in the crooks of your body (i find my religion)
hi. hello. it's been a while. like, a year and a half since i've written anything but sometimes a situation just requires some soft porn, you know?
this is technically for @captain-flint hi it's your anon pls don't think i'm a creep
anyway. buck x tommy, body worship, nipple play & titty fucking coming. word count: 4k ish
also on ao3
“You look… incredible.”
Buck’s words are almost a whisper, and he can’t tear his eyes away from Tommy, who is wearing a dark button up, some flowy, nice material, and the buttons at the top are undone, flashing a lot of chest.
“Thanks”, Tommy says and Buck can hear the smile on his face as he steps closer to kiss him. It’s like a ritual, every time they see each other, that Tommy presses a soft kiss to his birthmark and then grabs his chin, softly. It’s no different this time and it makes Buck’s heart soar and flutter in his chest, like he swallowed a swarm of butterflies. Their teeth clash a little but it’s alright, and Tommy tastes sweet and familiar and it makes his knees buckle a little bit.
It’s a date night, the first in a long while because of course their schedules were opposites for what felt like an eternity. Realistically, it was probably like a week but every day that Buck went without seeing Tommy felt too much. His heart aches with longing, even now, as Tommy’s hand finds its place on the small of his back, pulling their hips together and he has to fight the urge to grind down on him.
They have a reservation at some fancy place Buck’s never been to but Tommy assures is great, and he doesn’t want to ruin their plans but the desire to pull Tommy into his apartment and take him on the kitchen counter is intense.
Still, he lets Tommy take his hand and lead him to the stairs and down to the car. Like the gentleman he is, he opens the car door for Buck and it still makes him feel special. Loved.
It’s a short drive, and the place is admittedly very nice. The food is good, the service great, and all Buck can think about is the way Tommy’s shirt hugs his chest, even with the top buttons undone, and how badly he wants to tear off the shirt and just go to town.
Tommy has incredible pecs. Well, he’s incredible and gorgeous all over but something about this look in particular is driving him crazy. When Tommy leans forward, Buck can almost see his nipples and it makes his mouth go very dry. He wants to get his hands on them, pinch and lick and suck, see what kind of sounds he could pull from Tommy.
Earth to Evan, he hears Tommy say and there’s an amused look on his face when Buck finally meets his eyes.
“Seeing something you like?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and rolling his shoulders, stretching, pulling his shirt taut over his chest and highlighting every curve.
“Uhhh y-yeah, sorry”, Buck manages, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry. You look so gorgeous. What were you saying?”
He wants to listen, of course he does, but he’s pretty sure Tommy is teasing him on purpose. He almost maintains eye contact, drifting only to Tommy’s lips and back up.
“Look who’s talking”, Tommy says and nods towards Buck. “You are allowed to look, but there’s drool and maybe that’s for a less public setting. Like back at your place. I could let you take this shirt off but don’t tear it, I can almost hear you thinking about that. It’s a nice shirt and I’d like to wear it again, especially since you seem to like it so much.”
Buck feels heat pooling in his stomach and Tommy leans in closer again, taking Buck’s hand in his.
“If I was, say, shirtless in your bed. What would you want to do?” he asks, voice low and rough and he’s going to kill Buck if he keeps going.
“I- I don’t know”, Buck says and Tommy cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow like he’s saying yeah you do, we both know and Buck swallows hard. “I want to undress you myself. I would tear that shirt but since that’s off the table, maybe open it painfully slowly. Button by button, kissing you. Let you get all worked up. And I would touch you, cup those incredible pecs in my hands and pinch your nipples before getting my mouth on that.”
Tommy’s pupils are blown wide and he’s biting his lower lip, squeezing Buck’s hand.
“I bet you like that, don’t you? I’d worship you all night. Bite you. Mark you. I can’t wait to get my hands on your tits.”
The word slips out from his mouth and his heart skips at least three beats. He did not mean to say that, even if he was thinking about it. But Tommy only chokes out a moan, and it makes Buck’s dick twitch in his increasingly uncomfortably tight pants.
“How about”, Tommy says, pausing and his eyes flicker to Buck’s lips, “we skip dessert and head back instead?”
Buck nods enthusiastically and almost knocks the table over in his hurry to get up. Tommy gets the check, and they’re back in the car in record time. Buck lays his hand on Tommy’s thigh, dangerously high, rubbing circles with his thumb and Tommy is gripping the wheel with his knuckles white.
It’s a miracle they make it back in one piece, with Buck continuing his speech about everything he wants to do. Like map Tommy’s body with his tongue, and find all the spots that make him sing and cry and moan. He palms at his own dick through his pants and Tommy’s eyes are hungry, darting between him and the road.
“You’re gonna kill me, kid”, Tommy laughs as they stumble up the stairs and to the door of Buck’s apartment, and his hands shake as he opens the door. The way Tommy says kid makes his heart flutter, again, and his dick twitch.
“Yeah? Is that a challenge?” he muses, tossing his jacket in the general direction of where it should go, pulling Tommy along with him, up the stairs to the loft and why did he have to move somewhere where the bed is so far from the door?
Their clothes leave a trace from the door, along the stairs and to the foot of the bed, and in his hurry to kick off his pants, Tommy trips and lands on the bed and Buck can’t help but laugh.
“You really that eager?”
Tommy shoots him a knowing look, eyes wandering to the obvious bulge in Buck’s pants.
“As if you aren’t.”
Buck shrugs and steps out of his pants and boxers, and slips his socks off before climbing on top of Tommy, still wearing his underwear and that damned shirt. He straddles Tommy and the fabric of his underwear rubbing on his dick sends sparks through his entire body.
