alex had gotten him out of his leathers already and the under shirt and pants, wer worked off quickly too.

Bez was hovering over Marc now, one of his legs swung over his hip, looking at him intently. Time stopped for a moment, then Marc flipped him over.

"May I?", Marc asked, self-control slipping from him.

Bez looked him deep in the eyes.

"Go", he said.

Marc buried his face in Bez's neck. Then he sunk his teeth into the soft skin.

Immediately Bez's body tensed up and his breathing was going heavily. But it was pleasure coursing through his veins, not pain.

"Fuck that feels so good", Bez moaned, as Marc was still drinking in big gulps. Not nearly enough to hurt Bez, but enough to sate his thirst.

He was rubbing himself against Bez too, who reciprocated eagerly. Marc sneaked his hand into Bez's briefs, taking hold of his dick and working it up and down, making him moan and squirm.

The sweet taste of Bez's blood with the friction and his soft moans, Marc was incredibly close and Bez too, judging by the way that he was thrusting up into his hand.

His other hand went it Bez's hair and he held it tight. Bez's chest rose once again and he came all over Marc's hand, right when Marc also took his teeth out of Bez's neck and locked over the wound to close it up.

He rutted against Bez's leg once, twice more and then came into his boxershorts. They were breathing next to eachother, Marc held Bez close and they just tried to catch their breathes.

The colour had returned to his skin and Bez was smiling blissfully.

"That was the shortest and best sex of my life", Bez whispered, half laughing. "Can't believe he haven't done this the first times."

Marc just laughed and pressed his face back into Bez neck.

"Thank you", Marc murmured.

"Always."

Bez pressed a kiss to his lips.

"So everything's good between us?", Marc asked cautiously.

"Yes", Bez agreed and gave Marc another kiss. "But now I need a nap."

"Sleep", Marc smiled, carding his fingers through Bez's hair.

And there they layed, cuddled up together, Marc finally sated and closer to Bez, than he was before.

#marcmarc #bezquez #marc marquez #marco bezzecchi #motogp rpf

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scrollonso · 4 months ago

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Heaven

A marcmarc fluff oneshot (1.7k words)

Pecco had won, and despite Bez finishing eighth, seeing his best friend on the top step of the podium washed away all his disappointment. Seeing his boyfriend smiling so brightly with his brother standing just one step below probably helped too. Bez couldn't help but shift his focus from Pecco to the Spaniard beside him, he looked perfect up there.

A few hours had passed since the podium celebration, and now Bez was heading out to celebrate the way he liked best, with alcohol and the rest of the academy. As soon as he entered the bar, Pecco greeted him with a bright smile. They hugged without hesitation.

"Feeling good, amo?" Bez grinned at his friend, who nodded, still on cloud nine from his earlier win.

"Andavi fortissimo," Bez praised. It was true, Pecco had been incredibly fast, beating Marc was a big deal, especially to Vale's boys.

They made their way through the building, joining the others and striking up conversations.

It didn't take long for Bez to get drunk, becoming more giggly than usual as he clung to anyone who got too close.

Cele was the closest, not minding the arms wrapped around him as he continued to drink, far less drunk than the curly-haired boy attached to his hip. Everything was funnier to Bez in this state, whether it was Vale coughing or a girl coming over to hit on one of them, he couldn't stop the giggles that followed.

As the night went on, the bar became livelier. Bez's laughter filled the room. Cele, amused by his friend's antics, tried to keep Bez upright as they navigated through the crowd.

"Hey, Bez, maybe slow down a bit," Cele suggested, chuckling as Bez nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Wowww" Bez groaned, his words slurring slightly. "Are you making fun of me for getting eigth"

"Oh shut up" Cele rolled his eyes, pushing him into a seat in a quieter area of the bar, not wanting him to get too drunk. The last thing he wanted to do was be on "Babysit Bez" duty.

Pecco joined them, a drink in hand and a wide grin on his face. "Looks like someone's having a good time," he teased, hand patting the back of Bez's head.

Bez frowned up at him. "Cele's making fun of me, this isn't fun anymore" The trio knew he was just being dramatic, this is how it went for Bez. Clingy, overdramatic, then sad.

Bez leaned heavily against Cele, his head resting on his shoulder. Cele's arm wrapped around Bez's shoulders, keeping him steady.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Pecco asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Training," Cele replied, rolling his eyes. "Break just started and I can't even enjoy it yet."

Bez groaned dramatically as if he was the one scheduled to train, he had a week until his turn. "Do we have to? Can't we just stay here and drink forever?"

Pecco laughed. "Don't think you need any more to drink ever."

The night continued with stories, laughter, and more drinks, to Pecco's dismay. Eventually, Bez's energy began to wane. Cele noticed and leaned closer, having to speak louder into his ear to make his voice clear over the music.

"You okay?" Cele asked, concern in his eyes.

Bez nodded, though his eyelids were drooping. "Just tired," he mumbled.

Pecco sat down beside him. "Maybe it's time to call it a night. You've had enough fun for one evening." Bez sighed but didn't argue.

With Cele's help, Bez managed to stand up. Pecco took his other side, and together they guided him out of the bar. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy bar, and Bez took a deep breath, feeling a bit more alert.

"Thanks," Bez said, his voice soft. "You guys are so nice to me."

"Of course," Cele replied, smiling.

As they walked back to their hotel, the streets quiet and empty, Bez began to perk up at the thought of seeing Rubik. When they finally reached the hotel and made their way to Bez's room, they were greeted by an enthusiastic dog, who immediately bounded over, tail wagging furiously.

"Hey, buddy," Bez mumbled, kneeling down to cup Rubik's face, kissing all over the dogs fur. His excitement was contagious, and Bez's tired eyes lit up.

"Looks like someone missed you," Cele said with a smile, watching the joyful reunion, no matter how long the two were apart it was always like this when they came back together.

Pecco gave Bez a quick hug once he finally let go of the Pitbull, "Sleep well, Bez. We'll see you in the morning?"

Bez nodded, having no plan of falling asleep as he fell onto his bed, Rubik settling down beside Bez as he pulled his phone from his back pocket to call Marc.

The phone rang a few times before he heard a familiar voice on the other line, curls falling back as he rolled onto his back. "Cucciolo, where are you?"

"I'm on the way to my hotel, is everything okay mi cielo?" Marc asked, picking up on Bez's drunken state just by the way he spoke

"Come to mine?" He asked, slightly whining as he thought about being alone, now he was sad.

"Okay, I'll be there soon Marco" He confirmed before hanging up, he was about a 10 minute drive from Bez's hotel.

Bez waited impatiently, the Spaniard couldn't get there soon enough. He pulled Rubik closer, muttering in Italian about his boyfriend. Where was he? Was he close? Was he not coming? Did Marc not want to see him?

It was silly, really, Marc adored being with Bez, he was happiest with the Italian in his arms and Bez was well aware of that, Marc made sure to vocalize his feelings whenever he could so there was no need for him to get so worked up over this, though the alcohol wasn't working in his favour.

Having a dog like Rubik was great when Bez was alone, he could be as clingy as he wanted to the pitbull and he never cared, more than happy to be smothered by the racer.

Time passed by slow for both of them, Marc eager to get out of his car and hurry inside, knowing exactly where to go to find Bez's room, it was easier when they were staying in motorhomes by the track but because the two were staying in Germany a little longer than the others their managers made sure to book them hotels instead.

He soon reached the boys door, knocking three quick times before stepping back to wait for the door to swing open.

Like clockwork both Bez and Rubik shot up, greeting Marc with smiles on their faces. Before the Spaniard could even speak the Italians arms were wrapped around his shoulders, light kisses being pressed on the side of his face as he was pulled back into the room

"Hi, cielo, hi" Marc laughed, leaning into the touch as Rubik waited impatiently for some attention to be on him, too.

"I missed you so much" Bez confessed between kisses, pulling back to look at Marc, "missed your face."

He couldn't stop his lips from curling up as he looked at Bez, eyes shining as he examined his boyfriends face. Cheeks still flushed red from his activities earlier in the night, curls now frizzy from laying on his back while waiting.

"Did you have fun? You celebrated with Pecco, no?" Marc asked, looking away to give Rubik what he wanted, nice scratches under his jaw

Bez hummed, cheeks hurting because of the smile stuck on his face, he loved seeing Rubik and Marc together, his two favourite boys getting along. "Yeah, everyone went to a bar together, drank too much"

"You always drink too much" He responded playfully, laughing at the expression on Bez's face, he knew it was true but he'd never admit it.

It wasn't long before they ended up laying down together, Rubik curled up on Marc's left, Bez on his right with his head on his chest as if he wasn't nearly 10 centimeters taller than him. To them it didn't matter, this is how it went. Marc always made sure Bez knew he was his, his baby, his heaven, his Marco.

Marc's hand found its way into the Italians hair, nails softly scratching Bez's hair. He hummed contently, eyes closing as he focused on the feeling, something so comforting about the position they were in, they'd stay like this forever if they could.

The room was filled with a quiet sense of peace as they lay together. Bez's breathing started to even out, and Marc could feel the tension melt away from his boyfriend's body. Rubik snuggled closer to Marc's side, his warmth adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Marc softly whispered, "Te amo, Marco."

"Ti amo, Marc," Bez murmured back, a sleepy smile on his face. He felt completely at ease, surrounded by the two people he loved most.

After a few moments of silence, Bez spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for coming, amore."

Marc pressed a gentle kiss to Bez's forehead. "I'll always come to you. You know that."

Bez nodded, feeling his eyes grow heavier. He clung to the comfort of Marc's presence and Rubik's warmth. It was moments like these that made having to keep this a secret worth it. He was loved, cherished, and supported, and he knew that.

As the night deepened, Marc continued to run his fingers through Bez's hair, humming quietly as he gazed lovingly, Marc could look at him forever. Bez's breathing became slow and rhythmic, signaling that he had finally fallen asleep. Marc glanced down at him, his heart swelling with affection.

"Sleep well," Marc whispered.

The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of their breathing and the occasional snuffle from Rubik. The chaos of the day had faded, leaving only the serenity of the night. Marc stayed awake a little longer, savoring the moment and the sense of completeness it brought him.

Eventually, he too closed his eyes, letting sleep take over. Tomorrow could wait. For now, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

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safetycar-restart · 1 year ago

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okay so all i can think about rn for corruption kink is like poly!vr46 like you and bezz teaching the omegas on how to get through their heats if you guys for some reason can’t be there. like you’re all curled up in the nest and one of the pups just starts grinding against you because he needs help and he’s just so horny and wants his alpha to fix it and make it better.

corruption kink also lowkey fits sub!oscar like he’s just so subby and doesn’t know what to do and he just wants his dom to help him but she’s far away for some reason so he facetimes her and is like help meeeeeee. so she teaches him how over the phone?

i don’t know it’s all just kinda brain rot atm but have a good day!

🔙🦴anon

Listen if this is your idea of brainrot then please continue because oh my god this is great. I’m gonna discuss each of these ideas, because of course.

POLY!VR46:

(For context, this is an au we discuss sometimes where Bez and reader are alphas and the rest of the academy are all omegas. You start off just dating Bez but slowly you and Bez kinda become the joint alphas for the entire academy)

So firstly, Bez would be SO into the idea of corrupting his cute omega pack mates. He LOVES wrecking them, isnt finished with them until they’re covered in cum and unable to remember their own names. So corruption kink? Absolutely.

I think it starts off pretty organically? Like you don’t plan it, but one day you and Bez are cuddling with Cele and discussing when Cele’s next heat is. You both realise that while you’ll try your best to get there, there’s a genuine chance Cele might have to spend the first day or two on his own.

And he is NOT pleased with this at all. Especially not because just the week before you and Bez had tagged teamed and fucked Pecco silly during his heat. Cele wants the same!!!

You try to reassure him that you’ll be there as soon as you can and remind him that he can look after himself. Bez pipes up then, telling Cele he can use dildos on himself and make himself cum over and over again.

Which of course gets Cele a little riled up and then suddenly you’ve got a whiney, pouty omega grinding against you and asking what he must do to himself. And Bez, the master of dirty talk, is more than happy to educate Cele on the things he can do, whispering absolute filth into his ear. While he does this, you move your hands to Cele’s hips and start directing his grinding, basically making him hump your thigh.

The poor thing leave a little puddle of slick on your thigh when he cums.

(And then a few days later you have all the other omegas demanding the same attention because they heard what you and Bez did to Cele)

SUB!OSCAR:

Yeah he’s such a subby baby!! He gets into this headspace where he just feels completely useless and dumb? And then even though he’s rock hard and more than capable of jerking himself off, he can’t!!! He’s too subby for that, all he can do it whine and huff and spam message you until you give in and FaceTime him.

The moment he answers, you’re greeted by a very pouty Oscar. His hair is a mess and his lips are bright red from how he’s been biting them.

When you ask what’s wrong, he just mumbles “help me” and then unceremoniously flips the camera so you can see the bulge in his boxers. You get it then, he’s all subby and very unhappy there’s no one around to play with his cock.

You tell him that you’ll help him, that he can make himself feel good if he just listens to you. At first he’s uncertain, not liking the idea of doing any of it himself but you promise him that he just needs to listen to you, he won’t have to think at all.

You ‘teach’ him how to hump a pillow, which is something you’ve had him do so many times before but you know he’d get all whiney and unhappy if you didn’t give him precise instructions and act like he’s never done this before.

He sounds so shocked when he tries and it feels good? He babbles on and on about how good it feels and thanks you for showing him and promises he’s being a good boy.

(Arguably good boys don’t spam you until you call them and then show you their cock unprompted but oh well, at least he’s cute)

#poly!vr46 #omega!driver/rider #mb #nsfw.#gn!reader #sub!oscar #oscarp #kinktober tag #🔙🦴

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ray935sworld · 3 months ago

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1, 24, 42 😸

So Don't leave, Tender and Savior - love the idea. It's giving soft fluff vibes. I decided on Marcmarc as a ship

TW: mention of self-hate

Why can't everyone just go away? Except you, you can stay.

Bez was done. He wanted to throw everything away and hide in a corner of his father's shop, never to be seen again. He wouldn't even tell anyone - not Vale, Uccio, Cele, Pecco, Luca, Migno or Franky. No one. No one would knew and he just started a new life away from motogp.

He wanted to get away from the cameras, the stupid questions form the journos that either way only a handful of people would read cause he had lost their interest. He wanted to get away from Pecco's wins and Franco's hopeful attitude and he wanted to get away from Vale's helpful but useless actions.

He felt his stomach burn with disappointment. He had been sure that this time, it'd might work. And he ended in the gravel. He had been sure that he finally found the grip and the way how to handle the bike. Well he had handle it into the gravel. Right into the gravel. Wow. Perfect job.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could handle it. He tried but after all his dnfs and his finished outside the top 10 or the points, he started to question if it really had been talent or simply luck that bought him there.

It must have been luck. Why else would he struggle so much and be regularly out-performed? He just didn't deserve his place in the team - or any team - or motogp in general. He felt tears rise in his eyes.

The thought hurt so much. He wanted it so much. He was so desperate. He clinged to the idea of continuing his life as a motogp rider that the ideal of failure - which was quick to cost him his career in this field - destroyed him.

The self-hate was starting to bubble over. It felt like it was gut wrenching, like his whole inside was being turned upside down while being set on fire.

It hurt so much and he couldn't get rid of it

He tried to run away from it - literally. He was pacing around his motorhome hoping the movement could clear his mind.

As if his whole situation wasn't enough, he heard a key in the door. He wanted to scream. He didn't wanted to be seen like that. He didn't wanted to be cuddle or get affection he didn't deserve. He didn't need anyone's pity.

„JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed when he saw that the door was being opened to his bedroom. He hadn't even checked who it was.

So now he was standing face to face with his really confused - and shocked, maybe even scared, boyfriend. Bez froze immediately. He had never yelled at Marc. He never though he would or could. He never wanted to scream.

„Okay" Marc whispered and was slowly turning around.

„No." Bez said fastly. The burning in his stomach had disappeared. Instead it was now in his face but this burning was more an embarrassed burning. It was shame at having yelled. „No, please, amore, I... Im sorry. Please. Don't leave."

Marc seemed hesitant but one look in Marcos desperate eyes proved him that leaving him would be the worst idea.

He gave him a tender smile and nodded. Quietly he hold his hand out to Bez, making him decide on their level of physical touch. Even though touch was Bez love language, Marc knew how easy he could be overstimulated, especially when he was a nervous reck like now.

Bez didn't smile back, instead he just reached for the older rider and pulled him closer. He hugged him close, pressed himself against him. He sobbed quietly.

Marc closed his eyes and returned the hug with all his strength. He wanted to make the Italian feel safe - safe and protected in his arms. He hugged him and softly kissed his head. He let his fingers roam through the curls and whispered sweet things about his lover. He wasn't sure he understood or actually heard them but that was okay.

He succeeded. The burning in Marcos cheeks and stomach eased. He didn't feel desperate anymore and he remembered that he couldn't just run away and disappear. He couldn't leave his friends, his family and his lover behind. Simply because there was no place as safe as his lovers arms and he'd give that up for nothing in the world.

He knew how much he and others worked for him to be here and he knew he couldn't give up cause one year didn't go as hoped. He knew all that simply cause Marc wrapped him in his arms.

„You're my savior" Bez whispered and meant it.

#marco bezzecchi #marcmarc #marc marquez #ray's writing #Yeah maybe there was of my own academic frustration at the beginning #Got the results of 2 exams and I barely passed (those were the only ones I was sure were good so now I'm a little panic about the rest)#ANYWAY #Kat I hope you like it #You didn't say a ship hit I just assumed marcmarc was okay #Marco being insecure I love you too much #Unhealthy self insert I guess

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dickinfectionbez · 9 months ago

Text

Pecco woke up to a small hand slapping his face repeatedly.

