[fic] put your money where your mouth is (parts i to iii)
put your money where your mouth is | mark webber/sebastian vettel, jenson button/nico rosberg | formula 1 | nc-17/black flag | angels and demons au | disclaimer: this never happened.
there are whispers in the paddock. vettel is the devil in disguise, someone says. he's a demon, that's why he's always trying to fuck around with rosberg, because rosberg's an angel. and maldonado hunts demons, but you'd never have known.
(part i.)
aussie grit.
There are whispers in the paddock. Vettel is the devil in disguise, someone says. He's a demon, that's why he's always trying to fuck around with Rosberg, because Rosberg's an angel. And Maldonado hunts demons, but you'd never have known.
Mark doesn't put too much stock into those words. Rosberg can hardly be considered an angel, if anything he'd be an angel that had fallen, deliberately descending to earth to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. They had been teammates and Mark had always known. People said things, as they always did, but the way he had lingered around him, the heated looks, the not-so-innocent smiles... What was that line from that song again? Oh yeah, you could be the sinner and I'd be the sin. Words that describe the Rosberg boy perfectly.
But demons are different. Mark had heard stories growing up. Don't go wandering in the woods in the dark, be wary of strangers with pale smiles and yellowed eyes. It isn't sickness or disease. They're demons, and they'll eat you alive. When Mark was younger, he had thought nothing of it. Urban legends, cautionary tales to ensure that children would be careful, would stick close to adults. He hadn't believed in those words until someone from his class had been taken.
Mark remembers a girl from his class in primary school. She had sat in front of Mark, had helped him with Mathematics whenever he had asked. Mark doesn't remember how she looks like any more, but he remembers the story well. They had found her dress in the forest a couple of kilometres away from the school, and nothing more. The rest of her had been mere ashes, and they had identified her with the bone fragments that had been found. She had been only ten.
Mark had left his small town soon after. There had been races to compete in with trophies to be won. But at the back of his mind, whenever someone mentioned demons, he thought of that girl from his class. He had never forgotten her, and he could never forget. Her class photo, staring back at him from the front page of the town newspaper.
Demons are dangerous. Even demon hunters can't control them so remember - you can never be too careful.
go home, you're drunk.
It comes as a shock when Mark ends up half drunk with Jenson at a bar and Jenson leans over and asks Mark if he had seen Sebastian's wings before. Or maybe, Jenson's the one who's half drunk, and Mark is still (painfully) sober.
'I've seen Nico's wings, they're obvious when we fuck,' Jenson says emphatically, and Mark's eyes narrow as he looks at Jenson's drink. It's Jenson's third mug of beer, and Mark vaguely recalls Jenson saying something about him being fairly lightweight but this is on a completely different scale.
'Seb's not a demon,' Mark says stiffly. He had done his research and Sebastian had seemed normal. At least, normal enough for Mark to classify him as a human being and not the demon people claim he is. To be honest, Mark knows that he'll never know for sure because he's not someone with heightened powers or some shit, so he tells himself that he'd trust what he sees with his own eyes. Right now, his eyes tell him that Jenson ought to stop drinking, so he reaches for Jenson's beer and pushes it out of Jenson's grasp.
'Don't change the subject. And don't tell me you're not fucking him,' Jenson continues, waving a hand about and Mark swats his hand away, annoyed.
'You're drunk,' Mark says. He should sound irritated but he doesn't. Instead, he sounds tired, like he has had far too much of everything, and Jenson laughs.
'Bet he has horns,' Jenson says, slapping his hand on Mark's shoulder. 'They'd be sensitive. Try it, feel them. He'd love it.'
'If this is a joke, I'm not laughing,' Mark says.
That girl in the woods. All that was left was her red dress and she had been reduced to ashes and fragments of bone. The work of demons. You can never be too careful.
For a moment it's as if something comes of Jenson, and his expression turns serious. He looks sober in the dim light of the bar, and Mark wonders if he had been the one who had been drunk all along. 'I'm serious,' Jenson says, voice a low whisper. Then it's gone, and Jenson flashes Mark a grin that says that he knows far more than he's actually letting on. Either that, or he's being an annoying little shit. Mark isn't sure which any more.
how to seduce a demon.
