Fic: Interconnection, Part 5
Pairing: Mark Webber/Sebastian Vettel
Rating: M
Synopsis: Post-Silverstone, Mark laments the fact that Sebastian is too close to home
Word count: 3462
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, never will. Don’t like, don’t read.
Interconnection, Part 5
Not like this.
That’s what Mark had said to Sebastian two and half weeks ago, when the younger man had been on his knees in front of him, ready to suck him off. The words had been an immediate betrayal - showing that maybe Mark did want intimate contact with his teammate, but not if it was a quick blow job that meant nothing.
The reply had prompted Sebastian to remove his hands from Mark’s belt. He’d knelt there for what seemed like minutes, as if he was in church praying for strength. It was this image - the eye-to-eye contact whilst they were in this position - that was still haunting Mark.
Because Sebastian had agreed with him. Not like this.
Mark was in his back yard once more, enjoying the night sky. The eventful race had ended hours ago. Gone was the noise of the track and, not to mention, the media scrabble that had been following him all weekend. It was just him, Shadow and Simba.
Ann was inside. They’d rowed after returning from dinner and festivities. Though Mark was happy about his decision to retire, the subject of Sebastian was still a sore point. The official word to the media was that his teammate trouble had no bearing on the decision, that leaving Formula One this year was always the plan. He’d repeated the line so many times he really did believe it.
Ann, however, was somewhat suspicious. Mark was unbearably moody at times, usually after he had checked his phone. All messages through her - his management - had been of congratulations and understanding. Yet someone else was obviously saying something different.
The trouble with the iPhone was that texts popped up on screen when they came through. She’d seen a text on Thursday afternoon from a ‘Michael’ saying I can’t believe this. How could you make this decision and not even tell me? The sender’s name hadn’t taken on any significance until she’d heard Mark refer to a Michael during the post-race discussion with Fernando. There, on live television this afternoon, Mark had referred to Sebastian as Michael.
She had yet to bring up this specific example, but she had confronted Mark on his moodiness.
Because of the row, Mark still wasn’t ready to go to bed. He was now lying outside on the grass, staring up at the sky. Sebastian had been texting him every half hour since the team debrief had ended. When are we going to talk? When are we going to talk? When are we going to talk? It was the weekend routine now - the texts had gotten so frequent last weekend that he’d been forced to turn off his phone during Le Mans.
Another text. Mark dug into his pocket and retrieved his phone, expecting the same question. This time, however, it was a different message:
I don’t have a rental car, and I can’t take a taxi because I’ll be recognised (especially this weekend), so I’m going to walk to your house. 40min by car, right? I’ll see you in a few hours. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care if I arrive at 3am. I don’t care if your partner answers the door.
Mark bolted upright and texted his reply:
You’re still at the track? Aren’t you meant to be out of the country already?
The motorhomes in the BRDC car park had already been dismantled, at least partly if not fully. Trust Sebastian to do something crazy and hang around long after the concert was done. Perhaps he’d cancelled a media commitment or two so he could visit the factory before flying into his native Germany.
Walk to Mark’s house? It was hard to tell whether he was bluffing. Mark figured Sebastian might be mad enough to do it. He’d been disappointed after his transmission failure and privately admitted to Christian later that he was sick of answering questions about who his new teammate was going to be. Perhaps he was skulking around Silverstone, refusing to accept the reality of it all.
Sebastian answered the question with another question:
Isn’t there something going on between us?
He then peppered Mark with further texts:
I already apologised for the almost-blow job.
Obviously I wasn’t thinking straight at the time.
You said ‘not like this’ and then two weeks later I find out from the internet that you’re leaving me.
I know you’re going to France tomorrow. I’ll follow you, I swear.
Mark struggled to reply, his hands shaking:
I’m not running from this. Me leaving the team was my answer. I thought you understood. Nothing can happen. After this year, we won’t have to see each other anymore.
Predictably, Sebastian wasn’t placated by the explanation:
I’m setting a timer for 40min and if you’re not here by then, I’m going to start walking. Think I won’t do it?
Swearing under his breath, Mark went back into the house and grabbed his keys, not bothering to leave a note for his partner…who was actually secretly watching his movements from the stairs.
*
It was hard not to speed on the way back to the Silverstone. He felt like he was permanently behind a bunch of safety cars. At one point, after a series of impatient overtakes, he laughed to himself, not caring if it made him seem mad. All this overtaking to reach a German - it was just like the race itself.