Tommy raises his arms above his head, studying Buck’s body and slowly meeting his eyes and there’s such fondness in his eyes it makes Buck’s heart tumble in his chest oddly and he relishes in the undivided attention.
Slowly, with shaky hands, he takes the first button of Tommy’s shirt and opens it. It’s difficult this way around and he would much rather tear the shirt and maybe buy a new one for Tommy. But he continues to the second button, taking it slow like he promised even though he can feel his dick leaking onto Tommy’s stomach. You’re so wet, he remembers Tommy saying the first time he gave him a blowjob and it made him blush violently but Tommy said it with so much love and adoration, and not to tease him and it almost made him cry.
“God you’re fucking gorgeous”, Buck breathes as he finishes opening the shirt, letting it fall open and Tommy shivers. There’s a cocky, confident smile on his lips that Buck can’t wait to wipe that off and replace it with a blissful, spent smile. “I can’t wait to ruin you.”
Tommy moans at that and then covers his mouth, like he surprised himself with his reaction. Buck takes his hand and places it back on the pillow above his head. He leans down to kiss Tommy, on his lips and on his chin. His version of the ritual.
“None of that. I wanna hear you”, he says and Tommy nods, rendered breathless and speechless. It’s a rare occasion, and Buck kisses him again, sloppy and wet and greedy. He trails open-mouthed kisses down Tommy’s chin and along his jaw, down his throat, scraping his teeth softly against the skin. It earns him little gasps and he can feel Tommy’s muscles twitching and moving underneath him. The strength makes his head spin a little. Tommy could relatively easily throw him off, change their positions, but he seems content underneath him, Buck’s thighs framing him.
Buck keeps his eyes on Tommy’s face as he lays his hands on his chest, testing the waters. He squeezes and gropes, letting his fingers dig into the skin and there’s muscle, yes, but softness too. It’s a wonderful view, watching Tommy’s mouth fall open and his head tilt back. He’s sensitive, that Buck already knows, but he’s never really focused this much on his chest. He ghosts his fingers across the soft skin and Tommy groans, arching his body, trying to push into the touch.
When Buck ghosts his fingers over the dark and splotchy scar on Tommy’s ribs, he draws in a sharp breath through his teeth.
“Does it hurt?” Buck asks, even though somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it’s an old scar. He’s heard the story before, when they laid in bed and he traced Tommy’s scars and asked about the stories behind them.
“Surprised me, is all. Most people aren’t a fan of those. Reminds them too much about how dangerous the job is”, he says and pauses. “Still not used to… this.”
And he doesn’t need to say anything more, because Buck understands and he knows what Tommy means, like he knows Tommy understands when he doesn’t talk about the lighting strike or the ladder truck.
“Reminds me that you’re still here, despite it all. Still alive. With me.”
Tommy hums softly and blinks a couple times, and it feels like too much, for a moment, like he might drown in this emotion and then Tommy’s hands reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss. It grounds him and when Tommy drags his bottom lip between his teeth, he feels those sparks again, lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.
With his mouth still on Tommy’s, he grabs Tommy’s left nipple between his thumb and index finger, twisting it and drinking in all of Tommy’s soft moans. He ducks down to lick circles around Tommy’s right nipple, just above the scar, circling it with the tip of his tongue and Tommy breathes out his name, pleading. Buck grabs more of his left pec, as much as he can, and thinks about how good his cum would look splattered over Tommy’s chest and face. Wonders if he could fuck those pretty tits of his.
It requires some coordination to do two different things at once, but Buck is good at this and he knows it. While his mouth is busy with Tommy’s right nipple, licking and sucking, he squeezes and twists the other one, and Tommy whines, high and needy. His hands come down, one twisting into his hair and the other sneaking past him, grabbing his ass. Tommy pulls on his hair and Buck moans against his skin. It sends electricity all through him, makes him tingle, the way Tommy grabs his hair and doesn’t let go, doesn’t pull him off but just holds him there, guiding him where he wants him.
Buck scrapes his teeth over the nipple in his mouth and praise rains from Tommy’s lips. Encouraged, he bites at Tommy’s chest, between the nipple and the scar. Soft at first and when Tommy doesn’t protest, he bites a little harder, tugging on the skin with his skin and sucking on it, and Tommy tastes like salt and sex and home.
He sucks three marks there, and it leaves the skin red.
“Admiring your work?” Tommy asks and his voice is a little hoarse, his lips plush and red like he’s been chewing on them. Buck nods and ducks his head again, nuzzling his face between Tommy’s pecs and Tommy laughs softly. He cards his fingers through Buck’s hair, and it feels so nice. He lays there for a moment, listening to the steady beat of Tommy’s heart. When he slips his tongue out and licks the skin, he feels Tommy’s dick twitch against his ass.
Right. Priorities. Like trying to get Tommy off without touching him.
He grazes his teeth over Tommy’s left nipple and in response, Tommy curses and praises him, says his name like a prayer, words all mangled together and the hand in his hair tightens again. Buck licks and sucks and bites until Tommy is panting, hips bucking up and it makes Buck’s heart swell with pride. He sits up just to squeeze Tommy’s tits, pushing them together and he looks so gorgeous with his cheeks flushed and chest all wet and covered in bite marks and bruises.
“Can I fuck your tits?” Buck asks and Tommy chokes on his moan, hand falling from Buck’s hair. He would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so turned on. “Like, can you push them together for me? I want to paint you with my cum.”
“God, Evan”, Tommy breathes and places his hands on Buck’s hips. His fingers dig into Buck’s skin and silently, he hopes Tommy would grab him hard enough to bruise him, to leave his fingerprints on him.