He groaned, turning to face Celin who held a dog shaped teddy in his hands. Pecco shuffled back, pulling Celin into bed and falling back asleep. The little boy tossed and turned for a while before falling asleep again.

Pecco woke up again to Celin fast sleep in his arms and another arm tossed around his waist. Pecco turned his head to see Franky and Bez both asleep in his bed. He stared at the ceiling questioning his friendship with the pair before sliding out of bed. Franky moved into the empty space, still asleep. Bez muttered something in his sleep, an arm pulling Celin in. He walked into the kitchen yawning to see both his dads making out with each other. He groaned, Vale pulling away from Marc, an apologetic look on his face.

Pecco ate his breakfast, listening to his dads' plans and how they would be out of the house until dark. Pecco nodded, ready to watch Cele for the day. He finished his food as his parents left. With some free time he read his book until Celin waddled out of his room, sleep still in his eyes. He said something that resembled a sentence, the little boy still not really talking. He hadn't said his first proper word yet, but had created his own names for everyone and everything. Pecco picked Cele up, holding him for a while until he whined, hungry for his breakfast. The bottle he drank before crawling into his older brother's bed no longer filling him. Pecco put the little boy in his highchair, and then cut up some strawberries, leaving them on the highchair's tray.

Franky and Bez woke up, entering the kitchen to see Cele throwing fruit at anything that moved. A piece of strawberry hit Bez in the eye and the teen wiped his face, cursing. Franky laughed, strawberries in his hair.

"moth-" Cele began, gathering more projectiles in his chubby hands. "Motherfu-" He said lifted his hands, "motherfucker!" He exclaimed, hands crashing down on the tray, crushing the fruit juice going everywhere.

Pecco stared at his brother wide-eyed. Franky looked between the brothers. Bez fell to his knees laughing.

"Motherfucker!" Cele exclaimed again, chubby hand reaching out to Pecco. He picked him up, panicking slightly. "Chill it's fine, so what." Pecco turned to look at Bez with fire in his eyes. "This is Celin's first word. He said his first word he says while we are babysitting and he said motherfucker." The smile fell off both Franky and Bez's faces, the idea of both Vale and Marc hearing their little angel curse hitting them. If they didn't teach Cele another word, they were fucked. Franky started to pace, hands in hair as Bez scratched his eyebrows, thinking.

The trio moved to the living room. Franky tidied the kitchen up with Bez as Pecco tried to teach him the word 'Papa'. Franky sat on the floor as Bez took over trying to teach Celin the word 'Dog'. Celin refused to copy, just repeating his new favourite word over and over. Franky recorded Bez and Pecco panic after hearing Cele chant 'motherfucker' rhythmicly. He sent the video to Enea with strict instructions to send the video to everyone but make sure Vale and Marc didn't see it. Pecco groaned, calling one of two people he trusted in this situation.

Luca showed up quickly, not sure what was going on but if his nephew called asking for help he sure wasnt going to hesitate. He scanned all four boys for injuries and looked at Pecco confused. Cele gestured for Luca to pick him up, hugging his uncle and holding his face. "Motherfucker." He said sweetly as Luca froze, suppressing a laugh. He looked at the three teens. "Who taught him to curse?" Bez pointed at Pecco who pointed at Bez. Franky just shrugged. Luca set the boy down, kneeling in front of him. "Can you say Papa?" Celin smiled innocently. "Motherfucker!" Luca closed his eyes. This continued for a while before Luca threw the towel in, calling his Spanish counterpart.

Alex picked up the phone, lounging beside the pool. He smiled seeing his little nephew on the video call sitting on the sofa like a cherub. He was caugh off guard after hearing Cele curse. He cackled, his phone slipping out of his hand and landing inside the pool. The call cut and Cele was running around the house cursing. Luca scratched his head as Pecco started to pray. He didn't want his dads to stop trusting him to watch his brother. Franky and Bez started praying too, three prayers had to be better than one. Cele ran back into Luca's arms as the door opened.

"Cazzo." Luca muttered just loud enough for Cele to hear. Valentino and Marc walked in, making a beeline to greet all the boys. Cele reached out to Marc, babbling as he settled himself in his Papa's arms. Valentino and Marc made some small talk as Cele turned to look at Luca. "Cazzo!" He said with glee as Luca watched his life flash before his eyes.

#motogp #baby boots and riding suits #No more angst time for funny shenanigans

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formulapookie · 20 days ago

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Diggianini 60

60. Truth serum/spell

He doesn't know precisely when it started, if this morning or yesterday already when he told his physiotherapist his shoulder hurt so much he barely could eat with that arm at lunch, all he knows is that this is really fucked up.

He cannot help but tell the truth, compulsively, repeatedly, about everything. He looked online for it, fearing a tumor or something similar, a problem with his brain maybe, neurons not acting properly.

Google told him there was a condition like his caused by a truth serum, the one you usually see in spy movies like James Bond, and he never actually thought those were real.

He read it can be contained in certain types of medicines and painkillers, and started reading through the impressively long list, it's always cited as a side effect, who even reads those, they're like Terms and Conditions that appear when you download an app on your phone. The serum is in two of the four painkillers he's prescribed, a rate of manifestation in the patient rated 1.5/1000, what a fucking joke really.

"Fuck"

In his job, lying is important, whenever they ask him about the shoulder, or the feelings after a race, he mostly lies, if he ever got the truth out it would be terrible for his PR image.

He quickly gets to the track, and starts walking around once he's inside his motorhome, pacing in weirdly shaped circles.

He wonders wether or not he should inform the PR team, Uccio maybe even, to ensure he's excluded from media questions until the effects die down.

Eventually he calls his PR manager, quickly explains the situation, and he assures him they'll take preventive measures to protect him from eventual mediatic disasters.

The one thing, or rather, person he didn't hold into count when thinking of his situation is Enea.

Him and Enea they have a kind of arrangement, a strange one, made back in Moto3, strengthened in Moto2 when they were teammates. The agreement is simple, the two of them fuck, but since it's only between them and only after races it's not a gay thing to do, they're just guys releasing adrenaline.

And it's been fine for years now, none of them ever rethinking about it, wanting to change something in the dynamic.

Well. Ok no that's a lie. Diggia wants to, has been wanting to do it for a long time now. He wants to be able to stay after they finish fucking, wants to hold Enea close in his arms, kiss him gently, stroke his hair as he falls asleep, breathe in his perfume when they lay side by side.

And of course he never told him that, Enea wouldn't like it, he's sure of it, whenever Diggia tries to go for a kiss after Enea jerks away, if he's too gentle while they have sex Enea will do something to get him to be rough, Enea never stays, Enea never lets him stay.

But - now what if they do this and then he speaks up? Would he tell people? Would he tell the media?

He'll have to avoid him. At any cost he'll have to avoid him. Or it's gonna go to shit.

•••

The race is over, Bez finished just ahead of him, he feels the arm hurting, he'll need more painkillers now, and Enea, he won.

He smiles absentmindedly when he sees the result of the Sprint race, he's happy for him. He'd be happier if it was him instead of Martin on the second step of the podium alongside Enea but he's happy like this too.

Seeing Enea smile it's worth staying a bit more in front of the TV screen in the garage than he should.

He gets cleared of media, declared "unavailable" for non-specified reasons.

He rests in his motorhome, when there's a knock on the door, and he goes to open it, thinking it's Uccio.

But when he opens it a strong smell of champagne hits him, the bright smile of his friend blinding him.

"Can I come in?" "Yeah"

Dammit, he should've said no. But he can't lie.

"You showered already Fabio? Could've waited for me" "Wanted to" "Oh you wanted to?" "Yeah"

Fuckfuckfuck stop please stop asking me these questions shut up shut up

He is clearly about to ask why but Diggia offers him a can of monster, which Enea refuses, smiling once again.

Diggia can't help but look at him, his soft features, soft lips, soft hair, soft skin, all remind him of the warm sensation he feels every time they fuck, when Enea is riding him and he's trying to slow down the pace a bit just to enjoy it for longer, or when Enea has his back against the mattress and keeps chanting his name, and Diggia wishes he could kiss the sound coming out of his lips instead of biting at his collarbone with force

"Well that's a shame now, but I won no? Don't I deserve a little celebration?" "Yeah you do" "Choose, you can decide-" "Vojo succhiarte il cazzo" (I wanna suck your dick)

Which gets Enea a bit incredule, because Diggia never sucked his dick, if not once while drunk, so it doesn't count. Because Diggia always (if not once, drunk there too) topped, and had Enea suck his dick not the opposite.

"Ok nice, let's get to the bedroom then"

And Diggia doesn't know how to react, he really does want to suck him off, but also only did it once, what if he's not good at it? He's had girls being bad at blowjobs, it really kills your libido.

His thoughts are shut off when he sees Enea taking off his leathers completely, he's wearing the white undersuit that makes Diggia go absolutely crazy, il clings to every muscle of his upper body, especially his pecs and biceps, and Diggia can't help but stare at the scene, because Enea looks simply perfect.

He checked, the truth serum makes it impossible to lie in general, wether to other people or to the affected individual itself. So each and every thought he's having is real, true, undeniably his.

He takes off his shorts, because God forbid he wears a shirt when he's in his motorhome, and he's left in boxers, the bulge visible already, while Enea is just wearing boxers and his damn white undersuit.

He wants to bite his tongue, to shut up before causing damages, but he's not quick enough.

"Leave the undersuit on, it's hot" fuck stupid ass idiot you're a dickhead

"Didn't take you for that type of things but yeah, as you wish Fabio"

Enea sits on the edge of the bed, he's clearly hard already, grey boxers doing nothing to hide it. And Diggia would stand there staring, but the need to make him feel good is stronger, and he quickly gets on his knees, tugging down Enea's boxers, who bites his lip and gets a hand in Diggia's hair.

Enea is bigger than him, not by far, but he's still longer, so his first attempts at swallowing him don't go too far, but nonetheless he manages to get more than half of his cock in his mouth, moving with a rhythmic pace and humming when near the base.

"You should do this more often you know Fabio? I bet you'd be able to take me whole after a few tries, you're so good already"

He fucking moans at the praise, causing Enea to buck his hips and make him choke. He lets go of his cock to cough, then gets back to working Enea up, using his hand to cover the part he can't yet reach with his mouth. Enea feels even bigger, his throat clenching around him, and the older is fucking loving it

Once Diggia resumes his pace is really not long before Enea needs to cum, and since the other today seems pretty up to doing thing he usually does, he forces him to let go, tilting his head back.

"I'm gonna cum on your face ok? You like that fabio" "Yes yes please do it" "You're so fucking needy today, open your mouth"

Diggia complies, opening up and taking his tongue out, and three seconds later he can taste the bitter taste of cum on his tongue, drops falling on his lips and cheeks as well, as Enea throws his head back moaning.

Diggia swallows everything, licking his lips and before he can do it Enea collects all that's left with his thumb, then presents it to Diggia, that sucks it clean making Enea moan again.

Now Diggia is really fucking hard, he needs to fuck Enea right now.

"On. Get on the bed Fabio, no don't worry about the lube, I prepped myself before coming here, figured it'd be better, right?"

And Diggia would normally say yes, it's better like this, but this fucking truth serum doesn't let him lie. Not in the slightest.

"Could've done it myself, I like watching you when I open you up" "Ah really? Well next time I promise you will ok?" "Ok" "Now get on with hit and fuck me"

Diggia doesn't wait, immediately taking off his boxers, squirts some lube on it and strokes his dick a few times. He didn't lie, he can't, about the under suit, but when he fucks him he wants to be able to leave marks, bites, hickeys, bruises all over his torso, hand-shaped bruises on Enea's hips looking sinfully attractive.

"Take - the undersuit I wanna see you without it, please"

Enea has never seen this side of Diggia, he sounds almost pathetic. God it's hot. He doesn't answer, just gets naked completely, laying down on the bed as Diggia parts his legs to get comfortable between them. He hooks one leg over his shoulder and pushes his cock inside, it goes without resistance, and it already has him moaning.

"Come on" "Yeah yeah ok"

The pace he sets is rude and quick from the start, Enea sounding so angelic already, he wants to kiss him, god he wants to kiss him and never stop doing it, he wants to make him his in every way, mark not only his chest, that can be easily covered, but his neck too, so high it can't be hidden, but displayed for the world to see.

"Fuck Fabio there, again, there please god yes like that"

He hits his prostate, again and again and again, moaning in his ear and panting hot air on his neck, wishing he could just sink his teeth there, in the invitingly soft flesh.

"Enea you're so good fuck I can't - I dreamt of doing this last night" "Mh don't stop, tell me that again" "You feel perfect around me I swear, every time we fuck I want it to last longer, want to keep you here in my bed forever"

It's all Enea needs to cum, hard and fast all over the sheets, moaning Diggia's name and clenching around his cock.

One, two, three, four thrusts and Diggia is coming too, and he's too close to Enea's ear, too taken from the moment, too fucking earnest.

"I love you"

He doesn't even realize it until he's filling Enea up, what he said can't be taken back, he's coming inside him and just told Enea the three words he swore to himself he's never tell him.

Fuck nononono he's gonna leave he'sgonnaleavehe'sgonnahateme he's never gonna look at me in the eyes again

Diggia pulls out in fear, staining the sheets, Enea turns around, half shock half surprise written on his face.

"Sorry sorry Bestia fuck" "No Diggia wait you said-" "C'ho sta roba che devo di per forza a verità e che me sta a fa impazzire, non posso mentirte Enea, non ce riesco, io me so innamorato de te e non so che cazzo fa"

They're still naked and panting from their orgasms, Diggia not looking at Enea in the eyes, too scared and disgusted with himself. Not being able to lie to himself comes with accepting the fact he does like guys, a lot, maybe even more than girls. And it's scary.

"C'ho paura Enea, che mo so frocio e te me odi e non me vuoi più vedere perché te faccio schifo" "Diggia" "Don't hate me please, don't hate me" "Fabio, look at me"

He does, because he's basically being forced to do it. Enea taking his face between his hands and looking at him with - softness?

"Fabio are you serious about the truth thing? You are not lying?" "No, it's like a serum or some shit in one of my painkillers" "Ok. I trust you. Now, can you say that again?" "What again?" "Tell me the truth, how you feel about me" "I love you" "Again" "I love you"

Enea kisses him, and it's not one of their usual rushed and bruising kisses, it's gentle, caring, slow.

"You. Fabio you have no idea how fucking long I wanted to hear these words coming from you" "What do you mean? You were the one who said no staying over, or no kissing unless we're fucking, or no -" "I was scared you idiot. Scared you'd hate me"

Diggia wants to punch himself in the face right now.

"No no no Enea I could never hate you no, I love you, have loved you for a long time now, I want to be with you, properly, want to kiss you and hold you after we have sex, and stay over"

Enea smiles again, and to Diggia it's perfection again, perfection made human, hopefully made his.

"I'll stay then, as long as you want, I'm not going anywhere, I love you Fabio, I'm so glad that stupid serum got you to tell the truth" "Me too"

They kiss again, and it feels like two puzzle pieces fitting together after being apart in a box full of extra pieces, trying to find each other.

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

#alice journal of asks #cate #alice writes #diggianini #I promise it's happy :)#ASK GAME #and my fav boys

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vettelsbitch · 9 months ago

Note

Kidfic anon back here 🥰 Just been thinking about your drabbles once again and came up with something because 14th Feb is just around the corner: do you think either of them considers inviting the other to a dinner date? And THEN, I thought, Bez probably won't because of Theo. And Cele doesn't want Bez to feel like he has to get somebody to watch Theo. BUT what if Theo is our little match maker? Like, they've been talking about Valentine's in kindergarten and Theo understands that many people spend that day with people they like and since both of them really like Cele, he could come over? And then, he's smiling in such a cute way that Bez can't say no (plus, Bez also wants to have Cele over as much as possible!!!) and now he has to somehow ask Cele over for VALENTINE'S

Bestie, darling, your brain! I'm still thinking about the holidays drabble and what they would do when Cele goes to Bez's house and meets the parents and all that because I would like to write something for that but I can't promise when the muses might hit me.

BUT! Now I'm thinking Valentine's, maybe something not quite happened during the holidays (Bez walking in on Cele getting changed into a nice outfit, Bez's sister poking fun at her brother because he is basically 🥺🥺 at Cele, maybe they almost kiss but Matteo calls Bez over and it's a 'i should go' 'yeah' 'yeah' and ofc it reminds Bez that he has a kid and Cele is young and shouldn't be tied down), and now they've been once again a bit distant, with Cele busy with exams, but they still see each other it's hard to keep Teo away from his bestie! And of course Bez is also so happy whenever they see him, the rare occasion when they catch Cele coming back when they're going out to the park and he, no matter how tired he is, tells them to wait for him, running up the stairs and coming back without his backpack not even five minutes later. Bez loves sitting next to him, Rubik between their legs, while they look at Matteo climbing and running around with friends, soon enough coming back to them and demanding that they play ball with him.

Bez doesn't really realize Valentine's is getting close until Luca starts talking about dinner reservations. And of course his first thought is wondering if Cele has plans. His second thought is what about Teo, his friends have their own plans so it's not like he can ask them to watch him. And he isn't even sure if Cele likes him (Luca is about to hit his friend because Bez must be really blind to not see how Cele looks at him, and how Cele used to look at Luca before he made it very clear that they were just friends).