Before he knew it, the twenty miles had already been covered. A string of impatient texts followed, and then finally the two of them managed to coordinate a pick-up point.
Sebastian hurriedly got into Mark’s car. It was like a spy movie. Worried either one of them had been seen, Mark then drove off at high speed, not really knowing where they were headed. He was driving in the direction of home, but that wasn’t where he wanted to take his teammate. He’d have to park somewhere, chat, and then turn around and drop him back off.
He was too scared to look over at Sebastian, who was breathing heavily, supposedly puffed out from running. It was either that or he was hyperventilating. Either way, Mark focused on the road and waited for the younger man to start yelling at him.
The yelling didn’t happen.
Still unsure as to what to say, Mark kept driving. He thought about being the one to start the conversation, but everything he had to say, he’d said it before. The German didn’t want to listen to ‘no’. There was so much tension between them that striking up a dialogue was the same as striking up a match. They were completely combustible.
They were now three miles from Silverstone, in the Dadford area.
‘You’re leaving.’
Sebastian sounded broken. This got to Mark, despite his best efforts to remain impassive and strong.
‘You knew it was going to happen,’ he replied in a softer tone than intended. His eyes were still trained on the road. ‘Teammates come and go. You were the new one once. Now it’s your turn to welcome someone else.’
‘You didn’t welcome me.’
‘Should I have?’
Sebastian didn’t answer. Instead, he slumped in his seat and shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets.
The drive continued. Driving was natural. The two of them together was not. Or so they thought.
Eventually Mark realised the stupidity of their silence. They were now closer to Aylesbury than Silverstone, and with that middle point having been left behind, Mark finally pulled over. This was the countryside at night. Darkness, fields, cows, fences.
He switched off the engine and faced Sebastian, who was already staring back at him with those haunting blue eyes. Even in the dark, the look was the same. It was a pleading look and a fiery look at the same time. I want you.
‘This partnership of ours hasn’t been easy,’ Mark began.
Perturbed, Sebastian raised an eyebrow. The older driver sounded like he was about to embark on a patronising lecture.
Mark continued undeterred. ‘We’ve been racing as teammates for years now. It’s been like a marriage - we’ve had to work at it, because frankly we’re not suited as friends. Maybe all the acrimony and denials of acrimony have sent us onto a strange path. We’re confused now. I’ve spent so much time recently toning down my Malaysia surprise, and you’ve been forced to repeat that we’ve never been best friends but that you do respect me…Maybe we’re filling that gap - that absence of a good relationship - by mistakenly thinking that we’re attracted to each other.’
Sebastian kept up the intensity of his stare. ‘That is some real bullshit.’
Before Mark could reply, Sebastian had opened the door and escaped the vehicle. The younger man let out a lengthy spray of German swear words as he stalked away from the car and towards the farm fence.
‘Where are you going?’ Mark called out.
It was the sight of his teammate scaling the wooden fence that prompted Mark into action. This was madness. What was Sebastian going to do with his anger? Was he going to yell at some sleeping cows?
After switching off the headlights, he jumped out of the car and slammed the door before running towards the fence.
‘That’s private property, mate,’ Mark said as Sebastian successfully dropped down to the other side.
‘That’s the best insult you’ve got?’ Sebastian turned his back on him and kept walking, kicking at the ground every few steps. ‘Not even a Red Bull joke?’
The fence was easier for Mark to get over, due to his height. ‘I’m not trying to insult you. Just pointing out that you’re a Formula One driver trespassing on private property.’
‘So? I’ll buy the fucking farm!’
‘Don’t yell.’ Mark jogged to catch up to Sebastian. ‘Someone might hear you.’
Sebastian rounded on him quicker than a Mercedes in qualifying. ‘I don’t care.’ He shoved Mark in the chest, hitting him again and again for good measure. ‘How can you quit F1, huh? Le Mans? Endurance? Really?’ He pointed at himself. ‘We’re the best in motorsport. Formula One. One. Got that? Number one.’
‘Yes, I am aware you’re number one,’ Mark replied hotly. ‘I live with that knowledge every day. I’m fucking tired of it. You like me in your shadow.’ He held out his arms to emphasise the pervading darkness around them. ‘Notice how happy I’ve been lately? It’s because I know this ends soon. And whatever weird emotions are going on between us…they’ll end too.’
‘So there is something going on between us?’ Sebastian challenged, poking the older man in the chest.
‘We’re confused.’
As if remembering how this all started in Germany, Sebastian latched onto Mark. Hugging him. Willing him to hug back.