“Can I? Please?” he asks again, watching Tommy intently and trying to convey all of his emotion in that single look. His hard, neglected cock twitches and he resists the urge to touch himself. He wants to give Tommy time to think, because they’ve talked about this before, about trying things they might like.
“Yeah, Evan. You can”, Tommy says finally and Buck moans, deep and throaty and leans in for a kiss. Tommy’s hands slide from his hips and up, along his back, cradling his face and this, right here, is where he belongs. He pulls back breathless and Tommy has that stupid, proud smile on his face. It falters when Buck rotates off of him, crawling to the side of the bed, rummaging through the drawers and returning with a wide grin and a bottle of lube.
“Can I take the shirt off now?” Tommy asks and Buck pretends to think for a moment, because he already decided not to ruin his shirt and they’re trying something new, he doesn’t want Tommy to be uncomfortable. With his permission, Tommy sits up and slips the shirt off, and Buck thinks he sees Tommy flexing his muscles just a bit more than necessary. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and Buck stops him, grabbing his wrists.
“Not yet. I want to watch you fall apart for me, so no touching”, he says and Tommy’s eyes flash with something, lust. Hunger. He lets Buck guide his hands to his sides, and straddles him again, shuffling until his dick is perfectly between Tommy’s pecs.
“You look fucking gorgeous”, Buck says because he can’t not, because Tommy is the most beautiful thing he has ever had the pleasure of witnessing and his words make Tommy squirm.
“Really?” he asks, and his usual confidence is hiding somewhere. There’s uncertainty, and Buck understands because he’s pushing Tommy out of his comfort zone but then again, Tommy pushing him out of his was one of the best things to ever happen to him. That, and the constant reassurance.
“Yes, really. Only thing that would make this better is my cum all over your pretty face.”
Tommy makes a choked sound, and grabs Buck to pull him down for a kiss and his hand sneaks between them, fingers wrapping around his dick and he swallows Buck’s moan effortlessly.
“Can’t wait”, Tommy whispers and gives a few good tugs on his dick and Buck is already so worked up he thinks about letting Tommy just jerk him off, it would have the same end result. But he’s been wanting this for a while now, a little longer than he’s willing to admit.
“You’re gonna make me cum”, he says and doesn’t pull Tommy’s hand off, just closes his eyes and relaxes. Tommy works him with certain hands, squeezing the base of his cock and it sets his skin on fire, sends his heart soaring through the roof. He feels so good in Tommy’s hands. Tommy’s big, strong hands that seem to fit on him like puzzle pieces fit together and how their bodies slot together like they were sculpted from the same piece of clay.
Like they were made for each other.
“You wanna fuck my tits or not?” Tommy asks, and it brings Buck back to this moment, and the heat pooling in his stomach. Buck swats Tommy’s hand from his cock and squeezes a generous amount of lube on his own hand, spreading it all over his dick and letting it drip onto Tommy’s chest. He gasps and complains that it’s cold, and it’s cruel to do that without warning, and Buck makes a mental note about pursuing that further one day. Right now, he has more pressing concerns. He orders Tommy to push his tits together, and he does, a lovely blush on his cheeks and it’s such a pretty look. There’s enough soft flesh there to form something he could fuck.
Buck tries slowly pushing his hips forward, guiding his dick between Tommy’s tits, and it feels euphoric. The way Tommy looks so thrown off balance and yet so eager, eyes darting back and forth between Buck’s face and his dick, and the obscene sound of his dick against Tommy’s smooth, slicked up skin.
He wants to do this slow, to make it last, but he can’t, not when Tommy looks like that. Buck leans forward, looming over Tommy and grabbing the headboard for support. Tommy slides his hand to Buck’s dick, guiding it down and deeper between his tits and Buck moans at that, low and rough and oh he’s so wrecked.
“You’re so fucking good for me”; he says and his hips stutter. “Not gonna last long.”
Tommy groans in response and tries squeezing his chest in more, with his arms more than his hands and with a slightly awkward angle, he manages to wrap his fingers around Buck’s dick and tries jerking him to the rhythm of Buck’s thrusts. Buck thinks he might pass out. Tommy is breathing hard under him, and he looks so gorgeous, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Buck thinks about Tommy’s poor neglected cock but then Tommy rubs his thumb over the tip of his dick, along the slit and it almost sends him over the edge.
“Tommy, please”, he manages, voice hoarse.
“Do you want to cum on my tits?” Tommy asks, breathless and so desperate. He tugs on Buck’s dick, matching the increasingly inelegant pace and then he opens his mouth, like an invitation.
It’s like he wants Buck to pass out.
He thrusts harder, faster, desperate for release and he feels his balls tightening and that heat from his stomach rising to his chest, and he chases that, bed groaning under them as he shoots thick ropes of cum over Tommy’s tits and his throat and some of it into his mouth. Tommy keeps pumping his dick until Buck is shaking with overstimulation, gasping out little moans.
“Good?” Tommy asks, the bastard.
“Perfect.”
Buck opens his eyes just in time to see Tommy wipe the cum from his face and licking it off, slowly, one finger at a time.
“You’re such a cum slut, aren’t you?” Buck asks, still a little dazed and floating somewhere between his bedroom and seventh heaven. Tommy laughs and his hands are on Buck’s legs, stroking up and down his thighs, softly kneading his bad knee before going up again and settling on his hips.
“For you? Anything”, he says and it makes Buck’s head spin. He reaches behind himself to palm at Tommy’s cock and there’s a wet patch on his underwear. Tommy moans and tries bucking up into the touch, fingers digging into Buck’s skin.