On the other side Cele wants to invite Bez to go out with him so bad, but he doesn't want to inconvenience him. And he would like to include Teo too! He's trying his damnedest to come up with some idea, his search history ranges from 'dates for people with kids' to 'how to tell if he likes me' to 'spiderman valentines'

And then, just a mere couple days before Matteo brings home a school project that he hides against his chest like it's a secret, Bez only manages to catch a glimpse at pink paper and red glitter. When he tries to ask him, Teo just looks up at him with his big brown eyes, the little gap in his front teeth that always makes Bez's mom smile, and crosses his arms tighter against his chest. "Nothing." Bez would want to know more but how bad could some kind of school project be? Teo is a smart kid, if he needs help he will ask for it.

But Matteo doesn't ask for Bez's help, the next day he has to do a double shift at work, covering for someone that's sick (which will also mean he has Valentine's day free), and when he comes back home he sees Luca sitting next to Teo, bending his tall body enough to reach the little desk he has in his room. They're so focused that they don't seem to realize Bez has gotten home, so he spends a second looking at them, the mess of coloring pencils next to the and Rubik sleeping on Matteo's bed.

When Luca realizes he's there, he whispers something to Teo, standing up while he scrambles to cover whatever they were doing. Luca asks Bez about his day, and they manage to distract him quickly enough that it's not until later that he remembers it and thinks about messaging Luca about it. But who can blame him, he's really tired and Teo is dozing off against his chest so who cares.

Anyway, the next day seems normal at first, Bez helping Teo get ready for school like always before he seems to remember something in the middle of brushing his teeth, running to his room.

The next thing Bez sees is his kid is walking up to him with a glittery heart that says "Papà" in big blue letters in the middle. And so it all makes sense.

"Happy Valen'ines, Papà"

Bez would kneel down, kissing Matteo's cheek and hugging him, uncaring if the glitter ends up all over his shirt. "Thank you, baby!"

Of course the heart ends on the fridge next to all the other drawings. Since the secret is out Teo would tell him excitedly about it, how at school they told them about the holiday and started making the cards.

"For the people you really like!" He says, before he seems to remember something else. "We need to give it to Cele!!"

Bez would be so surprised, like what??? Cele? And Teo would explain that Luca helped him because he knew how to write Papà but not how to write Cele and ofc they need to give it to him, because they like him so much. Bez promises that they will go see Cele after school is done so Teo agrees to go without trying to run to Cele's door. Bez spends the hours alone at home in a haze of 'oh god, I hope Cele doesn't have plans' and 'should I buy something else for him?' and 'of course we really like him'

He does end up getting a box of chocolates on his way to get Teo from school, and he feels as nervous as he was when he was a teen and had his first kiss. He manages to convince Teo to eat before they go and knock on Cele's door. Bez doesn't know if he wants him to be in or not, his heart feels like it's going to jump ship.

But ofc Cele opens the door, a wide grin in his dumb face the moment he sees them. Teo has the heart (Cele's is pink with orange letters) in his hands and Bez has the chocolates in his hoodie, hidden for now.

I imagine the exchange would go a little like:

"For me? Thank you Teo!"

"Yes, because I like you Cele!"

Cele's eyes moving up to Bez. And Bez would have a second of intense bravery while looking at his dark eyes and rosy cheeks.

"Would you like to come to the park with us? And have dinner later?"

Cele would stutter and flail. "If you guy's are not busy."

And that second there would be so intense, Cele's eyes shining, still crouching down to be at Teo's height, looking up at Cele, his mouth open in surprise shifting slowly into a massive smile. Bez knows he probably looks dumb, blushing and smiling, and he knows that Luca is going to be asking him how it went early next morning, but right now he doesn't have to worry about work and he basically invited Cele on a Valentine's date, with his kid, so everything is great.

"Of course not, we like you a lot."

Then they're on their way to the park, Teo holding onto Cele's hand before running towards one of his friends. Bez and Cele sit down on their usual bench, and then Bez would bring out the box of chocolates, his cheeks burning up even more than before.

"For you, Cele."

"Marco.. thank you so much."

And Cele would blush and kiss his cheek and Bez knows he's probably doing something right.

And then they have dinner and they watch Spiderman yet again and Cele and Teo fall asleep against Bez, and thankfully the next day is Saturday (because it's my universe and I say so) so he doesn't have to worry and can allow himself to rest his head against Cele's curls, grabbing Teo closer and fall asleep himself.

#happy Valentine's day!#this is messy but i just wrote it and i like it #sadly i dont have time for a more structured drabble right now 😔#i hope you like it still!#kidfic anon #bezz/cele #bezz/cele kidfic AU #bezz has a kid and Cele is his neighbor AU

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scrollonso · 3 months ago

Text

Before — 4 out of ? (last part)

Marc leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the telemetry in front of him. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glow on the screens that displayed endless rows of data: throttle percentages, brake pressures, lap times.

Normally, this was where Marc found solace — in the precision, in the control. The data was supposed to make sense, to provide answers. But today, it was just noise. Just meaningless numbers and lines that blurred together, his mind refusing to process any of it.

He had managed to push through practice, forcing himself to focus on the track, on the bike beneath him, even though his heart wasn’t in it. The adrenaline of the session had carried him through, numbing the emotions that simmered beneath the surface. But now, sitting alone in the garage, the silence was deafening. The tension from two weeks ago still weighed on him, a heavy, invisible force that pressed down on his shoulders and made it hard to breathe.

Marc glanced at the door of the garage, half-expecting Marco to walk in at any moment. But he knew better. Marco was next door, in the VR46 garage with Valentino. Marc hadn’t see him yet, and a part of him was grateful for that. He didn’t want to see him, not after everything that had happened. It was easier this way — or so he kept telling himself. Easier to avoid the confrontation, to pretend that nothing had changed. But deep down, Marc knew it was a lie. Avoidance didn’t erase the memories. It didn’t make the guilt of goinh down on Marco in the same bed he slept next to Gemma in go away.

He shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him as he tried to focus on the telemetry again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of Marco standing at his door, bruised and broken, asking for comfort that Marc had ultimately pushed away. That Marc had sworn he'd give him. Sworn he'd be different than Valentino. It was foolish, thinking he was better than the older Italian man. Valentino's love was the only kind he'd ever known. He didn't know how to give Marco the softness he so deeply craved.

From the thin wall separating their garages, Marc could hear faint voices seeping through the cracks. Valentino’s unmistakable tone drifted in first, that easy, confident cadence laced with amusement as he laughed at something Bez had said. The sound was light, casual, but it gnawed at Marc in a way he couldn't ignore. His gut twisted, an all-too-familiar mix of jealousy and regret creeping up on him like an unwanted shadow.

Marc gritted his teeth, trying to push it down, trying to focus on the telemetry in front of him, but the noise from the other side of the wall was relentless. It filled the silence of his own garage, drowning out any hope of distraction. He clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to the screen, desperately clinging to the numbers, the data, anything to anchor him in the present and away from the memories that threatened to surface.

But then, cutting through Valentino's laughter, he heard it — Marco’s voice. Low, tense, with an edge that made Marc's heart skip a beat. It wasn't like the playful tone he usually associated with Marco in the paddock, where he bantered with the other academy riders and the teams mechanics. No, this was different. More serious. More strained. The sound of it sent an involuntary shiver down Marc’s spine, his body betraying the calm facade he was trying so hard to maintain.

He leaned forward in his chair, instinctively straining to hear more, to catch even a fragment of what Marco was saying. It was a ridiculous impulse, he knew that. Eavesdropping wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t make the past two weeks any less painful, but he couldn’t help himself. Marco was so close — just on the other side of that thin wall — and yet he felt a million miles away. That wall might as well have been a fortress for all the good it did Marc.

The familiar ache settled in his chest, that gnawing emptiness that had taken root ever since Marco had left his room that night in Silverstone. And now, hearing Marco's voice, his Marco's voice, knowing he was right there with Valentino, only made it worse.

Marc’s fingers dug into the edge of the seat below him, the metal biting into his skin as a surge of jealousy flared up inside him. He could hear Valentino’s voice so clearly now, the way he laughed and encouraged Marco, and it twisted something deep in Marc’s gut. He hated it. Hated that Valentino was the one there with Marco, the one offering him comfort and support.

It should have been him. Marc clenched his jaw, trying to push the thought away, but it was impossible. He was the one who understood Marco’s pain, who knew what it was like to carry the weight of the crashes, the injuries, and the pressure to keep going despite it all. Ok, sure Valentino understood all of that, too, but he was the one who had held Marco when he was vulnerable, who had seen the cracks beneath his confident exterior. And now, Valentino was swooping in, offering the comfort that Marc had denied Marco two weeks ago.

The sound of Valentino’s voice grated on his nerves, each word a reminder of how much he had been hurt by the man who now sat just on the other side of the wall. Valentino had been everything to him once — mentor, lover, rival — and the way things had ended between them had left scars that still hadn’t healed. Marc had been crushed by Valentino’s coldness, by the way he had been discarded when things got tough. And now, to see Valentino playing the supportive figure for Marco… it was too much.

Marc’s grip tightened on the desk, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t stand the thought of Valentino anywhere near Marco, not after everything that had happened between them. He couldn't stand the thought of Vale manipulating a handful of riders just because he knew he could. They didn't deserve that. Marco didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be hurt the way Marc had been.

But at the same time, Marc knew that he had pushed Marco away. He had been the one to tell him to go to Pecco, to find comfort elsewhere. And now, here he was, wishing he could take it all back. Wishing he could be the one by Marco’s side, reassuring him, holding him the way he had that night. But he had made his choice. He had drawn the line, and now he had to live with the consequences.

Through the thin wall, Valentino’s voice cut through again, this time softer, more intimate. “You’re doing great, Bez. Just keep pushing. You’ll get it.”

Marc’s stomach churned at the words. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to picture Valentino kneeling before the younger man, hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. It brought back too many memories, too much pain. He wanted to be the one telling Marco he was doing great, that he would get through this. But he wasn’t. And now, Valentino was filling that role, the same way he had once done for Marc before everything fell apart.

Marc exhaled sharply, trying to shove the emotions down, trying to focus on anything but the voices coming through the wall. But it was no use. All he could think about was Marco, and the fact that Valentino was the one offering him comfort, the way he had once offered it to Marc before leaving him behind.

In the next room, Marco forced a smile as he nodded along to Valentino’s words. He could feel Marc’s presence, even though they were separated by a wall. He saw the Gresini colours through the cracks, heard the quiet Catalan from the other side, heard that name. He wished it was Alex sharing a wall with him, leaning against the same cutout of drywall as him, it would hurt less if that was the case. Every laugh from Valentino stung, every word of encouragement felt like salt in a wound he couldn’t quite heal. But he kept his head down, pretending that everything was fine. Pretending that Marc’s rejection hadn’t left him feeling more alone than ever.

Valentino clapped a hand on Marco’s shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “Don’t let it get to you, Bez. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think.”

Marco offered a weak smile in return. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

The words felt hollow in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. Especially with Marc just on the other side of the wall.

In Marc’s garage, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, his elbows digging into the tacky leather of his suit. The weight of his own guilt pressed down on him like a vice, making it hard to breathe. Gemma had stopped by earlier, offering him soft words of encouragement, but her presence hadn’t lifted the oppressive cloud hanging over him. If anything, it had only made things worse. She had looked at him with so much concern, so much love, and all Marc could think about was how undeserving he was of any of it.

He didn’t deserve her kindness, her loyalty — not when he was still so tangled up in thoughts of Marco. Not when every time he looked at her, all he could see was the betrayal in her eyes if she ever found out what he had done. He had cheated on her with another rider, and no amount of excuses could erase that. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how far he had fallen.

Marc clenched his fists, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. He could hear the murmur of voices through the thin wall separating his garage from VR46, muffled but unmistakable. Marco’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, softer this time, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“I’m trying, Vale. I really am.”

The quiet desperation in Marco’s voice pierced through Marc’s defenses, driving a sharp ache into his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but the words lingered, wrapping around him like chains. He knew what it was like to try so hard, to push through the pain and the doubt, only to feel like it was never enough. He knew how much Marco was struggling, both physically and emotionally, and it tore at him that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He wanted to reach out, to tell Marco that he understood, that he knew exactly what it was like to fight against your own body and mind. He wanted to tell him that he was trying too, that every day was a battle just to keep going. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The line had already been drawn, and he couldn’t cross it now, no matter how much he wanted to.

So instead, he sat there, listening to Marco’s voice through the wall, every word cutting into him like a knife. He could hear Valentino’s low, reassuring tone, could imagine the way the older man was probably looking at Marco right now, offering him the kind of comfort that Marc had refused to give. It twisted something deep inside him, a bitter mix of jealousy and regret that he couldn’t shake.

Why had it come to this? Why was Valentino the one Marco turned to now? After everything that had happened between them, Marc didn’t want Valentino anywhere near Marco. He didn’t trust him, didn’t believe for a second that Valentino wouldn’t end up hurting Marco the same way he had hurt him all those years ago. Marc had been in Marco’s shoes once, desperate for validation, for affection, and Valentino had taken that and twisted it into something painful, something damaging. The scars from that time still lingered, buried deep beneath the surface, but they were there. And Marc didn’t want Marco to go through the same thing.

But what choice did he have? He had pushed Marco away, told him to find comfort elsewhere. And now, that comfort was coming from the one person Marc didn’t want involved. The one person who had left him broken and alone.

Marc’s grip tightened on the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, the pressure grounding him, keeping him from spiraling too far into his own thoughts. He couldn’t let himself go there, couldn’t afford to let his emotions take control. Not now, not when everything was so precariously balanced. He had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it, no matter how much it hurt.

Through the wall, he could hear Marco’s voice again, quieter now, like he was struggling to keep it together. Marc’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, the urge to get up, to go to him, almost overwhelming. But he stayed where he was, forcing himself to remain still, to do nothing. Because that’s all he could do now — nothing.

Marco leaned back in the chair in the corner of the garage, his legs bouncing with nervous energy. He stared at his phone, willing Alessandro to respond. His mind was racing, and the weight of everything he was carrying felt too heavy.

"Ale," he typed out, his fingers moving faster than he could think.

"ALESSANDRO."

"Pls come back."

"Sto impazzendo."

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Marco bit down on his lip, glancing up at the team bustling around him, seemingly oblivious to the storm inside him. He needed Alessandro here. Alessandro was the only one who knew. The only one he could talk to about… Marc.

Finally, his phone buzzed with a reply.

"omw 🤙"

Marco let out a shaky breath, his body sagging in relief. Alessandro would understand. He always did. He was the only one that could.

A few minutes later, Alessandro appeared in the doorway, his face immediately softening when he saw the look on Marco’s face. He walked over quickly, concern etched in his features.

"Hey, what’s going on?" Alessandro asked, his voice low as he pulled a chair over to sit next to Marco, the garage emptier now, safer without Vale lingering since he had found his way to the Ducati garage by now.

Marco looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. "It’s… him," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Alessandro sighed softly, leaning in closer to hear him better. "What about him?"

Marco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I heard him. Through the wall. I know he’s there, Ale. And I can’t stop thinking about him."

Alessandro frowned, glancing at the wall Marco had mentioned. "Did he say anything?"

"No… not really. But… he’s there. And it’s just…" Marco trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. "It’s stupid. You know?"

Alessandro nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

Marco swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I keep trying to move on. To focus on racing, on the team, on anything else. But every time I hear his voice, it’s like everything comes rushing back. Everything that happened between us. Especially last time."

Alessandro leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he listened. He had been there when things had fallen apart between Marco and Marc. He had seen the aftermath, the pain that Marco had tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And he had been the one Marco had confided in when it all became too much.

"What do you want to do about it?" Alessandro asked gently, his voice calm and steady.

Marco shook his head, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I don’t know. I want to talk to him, but I can’t. Not after everything. It’s just… too much. And then there’s Vale, and… I don’t know what to do, Ale. I feel like I’m losing my mind."

Alessandro reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Marco’s shoulder. "You’re not losing your mind, Marco. You’re just dealing with a lot right now. But you’ve got me, hm? I’m here. Whatever you need."

Marco looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and despair. "Thanks, Ale. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Alessandro gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Take it one step at a time. And if you need to talk to him… maybe that’s something you’ll do when you’re ready. But don’t push yourself too hard."

Marco nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to face Marc again. But for now, having Alessandro by his side was enough.

But don’t push yourself too hard.

Don’t push yourself too hard.

Marco soaked in Alessandro's words, or at least he tried to. He didn't care once he stood up from his chair and left the garage, shamelessly wandering to catch even the slightest glimpse of Marc.

Marc didn't notice Marco at first. He was too absorbed in the numbers on the screen, trying desperately to find solace in the familiarity of his data. But something tugged at the corner of his consciousness, a familiar presence that he couldn't ignore. He looked up, and there, standing in the doorway of his garage, was Marco.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, the buzzing of the lights and the hum of the paddock fading into the background. Marco looked at him, his eyes shadowed with an emotion Marc couldn’t quite place — anger, hurt, maybe even regret. Marc’s breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in weeks, he felt completely exposed, as though Marco could see right through him.

Just as he processed the other mans presence he turned around, caught off guard by the sight of Ale filming the sunset.

All he could do was smile and look away. Fuck. Knowing him, this was going to be posted and everyone would see him acting a fool. Looking at Marc. Looking for Marc.

The day had dragged on with a suffocating heaviness that clung to the atmosphere of the paddock. The tension in the air was palpable, and Marco had tried to lose himself in the routine of race preparation, but his mind was elsewhere. Despite Alessandro's comforting words, Marco couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of his control.