This is how Mark ends up trying to seduce Sebastian. Well not really, it's more of him trying to get Sebastian into his bed because what Jenson had said to him while he had been drunk. Is Sebastian really what people say he is? And if he's really a demon, is he a malevolent one? What exactly is a demon trying to prove in Formula One, that it's equally capable of racing?
Mark wants to know if Sebastian has horns hidden in his hair and he finds himself looking, staring, trying to see if he can make out anything. His back is normal, his underclothes cling to him and the curve of his back is just like any other person's. There's nothing out of the ordinary, just like with Rosberg, but Jenson's words ring in his head.
They're obvious when we fuck.
If Mark wanted to uncover the truth, he supposes that there's no other way to do it. He had read somewhere that demons draw their energy from humans through sex and the draining of their souls. Mark vows not to end up like Alyssa, but somehow, he feels like he has to know. Maybe it's some sick sort of sense of duty to the others in the paddock because he knows of the horrors that demons can wreak upon humans. Maybe it's just to satisfy his curiosity. Maybe he really wants Sebastian in his bed, and all this bullshit about uncovering the truth about Sebastian is, well, just bullshit. Mark isn't too sure any more.
Mark hadn't believed the whispers, but now he finds himself paying attention. But demons have ill intentions, or do they not? Mark isn't sure any more. He scours the web for information, pays for access to online databases because he hardly has time to go to libraries and reads countless journal articles and resources to do with demons. The bottom line is that most demons are a threat to humankind (and to angels too, but angels can hold their own, they're different) when they lose control, but that's about it. There's nothing that talks at length and comes to a conclusion about a demon being fundamentally evil or good or anything. It has been thousands and thousands of years after the rift had opened, allowing demons and angels passage into the human world, and yet there is little scholarship about demons, much less angels.
There isn't a 'How to Identify a Demon 101' handbook or anything, especially when a demon is fully in control of, well, itself. It is indistinguishable from humans and angels, except for its horns, but even so, horns may be surgically removed. It is a painful process, as it is home to a whole bunch of receptors, but it is possible, should a demon wish to fully integrate itself into human society. Its tail and wings can be fully hidden from the human eye.
Mark takes to observing Sebastian around Rosberg instead. If Jenson's words are to be believed, then surely, Sebastian the demon would have some form of reaction to an angel. True enough, Mark realises that if he looks close enough, Sebastian's different when he's around Rosberg. Like he wants to get close, like he wants to touch him and take and take and take until he can take no more. It isn't about making him angry, it's about trying to... Steal something, Mark would say, for the lack of a better description. Rosberg plays along, flirting with him just like he flirts with almost everyone else in the paddock, and Sebastian is none the wiser. Or maybe he isn't, but Mark doesn't think he'll ever know. And when Rosberg touches Sebastian, in that instance, Mark is almost certain that he sees the fabric of Sebastian's shirt rip from behind, wings threatening to expand.
Or maybe he's just hallucinating, dwelling too much on Jenson's words. Jenson, who doesn't seem to remember whatever he had said to Mark that night, and goes on with life as per normal. Mark is left looking at Sebastian, letting his fingers wander over whatever available surface as he watches. His fingertips slide over the car, feeling the smooth finish but he isn't looking at the car. His eyes are on Sebastian, and his hands move all over things, objects, tables, even his thigh, dragging his fingertips slowly over his racing overalls.
But things aren't normal. Nothing can ever be, because Sebastian is starting to notice. He's a manipulative little shit at times, Mark thinks, but at others it's almost as if he had been pushed out into the spotlight far too young and now he's growing older in terms of numbers for his age but inside he's still stuck at ten. Mark should feel guilty, but he doesn't when Sebastian comes up to him and fists his hands in his shirt and demands to know why he keeps looking at him in that manner of his, and he manages to turn the tables so that Sebastian's beneath him, pinned against the wall, helpless.