“Want you inside me”, Buck says without thinking really, still riding his high. There’s a distant throbbing pain in his knee. “Want you to fuck me into the mattress.”
Within milliseconds of the words leaving his lips, Tommy slides him off of him and then pushes him down, and in a flurry of motion his underwear ends up on the floor and Buck finds himself lying on his stomach, Tommy settling between his legs. It makes his stomach swoop, the way Tommy manhandles him so easily.
He hears the cap of lube opening and Tommy’s hands spreading his cheeks, a finger circling him before pressing in. He can’t help but moan and whine when the finger pushes in deeper.
“Good?” Tommy asks and Buck mumbles out a yeah, more please, and Tommy chuckles and pushes his finger in deeper for a moment before almost pulling out and Buck pushes back, trying to fuck himself on Tommy’s hand. He’s done that before, and Tommy watched him with hungry eyes.
“More”, Buck says, muffled against the pillows.
“Who’s the slut now?” Tommy asks, but obliges, pushing in a second finger, slowly. It feels like an eternity before he curls his fingers, pulling them out almost all the way before pushing them in again, scissoring and stretching him. Buck tangles his hands in the bedsheets and begs more, more, please, Tommy-
It’s a blinding pleasure, feeling the tip of Tommy’s cock on his entrance. Buck bites into the pillow and tries not to whine like a cheap whore but it feels so good, to have Tommy fill him and he feels himself getting hard again. He relishes in the stretch of Tommy inside him, and how Tommy’s hand finds its place on the back of his neck, steady, strong. A promise.
Buck arches his back and pushes back, his ass against Tommy’s hips and Tommy’s fingers wrap around his throat. He squeezes lightly and thrusts into Buck, fast and steady, singing praise. You’re so good for me, Evan. Take my cock so well.
It’s almost enough to make him hard again, balancing on the edge of being too much, too painful. Tommy coaxes filthy moans from him, whispering his name and yes I’m good for you, I’m yours, I’m yours, Tommy I’m yours until Tommy’s hand recedes from his throat to grab his hips, lifting him to his knees. He fucks him hard, like Buck asked, hips slamming into Buck with abandon.
“Please make this fast, can’t take much”, Buck chokes out and he’s shaking, but Tommy wants this and his fingers are painfully deep in his hips, and he’ll bruise for sure. Something about them wearing each other’s marks makes his heart swell and rise to his throat and when Tommy cums inside him, Buck feels tears burning his eyes.
Tommy leans down over him, kissing his ear and his neck and his shoulders, down along his spine, dragging skin between his teeth.
I’m so in love with you, Buck wants to say and all that comes out is a muffled moan, and Tommy hums in response. When he pulls out, Buck feels his cum dripping and trailing down his thigh. He slumps down and feels Tommy lay down next to him, a hand coming to frame his face and a thumb wiping the tear from his cheek.
“Are you okay, Evan?” Tommy asks and his voice is so soft and filled with love and worry that Buck can’t open his eyes because if he does, he’ll actually start sobbing. Not because he’s not okay, because he’s more than okay, he’s full of Tommy, he’s loved and sometimes it’s just a little too much.
“I love you”, he answers instead and reaches for Tommy, wants to hide his face in the crook of his neck where he knows it fits perfectly, like it was made for him. But he misses and his hand lands in the sticky, cold mess of lube and cum on Tommy’s chest. “That’s a bit disgusting.”
“The love or the mess you made?” Tommy asks and again, Buck can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn’t reply, just slowly blinks his eyes open and he feels another tear escape. His eyes are drawn immediately to Tommy’s chest, and it’s covered in the marks he made, and they’re getting darker by the second. He might have been a little over-enthusiastic. He traces them with his fingers, a little mesmerised.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks and finally, meets Tommy’s eyes.
“No. It was… really good”, Tommy says and brushes his thumb over Buck’s lips, leaving him breathless. “Feel up for a shower?”
Buck hums in response and there’s a weariness making itself home in his bones, and the ache in his knee is becoming stronger. But he knows they’re sticky and probably made a mess of the sheets too, and falling asleep like this will definitely lead to incredible discomfort when they wake up.
“Carry me?” he asks, holding his arms up and Tommy laughs, but he gets up and pulls Buck up to sit on the edge of the bed, and there’s a certain determination in his eyes like he’s actually going to haul Buck up to his shoulder and carry him to the shower. Unfortunately, there are stairs in the way, and having to call 911 because you and your boyfriend slipped on the stairs, both covered in cum, is a horrifying thought.
“I’ll carry you back to bed, and I promise to be careful with the stairs”, Tommy says, and offers a hand to Buck to help him up and that sounds infinitely better. His hand fits into Tommy’s like it was meant to be there.
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Hello! I have a question about tyre pressure penalties. Why do they pop up so often and why now? It didn't seem to be a big topic a few years ago, what changed? The tyres, the bikes, the rules?