‘I didn’t ask for this either. Doesn’t mean it isn’t real.’
Mark didn’t want to complete the embrace. But it was too late. His body was reacting. His heart was reacting.
He coaxed Sebastian to look up at him, and when he did, Mark grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him. The sensation of their lips touching was just the start. Five red lights. Sebastian opened his mouth and let Mark push his tongue past his lips. Four red lights. Their mouths were hot and wet, and their tongues desperate. The kiss became almost painful. Teeth knocking. Jaws aching. Stubble grazing. Mark’s forceful hold. Three red lights. Mark placed his other hand on Sebastian’s lower back, pushing them closer together as Sebastian tightened his own hold. Whatever contact they had, it didn’t feel like enough. The feel of denim and cotton wasn’t the feeling of skin. Two red lights. Sebastian sucked on Mark’s lower lip and moaned, with Mark reacting quickly by digging his hand into Sebastian’s back pocket and grabbing his arse. One red light. Both men were grinding against each other…Both men were beginning to get hard - that euphoric rush of delight making them both light-headed.
‘Oh, God. Seb.’ Mark was already breathless. ‘Seb, please.’
‘This is nothing, huh?’ Sebastian asked before lunging in for another bruising kiss.
Mark turned his head and broke the kiss, desperation flashing in his eyes. ‘This is so wrong,’ he whispered. ‘We can’t want this.’
‘You’re leaving me.’
‘Because I hate you.’
Sebastian flinched, hurt overcoming his features. Mark could see, even in the dark, that the hurt was there.
Suddenly, Sebastian fell backward as if he’d just lost his footing, and since Mark’s hand was still in the other man’s pocket, he too began to tumble, helped down by Sebastian’s now clumsy hold on him.
It had been a deliberate move on his part, yet Sebastian still found himself winded from the fall. The ground was a little rockier than expected, and the grass abrasive. Mark had toppled onto him, and though he was lean, the force of his body weight at that speed had surprised Sebastian.
Mark had a fistful of dirt from trying to break his fall. He stared at his hand momentarily before realising he was pinning a whimpering Sebastian to the ground. His other hand - the one that had been in the jeans’ pocket moment’s earlier - was aching from being twisted.
The momentary pain was nothing compared to the pleasure of being on top of his teammate, though. Shocked, he looked searchingly at Sebastian as their erections hardened further. When Mark moved against him, groin grinding on groin, the sensation was unbelievable. Both men grunted in appreciation of the other. Only denim and cotton separated them, and it was torture.
There was just enough moonlight. Any more and he would feel exposed. Indecent.
‘You okay?’ Mark asked shakily.
‘A bit winded,’ Sebastian replied from underneath him. He wrapped his arms around Mark so he wouldn’t take the answer as an invitation to leave, and as he did so, he shifted, albeit unintentionally.
‘Oh, fuck.’ Mark fully collapsed, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He nuzzled Sebastian, lips to his ear. ‘Fuck, I’m so hard for you.’
Sebastian bucked his hips, groaning in frustrated delight. His erection was straining painfully against his jeans. ‘What do we do now?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know,’ was Mark’s hurried answer. He closed his eyes. ‘I don’t know if I can touch you…like that.’
‘Unzip us both,’ Sebastian pleaded. ‘Hurry.’
Driven by lust, Mark sat up so that he was straddling his teammate. First, he undid Sebastian’s belt and then his own. It was a strange order, but in reality he was stalling. To unzip their jeans meant they were going to do something overtly sexual. More than just groping.
‘Mark, please…’
It was surreal. Mark undid Sebastian’s top button and then slowly unzipped his jeans, his fingers brushing against Sebastian’s underwear-clad bulge.
‘Oh, fuck. Maaarrrkkkk.’
He couldn’t do it. He was frightened by Sebastian’s need, as well as his own.
‘Seb, I can’t. This is too much.’
Petrified of what this all meant, Mark got to his feet and left Sebastian on the ground. It was then that the guilt began to take hold. Heavy, ugly guilt in his chest, weighing him down as he stumbled toward the fence.
He held onto the fence with one hand and, with his back to Sebastian, shamefully unzipped his jeans so he could take care of his own needs. He hated how hot his own flesh was, and even more, hated the fact he was wondering how Sebastian’s length would feel in his hand.
Mark was chastising himself in his mind. His lack of self-control was astonishing. He wasn’t a horny sixteen-year-old anymore. Those days were supposed to be long gone.