It was late afternoon when Marco finally stepped out of the back of the garage. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows across the tarmac and bathing everything in a golden hue. The cool breeze offered little comfort as he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

As he rounded the corner, he froze. Marc was standing just a few feet away, having stepped out of his own garage at the exact same moment. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Marc looked as tormented as Marco felt. His usually sharp, confident gaze was clouded with guilt and something else — something that made Marco’s heart clench painfully in his chest. They stood there, neither of them saying a word, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Marco couldn’t take it anymore. "Marc," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the paddock. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, didn’t know how to bridge the chasm that had opened between them. But he knew he couldn’t keep avoiding this, couldn’t keep letting the silence fester.

Marc took a hesitant step forward, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should. "Marco," he replied, his voice rough and strained. "I—" He stopped, his expression twisting with frustration and regret. "I’m sorry," he finally said, the words spilling out in a rush. "For everything. For pushing you away, for… for everything I did."

Marco swallowed hard, the apology hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had wanted to hear those words, but now that he had, they felt hollow, empty. "Why now, Marc?" he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. "Why are you sorry now, after everything? Before the race?"

Marc’s face fell, and he looked away, unable to meet Marco’s gaze. "Because I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared of how much I felt, scared of losing control. We slept together, Marco. I have a girlfrienf and I continue to come crawling back to you." He whispred, as though he was full of shame. He should be, Marco thought. Though he knew he didn't mean it. "I hurt you because of it. I didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me, how much you still do."

Marco’s breath caught in his throat, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over him. He had dreamed of hearing Marc say those words, but now that they were out in the open, they didn’t bring the relief he had expected. Instead, they only deepened the ache inside him.

The tension between them was unbearable, the air thick with everything they weren’t saying. Marc's apology hung in the space between them, raw and full of regret. Marco’s heart pounded in his chest, torn between the pain he felt and the pull he could never fully escape.

“Marc…” Marco whispered again, his voice wavering as he tried to hold onto his resolve. But something in Marc’s eyes, the depth of his guilt, the vulnerability he so rarely showed, shattered the last of Marco’s defenses.

Before either of them could think, before the weight of their words could push them further apart, Marco stepped forward. His hands found their way to Marc’s face, cupping his jaw with a tenderness that belied the turmoil inside him, a tenderness that Marc never dared to think about giving Marco. He saw Marc’s breath hitch, his eyes wide with surprise and something deeper, something they both had been avoiding for too long.

And then, Marco kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle; it was fierce, desperate, like trying to hold on to something slipping away. Marc responded instantly, his hands gripping Marco’s waist as he pulled him closer, closing the distance that had kept them apart for so long. The kiss was messy, full of pent-up emotions, a mixture of anger, sadness, and the undeniable love that neither of them could deny any longer.

Marco could feel Marc trembling against him, could feel the way Marc was pouring everything into this one moment, as if trying to make up for all the hurt with a single kiss. He kissed back with the same intensity, letting himself get lost in the sensation, in the taste of Marc that he had missed so much.

For a fleeting moment, it was just them, lost in a world where nothing else existed. The noise of the paddock faded into the background, drowned out by the rush of blood in their ears and the rapid beating of their hearts. The world outside the garage — the spectators, the cameras, the relentless demands of the race — ceased to matter. In that kiss, the pain, the misunderstandings, and the mistakes that had plagued them melted away, leaving only the raw, undeniable connection they had began to share.

They clung to each other as if trying to capture something they had both feared was gone forever. Marc’s grip tightened on Marco’s waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of Marco’s shirt as if afraid to let go. He poured everything he had into that kiss, desperate to convey the feelings he could never quite articulate, the feelings he'd never dare to articulate. Not with Gemma still determined to stay by his side. The love that had always been there despite everything. Despite Marco's hurt. Despite Marc's hesitance to love another man in fear that he would hurt him how Vale had all those years ago. Marco responded with equal intensity, his hands trembling as they cradled Marc’s face, holding him close as if he could anchor himself in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

But as the kiss deepened, as Marc’s lips moved against his with a need that bordered on frantic, Marco felt something else rising within him — something cold and sharp that pierced through the warmth of their embrace. The tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, and with them came the cruel reminder of the reality they couldn’t escape. The weight of everything unsaid, of every moment of doubt, of every wound they had inflicted on each other, came crashing down on him with a force that stole his breath.

He pulled back suddenly, gasping for air as if he had been drowning and only now resurfaced. His forehead rested against Marc’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, and Marco struggled to steady himself, to hold on to the fragile moment before it shattered completely. “Marc…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the words trembling on the edge of a sob. He could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks, each one a testament to the depth of his pain. “This… this doesn’t fix anything.”

Marc’s eyes, wide and desperate, locked onto Marco’s as if searching for something — anything — that would tell him they still had a chance. His hands, which had been holding Marco so tightly, softened their grip but didn’t let go. He was afraid, Marco realized, afraid that if he did, this fragile connection between them would break forever. “I know,” Marc said, his voice hoarse and heavy with the weight of everything he had been holding back. “But I needed you to know… I still need you, Marco. Please.”

The plea in Marc’s voice cut through Marco’s heart like a knife, and he had to close his eyes against the flood of emotions threatening to pull him under. The tears came faster now, spilling down his cheeks unchecked. He knew Marc meant every word, knew that Marc’s need for him was as real and as powerful as his own feelings. But he also knew that words and desperate kisses couldn’t undo the damage that had been done. They couldn’t erase the betrayal, the lies, the hurt that had driven them apart in the first place.

Yet, in that moment, with the echo of Marc’s lips still lingering on his, Marco allowed himself to believe, if only for a fleeting heartbeat, that maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. It was a dangerous, fragile hope, one that wavered like a candle flame in the wind, threatening to be snuffed out by the harsh realities of their past. But still, it flickered, offering a glimmer of warmth in the cold uncertainty that surrounded them. Despite the hurt, the betrayal, and the countless times they had torn each other apart, Marco wanted to believe that the love they shared — something that had always been so raw, so intense — might still be strong enough to mend the fractures that time and pain had wrought between them.

The memory of their kiss lingered like a bittersweet melody, playing over and over in Marco’s mind, making it hard to think of anything else. It was the taste of what they could be, of the connection that had always drawn them together no matter how far they strayed. But as much as he wanted to cling to that hope, as much as he yearned to believe that they could find their way back to each other, the fear was still there, dark and insistent. It whispered doubts into his mind, reminding him of every time they had tried and failed, of every promise that had been broken. The fear that this fragile sliver of possibility might only lead to more heartache loomed large, casting a long shadow over the hope that flickered in his heart.

Marc seemed to sense the hesitation, the conflict that warred within Marco, and his hands tightened their hold just slightly, as if by sheer force of will he could keep Marco from slipping away. The desperation in his eyes had softened into something more tender, more pleading, as if he understood the weight of the decision Marco was wrestling with. “Let me take you back,” Marc whispered, his voice gentle but filled with a quiet intensity that spoke of how much this meant to him. “I’ll get us a hotel. Please, Marco.”

The words hung in the air between them, filled with a mix of hope, longing, and a deep-seated need for something that had always felt just out of reach. Whether or not Marc’s offer was just about finding a place to be alone together, Marco didn't care.

But as Marco stood there, looking into Marc’s eyes, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing uncertainty that gripped him. Could they really start over? Could they just pick it up where they left off and pretend like the hurt had never happened? The fear of repeating their mistakes, of falling into the same destructive patterns, weighed heavily on Marco’s chest. Yet, despite it all, there was something in Marc’s voice, in the way he looked at Marco with such unwavering determination, that made it hard to say no.

Marco searched Marc’s eyes, feeling the weight of the choice before him. The pull between them was undeniable, stronger than the pain, stronger than the doubts that plagued his mind. And despite everything, despite the voice in his head warning him of the risks, Marco found himself nodding, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Marc to see.

Marc’s expression softened with relief, his breath escaping in a shuddering exhale as if he’d been holding it all this time. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing gently over Marco’s cheek. There was no need for more words; they both understood what this meant.

Marc reached out, taking Marco’s hand in his, their fingers intertwining naturally as if they belonged together. With one last glance around to ensure no one else was watching, Marc led him away from the garages, their pace quickening as they moved out of sight. They walked side by side, neither speaking, but the silence between them was comfortable, laden with the unspoken understanding that they were heading toward something they both needed—somewhere they could be alone, where the weight of the outside world couldn’t reach them.

The drive to the hotel was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Marco’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumble of emotions — anticipation, fear, hope. He kept his gaze focused on the road ahead, but every so often, he’d glance over at Marc, catching the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension. It was clear that Marc was just as nervous, just as uncertain about what came next, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression, a determination that gave Marco a sliver of comfort.

They arrived at the hotel, a discreet place on the outskirts of town, far from prying eyes. Marc parked the car, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The gravity of what they were about to do settled over them, heavy and palpable. Then, without a word, Marc got out of the car, walking around to open Marco’s door. He extended his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Marco took it, allowing Marc to help him out. Their fingers remained laced together as they made their way inside.

Marc handled the check-in quickly, keeping his voice low as he spoke to the receptionist. Marco stood a little behind him, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the surroundings. Everything felt surreal, like they were in a bubble removed from reality, where the usual rules didn’t apply.

When Marc returned with the key, he offered Marco a small, reassuring smile before leading him toward the elevators. They stood close together as the doors slid shut, the quiet hum of the elevator the only sound between them. Marc’s hand found its way back to Marco’s, squeezing it gently as if to remind him that he wasn’t alone in this.

The room they entered was simple, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the privacy, the sense of sanctuary it offered. Marc closed the door behind them, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the room. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, both searching for the right thing to say, but words seemed inadequate.

Finally, Marc took a step closer, his hand cupping Marco’s face as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate like before, but slow, careful, as if Marc was savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of Marco’s lips against his. Marco’s eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed back, the tension in his body slowly easing as he let himself be pulled into the warmth of Marc’s embrace.

They moved together, Marco’s hands finding their way to Marc’s shoulders, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly become uncertain. The kiss deepened, but this time there was no urgency, no need to prove anything — just a quiet, shared understanding that whatever came next, they would face it together.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and a little unsteady, Marc rested his forehead against Marco’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “Stay with me tonight,” Marc whispered, his voice low, laced with a vulnerability that Marco hadn’t heard from him before.

Marco nodded, unable to find his voice, but the answer was clear in the way he tightened his hold on Marc.

Marc’s eyes softened at Marco’s silent agreement, and for a moment, all the tension between them seemed to dissipate. He let out a shaky breath, pressing a gentle kiss to Marco’s temple before pulling back slightly to look at him, really look at him. The uncertainty in Marco’s eyes was still there, but there was also something else — something that gave Marc hope.

Slowly, Marc led Marco to the bed, their hands still entwined. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamps casting a warm, intimate light over the space. Marc sat down first, pulling Marco down beside him. They sat there, side by side, their shoulders touching, both of them acutely aware of how close they were, yet neither making a move to close the remaining distance.

Marc turned his head slightly, his eyes searching Marco's face, lingering on the curve of his lips. There was a quiet tension between them, an unspoken understanding that had been building for so long. Marc's breath hitched as he lifted a hand to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from Marco's face, his fingers lingering on Marco's cheek, the touch light, almost hesitant.

Marco leaned into the touch, his eyes half-lidded as he let out a shaky breath. The air between them felt charged, electric, and Marc could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the intensity of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He knew what he wanted — what they both wanted — but still, he hesitated, as if waiting for Marco to make the first move.

Marco, feeling the weight of Marc's gaze, finally turned to face him fully, his lips parting slightly as he met Marc's eyes. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the world around them fading away until it was just the two of them, alone in the quiet of the room.

Then, almost as if drawn together by an invisible force, Marc leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips brushed against Marco's in a tentative, searching kiss. Marco responded immediately, a soft sound escaping his throat as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

The world seemed to slow down as their mouths moved together, lips and tongues exploring each other with a mix of tenderness and hunger. Marc's hand slid to the back of Marco's neck, pulling him closer, while Marco's hands found their way to Marc's chest, clutching at his shirt as if to ground himself in the moment.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as if they were both trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments they had held back. Marc's hand tangled in Marco's hair, tilting his head back to gain better access as he kissed him deeper, their breaths mingling, hearts racing.

Marco wants to bite him.

He doesn’t — he feigns smugness instead, a confidence he doesn’t have right now as their lips part, his body feels like it’s about to crumble under Marc's touch. He grabs the headboard behind Marc with both hands, one arm on each side of Marc's head — it’s either this, or his hands will start wandering, touching and grabbing and exploring because they have seen each other naked, but Marco wants everything. He wants to swallow Marc in the physical and metaphorical sense, he wants Marc to be his and also a part of him at the same time, he wants Marc in his mouth and down his throat and around his neck.

Marc lifts a hand and grazes the fingertips on Marco’s cheekbone to move some tendrils of hair that have escaped his fluro yellow claw clip, of course it's the vr46 colour, which he then tucks behind Marco’s ear. Marc looks at him like he knows that Marco would splay himself open for him - does he know? Marco wants to tell him, but he fears he’ll run - and Marco feels that gaze right in the middle of his sternum.

“I know I might fail,” Marc rests his hand on Marco's cheek now and Marco's grin freezes on his face, “But do I have permission to try?”

Fuck.

Marco doesn’t even know why Marc is asking— well, he does know, and it’s because Marc is being way too fucking nice, and will keep asking for consent until his throat is dry, and god if that isn’t so fucking sexy of him. Marco swallows and nods frantically, suddenly unable to make a sound — but he knows what Marc is going to want from him, so he takes a deep breath to ready himself for the demand.

“Words, lindo.”

Marco only has one word, and that’s “fuck” yelled out loudly for an hour straight ideally — but he’s ready, so he clears his throat to answer.

“Yes, please.”

Marc smiles contentedly. “Good boy. Come here?” He says in a low tone, sliding his fingers along Marco's cheek and then under Marco's ears until he can gently hook them behind Marco's neck to pull him into a kiss.

And what a kiss, Marco thinks when he leans down for it, bracing himself by wrapping his arms around Marc's shoulders.

Marc always kisses him like he’s delicate, like he’s the most succulent of meals, like he wants all of him and at the same time wants to make sure he’s kept safe. One hand on Marco's cheek and the other on his thigh, Marc holds him through the kiss as if Marco was even thinking of going anywhere.

Marc's kisses almost make Marco think Marc would want to keep him.

Marco pushes the thought away by deepening the kiss and tightening the hold of his arms around Marc's shoulders, using them to push himself against Marc's chest and also give Marc's crotch a little rub with his own. It can’t hurt, can it?, to make Marc feel how much Marco wants him at all times, including right now when all he had to do was have Marco sit in his lap and Marco is desperately hard in his sweatpants.

Marc's fingers dig into Marco's skin in all the spots Marc is touching him — Marco feels them on his jaw and right behind his knee. He drinks the little “mmhh” that Marc releases in the middle of the kiss like it’s ambrosia, he can almost physically feel it fill up his mouth and slide down his throat, leaving fire in its wake. And Marco would burn, he would do it gladly if only Marc asked him to — but Marc doesn’t ask. He'd never dare to beg for anything. Never again. Instead, he pulls back from the kiss just a little, leaving Marco's lips open and wanting.

“You need to learn how to slow down, darling.” Marc whispers, lifting a hand to rub his whole palm on Marco's forehead to brush more strands of hair back. He’s smirking, still, and Marco can’t help but huff out a little laugh in response. He’s been caught red-handed, but this is not news for either of them: they’ve known each other long enough for it not to be a big revelation — he’s the one who wants things and wants them right now, Marc is the patient soul who reins him in. Except, this whole dynamic has gained a whole new layer now that one of the things Marco is allowing himself to want is Marc himself. It has made Marco more demanding, and Marc more firm.

And Marco loves it.

“You know me, amore. I haven’t slowed down one day in my entire life.” Marco grins, cupping Marc's jaw with one hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb on Marc's lips. Marc purses them to kiss Marco's finger, and Marco's eyelids and chest and stomach flutter.

“I know.” Marc nods, resting both hands on Marco's sides. He rubs them up and down until Marco's team shirt lifts up enough for him to slide under it and press his fingers into the softness just above his hips. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way. But I wonder—” Marc inhales sharply, furrowing his brows in the exaggerated expression of someone who is concocting the most articulate thought (he’s an absolute loser, Marco adores him), “Is there any way I could perhaps help you do that? Pause, for a moment?”

It’s a twinkle in Marc's eyes, and Marco catches it immediately. His whole body lights up.

“Maybe.” He arches an eyebrow, “You could try. You’re a very resourceful person.”

“Well. I do have something in mind.” Marc sits up, wrapping his arms around Marco's waist and straightening his back up until their faces are incredibly close again. “But I’m going to need you to be a very good boy for me. And some lube.”

It’s a good thing that Marco is being securely held in Marc's lap, because the bout of dizziness he feels all at once almost sends him flying straight to the floor. Fuck, is he actually insane? Marc knows by now the effect he has on him — and the bastard knows how to use it to his advantage too, because why would he call him a ‘good boy’ from that distance, lips that almost touch, breaths that almost combine?

“Gesù. Yes.” Marco breathes out, starting to reluctantly slide a leg off of Marc lap to turn around. “It’s just—”

“Now, now.” Marc grabs him promptly by his hips and Marco stops immediately, eyes fixed on him and his shit-eating grin that Marco wants to bite, “What did I just tell you? You need to settle down.” Marc tells him, and his tone is gentle but doesn’t give Marco any room for complaining. Not that Marco would want to, anyway — he feels his bones melt at the vigorous hold on his sides and at the rumble in Marc's voice, but he still manages to slide back into place and sit where Marco wants him.