Thank you so much for answering
yeah, the rule was introduced in july of 2023, so it is still a very new thing! and... well, it's basically the bikes and the rules that have changed, whereas the tyres haven't changed as much as they need to. here's the tldr on why the rule was initially introduced:
so I'm afraid the actual explanation is going to be a bit longer and more complicated - but here's the most basic summary. if you don't read anything else, hopefully this will give you a general sense of what is going on here:
last few years: more aero, ride height devices, faster bikes = more stress on the tyres, more heat, higher tyre pressures
when you follow another rider, your tyre pressure may rise very quickly; when you're in clean air it'll get lower
too low tyre pressures = tyre may degrade which can be safety issue
too high tyre pressures = bike buckles under you, makes overtaking harder and crashing more likely (also competitive disadvantage)
controversy in 2022: leaked michelin document showing several riders weren't above minimum tyre pressure level. rules just hadn't been enforced -> teams demanded change
proposed rules in 2023 for minimum tyre pressure: seen as very strict + harsh penalties were criticised. the penalties were reduced, rule when introduced was still controversial
particularly heated discussion when it looked like it might influence the title fight, with both pecco + jorge receiving a warning
rules changed for 2024, made somewhat more lenient than initially proposed, but clearly it remains an issue
okay, that's the short version. let's give a little more context. discussion surrounding this proposed rule introduction really got going in 2022, as a result of a controversy surrounding the lack of enforcement of the existing rule. we've had tyre pressure rules since basically forever... it's just that michelin wasn't actually going to the stewards and saying 'hey, you've got to penalise these riders'. the thing is, all teams are chasing low tyre pressures to gain a performance advantage. you're trying to get the tyres to operate in the ideal window of grip level - if you're setting them low, you're attempting to ensure that you won't be screwed over if your rider ends up in a race situation where the tyre pressure suddenly rises outside of that level. see this from 2022:
so, again, to be clear: the existence of tyre pressure regulations isn't new, it just hasn't been enforced. the article I linked to was from a piece after jerez 2022. it's about how a leaked document from michelin confirmed that several riders, most notably pecco and ducati, had essentially run their tyres in an illegal manner but would not be penalised for it. this had been common practise for years and years, but at last other manufacturers were complaining about this state of affairs - which stemmed from a "gentleman's agreement" between the manufacturers and michelin not to disclose any breaches. for obvious reasons, this is not ideal. it's a) unfair from a competitive standpoint, and b) quite possibly dangerous. which also doesn't really make this bit ideal, does it:
and here's the leaked michelin document:
'only 0 laps' slay
so basically it was the manufacturers themselves that had kinda had enough of the status quo and provided the initial impetus for change (ironic, given where the rest of this post is going). the situation also wasn't helped by how michelin had told journalists like a race earlier that infringements were "very rare", which obviously they were not
which, okay. seems straightforward enough, right? teams are chasing performance advantages - but they should be penalised if they're pushing things too far. tough for them if higher tyre pressures are making them slower! the issue is... well, these fluctuating tyre pressures and how often they end up getting very, very high is actually a massive issue in and of itself. it doesn't just make bike performance worse... it makes the racing worse. from another article at the time, that outlines how few overtakes there had been in recent races and how this was a problem riders up and down the grid had talked about:
basically, the idea is that if you end up following another rider too closely, your tyre pressure might suddenly rise to the stratosphere. (obviously, you saw the reverse of that in assen - marc worrying his tyre pressure was too low and having to fall back behind diggia to try and get it up again.) it's described as quite a radical difference, not just in terms of performance (making it harder to overtake), but also in terms of handling... and ultimately safety, because suddenly rising tyre pressures can make crashes more likely. I'll give a bunch of quotes from riders here, but I'll also summarise them afterwards
and to get slightly more technical with this, here's how bastianini described the issue:
so, tldr for the above quotes:
even tiny changes in tyre pressure can make a massive difference in how the bike handles
following a bike closely can cause the tyre pressure to rise enough to make it start buckling under you, making it a lot easier to crash. specifically, it becomes really hard to brake in a controlled manner
it's easier to lock the front when you're braking in these conditions (with a smaller contact patch between tyre and ground), so you're compensating by pushing more when braking, with less grip - that's what makes you more likely to crash
this makes overtaking harder, essentially relying on bikes in front to make a mistake. unless you have a clear speed advantage, you may be stuck in a pattern where you gain but then have to drop back for tyre pressure reasons
it's very hard for the teams to figure out beforehand how to set the tyre pressures, not least because obviously it depends on what sort of race situation their riders will be in
and that's the problem in a nutshell. low tyre pressures are a problem for safety reasons. high tyre pressures are also a problem for safety reasons, plus come with the added downside that they have contributed to making the racing a lot worse in recent times. it's tough for teams to predict how they should set their tyre pressure, but some teams had been deliberately going high risk (low pressure) for a competitive edge - even if their riders weren't always aware of it. and the rule wasn't being enforced
so, let's tackle the obvious question: why has this become such an issue at all specifically in the last few years? I'm going to basically just summarise the linked article for this, though obviously I'd recommend you go read that in full:
the michelin front slick tyre has always been sensitive, though it's gotten particularly bad these last few years
the racing is both faster and closer now than it used to be, so these small margins have become more important
the out-sized aerodynamics have reduced wheelies and led to greater downforce during braking, which means you have more load on the tyre. to explain a bit more (from here): tyres are being pushed down by weight of bike + rider, the engine generates friction, which determines grip - and also heats the tyre up. more heat = more pressure
rear devices: dropping the rear of the bike on straights for reduced wheelies and to "adjust the angle of the downforce aero". so basically you're sticking the tyres to the ground, you're keeping the bikes super low, there's more weight, you're putting a lot of stress on the front to do the front to do the braking and you're braking from higher speeds. all of this raises the temperatures enough to be a problem
slipstreaming: typically a massive part of racing in motogp, as it gives the rider behind an advantage when following. the problem is if you have aero that's creating such a massive vacuum that it's essentially sucking the rider in... creating a lower-than-atmospheric pressure that makes it super hard to brake. because low pressure = good when you're on the throttle and trying to go fast, by extension low pressure = bad when you're attempting to brake and go slow
