#Let's give this Veb a chance

[renhaswritersblock]

So we don't get Kurt in the new Antman movie, tis sad. And the other wombats, which is also sad. BUT! We get a new dast boy so that's something! Right...?

[kinardgo]

i can give you a plot bunny for a prompt: veb sexting to help cope with the awkwardness of val being busy car launch media shit and prepping for the new season while seb is you know. not

fhgfjfjhjfffhf this made me feral for three straight hours last night

mild nsfw under the cut.

-

"Voi vittu," Valtteri mutters, shoving his phone back into his pocket before anyone sees. They're on a quick break between shoots, a brief chance to drop his media-friendly smile and ram a protein bar into his mouth before Liza from hair and make up insists on doing a touch up and they're put back in front of the camera.

Guanyu drops into the seat next to him, looking considerably less hassled. Then again, apparantly, he'd spent most of the break jumping from fashion shoot to fashion shoot. Mostly because Lewis had sent him a few of the posts, asking if Valtteri had anything lined up himself, mirth-rich voice loud and clear even over text. Valtteri just told him to piss off and cyber stalk his own teammate instead.

"Long day, huh?"

"Really long," Guanyu nods, sinking into his chair, "I wish they would turn the air conditioning on. I'm so hot in this thing."

He gestures vaugely to his race suit. He certainly doesn't look like he's too hot. His face isn't flushed red and it doesn't look like there is an uncomfortable sweat sitting under his clothes, like Valtteri is currently suffering through. But, Guanyu probably doesn't have someone insistently texting him videos from a sunny window seat in his kitchen from Switzerland.

Right on cue, his phone vibrates again, then again, then again.

Guanyu glances at him, "Someone's trying to get your attention."

Valtteri hesitates, "It's Seb. He's bored."

It's not a lie.

"Missing all this, huh?" he laughs, waving a hand in the direction of the set.

Valtteri isn't so sure. Maybe, more than he lets on. He knows people think of Seb as being media-averse, but anyone who actually hates being near a camera or a mic wouldn't last as long in F1 as Seb did. And God knows he likes the attention.

His phone buzzes again, as if to prove a point. Guanyu just snorts, and starts scrolling on his own phone. Valtteri looks around as subtly as he can before glancing at the screen.

There's a series of pictures, the angle slightly awkward, probably because it's hard to get his wrist in the right position when his dominant hand is busy pressing three fingers into his hole. Valtteri has to grit his teeth to stop himself groaning.

The last message is a video, and he quickly mutes his phone before pressing play. He's obviously propped his phone up against the wall, leaning against the other side of the window seat. The sun is streaming through, casting a bright white lens glare across one corner of the screen. It's probably accidental, but it's quite beautiful, and it does nothing to distract from the hand he has stroking himself, or the one hooked under his leg to get behind him.

It loops three times before Seb sends another text, how's it going there?

Valtteri pauses before he replies. Like a recovered alcoholic asking innocently how the beer tastes. Valtteri doesn't think that a single reminder of the glamour of behind-the-scenes at F1 would bring Seb crawling back, but he's not sure how much these questions are about making conversation, genuine care, or some kind of peverse self-flagellation, picking at the scab of an unhealed wound. He goes for deflection.

much harder now

The reply comes almost instantly, ive been told i have that effect ;)

God, he's a git.

Another photo comes through. He's lounging across the seat, and the sun catches obscenely on the come on his stomach and chest. Valtteri shifts in his seat, but they're called back to set before he can respond.