“Where is it?” Marc asks him, running his hands over the small of Marco’s back purely because he wants to touch him. Marc has never been the tactile one between them, but Marco's love language is touch — which basically means that he has subjected Marc to his hugs, touches, caresses, to his fidgeting with various edges of various pieces of Marc's clothing until the whole thing rubbed off on Marc, and now every time he runs his hands over Marco's body, his skin goes up in flames.

“There’s a small bottle in the smallest pouch of my zaino.” Marco’s voice isn’t even stable right now — it trembles just as his body is doing — but he knows that Marc wants him to be present, and he doesn’t want to let him down.

Luckily his whole being is shaken back into existence the moment Marc's hand on the small of his back slides around his waist so that Marc's arm can hug him, holding Marco against his toned chest with one firm movement; Marco feels Marc's torso lean forward and instinctively wraps his arms around Marc's shoulders to avoid falling backwards, a surprised yelp escaping his lips.

“Marc, cristo—” Marco chuckles as he hugs him, pressing his cheek against Marc's as the man leans over and stretches an arm out to reach the bag.

They’re both laughing now, and Marc's laughter so close to Marco's ears makes Marco's insides feel like they will never be solid again. How could he live without this?

“See? It worked, and you didn’t have to move a muscle.” Marc chirps happily and kisses Marco right under his ear — then on his jaw, on his cheekbone, on the corner of his lips while he sits back again and takes Marco with him. Marco's eyelids flutter closed and he holds Marc's face again, a soft breath breaking against Marc'z lips a few moments before Marc kisses him once more.

It really feels like Marc kisses him because he likes to do it, and Marco lets himself believe it; one hand still splayed open on Marco's back, Marc holds him as he savours Marco, sucking on his bottom lip, taking up all the space that Marco has in his mouth — Marco gives it up gladly — until he breaks the kiss with one of his little moans that make Marco's ears tingle.

“You took my fingers so well last time,” Marc whispers right against Marco's lips, and wow, shit, he’s going straight for it, okay, “Do you want to show me how good you are with my cock?”

At this point, the hold Marco has on Marc's face is more of an anchoring point than something borne of affection, because he feels like he’s going to tumble right off Marc's lap even though he’s securely sitting on it. Who taught him to speak like that?!

“Cazzo, mate—” Marco drops his head forward, eyes closed as if it’s enough to soften the blow of the fucking punch in the chest he just received, “God, yes. I want nothing more. Please.” He remembers, in the haze of the moment, what Marc had told him to do the last time they had found themselves in this situation — he likes it when Marco asks nicely, and Marco is hellbent on not letting him down.

And sure enough, Marc smiles — Marco would fight a thousand wars if it meant he could always see him like this — and he pops the lube open with the flick of a thumb. They don’t even look at the bottle — they only have eyes for each other, with Marc's hand still in the small of Marco's back and Marco's hands delicately resting on the line of Marc's jaw. They stare at each other in what frankly looks like a silent battle for who can hold the most affection for the other in their gaze. Marco hopes it’s a tie. Convinces himself it is.

He shifts his hips back a bit and reaches for the band of Marc's jeans, but Marc tuts, arching his eyebrows. “Ah-ha. Don’t move.” He says, slow and low — and they’re so close that the words roar in Marco's chest. He puts his hand back on Marco's upper arm, finger grazing lightly over the scars litering his skin as he forced himself to keep as still as possible. It’s quite the undertaking for him, as someone who wants to touch, move, get things going. He has no patience and that is especially true when what he wants is right in front of him, but Marc has made it very clear what the rules are, so Marco waits. The last thing he wants is to be kicked aside again.

He waits, but he watches — he watches as Marc wriggles his hips enough to be able to slide his bottoms down. Not all the way, because of course he wouldn’t want Marco to move an inch — but then he takes his cock out, which is already half-hard just by making out with Marco, and he can’t help but feel a tinge of pride at the sight.

“You are so beautiful.” It comes out of Marco before he can even stop it, and his breath hitches a bit at the end of the sentence, but now it’s too late to take it back anyway. They’ve always had words of praise for each other, regardless of the context in which they were said — and yet these words now taste like a brand new thing. Like something that isn’t blooming yet but it’s desperately asking to, something that feels tentative and shy and that maybe Marco should’ve kept for himself, on second thought.

He searches for Marc's gaze in a subtle panic — he needs to know immediately if he has ruined everything, if he has given away too much, if Marc hates him—

He finds Marc's hazel eyes staring straight back at him, and for a moment Marco could swear something flashes in them, just as Marc's eyelids flutter for an instant. His lips part ever so slightly, almost as if Marc would like to say something but he's stopping himself at the last second. his stomach drops a bit, because what is Marc thinking right now? Perhaps that he's not beautiful? That he doesn't deserve the compliment? And he doesn't know how to fix it, he doesn't know how to tell him without breaking the atmosphere of the moment, so Marco holds his face gently, softly, fingertips subtly rubbing the skin under them. You are, you are, you are, one small rub, and then another, then another, you are, you are, you are.

Marc takes a deep breath, slowly, and Marco feels the hand on his back give him a very quick caress. “Nothing, compared to you, tesoro.”

No, no, no, Marco pulls him into a kiss, his thumbs rubbing Marc's cheekbones, you are, you are, you are, and he vaguely registers Marc drizzling the lube on his cock and his own fingers as they kiss, you are beautiful, you are so beautiful, you are the most beautiful, and now one of Marc's hands is wrapping around his waist and ending up on his back and it’s sliding, lower and lower and lower, you are the most gorgeous creature I have ever laid eyes on, and it slips inside Marco's pants and surpasses his boxers, and Marco is still kissing him, there’s no one more beautiful than you, and then the first finger breaches him, and the whimper he lets out into Marc's mouth sounds a lot like his name.

“Si, amor?” Marc murmurs and oh, maybe Marco did say his name.

“I— I want— I need you, Marc, please—”

In a different universe - one where the mere act of looking at Marc doesn’t make Marco want to drop to his knees — Marco would be telling himself to get it together. That the state he’s in after a short makeout session and one mere finger is way too much, that he needs to reel it in — but in this universe, the one where Marc is smiling at him as he adds a second finger, Marco is not holding back.

“You need to be patient, Marco.” Marc's words follow Marco's moan almost in one unified sound — they’re an extension of Marco's noises, Marc fits them in between one whimper and the other like they belong there — and they do, like puzzle pieces perfectly coming together.

Patience, patience — by the time Marc has added a third finger Marco is a writhing, whimpering mess, desperately seeking some sort of relief by attempting to push his hips against Marc's fingers. He can’t, though, because Marc told him not to, he told him to stand still and be patient, and Marco feels like his head is about to explode. He knows why Marc is doing that — he wants Marco to learn to take his time, to not rush things, to wait, but all Marco wants is this beautiful man to be inside him and he is not sure if he’s learning any lessons here.

“Right,” Marc breathes out just as his fingers still, earning a disapproving moan from Marco, “You’re being so very good for me”, Marco squirms ever so slightly as the fingers slide out with ease, “But last time I forgot to ask you something very important and the mistake has been eating at me.”

Marco's brain is way too liquified to even focus properly on Marc's words, but what Marco knows is that there is nothing he would change about their first time. He has been replaying that night over and over in his head, and if Marc asked him what he would change, he wouldn't have an answer.

“What—” Marco swallows, trying to get his words out, “What is it? You were perfect.”

Marc shakes his head. “No, Marco, and I'm sorry. I'm— still learning.”

Marco catches a hint of hesitation in Marc's voice. He doesn't understand why, but if Marc doesn't tell him immediately what the issue is, he's going to go insane.

“I didn't ask you what your safeword is,” Marc sighs, rubbing Marco's side with his other hand. “And I'm so sorry. I should have.”

Leave it to Marc Marquez to apologise for not properly taking care of him. Leave it to Marc Marquez to realize he was far too similar to Valentino. To realise he'd rather die than continue to hurt Marco how Vale had hurt him.

God, Marco could start crying.

“Amore, it's fine, I promise,” Marco tries to reassure him, cupping his jaw with both hands to direct Marc's gaze into his own — and oh, Marc's eyebrows are knotted in the middle, and he's concerned, so very concerned. “I know you wouldn't hurt me—”

“Marco, please, don't brush it off.” Marc's hand on Marco's hips grabs him firmly enough to get Marco's attention, “It's always important to know. I— people— should be asking you, and you should make it known.”

It doesn't feel like Marc is telling him off — rather, this sounds a lot like something he's been reprimanding himself about for days.

“I— I want— I need you to be safe, Marco, please—”

Marco's hands almost scramble to grab Marc's face to pull him in until their foreheads touch.

“I am, I promise, I am.” Marco tells him gently, rubbing circles into Marc's skin with his thumbs.

Marc speaks as if Marco would be able to sleep with anyone else now — as if he could desire someone else the way he desires Marc, viscerally, primordially— and Marco knows it's true that Marc would never hurt him — not physically — but his heart still swells up at the thought that Marc is being so attentive towards him.

Their faces are still close when Marco speaks again.

“Lavender.”

Marc looks up at him. “Mh?”

Marco smiles. “Lavender. My safeword.”

Marc's shoulders relax all at once, his face painted with relief.

“I’m sorry,” He says, low and soft, “I’m trying.”

Marco frowns. Trying what? Marc doesn’t have to try, not with him at least. No one knows Marco more than Marc does, embarrassingly enough, and there is nothing he could do wrong when it comes to dealing with him in Marco's eyes. He could do no wrong. His pedestal was far too high for him to be making lowly mistakes.

But the words are cut off right from Marco's throat when Marc wraps a hand around his own cock, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he slowly strokes it a couple times. It is a vision to behold — this perfect man with this perfect face and these perfect hands and this perfect cock — and Marco's jaw falls open, quite literally. He fears he’s going to start salivating in a moment, and he’s thankful for Marc manoeuvring him to lift himself up just a little while he pulls the elastic of Marco's pants and boxers low enough to leave his ass uncovered.

“Just like that… good boy.” Marc's voice guides Marco as he sits back down, the praise making him feel dizzy — as if the feeling of Marc's cock sliding inside wasn't exhilarating enough.

It fills Marco up, inch by inch, and he feels like he's not taking it fast enough — he wants Marc inside him, and he says it with a whimpering moan as he tries to take him to the hilt. But Marc isn't only dictating Marco's movements with his voice, no — his firm grip on Marco's hip is deciding the speed at which Marco is going, and it's too much and it's not enough.

“Marc—” Marco moans in frustration, receiving a gentle shush and a hand stroking his hair in response.

“It's okay, mi amor. Patience. There's no rush. You're being so good for me.”

Marc's praise stays with him until Marco has taken him to the full length, until he's sitting back down in Marc's lap with a groan and he's full, and Marc is all around him and inside him and outside of him, and he's safe.

“Well done, good boy.” Marc strokes Marco's sides gently with both hands, in stark contrast with Marco's fingers gripping Marc's shoulders for dear life.

He wants to move — he wants to make Marc feel good, to show him what a good boy he is for him — and he tries it, he pushes himself up just slightly, even though it doesn't last long. Marc's hands are promptly back on his hips, keeping him down and still.

“It's alright, darling. Just sit still for a minute. You feel so good around me.” Marc says softly as he's smiling at him, and jesus fuck, does he want him dead? Not only is he talking to him like that, but now he’s stopping him from moving, from allowing Marco to give him what he wants, and Marco whimpers again. He likes Marc so fucking much, and the mere idea that Marc might like him back enough to at least want to do this with him makes him want to scream — fucking god, why is Marc Marquez so hard to understand.

“Marc, I—” Marco wants to say it, he wants to ask him why and when and why again. Why does Marc take care of him like this, why does he love him and cherish him and touch him in a way no one has ever touched him before, and when will Marc tell him that this is all just for fun, just so they can fool around for a while, and why.

And what's more frustrating out of this whole fucking situation is that Marco is still hellbent on giving Marc all that he can and all that he has, he wants to see Marc lost in the throes of pleasure because of him and his body, he wants Marc to look at him the way he looked at him before his crash — the lump that forms inside Marco's throat is heavy and painful and Marco lets out a choked noise.

“You'll be okay, amor. I promise. Sit still, I'll take care of you.” Marc's words slide across Marco's skin just like Marc's hands are doing, touching and caressing and caring, “Please, let me fix this. I'll make it up to you. I'll never hurt you again, tesoro.”

Deep down, Marco knows that Marc is right — that things are not as dramatic as he’s making them out to be, that they're both adults who aren't even commited to eachother how Marco so deeply wishes they were — but in reality, Marco's hands are itching and his brain is buzzing.

And if it’s because of the thought of that night or because of Marc, Marco doesn’t want to investigate this further either; all he knows is that he’s trying really hard to be good for Marc, to stay still like he’s asking him — and he doesn’t even realise that his hands have slid from Marc's shoulders to his chest and are now holding Marc's shirt in two tight fists. Marco wants Marc to kiss him, he wants Marc to fuck him into the cheap hotel bed, he wants Marc to tell him he loves him— oh fuck, he loves Marc, doesn’t he? Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

The sob leaves his throat before Marco can even notice, and when he does, his hand flies to his mouth to try and stop himself from releasing any more. His eyes are warm and his vision is getting blurry, and— shit, this is a terrible time to start crying. What would Marc think? He is equipped to carry the weight of Marco's emotions - though he wasn't the best as sticking around - but this is a completely different situation they find themselves in.

He’s sitting on Marc's cock, crying over the fact that he's not so different from Eos, the goddess of the dawn. He feels powerless in this love he has for Marc, much like Eos's unrequited feelings for Ares. No matter how hard Eos tries, Ares will always return to Aphrodite. Just as Marc will always go back to Gemma.

“Marco, oh, amor—” Marc's soothing voice reaches him very quickly and so do Marc's hands, cupping his face and drying a tear with the pad of a thumb. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

Marco knows that he could use the safeword at any point. They have never been in this predicament before, but just by knowing the type of person Marc is, Marco knows he can trust him fully to respect their agreement. He knows that, and for some reason the thought makes him feel much better about his decision.

He shakes his head, uncovering his mouth. “No,” he says, voice quivering, “No, I’m okay. I’m just very overwhelmed.”

Marc strokes rebel strands of hair away from Marco's face with so much care and softness that Marco could genuinely sob about it for a day or two; he knows Marc is trying to calm him down though, and he wants to stop crying before his brain starts telling him he’s ruining everything, so he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Good job.” Marc whispers, and it takes Marco all his willpower not to whimper in the midst of his own tears, which would be absolutely ridiculous.

“You are doing so well.” The Spanish man continues. Marco decides to keep his eyes closed for a while longer, to focus on Marc's voice and hands stroking his face. “I know it’s hard for you to calm down. But it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe. No need to be scared right now. I just want to feel you around me for a little while longer. You feel so good. I wish you could stay here forever.”

Marc doesn’t know, but Marco would. Marco would stay there, in his lap, in his hands, for the rest of time if necessary.

He does his best, anyway: he breathes in and out slowly, and soon it feels like Marc is breathing in sync with him — maybe to regulate Marco's breaths, maybe because they just do that, but it helps a lot, and soon Marco calms down fully. It’s like magic.

The sensation of Marc filling him up is still very much there. Marco comes down to Earth with another whimper, his back arching when a little giggle from Marc makes both shake slightly.

“There you are.” Marc coos. Marco finally opens his eyes, his vision still a little blurry, but he’s blushing like a schoolgirl now, because Marc is smiling at him with that smile Marco keeps so close to his heart — the slightly crooked one, with his eyebrows gently bending upwards in the middle like he’s constantly looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Marco wants to be that, for him.

“Good boy. See? You did it.”

Marco feels his brain snap into place.

He wraps his arms around Marc's shoulders and pulls him in, slowly, almost lazily, their bodies impossibly closer now and then kisses him. He realises only halfway through opening his lips up for Marc that he didn’t ask for permission, he didn’t say please — but Marc's hands immediately run up his torso, from Marco's hips to his shoulder blades and take Marco's shirt with them; the fabric bunches up in Marc's fists and leaves the lower part of Marco's torso bare.

Without breaking the kiss, Marc keeps Marco's shirt up with one hand, while the other one slides lower and lower until it reaches Marco's entrance, fingertips running over his outstretched rim, right in the spot where their bodies are, statically and frustratingly so, joined together. Marco moans into the kiss, biting down on Marc's lower lip.

“Mh,” Marc smiles, pulling back just a bit, “You really feel so good, you know?” He continues, using his fingers to push onto the underside of his cock so that it sinks even further inside, eliciting a begging moan from Marco.

“You can ask me, now.” Marc smirks.

Marco needs to take a deep breath before speaking. “Ask what?”

“Ask me to fuck you, Marco.”

And it comes out of Marco like a landslide, like something Marco can’t run away from: he pushes his knees into the mattress at Marc's sides, pressing even further against him with a long, drawn out moan as he arches his back, ready to start moving the moment Marc allows him to.

“Amore, please— please, fuck me.”

He thinks Marc is going to grab his hips, to finally allow him to start bouncing up and down like his body is craving to do — instead, Marco feels Marc's arms lock around his waist and, in a moment, he finds himself being lifted up and laid on his back on the bed quicker than his brain can even begin to process.

“Good boy.” Marc growls into Marco's mouth before reclaiming it with the hunger of a man starved; Marco's mouth and body and soul are all for him — they open up for Marc like a blossoming flower, letting the man in as much as Marco is able to handle.