I hope this is like... more or less clear - we could get more technical with this and I'd advise you to follow the links I've provided, but I'm trying to keep it relatively straightforward. also, obviously I'm extremely not an expert on this either. basically, it's aero and ride height devices and sheer performance that are putting a lot of load on the tyres. increased stress means more tyre pressure fuckery and threatens the integrity of the tyre. high tyre pressures are dangerous. low tyre pressures are also dangerous. not ideal. these michelin tyres also fundamentally were not designed with aero and ride height devices in mind (they've been working on a new front tyre since 2019). there's a few different reasons why michelin hadn't been able to roll out more suitable tyres, including a) covid-caused delays, b) the reluctance of riders to actually test new tyres (preventing enough data from being collected), and c) the reluctance of motogp to force the issue by having enough testing and bullying riders into using the tyres. all this has meant that now, in 2024, we still don't have a front tyre that's really suitable to the actual bikes we have
so, what to do? now, obviously *casey stoner voice* maybe you should simply ban literally all this shit. strip off every single wing, chuck out everything that even looks like it might be applying for 'device' status, take a hammer to anything that wasn't on these bikes twenty years ago. also, just slow the bikes down! while michelin isn't responsible for most of this and being a tyre supplier in a motorsport is a notoriously thankless job, they are the primary reason why everyone is smashing lap records left right and centre this year. get rid of all of it. racing was better twenty years ago. return to the glory days, bring back the real sport *end casey stoner voice*
given they're not going to change the tech regulations overnight - and the proposed next ruleset (while far from perfect) does include changes that theoretically should help address this problem - it was felt like a more immediate change was needed. so over the course of 2022, there were more and more discussions about how you'd more firmly clamp down on teams playing fast and loose with the existing tyre pressure rules. initially, the new rules for tyre pressures and how strongly they'd be penalised were supposed to be introduced pretty early in 2023, with the introduction of a unified monitoring system that ensured these teams didn't like... just pretend their own problematic numbers were down to their inability to measure their own numbers
these proposals were met with massive backlash - and I think you should be able to guess why. these tyre pressure rules are about mandating a minimum level... but a lot of this post has been about why high tyre pressures are also a massive problem. as we've established, different race situations can also lead to very sudden changes - so if you're setting it higher to begin with, it might end up being so bad you cause a lot of crashes:
the other big complaint was about the harshness of the proposed penalties, which were initially going to be instant disqualification. eventually, once the rule was finally introduced in mid-2023, it was with lighter penalties:
another quirk was that, initially, it was checked through randomised post-race inspections. this is because they didn't want to just rely on the new system they'd installed in the bikes, but also wanted to manually check afterwards - which they didn't have the capacity yet to do on all the bikes. even with this change, the rule wasn't exactly universally popular. one complaint, expressed here by zarco, was with the idea that low front tyre pressures even are as dangerous as they're being portrayed as:
and again, the argument that this is bad for racing:
the more moderate version of this complaint was aired by aleix - the rule itself was fine, but the exact application was too strict:
this situation is the definition of lose-lose-lose. it's bad for riders because they're constantly having to monitor tyre pressures, running the risk of being penalised and also racing in a dangerous manner if their tyres aren't exactly right - plus racing in a dumb manner if they have to adjust how they're conducting their race to what their tyre pressures are doing, for instance by dropping back into the pack to get back to an acceptable level. it's bad for michelin because everybody's constantly complaining about this rule and their tyres - and while this rule they've insisted on doesn't necessarily appear to be the best solution for an imperfect situation... of course they're not the main party to blame for the imperfect situation in the first place. and it's lose for the viewers because, well, it makes the racing processional and at times extremely daft
now, there was obviously plenty more discourse about this, but the controversy really got going again late last year - at the height of the title fight, when both jorge (after thailand) and pecco (after sepang) ended up being slapped with warnings, with a penalty to follow with another infringement. obviously, given how close the title fight was, the idea that it might be decided by something this dumb was appealing to literally nobody. martin was particularly outspoken after sepang about how it was impacting the racing:
it was very visible in the sepang sprint how jorge was adjusting his tactics to this race situation - he just couldn't race normally because of the tyre pressure calculation they'd made not matching to the race situation. on the flip side, bastianini was given a warning after the race for his low tyre pressure... but well, he won that race, and it was obviously worth it for him to low ball it, given the absolute lack of championship implications and how the rules essentially gave him a freebie. which, if this is a safety rule, how is that a reasonable way of regulating it? you're allowed to chew up your tyres in a dangerous manner but just this once, as a treat?
as ever, jorge was backed up in his complaints by aleix:
make engineers less anxious 2k23
also, I do just need to quickly bring in another thing jorge said, because it's still very funny to me
no?? don't do that?? just because pecco also has a warning, that does not mean you can take all the risks you want?? how does that even WORK?? what if pecco plays it sensible and he doesn't get a penalty??
anyway, of course neither of them ended up being penalised - though diggia lost a podium at valencia. with plenty of talk again at valencia, obviously it was a concern going into the next season, especially given the penalties were supposed to be escalated so that a rider would be disqualified at first offence. the organisers ended up changing their mind on this rule last minute - and now we have a mere 16 second time penalty instead. more importantly, the actual threshold was made a little more lenient:
relatively speaking, the situation this year... well, it could be worse. there's been a few penalties here and there, like fabio's in the jerez sprint - which obviously was a complete chaos race where fabio from pee five million on the grid really wouldn't have been expecting to run in clean air. (four other riders were also penalised there.) marc's assen one is particularly memorable, given it included those bizarre moments where marc let other riders ahead of him to get his tyre pressure in an acceptable range. that still wasn't enough and due to (according to marc, anyway) the bastianini contact he ended up just falling afoul of the laps you need within the allowed margins. of course, none of this is ideal. there's a bunch of ways in which it makes racing worse: for safety reasons, by making overtaking harder, by making it harder for riders to adjust to unexpected race situations. there's also not really an easy solution and no party here is 100% blameless. hopefully michelin will at least construct a new tyre that makes all this a little better. hopefully we can one day fire ride height devices into the sun
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A follow-up to this.