(Well, almost)
i'll fuck you if you're good.
Mark tells Sebastian that he'd fuck him if he's a good boy. Sebastian looks up at him, eyes shimmering and Mark thinks this is it. Sebastian gets down on his knees, fingers trembling as he undoes Mark's jeans and peels it away. Mark asks if Sebastian has done this before, and Sebastian says no. Liar, whispers a voice in Mark's head, and he echoes the sentiment under his breath. Sebastian looks up at him, dismayed and Mark fists his hands in Sebastian's hair, pushing his head down.
'Suck,' Mark says, and Sebastian scrambles to obey.
Perhaps Sebastian hadn't been lying after all, but Mark can hardly give a fuck now. Mark tugs hard at Sebastian's hair to remind him that he's using far too much teeth, and Sebastian's practically choking around Mark's cock, trying to take more of him into his mouth. He makes up for what he (seems to) lack in experience with enthusiasm, Mark supposes, and there's a sharp intake of breath when Mark finds Sebastian's horns, tiny little nubs hidden amidst Sebastian's hair.
Sebastian pulls away immediately, eyes wide and stricken, shivering.
'You liked that?' Mark asks. He rubs at Sebastian's horns, they're smooth and warm under his fingertips, and Sebastian moans, trying desperately to get away from Mark. 'No you don't,' Mark continues, gripping Sebastian's shoulder hard with one hand, holding him in place in between his legs and Sebastian looks like he's got tears in his eyes but at the same time...
'No more,' Sebastian whimpers as Mark rubs circles against the tip of one of his horns. There're definitely tears in his eyes now as he slumps forward, burying his face in Mark's thigh, sobbing brokenly as Mark continues to play with his horns. 'No more, no more,' he gasps, body lying slack against Mark, and it is only then when Mark realises that Sebastian might have just had an orgasm from having his horns stimulated.
(Just as Jenson had suggested)
'Sebastian?' Mark asks, removing his hand from Sebastian's hair and he's pretty certain that Sebastian lets out a high pitched whine when he does so. 'Get up,' he says, and Sebastian shakes his head, face still buried in Mark's thigh. Mark pulls him to his feet, and for a moment, Sebastian doesn't look quite like a man but a teenage boy, as if he had been caught by someone jerking off to porn. There's a stain at the front of his jeans and Sebastian's tugging at his shirt, trying to hide it to no avail.
'You're a horny little demon,' Mark says, voice reverent and Sebastian looks at him, cheeks flushing. His eyes look wet and fuck, Mark had never thought that touching Sebastian's horns would actually make him cry.
'Are you still going to fuck me?' Sebastian demands. He's wearing a pout and it suits him, a childish little demon, Mark supposes. So one orgasm isn't enough for the demon, and if anything, this seems to suggest that the refractory period isn't a problem either.
Part of Mark thinks that he shouldn't be doing this. Sebastian's a demon. He could be dangerous, and Mark would never see the danger coming.
(Oh, the irony)
'Strip,' Mark orders, and Sebastian does, removing his clothing like he's trying to do a striptease but it's just weird, especially when Mark thinks of what had just happened. When they end up on Mark's bed, with Sebastian sinking his nails down into Mark's skin (they're sharp but not sharp enough to cut through his skin, thankfully) as he rides him, Mark finds himself speechless when wings start sprouting out of Sebastian's back. They're dark red and black and they keep expanding, full of rough edges and in a strange way, it reminds Mark of the webbed feet of a duck. Mark reaches for Sebastian's hair, finding his horns, stroking idly and Sebastian cries out. His other hand slides lower, past Sebastian's hip, past the curve of his arse, lower until he feels something quite unlike what he has ever felt before.
'Fuck!' Sebastian cries out, and this time, his nails sink down so hard into Mark's shoulder that it hurts.
'Seb?'