Which — turns out — is more than Marco imagined, because Marc is soon thrusting into him, half-kneeling on the bed, one foot planted on the ground. Marco barely has time to gasp, kick his pants all the way off to wrap his legs around Marc's waist and arms around his shoulders, and then his brain fully disconnects once more; Marc pounds into him like he’s trying to mark him — Marco likes to think that Marc is making him his own, and even if Marc's thrusts mean something else to his friend, to Marco they’re saying mine, yours, mine, yours, mine.

“Oh, tesoro, you feel so good—” Marc pants in Marco's ear and Marco closes his eyes; maybe, if he doesn’t look, he can pretend that Marc is saying this as he lazily wraps his arms around his waist on a warm Sunday morning in their bed in the house they share, pressing himself against Marco's back and leaving a kiss behind the shell of his ear, both of them smelling of sex and fresh sheets, right before Marc gets up to cook breakfast.

And then Marc's cock hits that spot inside Marco that makes him let out a moan that is much louder than the others and arch his back, and Marco really doesn't know if the ringing he hears is from Marc's phone or from his own ears — but it doesn't matter. He tightens the grip of his legs around Marc's hips to get him to go deeper, deeper, deeper, and Marc does — he plants his knee into the duvet and his foot solidly on the floor and shifts his hips forwards just enough to pound into Marco with a relentlessness that makes Marco feel dizzy.

Marc's cheek is still pressed against Marco's when he cups his jaw on the opposite side with a hand; Marco turns his head into the touch, eyes closed, until Marc's thumb grazes his bottom lip. He opens his eyes, then, and without hesitation, he tilts his head forward to take the finger in his mouth, wrapping his lips softly around it. He feels Marc's thrusts stutter and has to do his best not to smirk around Marc's digit, especially because Marc is now lifting his head up to look at the pretty picture in front of him and Marco is not going to miss the opportunity to employ his best doe eyes if he can.

He looks up at Marc, thumb in his mouth, and gives the pad a quick lick before sucking on it. Marc is looking at him like he has never seen anything so beautiful — at least, that’s what Marco makes himself think in order to stay sane — with his lips parted in surprise and a little gasp that escapes them when his eyes land on his finger being enveloped by Marco's supple lips.

“Fuck,” Marc mutters, pushing the thumb deeper — Marco feels it slide across his tongue and thinks about Marc's cock doing the same — “You are so beautiful, amor. I’m so - ah - I’m so lucky I get to have you like this—”

Marc isn’t the lucky one, Marco thinks. Looking up at him, brunette locks falling over his forehead and bouncing to the rhythm of his thrust, mouth agape in the throes of pleasure — Marco wants to tell him. He wants to tell him that he’s pretty sure he loves him, and that he’s sorry if this ruins everything between them, and that it’s fine if Marco doesn’t love him back — it’s not fine, but what else is he going to do? Lose him? Again?

He says nothing, though. He hums around Marc's thumb as his lips hit the base of it and he keeps sucking and licking just as he feels Marc's thrust get faster and more frantic. Marc presses the other four fingers against Marco's jaw and now he’s practically holding his head, and Marco's eyes roll to the back of his head at the thought of Marc handling him that way. He slides one hand away from Marc's side to try and reach his own neglected cock, but Marc is faster, always. He pushes Marco away with his free hand and wraps his own fingers around Marco's erection instead.

“No. Mine.” Marc growls, and Marco would cry again if he wasn’t too busy trying not to come on the spot.

Marco is literally everywhere, he’s inside Marco and around his cock and in his mouth and on top of him and Marco sucks on his finger like it’s the source of the oxygen he needs to live; Marc looks mesmerised and Marco believes him, he believes that Marc loves him back within the confines of the orgasm that is building up inside both of them — that it’s real for a moment, for a brief, intense moment where their bellies tighten and the pressure builds up and their moans almost become one, and Marc is pounding and pounding and pounding and saying Marco's name over and over again — and then Marc comes, and then they both come, and Marc is filling him up and Marco is spilling all over his stomach and Marc's fist, and it’s bliss.

Marco loves him, in the space of their panting breaths. Marco loves him, with their cheeks pressed together once Marc flops forward for a moment. Marco loves him, with his fingers carding through the waves of his hair.

And he imagines that Marc loves him too, with his thumb slipping out of Marco's mouth but his hand still firmly pressed against his face. He imagines that Marc loves him too, with the little sigh of relief when Marco mindlessly and softly scratches his back with his nails, delicate as he can be. He imagines that Marc loves him too, in the little giggle he releases before kissing his neck.

“Did your phone ring?” Marco asks lazily, as if they’ve just woken up from a good night’s sleep.

“Mh,” Marc hums, face still hidden against Marco's neck.

“Want me to leave you alone while you call them back?” Marco asks, Marc only throws but a glance at his phone on the bedside table next to them. He thinks about the idea of leaving, and he feels like things matter a little less.

It can wait.

“No,” He mumbles, turning his head again and wrapping Marc into a hug, closing his eyes so that he can smell him. “I'll stay.”

And he did, for that night. Stayed in bed with Marco, their limbs entertwined the whole night before they had to wake up and return to the paddock. Before Marc had to return Gemma's calls.

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toni-peperoni · 7 months ago

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1.001 words of pure crack, treated not nearly as seriously as I intended, prompted by @yeastinfectionvale with 'Uccio and Checo being twins, but make it dramatic'. Here it goes:

He couldn't quite remember who had suggested to do that 23 and me test, but the entire academy came together and Vale was doing it too. So Uccio couldn't just opt out. He wanted to be cool after all. And really, what spoke against it. Being from such a little place like Tavullia meant that everyone knew everyone and the only thing that Uccio really hoped to find out was the he and Vale might be related at least in someway?

One after the other, they opened their results and all seemed normal and right, they even got the Brasilian part of Franky right, but then when they got to his results, something was weird. It said he was half Mexican. Mexican? How could that be with how much he despised the Spanish language and anything associated with it.

But when it was right with Franky and Brasil, that had to mean it was right with him and Mexico too right? Everyone was confused and Uccio wanted to call his mother. Naturally everyone else wanted to hear the explanation too, so he was forced to stay and call his mother on speaker.

"Hello Alessio, my baby, what is up? Why are you calling me so late?", his mother asked him.

Bez and Cele were giggling he was still called 'my baby' by his mother. That got them a death glare.

"We all took DNA tests and it turned out I'm half Mexican. Any comment on that", he asked with spite in this voice, that usually only came out when he defended his family, Vale, against the great evil, Marc.

"Oh what, that must be a mistake. Neither I nor your father are Mexican!", his mother tried to play it down. But Uccio saw right through her, like he always saw the malicious intent of people.

"But is my father even my father?", Uccio shot back. And his mother's defence crumbled.

She was sobbing, tears rolling. Her son had never been supposed to find out. Nobody was supposed to know what happened when that hot shot from Mexico had suddenly showed up one day and like a whirlwind threw her world upside down.

"I never wanted you to find out. Of course your father is your father, he raised you, but your biological dad is someone else. His name is Antonio. He was charming, he was sweet and just everything I missed in your father. I am so sorry I never told you, but it was for the better. I didn't want to start a whole identity crisis for you. You know, because Salucci is not your biological father's last name. My one motto has always been: The main thing is that Alessio is well"

He swallowed hard. "Salucci isn't my right last name. I'm not actually Uccio. But who am I? What is my last name supposed to be?"

"It's Perez", his mother sobbed out.

"That's so Spanish. That's so typical in the Spanish language it's even in the Spanish Duolingo course as a standard example name", Pecco threw in from the side, not being helpful or considering of the crisis he was currently going through.

"Wait Antonio Perez as in the father of Checo Perez?", Valentino was the first to make the connection.

"That's exactly him. I can't watch Formula 1 without thinking about him. And your twin brother."

"My twin? I have a twin?", Uccio - was he even Uccio anymore, or was he now Rezo and needed to dye is hair blue because of an identity crisis - asked.

"His name is Sergio. He was so weak as a baby, he passed as a lot younger than he actually is. It's a miracle he actually made it. And look at him now, sometimes winning races in F1 of Max isn't able. Or Carlos", she wept.

"Checo Perez is my twin? But isn't he ten years younger than me give or take?", the half Mexican asked.

"Like I said, he was very week as a baby, it was easy to pass him as younger."

"So what you are saying is that not Fernando, but Checo is the oldest driver on the grid?", Valentino double checked.

"He is. My sweet little angel. I haven't seen him in so long."

Uccio ended the call with his mother after that. He always thought he was her only sweet angel, but now that.

"I need to get in contact with him. How, how can I do that?"

"We could get in contact with Marc, he was good ties to the RedBull F1 team."

"No, not Marquez. I have a reputation to loose here, not you. I can't ask him."

"Well alternatively, we could try Lewis. See if Checo is in the WhatsApp group with all drivers."

"That, let's do that."

Valentino and Uccio went somewhere more private to call Lewis Hamilton and not even 10 minutes later, they had the phone number of the mexican and apparently also half-italian driver.

It took a few rings until Checo picked up, confused as to who was calling him.

"Hi, this is Alessio. The best friend of Valentino Rossi. We got your number from Hamilton. I'm calling because. Because I just found out I'm your brother. Your twin brother."

"My. My what?"

"I'm your twin. We were separated shortly after birth. Your father took you back to Mexico, away from my mother and away from me. I can't believe I finally found out."

"But what does that mean? How old does that make me? I have to be 40-something."

"Yeah, you are. I am so happy to have finally found you. I always felt like a part of me was missing. Like my family wasn't complete. But now you are there and it all makes sense."

"I know what you mean. How could they have never told us? We could have met so much sooner!"

"It doesn't matter", Uccio said, voice strong, though the emotion in it was clear. "Because we have found eachother now, brother."

_________________

I formally want to apologize to anyone. Especially to anyone who understood the accidental Rezo reference (for context, there is a very, very well known German YouTuber, with blue hair, which is basically his trademark), this was not done on purpose, I typed out Rezo, before realising what I had actually just typed.

Let me end this with another quote two quotes with great German popculture relevance:

1. Hauptsache Alessio geht es gut (The main thing is that Alessio is well) said by a famous German rapper over the child of a very bad German musician.

2. Weil mein Ruf kaputt geht, ned deina! (I have a reputation to loose here, not you!) Quote fro the father of said Alessio, the very bad German musician Piedro Lombardi.

And I think that sums up this entire experience quite well. Because whatever repution I had, I have probably now lost. Thanks for indulging in my crack

#motogp rpf #idk if I should even tag it like that #uccio salucci #cp11 #slander of both of them really #please don't read if you like either 🫶🫶

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thecandywrites · 2 years ago

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Monster March 2023 Day 7- Minotaur Part 3

The Rut

Almost there, part 4 is that sweet lemoney goodness. But this is still super sweet and fluffy.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 promptlist as well as @catbatart for theirs too.

Part 3

Big Bad Lawyer

You barely managed to survive your day, and you had to skip lunch and barely take five minutes to wolf down a quick power bar in the bathroom because each client had extra issues. All of them had drop tines, or crazy intricate and complicated brow palms and top palms and bez’ for your caribou clientele. Your moose clients had gigantic main palms and brow palms where you had to use something of a curved ice scraper on them and you were sure your hands were forever going to stay greasy and oily despite wearing gloves for every client, a few of them, having to change your gloves a couple times and empty your velvet box and it was just one big blur of velvet. And so you of course, felt like you were always running late and behind and even took in an emergency appointment.

But by the time you were done, it was just you and Macy left as Dick Rick was still waiting in his car in the row of spaces meant for the spa in the front. Especially since Macy insisted that if he didn’t have an appointment or was not going to buy anything, he had no other business in the spa and had threatened that if he would not leave, the police would be called to make him leave and that he would be black listed from the spa, should he continue to “harass” the specialists there.

But here in the parking space, watching the spa like a hawk. Then you and Macy walked your last client to the door and locked it behind him once you got him checked out.

“Should I call the police?” Macy asked as you both eyed Rick’s car with weary skepticism from a distance that you hoped he couldn’t see you from his vantage.

“Well, this morning he claimed he had a job opening for me at his “new spa”. Did he actually give you or the other receptionists anything to that effect or not?” You asked.

“Yes.” Macy confirmed before she walked back to the desk and handed over the manila envelope before you took out the clearly- printed off a cheap printer- paper that had all kinds of flashy gimmicky symbols and none of the same font and it looked more like a flier than anything before you quickly got a pen and wrote ‘no thank you, not interested.’ with a scrawl of your name before you put it back in.

“He’s not going to take that no very well.” Macy predicted.

“No he’s not, that’s why I’m hoping I can call in a favor to make him accept it.” You said before you pulled Bauvar’s business card out of your pocket and called him up.

“Hello?” Bauvar asked after the second ring.

“Hey Bauvar, it’s Bianca from The Velvet Spa, is that offer of being a bid bad lawyer still good?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course. Do I need to head down there?” He asked.

“At your earliest convenience, yes please.” You confirmed.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He offered.

“Thanks.” You thanked him gratefully.

“Bauvar? Who’s that?” Macy asked once you hung up the phone.

“You know that new caribou minotaur I had yesterday? Bauvar Leopold?” You prompted.

“Oh you mean the same handsome guy who dropped you off at the door this morning who was a last minute first timer?” Macy grinned mischievously.

“Yes. Well, he was at Caribou Coffee when Dick Rick caught up with me. He agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend to Dick Rick to keep Dick Rick at bay. And he’s a lawyer and when I tried to tell Dick Rick I had a noncompete, which, I am contemplating having him draw up, just to say I have one, but I wouldn’t have anyone else here sign one. Thankfully Bauvar picked up on that and used that to help me escape Dick Rick’s clutches.” You revealed as Macy hummed excitedly.

“Oooh, so is he coming to have a second act to it? At least the boyfriend part too? In addition to “The Big Bad Lawyer”, which did sound hella sexy, just sayin.” Macy asked.

“Yup. He offered that if Dick Rick kept harassing me, he’d happily step in, for the big favor of getting him in and taken care of so quickly.” You explained.

“Nice. So I take it, you want me to play along too?” Macy asked.

“Please?” You requested.

“Girl I got you.” Macy reassured you.

“Thanks.” You thanked her gratefully as you both pretended to wind things down and get ready to leave as it seemed Dick Rick then creeped his car closer and closer to the building until he was parked right behind the handicap parking spot.

“Subtlety is not in this guy’s vocabulary is it?” You snorted derisively.

“Nope.” She offered as you both waited on Bauvar to arrive.

“Oh, hold the phone, god damn.” Macy crooned when Bauvar drove into the next parking space with a much nicer car, in another good looking suit and the moment he got out of the car, you and Macy smiled happily at him.

“Hey Sweetie, you ready to go get dinner?” Bauvar asked just as Rick got out of his car and approached once you met Bauvar at the door.

“Yup.”

“But I thought you two were going to look at my offer together?” Rick asked skeptically.

“Oh yes, here was his offer.” You offered the manila envelope over to Bauvar who took it out and looked it over but frowned deeply at it.

“What- in the phony three dollar bill looking offer is this?” Bauvar immediately scoffed at it.

“It’s not phony, how dare you!” Rick began to argue before Bauvar simply reached out, lowered his head so his antlers would collide with Rick’s to get Rick to take a step back as Bauvar soon stood between you and Macy and Rick and every time Rick tried to side step him, Bauvar would advance him further and further back.

“Oh really? Let’s prove it.” Bauvar challenged before he got his phone out and called the number on the sheet on speaker and immediately got a ‘this line has been disconnected’ message before he outright looked on the Better Business Beaurer’s list of businesses and it wasn’t even listed as a business.

“What kind of shady charlatan shit is this? If this was a real business, the phone wouldn’t be disconnected and the address wouldn’t be to the damn coffee shop down the street! You really did just smack a bunch of shit together in a Word Document and expect it to pass as genuine offer? No. This, is literally false advertising and you can get your ass sued for this shit. The firm I work for- is a firm who sues assholes like you for trying to copycat other businesses and do things like this. Plus this is a direct conflict of interest and a direct violation of Bianca’s noncompete, which I looked over and is iron clad with not a loophole in sight. Now lets look at the very place you’re trying to copycat here, if I look this up on the BBB’s website, I’ll bet you twenty bucks we’ll find it’s the real deal.” Bauvar challenged before you and Macy looked at each other worriedly.

“Honey, no, I’m so hungry and so tired, I just want to go pick up a pizza and go home. I already turned it down. Come on Babe.” You called after him.

“It’ll only take a minute,” Bauvar insisted before you got back and ripped the paper from his grasp and shoved it into Rick’s chest.

“Richard Burke, I am declining your offer of employment. I’m perfectly happy where I am and with how much I make doing it. I’m not interested in it, or you or anything else you could possibly offer me. And I swear to every god, that if you do not leave me alone, I will not only ban you from the spa, I will black list you and then I will get Bauvar to file a restraining order against you. Please, leave me alone. I don’t know how many times or how many ways I need to tell you ‘no’ for you to get the hint that I’m not interested in you or having anything to do with you. Please, go home or go anywhere else other than where I work, where I live and stay away from my friends and family. I have been more than kind and patient and professionally polite but that line ends here. Please, go away and leave me and mine alone.” You firmly insisted before you turned around to walk away from him, but he gave chase.

“So what does this place have that whatever spa I could open up wouldn’t have?” Rick yelled after you.

“A soul! Integrity, honesty, transparency, continuity, stability, a good reputation, pick any or all of those things. I have worked far too hard and for far too long to have poachers like you try to scavenge off of me.” You said as you turned around and continued to walk backwards towards Bauvar and Macy.

“But it’s a spa! All you are is a cog in the wheel to them!” Rick hotly argued.

“So? What’s it to you? Why should you care?” You asked rhetorically.

“But you’d be a co-owner if we opened up our own place!” Rick yelled.