She wakes up, still groggy. There's water and a couple aspirin on the nightstand.
It's not her room, the furniture too dark, with thick, green drapes that block the worst of the late morning sunlight. Her pillow smells like aftershave. It's nice and just a little bit familiar.
And then it hits her all at once: her awful, crappy night. Weeks of her research, gone. How she'd let Darcy talk her into going out. And then she'd gotten drunk and called Professor Laufeyson.
Because of course she had. Because why not, drunk dialing him at two-whatever in the morning was mostly par for course these days.
She hadn't expected him to actually come get her though. Not when she knew how far he lived off campus. Not when they weren't really even friends.
But he had.
A little sleep-rumpled still, his hair in messy waves, and wearing the ratty NASA t-shirt he must have fallen asleep in, he'd shown up some time around 4, and helped her get down from the roof, with what passed for minimal complaining. She'd never seen him not wearing a suit before. And he'd looked softer, somehow. Approachable.
The car ride back to his condo was hazy. She hadn't even brought her keys. And Darcy was somewhere--some guy, maybe. Maybe another party. Somewhere. But she hadn't argued about sleeping in her office like she might have if only she weren't so tired. She hadn't argued at all.
Rubbing her face in frustration, she remembers the smile he gave her. The thin one, a little amused. A little patronizing.
But then he'd helped her inside. Thrown clothes at her. Oversized sweatpants that barely stayed up, no matter how tight she had tied them.
"I'm not enough of a gentleman to offer to take the couch."
"You're not any kind of gentleman."
But she'd followed him into the bedroom anyway. The sheets were soft, maybe a little bit cool. A pale sage green. He'd pulled the comforter over them, swatted his hand at the lamp until it finally clicked off.
And then--and then he was curling himself around her, his breath warm against the curve of her neck.
"What--"
"I need to be up in two hours," he mumbled, already halfway asleep, "so please don't thrash about too much."
She remembers lying awake after that, staring out at the dim expanse of his bedroom. His arm had been heavy on her stomach. Comforting, oddly. Like the steadiness of his heartbeat behind her, the way he had seemed to just breathe her in.
She isn't sure how long it was, before her exhaustion finally claimed her. A vague memory of his alarm, maybe warm lips on her forehead. Or that was just wishful thinking.
She shuts her eyes against the thought. No. Not when Professor Lauf--
But the name doesn't feel right anymore. She isn't sure it ever really did.
She forces herself to get up. His room is cozier than she would have imagined it. Lived in. There's a note that must have fluttered to the floor.
I told Selvig that you have food poisoning. Lab is rescheduled for Friday.
The numbers on the alarm clock blink out at her. It's almost noon already and her stomach twists in on itself. He covered for her with her boss. He brought her home and got her water and--
Maybe she does have food poisoning. She's queasy, a little unsteady.
The room smells like him, there's a pile of tests sitting on the armchair in the corner. Prints up on the wall, the night sky over somewhere. Tromsø, the text reads. A copy of the first page of the Sidereus Nuncius.
It's all so tasteful. Understated. Nothing at all like--
She hears the door click.
"I was wondering if you'd gone off without breakfast, after I'd gone through the trouble. But it seems like you aren't entirely awake yet."
That's right, she thinks, willing herself to turn around. The lecture would have ended an hour ago. And if he rescheduled the lab section--
"Do you need me to drive you back?"
He sounds...off. Stilted, a little. Too formal. Like he used to before she first called him. Like--like he does with almost everyone else.
The recognition of it makes her stagger.
"Jane?"
She doesn't want him to--
There's a cool hand against her cheek. Another helping her back against the plush, upholstered headboard.
"Are you alright? Do you need anything? Orange juice or--"
She shakes her head, about to make more of idiot of herself, she's sure.
"Just--just more sleep, I think."
He looks at her, something in his face, something-- and then the lines resolve.
"Alright," he says slowly, almost as if testing the words. "I'll go get changed then."
That woozy, twisted up feeling feels less like throwing up now.
"Oh, and Jane?"
There's an uptick to the corner of his mouth.
"I left another toothbrush in the bathroom. Your morning breath is awful."
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Seventh Day of Gift-Giving: Seven Nights
Prompt: Light fell through the window, illuminating the couple lying in bed, entangled with each other and perfectly content with it.
The two idiots in love have also been idiots in the kitchen, but not for much longer! 💞
~
After all the food-related disasters, their dinner date had been nothing but lovely, if simple: arriving at the restaurant, it had turned out someone working there knew Olli from one of their music projects back in their conservatoire days and had happily arranged a table for them at the back of the dining hall, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. There they were left in peace to chat about everything that crossed their minds, to make each other giggle by “stealing” food from each other’s plates, or just to sit in silence, finding deep comfort in each other’s easy company. The atmospheric lighting of the restaurant had made Olli’s expression look especially soft, and if they hadn’t, in spite of everything, been in public, Aleksi wouldn’t have hesitated scooting his chair next to Olli’s to whisper sweet nothings into his ear or pull him in for a long kiss, one he had been dying to give him the entire evening.
That was why, after having picked up Rilla from Tommi’s temporary dog daycare, Aleksi was more than happy to be back at Olli’s again, because he couldn’t have pushed Olli against the door to crash their mouths together at the restaurant, could he?