There were sounds coming from behind him. Mark didn’t dare look over his shoulder as he continued to bring himself to a climax. The shame was bad enough, the guilt already making him want to vomit… Facing Sebastian now was not an option.
‘I hate you too, you know.’
‘Can’t I have one moment, Seb?’ Mark cried. ‘Don’t watch me.’
Sebastian came to a halt several feet away, sitting himself down on the ground. He averted his eyes, though really, his attention was still on his own raging erection. There would be no true relief tonight. Just more and more frustration.
Mark came with a strangled noise. Spent, he continued to hold onto the fence for support before finally looking over his shoulder.
‘I hate that this is happening,’ he said despondently. ‘You can’t hate me for refusing you.’
‘It’s not enough.’ Sebastian, too, was pained. Grimacing, he took a moment to try and ignore the release his body was yearning for. He needed to stave it off. ‘If we keep delaying it, the feelings will only get worse. The more you ignore me, the more I want your attention. The more you hate me, the more I miss you.’
‘Okay, so I won’t ignore you!’ Mark declared. ‘Just, please…Understand that I’m scared of us right now. I’ll text you back. I’ll take your calls. I promise. Just…Why are you so okay with wanting me physically? We’re cheating…’
Sebastian clenched his fists and locked eyes with Mark. ‘It’s not okay, but when it happens, everything feels better. Like we care about each other.’
Mark made Sebastian wait as he cleaned himself up, with the younger man simply milling around at the edge of the field. Germany was only days away, so unlike the previous wait between races, there was no way they’d be able to successfully avoid each other completely.
‘We’re like the tyres,’ Sebastian called out bitterly as Mark finally beckoned him back to the car. ‘Time bomb.’
‘Let’s pretend I made a joke about testing - and explosions - and be on our way, all right? We’ve had enough of each other tonight.’
Sebastian nodded and got back into the car. Perhaps he had pushed things too far after all.
*
In the end, Mark had to drive Sebastian back to the hotel he was actually booked into for the night. He felt somewhat manipulated at the revelation; Sebastian had to have moved his belongings at some point earlier in the evening, meaning he had returned to the track for the sole purpose of provoking Mark. On seeing his teammate’s displeasure, the younger man was unapologetic, though he did say thank you for the lift. It was the playful punch in the arm afterward that angered Mark.
‘Okay, okay. Enough touching. Get out already before someone recognises us.’
‘God. It was a punch, not a kiss.’
‘Thank you for reminding me that we made out.’
‘Like you forgot.’
Mark levelled a glare at him. ‘Vettel, get the fuck out of my car.’
Sebastian glanced out the window to see if the coast was clear. ‘If you had invested in some tinted windows, I wouldn’t have to walk so far to the entrance.’
‘Well, I didn’t factor you in when I bought this vehicle. Next time we have a date, why don’t we drive our RB9s?’
‘There’s no back seat in those cars.’
‘That is not even remotely funny.’
‘Sometimes humour helps.’
‘Not this time.’
The two men sat there, with Sebastian apparently not yet ready to leave and Mark apparently not ready to actually kick him out.
Mark knew once they were separated, the anxiety would start up again. At least when they were in each other’s vicinity, he knew more about where they stood. They could snipe and yell and react.
And kiss, apparently. Kiss very passionately.
‘You’ll actually respond to my texts?’ Sebastian asked.
‘Mate, I said I would,’ Mark answered with a sigh.
They were both looking straight ahead.
‘Mark?’
‘What?’
‘Sorry.’
The fact that Sebastian was apologising made Mark uncomfortable. He didn’t like seeing the good in his teammate. He didn’t even want to clarify what the apology was even about.
‘Whatever,’ he mumbled before clearing his throat. ‘I’ll see you in a few days, okay?’
‘Yeah.’
And just like that, Sebastian bolted. Mark was now free to drive home.
*
Ann was waiting for him in the kitchen when he got back. Had he known she’d be up and about at this time of night, he would’ve checked his appearance. Despite the clean-up - courtesy of the spare gym bag he kept in his car - his hair was dishevelled and there were still dirt patches on his jeans.
‘Hey, you’re up,’ he said casually. He felt queasy from guilt, but did his best to hide it.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Out.’
‘Where’s out?’
‘Out and about.’ He shrugged and tossed his keys onto the table. ‘Needed to clear my head.’
‘Right.’
Without saying another word, Mark headed to the shower - an incriminating move if there ever was one.