“Why would I want to be a co-owner with you when I already am the sole owner of this?!” You finally snapped as you gestured to the spa before Rick gasped in shock.

“No, no, that other red deer-taur chick is the owner.” Rick tried to argue as he gestured to her picture in the display picture.

“I am not going to argue with you about this any more. You can believe whatever you want to believe. Now, you will either leave or I’m calling the cops to escort you off the premises, because you are no longer welcome here.” You declared.

“You don’t have the authority…” Rick tried to argue as Macy was already on the phone with the cops.

“Try me.” You challenged before in only a few more moments the cops came.

“My name is Bianca Boven, and I’m the sole proprietor of this business and this person is stalking me and harassing me. I’d like him removed and to file a restraining order.” You urged the cops as Bauvar just stared in shock at the BBB’s website that listed you as the sole owner and proprietor and felt- if anything, supremely humbled by that fact.

“And I’m Bauvar Leopold, I work with…” Bauvar offered as he showed his ID and business card as he and Macy both gave testimony of Rick’s harassment before Rick just glared hatefully and spitefully at you as he was escorted off the premises and threatened to be towed from his parking spot.

“Sorry to drag you into this.” You offered to Bauvar once the police left once Rick was escorted away as Bauvar at least walked you back to your car that was parked in the parking garage behind the building as he was happy to ride up the elevator with you to where you and Macy had parked near the top of the parking garage.

“It’s ok. I’m happy I could help. I’ll get the restraining order at least squared away first thing tomorrow.” Bauvar noted as he walked with you to see where you and Macy had parked together before Macy quickly walked ahead and got in her car to drive home for the night, sensing you were pretty safe in Bauvar’s company.

“Thank you. Please, don’t forget to bill me for your services.” You reminded him.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He waived off.

“Well, you’re a lawyer, that’s your bread and butter isn’t it?” You proposed.

“Nope, my bread and butter is suing corporations for false advertising, and malpractice.” Bauvar offered.

“Oh, ok then.” You chuckled with a grimace and shake of your head.

“So I sincerely doubt I’d ever see you or your business.” He offered.

“I would hope not. I try really hard to avoid both.” You offered.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He nodded.

“Well, thanks for this, I owe you.” You offered.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He repeated.

“Just take the IOU as a professional courtesy.” You insisted with a laugh.

“Fine, fine, don’t twist my antlers.” He smiled as he ducked his head down as his ears laid back a bit bashfully before you took a step forward and kissed him right on the side of his cheek and muzzle before you booped his nose and quickly took the two more steps towards your car door but hesitated to get in as he started laughing despite his own cheeks, that you could practically see blushing through the fine fur all over them.

“You booped my nose!” He covered his face with his hands to hide his otherwise flushed and flustered state as you laughed with him.

“I did.” You confirmed.

“I thought my grandma would be the only one to boop my nose after like, elementary school.” He admitted as his tears had started to bring a tear or two to his eyes as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles because he had practically dissolved into a laughing fit himself.

“Well, now, you’ve been booped, as an adult, how does it feel?” You asked.

“It’s not fair.” He insisted as he just shook his head but his smile was absolutely precious and particularly bright and beautiful.

“Why isn’t it fair?” You asked with a tilt of your head as you turned to face him before he closed the distance between you.

“Because it probably won’t be the same if I tried to boop your nose.” He offered.

“You can try.” You leaned towards him, with your nose presented to him before he reached forward and booped it which got you to giggle.

“Better?” You asked.

“Almost.” He admitted as he was just about to try to kiss you, before his phone chimed as did yours.

“Sorry, I gotta go, and tuck the kids into bed. Thanks for this and thanks for your help today, I really appreciated it.” You thanked him before you opened the door to your big SUV and got in.

“You’re welcome, yeah, get home and get to the family. I guess I should have asked if you had a husband or boyfriend who would mind if I played boyfriend huh?” He realized.

“Actually, there isn’t one. So don’t worry about that.” You offered with a bittersweet smile and subtle shake of your head as his heart broke to know that you were trying to raise a family all on your own and could only hope that the ungrateful bastard was at least paying good child support.

“Well, in that case, would you mind if we played this charade again? I have a social thing at the office next weekend and we’re expected to bring a plus one because the president of the company is throwing it with his wife. Would you mind pretending to be my girlfriend for it? Because usually at these things, the ones who try to fuck their way to the top come out en force and I really don’t want to be a target for the social ladder climber.” He admitted.

“Uh, next weekend? What day?” You asked.

“Saturday night?” He answered with a slight grimace.

“What time?” You asked.

“It’s at 7.” He answered.

“Yeah I could swing that. You could pick me up from here and drop me off here after.” You volunteered.

“Thank you so much.” Bauvar blew out a breath of relief.

“So how fancy is this shindig? Formal? Black tie?” You asked.

“Uh, business formal.” He answered.

“Yeah, I can do that. Text me the details so we can color coordinate.” You offered and smiled when his own smile brightened quite a bit.

“Will do.” He nodded.

“Goodnight Beaver.” You teased which got him to laugh again, because even though he usually hated that mispronunciation of his name, he appreciated your sense of humor regardless.

“Goodnight Beautiful Bianca.” He offered in kind and grinned when you rolled your eyes and shook your head before you got into the vehicle and started it up and waived goodbye at him before you went home.

#Monster March #Monster March 2023 #Monster March 2023 Day 7 Minotaur #Monster March Day 7 Part 3

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inapat16 · 1 year ago

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All that Tunisian cinema has to offer

Tunisian cinema was a forerunner. It offered the world its originality thanks to the genius of its filmmakers (e.g. Nacer Khémir) and its contribution to cinematographic production (e.g. the JCC). Tunisian cinema was born in a particularly fertile soil, that of cinephilia and admiration for the great works of the 7th art worldwide, and it's thanks to him that I've opened up to this art. Also Film clubs and the JCC helped to shape both filmmakers and a demanding public, of which I think I am the product.

From the outset, there was no question of aligning with the 'old' Arab cinema in existence (Egyptian commercial cinema), Tunisian cinema wanted to stand out from the melodramas and the musical films from which a few 'auteurs' were struggling to emerge. For the majority of Tunisian filmmakers, it was more a question of succeeding, each according to his or her own style, with original “expression” films (political, social, cultural, etc.) bearing the stamp of their director and aiming for the artistic quality already achieved at a world level.

This freedom of choice has been helped by the fact that Tunisia also doesn’t have film censorship (different from television censorship) which is undoubtedly one of the most flexible in the Arab world: scenes that are banned in other Arab countries like the celebration of female nudity (Halfaouine (1990)), homosexuality (L’Homme de cendre (1986)), political repression (Sabot en Or (1988)), sex tourism (Bezness (1992)), women's right to sexual fulfilment (Fatma (2001), Satin rouge (2002)) were finally accepted by Tunisian censors as long as they were expressed by artists and were necessary to the coherence of their work.

The miracle started with L'Homme de cendres (1986), unlike most countries of the South where arthouse films remain confined to the ghettos of arthouse cinemas or are exclusively destined for the 'prestige' of foreign festivals, Tunisian audiences gave national films an unprecedented triumph, (shattering by far all previous audience records for Hollywood or Egyptian films), even for "difficult" films such as Chich Khan (1991). Thus Tunisian cinema invented a new cinematographic category, that of "mass auteur films" ! Today, this type of cinema continues to shine, with films such as Enhebek, Ya Hedi (2016) and Ashkal (2022). These movies continue to delight a broad local audience while retaining their 'auteur' touch. Kaouther Ben Hania's next film, Les filles d'Ofla (2023), which was a hit at Cannes, also promises to be a mass success despite its offbeat subject and direction.

However, today, even if Tunisian cinema continues in its tradition to amaze, it is losing its stature because of politics and economic decisions. After the revolution, cinema was destabilised just like the rest of the country.

The Ministry of Culture now only funds three films a year and almost always turns its back on single-screen cinemas. Many of them are now turning to foreign institutional support, which is deplorable because it encourages neo-colonialism.

What's more, the cinema I always went to (Ciné Jamil) had to close its doors last year, despite having tried to obtain state subsidies. Meanwhile, a Pathé multiplex has opened in the country's two biggest cities. When I heard the news, my heart broke and the Tunisian cinema that had nurtured so many dreams is now in perdition.Today, a much more globalist, capitalist and neo-colonialist policy is taking hold, whereas for years Tunisia had managed to resist it.

In the meantime, all we can do is hope for an economic reorganisation and the awakening of a "young new wave" that will shake up the country's politics and ensure the success of tomorrow's Tunisian cinema.

Maya Labiadh

#cinema #filmheritage #tunisia

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ray935sworld · 3 months ago

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VR's academy of supernatural riders (Part 2: Pizzas and families)

Summary: Insight to the way Luca experienced the divorce and how the academy boys and the Marquez family think about the Lucalex relationship

The thought of Marc in connection with Luca used to peak the anxiety of the young Spaniard. He was actually terrified to be honest.

To be clear, Alex loved his older brother. He was his idol, the one he looked up to, the one that was always around him when he grew up. Where Alex was, Marc wasn’t far and when you saw Marc, it was only a matter of time until another set of brown eyes appeared. That's how it always was and he couldn't imagine it anyoother way.

So he wanted his brother and his boyfriend to get along, considering that they are the two most important people in his life. The base that said boyfriend was close, even blood related, to Rossi wasn’t exactly perfect. Therefore he was even more released that Marc took their relationship quite easy.

Whenever he had thought about telling him, he assumed Marc would get angry. But all it took was that one evening of sharing Pizza, laughter and childhood stories.

Marc had the opportunity to get to know Luca as a person, not as a rider. He saw how he interacted with Alex and that was enough to earn his approval. He learned that the Italian loved Alex the way he wanted his brother to be loved. Alex had ordered a pizza tropical, like always and Marc was sure the two of them already had a pizza date. Nonetheless Luca asked whether he planned to kill him while putting his hand over his chest. He smiled saying it'd hurt, as if he had a heart attack, leaving the young Marquez giggling. He knew Luca was being serious with his brother when he tried a piece of his pizza, with pineapple and thanked him before giving him some of his salami one.

Part of Alex love langue was sharing food. Marc knew that first hand. Growing up, he probably had a bite of everything Alex ever eat, even if he had the same. But it made the little one grin, just like now, satisfied when they said they liked it and thanked him. Luca seemed to know that and reacted accordingly even with food he'd normally dismiss. That an Italian eat the illegal, worst of sins pizza for his lover was the ultimate prove of love. At least in his book.

A few months later, Luca invited both of them to his place in Rome, far away from Rossi. He claimed he wanted them to have, what he called 'real' pizza. Franky, Pecco and Bez were there as well. He wanted to introduce his love to his own family, his world, the way he grew up and what the people around him were like, besides being riders.

He had gotten the permission of both Marquez, wanting to make them feel comfortable as a prove he respected them.

And they took it serious. This was about Luca, their Maro. And hell, they loved him like he was their own brother. They all belong together. They couldn’t imagine a future in which he wasn’t part of their life and if that includes Marc Marquez from time to time cause he was emotionally attached to Luca’s boyfriend’s hips, then they could get over everything that happened. Luca was too important.

They agreed to just be a normal couple. Who cared that Luca was the brother of the man whose conspiracy theories almost ended both Marquez brother’s career? They were dating as people, not just as riders. They loved each other for each other, not to start drama or get twisted ideas. And as a normal couple, this included the same special experiences a normal couple shared, like meeting the family.

Well, not Luca’s biological family. He couldn’t tell his brother about his relationship. Yet. He planned to slowly drop hint to him and start talking about Alex so he could get used to the idea. In consequences, he couldn’t tell his mother. She would be worried about the relationship between her sons and just straight up tell the oldest, hoping to help. And his father would scold him and explain the emotional guilt he was building up. He loved them but he didn’t want that. But he wanted Alex to know those he considered his family. So he chose the academy boys. He chose the boys he grew up with. He chose his found family.

Luca wanted to show Alex what he showed him when the Italian was in Cervera. When they visited Spain, Alex took Luca’s shaking hand when he parked in his parents driveway. He was nervous, more nervous than before any race. Afterall he could calculate the events in a race. He could prepare himself. This was pure chaos. This was hoping not to get kicked out immediately. He thought about uncomfortable silence until he awkwardly made up an excuse to leave early. He even got Franky to promise him, he'd made up an emergency why he had to return.

He considered the possibility of Alex being openly yelled at for betraying Marc or him being whisper-yelled at in the kitchen while he pretended not to hear. Alex knew that without having to be told.

He just smiled at Luca before leaving the car to see his mother, who was already waiting behind the door of his childhood home. She opened the door and ran towards her youngest son to hug him. Luca followed more reluctant. He waited a few seconds, until Julia got the chance to greet his son as well. He didn’t want to destroy the moment of reunion, but Alex had already turned around.

“Mama, Papa, I’m sure you already know my boyfriend, Luca” He gave a shy smile and raised his hand. “Buenos días” he said, but before he could continue, he found himself being pressed against Roser. She hugged him and he was so shocked, it took Alex’s encouraging smile and Julia's nod of approval to return it. “I’m so happy to see you again, boy” she whispered, smiling while letting him go. But her hands stayed at his elbows to keep him close. It gave him a sense of security. “You’ve grown a lot Luca. I’m glad Alex found you again”

It was true. Due to the relationship between their brothers the families got to know each other. They had spent their birthday in 2014 together, both family were in Italy at the ranch so the Marquez parents already knew Luca.

Back then, he was just a 16 year old kid, sitting on the floor of the living room, his back against the couch, playing on his brothers PlayStation. Alex sat next to him. He was still 17, just 2 more month until he was an adult and Luca used to feel younger just by thinking about that fact. Somehow the same age gap felt larger when they teenagers. Luca remembered looking at the older one, a little bit in awe. He remembered being fascinated by the way the Moto3 rider explained racing to others and how he acted in general. Luca knew a lot of riders - Vale, Lorenzo, Pedrosa, Simoncelli, Hayden and so many more that he met early cause his brother dragged him around in the paddock when their mom allowed him to be at some races - but none seemed to be like him and that made him curios.

He wanted to get to know him more, know and understand every detail about it and then - then what? Then he would just adore him the way he did. Back then, he told himself he just got along with Alex. He convinced himself he was like an older brother and he enjoyed spending time together. Similar to his relationship to Marc, just way, way, way stronger. He excused his feeling to himself that it was natural that they enjoyed each other’s company. Alex would be his brother in law one day.

Maybe.

Probably.

At least the two of them thought that it would end like this.

Marc did too. Their parents did too.

Vale did too.

But now he saw thing different. He wasn’t 16 anymore and he wasn’t as delusional as he was. He remembered smiles that felt a little too long and pure to just be friendly. The hugs they shared felt more like they were pressing themselves closer to the other. At the same time, they seemed to use every chance for physical touch but blushed and apologized while brushing their hands together. Luca assumed it could be the first sign of being in love with a boy. Or he just imagined it. So he asked the only person that maybe could relate.

Alex laughed about that conspiracy theory. He had just said “To be honest, I had a crush on you back then already, but I met you when you were 14 or 15 and didn’t want it to be weird. Especially cause our brothers were always on each other.” Luca smiled.

‘It’s kind of a role switch. Now we are always on each other’ Luca thought while sitting on Alex legs, facing him, his hands intervened behind Alex neck. “Were you afraid of spending Christmas with the boy that rejected you?” he teased and slowly leaning forward. “Yes!”

And as he reward he got a kiss. They joked about the irony and Luca was glad he got over his stupid thinking. For him, it took some time to realize he wasn’t just interested in girls. At first, he tried to deny it. He didn’t want to have another thing in common with his bisexual motorbike riding brother who was in love with a Marquez brother (nothing against Alex). Then he grew up and realized how messed up this way of thinking was. Just because someone else did the same thing, didn’t mean it meant less when he did it. He would never not be himself just because of his brother.

But the inevitable fallout was about to happen. He brushed away the first signs. The way his brother started to stop looking for Marc, how he rejected his calls and didn't immediately reply to his messages. But it became clear at the end of 2014, when Luca assumed the two families would spent Christmas together.

He had asked his brother when the Marquez would arrive, excited to see Alex reaction to the gift he bought him. Vale denied it, just saying he decided to spent Christmas with the academy and the families because it was better. They’d be closer. He was 17 back then and maybe he didn’t understand everything, but he knew that that was bullshit. But Vale wouldn’t tell him what was going on. Therefore he did the only reasonable thing he could do.

He decided to annoy the oldest academy rider. He sneaked in Franky’s room at the ranch, flopping on his bed, while the 20 year old smiled at him from his desk, taking a welcomed break from reviewing data.

“Do you know what happened between them?” Luca asked Franky. He felt no need to specify who he was talking about. “They were always on each other. I thought they had swallowed magnets as close as they were getting” The half Brazilian laughed about that theory but nodded. “It seemed like that, honestly” “So what he happened” He looked at Luca for a few seconds, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard Uccio and Vale talking once… They said he’d be dangerous for us” “What it that supposed to mean?” “I don’t know… When I asked all he said was that I shouldn’t worry, no one would discover us. He promised to protect us and he would do anything to ensure our safety.”

“Wait is this about being non-humans?” Surprised he sat up. That would be a turn of events. He felt his hairs stand up on his arms, trying to remember the last time he met the Marquez, wondering if he had acted different and he didn’t notice.

“Does Marc know? Did he-” his voice peaked with anxiety. “No, I don’t think so. Marc asked me what was going on with Vale as well. He has no idea either” Luca sighed heavily. That killed his theory. ‘And he would have warned us more openly’ his brain submitted.