It seemed Olli shared the sentiment, as he was quick to undress Aleksi of his overcoat and wrap his arms around Aleksi’s waist to pull him close, never breaking the kiss but instead smiling into it.
“Thanks for the date night,” Aleksi said, pulling his mouth apart from Olli’s just enough to form the words before savouring the taste of Olli’s bottom lip again. He could still detect traces of the chocolatey dessert they had enjoyed.
“The best idea we’ve had all week, huh?” Olli’s speech was but slur, with Aleksi nibbling on his lips with great appetite despite having just dined the better part of evening; now, he was ravenous for something else entirely.
“The best idea we’ve had all week so far,” Aleksi murmured in turn. He hoped Olli would get his hint and was rewarded when the shade of Olli’s eyes darkened and his sighs against Aleksi’s lips, cheek and neck became more shallow, more greedy.
It seemed Tommi had done an impeccable job at activating Rilla all evening, since the dog wasted no time in making herself a nest in her little dog bed and was already settled in by the time Aleksi and Olli stumbled in the bedroom. Aleksi made a mental note of buying Tommi a beer as a thanks the next time they’d hang out, because Rilla’s sleepiness made it possible for him to grab Olli by his hips and gently guide him straight towards the bed, all the while leaving small, soft kisses on his lips.
Throughout the whole dinner, Aleksi’s mind had kept wandering to how amazing it had felt to hold Olli close and keep him there without the fear of rejection, to kiss him without alcohol clouding his judgement or regret banging the door at the back of his head; he was only just beginning to wrap his head around it all. Even now, with Olli’s body pressed against his, eagerly echoing every movement of Aleksi’s own, Aleksi almost wanted to stop and pinch himself to make sure it wasn’t all just another unattainable fantasy, a daydream that would turn into a nightmare when Aleksi would realise that was all it was: nothing but wishful thinking of a fool who had gone and fallen for a friend.
As if reading his thoughts, Olli let their final kiss linger unnecessarily long before he opened his eyes to look up into Aleksi’s. His pupils were dilated and his eyelids hooded, but his hands were no longer roaming Aleksi’s backside aimlessly but instead slowly caressing his neck and chest before grabbing Aleksi by his shirt and pulling him on top of himself as they fell on the bed.
After the brief interruption, their mouths found the same rhythm effortlessly as a familiar feeling began to set in Aleksi’s lower stomach. Underneath him, Olli let out a long moan, his voice low – and insanely sexy, might Aleksi add – but just as Aleksi had begun to subtly roll his hips against Olli’s, his efforts were interrupted by Olli’s hand on his pelvis and his lips withdrawing from Aleksi's own.
“Aleksi, ummmm…” For one terrifying second, Aleksi paralysed in fear of having done the wrong thing or having misinterpreted Olli’s cues. Olli must have sensed this, for he immediately flashed him a reassuring smile and brought his face closer so their foreheads were touching.
“Is it okay if we just sleep tonight? Let’s just… not rush things, yeah? We’ve got time, don’t we?”
The relief almost brought tears to Aleksi’s eyes.
(And maybe it did for real, but just a little, mind you.)
“Yeah,” Aleksi nodded, his nose nudging Olli’s. “We’ve got time.”
Suddenly feeling exhausted (perhaps it was the stress from all the bottled-up pining finally pouring out of him all at once), Aleksi slumped next to Olli on the bed with a quiet oof, careful not to alarm Rilla. Olli turned to his side to face him, his fingers stroking the exposed parts of Aleksi’s hands below the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater. He seemed particularly fascinated by the tattoos on Aleksi’s forearm, tracing them with his fingers. The touch was just soothing enough for Aleksi to ignore that they should maybe change into something more comfortable before they’d cuddle each other to sleep, but then Olli’s lips began to slowly work their magic on Aleksi's own again, so he really wasn’t in the mindset to care all that much.
“Can I help you undress though?” Olli asked him after a series of long, slow, mind-blowing kisses.
As if Aleksi was ever going to say ‘no’ to that.
Once they had successfully (although not without tired giggles) removed each other’s shirts, they spent a good while taking turns at mouthing one another’s bare neck, shoulders and chest with all the care and love they could possibly put in such a gesture. It would have been easy, oh, so easy, to grab Olli with a little more intent, a little more craving, and resume what they had almost started, but Aleksi pushed aside his desires because he did agree with Olli: now that they were finally here, lost in each other’s touch, there was no more rush, no more fear of it all slipping through their fingers. Even when they were already stripped down to just their underwear, with Olli’s bulge pressing against his, Aleksi was content in having Olli by his side exactly like this.
“You’re so fucking lovely, I want you so much,” he told him, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to evaluate just how sappy and desperate they sounded. Lucky for him, Olli didn’t seem to mind terribly.
When their kisses grew lazier and their hands found peace at last, fingers intertwined, Olli’s soft voice spoke from the dark.
“I want you too. So fucking much. Just… just so you know.”
Such simple words, yet they took Aleksi’s breath away.
I know now, he would’ve said if he had been capable of talking in that moment. Instead he left a light kiss on Olli’s fingers, hoping it might be enough of an answer. Under the touch, the fingers clasped on to Aleksi’s hand tighter, only softening their grip when Olli fell into a peaceful sleep.
‘The best idea we’ve had all week, huh?’ Olli's remark echoed in Aleksi's head.
Sure, Aleksi had agreed then, but if Olli would’ve brought it up again now, Aleksi would’ve answered differently.
The best idea we’ve had? This. Us.
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