“But then how is Marc supposed to be dangerous? He’s one of the sweetest person ever!” “I know. I think something went wrong.” “But what?” “I don’t know… Marc crashed a lot with other riders, this year” “What? Why would that suddenly be a reason?” “No idea, Maro! He’s your brother. You-“ “Don’t ‘he’s your brother’ me! That doesn’t mean I know what’s going on in his head” “I meant he’s more likely to listen to you” “Oh… Right”

But he didn’t. He just ruffled his hair saying he’d take care of everything and he shouldn’t worry.

After that Vale changed. He was still the man the boys knew when it came to them, but they saw him being cruel, ruthless and heard him talk in a way he never did before. Sure, he wasn’t always the nicest but over the next years, thing took a turn.

He openly tried to manipulate Marc and break his confidence. He was trying to bully him out the sport so it seemed and their relationship soon started to become none existing. It got so bad, Luca questioned whether the two ever dated. He couldn't imagine his brother being as cruel as he was now to someone he used to love so much. Maybe it was just a fever dream, so he asked Vale.

“You’re not old enough to know the truth. Just believe me when I say that having him around is a risk. Not just for us, but for all riders on track” When it only got worst and the public accusation and the spiteful comments started, Luca thought it was fake.

He was desperate to find a reason but he failed. He asked Pecco if he had an idea but even after reviewing some old books from his grandmother only he could read, they didn’t had an answer.

When he met a 17 year old shape shifter he asked if he ever changed into a rider to create chaos. Marco Bezzecci, for the first time at the ranch, had stared at him for a few seconds then laughed nervously. “No, of course not. I don’t use my ability in public”

The older Luca could back that up, but at that time it seemed the only reasonable explanation. He even tested his brother to make sure he wasn’t kidnapped and swapped for some kind of double or fake Vale planning to ruin his life, but he wasn’t. Apparently he was great at doing that himself.

He searched for the logic in the unrationed action. He didn’t understand why he was watching his brother destroy the person he loved the most. It didn't add up with the picture he had of him. He tried talking to him every once in a while, but kept failing. The answer always stayed the same.

“Luca, please. I know you don’t understand but Marc is dangerous. I just don’t want to lose any of you in the future because of his reckless action.” “But you love him! You still love him. I’m sure, if you apologize and talk to him-!” “No. I don’t love him. I don’t want him around. I know you just want to help, but stop. There is no going back.” “But it doesn’t make sense” “You’ll have to grow up a little bit to make sense of it”

But it never made sense, not even after giving up and years of coldness between the former lovers, Luca joining MotoGP, battling Marc himself and his brother’s retirement. He just watched the older Italian and his friends annoy a man that got used to their words.

Bez never saw the two in love. He had never see them interact when Vale hadn’t yet decided that the anxiety that Marc’s success could destroy what he built as his legacy was a good foundation of hate. He hadn’t see the love so he actually believed the way the older talked about the Spaniard. Luca wasn’t surprised he bought it, like the whole world did.

Migno, Pecco and Franky didn’t buy it, not for a moment but they knew if they spoke up, it would just get worst. They knew the love they shared and having the younger Marquez as a former teammate and shortly meeting Marc, they knew about the difference in reality and narrative.

Telling them about the relationship was the right decision. Marco was hesitant but he always was when it came to other people. Pecco and Franky were fine with it the moment they heard about it.

It was a fun day when they met up. Luca and Pecco were in the kitchen, trying to teach the Spaniards how to make pizza while they seem to continuedly mess it up. It ended in jokes and unserious insult in their native language. Bez and Franky fought about the music, stole some of the toppings and finally had mercy with the Spaniards by pulling them away from the two wanna-be-chefs.

The night was filled with laughter, sarcastic yelling and ended in a sleep over and way too many embarrassing photos of Alex cuddled against a dumbly smiling Luca.

#VR's academy of supernatural riders #Feedback is appreciated and encouraged #ray's writing #Academy being the found family they are #Luccalex being sweet #I'm sorry #I know this is a lot of descriptions but this story is supposed to be longer #So I wanted to give you a better insight on how the different character dynamic is #And I think that's the most efficenct way #Cause writing all that in dialogues and stuff would have taken at least 10 extra chapters #So I hope you can forgive me

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formulapookie · 2 months ago

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Beznaia untitled smut under the cut

“what was that today?”

Pecco is crouched in front of the mini fridge in Marco’s motorhome, looking for a monster and something to eat who’s not a half finished sandwich or a protein bar.

“What was what?”

He’s not seeing Bez’s expression, so he can’t imagine how it actually is, a sort of frown instead of his usually relaxed and pleased face.

“I don’t know Pecco, you tell me”

The older gets up from the ground, opening a monster can who seems fairly new and not like its been sitting there for months.

“Marco I don’t know what you’re referring to, come on just tell me”

Bez crosses his arms in front of his chest, waiting for his boyfriend to get close to him and kiss him as usual.

Only when he does he moves away, doesn't lean in as he always does, putting on a pout on turning his head the other way.

"Marco what did I do? I promise I didn't eat the last Piada, that was Mig, come on what's going on?" "That motherfucker finishes MY lunch? No i don't care I wasn't talking about it" "Then what are you talking about?

Bez looks at him like he just asked him to calculate the mass of the Sun, and he truly doesn't understand what's going on in his boyfriend's brain.

He tries to kiss him again but Bez turns his head once more.

"Marco tell me what's wrong don't turn away" "I shouldn't even have to tell you. You should know" "Amore come on"

Bez looks him up and down, then decides to turn towards him, still not leaning in for any kind of physical contact.

"Your little stunt with Marc earlier"

Pecco is dumbfounded, he was just taxing because he ran out of fuel, they've done it so many times and God nows how many more they will.

"I was taking a taxi amore, not fucking him"

Bez pulls an unamused face at what Pecco says, still with his arms crossed in front of him and not inching closer to him.

"You might as well done it, you know? Whole paddock watching you and him being all lovey dovey on track, might as well start a relationship" "Marco I took a taxi. How many- how many times did we do it? It's no different this time!" "It is! He stole you before I could tell you I was going to bring you back to the garage, the when he started helping you what did you do?"

Pecco does some thinking, nothing wrong, that's what he did, he just took the taxi.

"I don't know" "You don't - maybe, I don't know, you put your stupid hand on his THIGH? You don't put your hand there for a taxi, and then later in the interview you looks like the princess just saved from the knight, so go on, go and fuck your new boyfriend"

He's speechless, because oh come on Bez couldn't be serious, he was just taking a taxi, and yeah maybe the hand placement was a bit wrong but he would never do something to hurt Bez, and he interview part, he didn't realize he was like that, but again, he didn't do it on purpose.

"Amore I misplaced my hand because I was in a strange position on the bike, nothing more, and the interview I don't know, I wasn't thinking about it, that's why I was smiling"

Bez doesn't look convinced, at all, he keeps on having this unamused expression on.

"Amore come on don't frown at me I didn't mean it" "Mh" "I'm serious" "Yeah yeah for sure just maybe make sure to tell him yeah? Cause maybe he got the message of yours wrong with that hand there" "I - Marco I didn't do it on purpose"

Bez looks at him some more, arms crossed as Pecco looks at him in the eyes waiting.

"Mh ok. But never touch him like that again, I don't like it" "Ok I promise I won't baby"

Pecco finally manages to lean in to get a kiss from Bez, a small one, but still it's beautiful.

He's feeling fairly turned on right now, Bez is not in his leathers anymore, but the tank top he's wearing leaves nothing to the imagination, his arms are on full display with all the tattoos and scars.

He's usually the one topping but good God does he want Bez to hold him down with those arms and hands while fucking him.

"maybe" he says as he walks close to Bez again, hooking his fingers past the waistband of Bez's shorts, "I can help you remember just how much I love you, what do you think?"

Bez swallows hard, Pecco is almost pressed against his hips, hot breath on his mouth and neck.

"Maybe you should"

And Pecco is not usually the one to get on his knees, but this time he can let himself be a bit more vulnerable, especially once he sees Bez looking at him as if he wants to eat him.

As his knees touch the floor Bez is already biting his lip, balancing himself with a hand on the counter Pecco left the Monster can on, while looking at his boyfriend taking off his shorts and boxers in one go.

It doesn't take long to Pecco to get him hard, just the sight of him on his knees could've been enough for Bez, but his mouth, oh God that's a whole other hting.

He's not as experienced as Bez in this, for sure, but he's so good at it, get him crazy for it in a bunch of minutes.

As soon as Pecco gets his mouth on him Bez is melting like lava under his spell. He's sucking just on his tip for now, but it's already a lot, especially since he got that piercing there, a brush it's enough to get him moaning.

When Pecco takes more of his length in his mouth Bez moans again, louder, and tugs at his hair, dark curls between his fingers looking heavenly.

“God you’re good”

Pecco bobs his head, having Bez bite his lip at it, sucking a breath in.

Bez bucks his hips a little, and Pecco gags, but immediately steadies back and opens his mouth more.

“Gonna fuck your mouth ok?”

Pecco blinks twice, their signal for ‘yes’ when they can’t speak, Bez smiles at him, then starts to move his hips slightly, holding Pecco’s head still with his hand as he increases more and more the amount of his thrusts.

Pecco really is amazing, Bez slides down his throat so perfectly he thinks he never wants this to end.

Pecco has got one hand on Bez’s thigh for steadiness and the other on his own crotch, palming it as Bez fucks his mouth.

“Mh Pecco you feel so perfect, might just forgive you now yeah?”

Pecco moans around his dick, Bez looks down and sees him touching himself.

They don’t have kinda rules where they can’t touch themselves but he needs an excuse to fuck him and this might just be it.

“Would’ve forgiven you if you weren’t trying to get yourself off without asking amore, now I think I have to fuck you properly before doing that, mh?”

Pecco groans, but he can't say he didn't do it on purpose, since he's seen Bez's arms earlier he has wanted to be pinned down and sqeezo those biceps in his hands.

"Ok stop - fuck - stop Pecco I want to fuck you and I don't have the energy to go twice right now"

Pecco lets go of him, coughs a bit when Bez pulls out completely, then gets back on his feet, where Bez kisses him fondly, cupping his dick and pushing him against the wall.

"You get me jealous one more time and I swear, I'm not touching you for a month" "As if you could ever go that long without my dick - ah fuck you're a bastard"

Bez sucked a bruise on Pecco's collarbone, for some reason he's really fucking sensitive on there, and Bez works magic with his mouth.

"I think it's you who wouldn't be able to resist like that Pecco, you'd miss me too much, and just touch yourself everynight hoping it's my hand instead of yours who's jerking you off. So if I were you I'd stop flirting with your future teammate and focus on your boyfriend ok?"

Pecco lets out a whimper, Bez isn't generally like this, he's more submissive, takes whatever he's given, but fuck this version of him is hot.

Especially the hand he's currently got in his underwear teasing him and getting him coated in precum.

"Turn around come on, I don't have all day"

Pecco complies, and groans when Bez takes his shorts off, pushing his hard on against the curve of his ass.

He wants his boxers off, wants Bez to fuck him and make him come screaming his name.

"Oh gotta prepare you amore, can you wait for me while I go get lube or are you so impatient I have to use spit?" "Fucking. Get on with it Marco I don't care what you use"

Bez smirks, spits in his hand and tugs down Pecco's boxers, letting them pool at his feet just like the shorts. He coats his fingers in spit an pushes one inside, slowly, it's been a while since Pecco bottomed, but still, he's so easy for his touch.

"You already take me so well, you really are incredible, I bet everyone out there would pay to have you like this" "Fuck more Marco more please" "Oh. And I was the one who wouldn't be able to go without dick? Seems to me it's the opposite"

Pecco moans louder when Bez pushes a second finger in, getting him even more aroused, he can feel Bez’s dick against his ass, he wants it inside. Like right now.

"Come on" "Pecco. You get fucked when I decide to fuck you ok? You can beg if you want but it's me who decides ok?" "Ok. Yeah yeah ok but please" "Desperate"

Bez pools some saliva in his mouth before letting it drip out where his fingers pushed inside Pecco, making it easier for him to fit a third one inside.

Pecco whines, he wants Bez now, he can feel the blush taking over his chest and back, not to mention the tip of his ears, that by now are surely crimson red.

"You're going to feel so good around me, and I'm gonna make sure you'll feel me for days, so you think of me every second"

The older loves the possessiveness Bez has for him, the jealousy that translates in need and lust and makes his head spin. He's not less possessive or jealous, but he mostly makes sure the others understand he's off limits by holding him closer or breaking away from a conversation to go find a hidden corner to suck a mark on his neck and come back showing it off, or if they're with the academy making sure Bez always sits next to him, or on his lap for that matter, because yeah, they know Bez is his, but a little reminder doesn't hurt anyone.

"Gonna fuck you now yes?"

Pecco nods, holding his lower lip between his teeth, he can't sound so pathetic once Bez will push inside him.

"Words Pecchino, come on" "Yes ok yes fuck me" "Perfect"

He doesn't have the time to mentally prepare himself to shut up that Bez is already pushing inside, and he moans out loud, and when he tries to cover his mouth with his hand to quieten the sound Bez is quicker, grabbing it and pulling it down, pinning it against his back.

"No no let them hear Pecco, this way they will think twice before flirting with you" "Bastard" "Don't act like you wouldn't do the same"

Pecco can't lie, he would, he did already, once they were at the Ranch and for some reason Mig had stared at Bez the whole fucking time, he had dragged Bez to his room and railed him there making him moan so loud all of Tavullia had probably heard them.

"You're beautiful amore"

Bez presses a kiss to the base of his neck, starting to move, slowly, deep, cherishing almost, the hand not holding Pecco's is set around his hip, not squeezing too hard, but applying enough pressure to make sure Pecco feels it there.

Kisses all over his neck quickly turn into small bites, some just nipping at the skin to leave a mark.

He's picking up his pace, can feel Pecco clenching more and more around him, breathing hard, moaning and whining on loop. Pecco's steading himself with a hand against the wall, he feels Bez's hand on his hip, it's so hot he bets it's burning a mark on his skin.

But still, despite it feeling really good he wants that hand around his neck, long, slim fingers closing on his throat, pressing on his jugular.

He can't ask tho, that would be much too needy, but God he wants it so much, wants to feel lightheaded and claimed.

So fuck it.

"Bez, please your hand"

He doesn't stop his thrusts, still holding that pace from before, deep but not too fast, touching every right spot inside him.

"Si?" "Please - please around my neck"

Bez groans, and maybe just out of arousal picks up his pace, bites at Pecco's collarbone leaving a mark.

"Since you ask so nicely"

It's not just that, he loves doing this, he feels like he's got power over Pecco, more than he already has, and he wastes no time doing what he asked for.

Pecco moans at the action, feeling Bez all around him, around his throat, and inside him too.

For Bez this is the absolute best, the power trip coming from getting Pecco of all people whiny and shaking, Pecco who’s always put together, so perfect, so stoic, he can make him beg for a hand around his neck, and oh God it’s fucking perfect.

“Im not gonna last much longer amore, you just feel so good, I swear, so perfect”

And this is usually how the other talks, when they’re together it’s Pecco praising him to no end, reversing the roles like this, it’s - it’s hot.

“Close too, closeclose, go faster”

Bez moans at the request, he can’t help it, hearing Pecco’s voice almost breaking and knowing it was him to do it takes over his brain in such a pretty way it’s almost unreal.

So he does just that, the sound of skin slapping against skin now is louder, moans and breaths mixing together with it, the intoxicating feeling of having a body so hot beneath his hands and knowing he’s completely subjugated to his will, Bez would want to stay like this forever, panting in Pecco’s ear and hearing him moan in return must be the best sensation he can feel.

As soon as he frees his hold on Pecco’s hand and gets his own hand around the other’s dick he knows it’s gonna be a matter of seconds before he’ll feel the sticky sensation between his fingers, before Pecco’s knees will start not holding him up anymore, before he’ll cum too inside him because Pecco just gets so tight when he comes.

“I love you I love you I love you”

Bez keeps timing his strokes and his thrusts, Pecco already clenching more around him, and then he finally comes with a moan, which gets swallowed rapidly by Marco using the hand he still has on his throat to tilt his head a bit and seal their lips together, still fucking and stroking Pecco through his orgasm.

“You’re perfect”

And then his resistance gives up, he’s shooting his load inside his boyfriend, he can feel the hot liquid leak out, probably staining the floor of his motorhome, but he doesn’t care, not when Pecco is repeating his name on loop while kissing him so sweetly.

He pulls out and Pecco almost falls down, his knees did give out in the end, Bez holds him up, releasing his grip on his throat and helping him to the couch.

“Stay here ok? I’ll go grab a water and a snack amore and then i’m gonna run you a bath”

“No stay here”

“Pecco you have to drink and eat something, and you also need to shower, then I promise we’re gonna sleep as long as you want to”

Pecco doesn’t look 100% sure of it, but nods, waiting for Bez to come back with what he promised.

Seeing his boyfriend pace around the kitchen naked with his marks on his skin might just be the reason of his death.

He can’t believe Bez sometimes thinks he’s not beautiful or amazing, he just can’t understand how someone so perfect might think he’s not.

“Staring now Pecchino?”

He blushes takes the water bottle Bez is handing him, almost chugging it down whole.

“Shower then a movie?”

Pecco nods, leaving the water behind and walking, a bit wobbly to the bathroom, Bez following closely behind.

He’s gonna marry him, he knows he is, he can’t imagine his future without Pecco in it.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #beznaia #bezz #pecco #motogp smut #motogp rpf #motogp fic #top!Bez #bottom!Pecco #i thought i wasn’t gonna finish this #but here it is :3

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