'No, ahh, tail,' Sebastian manages, barely coherent. Mark shifts beneath him, hoping to get a glimpse of this tail that he's feeling, it's short and warm in his hand, throbbing and when he wraps his hand around it, stroking-
'Mark!' Sebastian screams, voice broken and fuck, this is probably the hottest thing that Mark has ever heard. 'Not, not my tail,' he whines, shifting against Mark as Mark strokes his tail. Sebastian's almost rutting against him, and Mark can feel Sebastian's leaking cock against his stomach. It's almost as if Sebastian's desperate to get himself off, and Mark loves every single moment. Sebastian's wings glow, thrumming, radiating heat and he's hot and tight around Mark's cock. It's unlike anything Mark has felt before, with Sebastian moaning and whimpering and telling him he can't take any more even though he knows he can, and the feeling is intense and overwhelming and ridiculously good all at once.
That's why Mark doesn't realise that there's someone trying to get into his room until it's far too late, when he's faced with Maldonado holding a shotgun aimed at Sebastian's back, ordering Mark to get down.
(part ii.)
you are young only once.
Jenson sees angels. He sees their flaming crowns above their heads, their majestic wings unfurled in their full glory behind them as they stride purposefully towards their cause.
When he was younger, Jenson had wondered if they were nightmares, having somehow escaped from the realm of dreaming into that of being awake. His father had held him close and stroked his hair, telling him that everything was going to turn out just fine. Those beings weren't nightmares, they were angels. They are blessed beings, and they leave part of themselves with those they touch, a good part that helps to heal and restore. That's how the expression 'touched by an angel' had come about.
Jenson had asked his father if he had been able to see angels. His father had smiled and shook his head, telling him that he hadn't been bestowed such a gift.
The years had gone by, and Jenson had discovered that the ability to see angels in their true forms had been anything but a gift. Where others would see nothing, Jenson would see oddly shaped objects floating in the air. He had read the religious texts and they had described them as archangels. To Jenson, they had always seemed more terrifying than holy or blessed.
there is no heaven on earth.
By the time Jenson enters secondary school, he's used to seeing angels in unexpected places. One of his teachers in primary school had been an angel, one of the marshals at his first karting race had been an angel and sometimes, on the streets, he sees angels, walking amongst humans, and everyone else is none the wiser. It doesn't bother him, it's not as if he's about to get attacked by an angel just because he's able to see them. Besides, angels don't attack people if they haven't done anything wrong, according to a whole bunch of different religions.
It's unsettling though, when Jenson realises just how many angels are present at his first race at the European Super A Championship. Track marshals, general spectators, mechanics, so on and so forth. Jenson's stomach turns, watching the hungry leer they try to hide underneath their angelic masks. Their aura is soothing and warm and when Jenson closes his eyes, everything seems alright. But once he starts looking, it makes him sick and wretched.
It's almost as if the angels are harbingers of death, waiting to carry some poor soul off into death.
in the arms of an angel.
Jenson's teenaged years go by in a blur of racing and cars and awkward fumbling at the back of garages and sneaking into hotel rooms and after school meetings in empty classrooms, hoping that he wouldn't get caught. There's nothing serious, until he meets someone. He doesn't remember her name now and to be perfectly honest, he doesn't even really remember her face. If anything, it might've been because she broke his heart so badly that he had forgotten almost everything about her.
(But the truth is that she was an angel and she had worked her magic on Jenson, although it hadn't had its desired effect and Jenson knows, but sometimes, it makes him feel better to think that he had loved her far too much)
She had been warm. She had soft curves and a sweet smile, but Jenson doesn't really remember any more. It comes to him in a blur, and his head hurts when he tries to recall. And then there had been the sex, which had been, well, phenomenal. But Jenson doesn't remember, because she had done her best to make him forget.
See, Jenson isn't just someone who can see angels. He's more than just that. He's a Null.
It takes Jenson years to learn that angels aren't like normal human beings, but they don't feed on shit like the goodness of mankind. All things on Earth require sustenance, and angels are no exception. Here's where their similarity to demons begin and end - they run on 1. consuming part of the human soul or 2. sex with humans. Human food doesn't have much effect on both angels and demons, they may consume them but it'd be useless for them, for their metabolism is far too high. But there's the fabled ambrosia too, and some sources speak of nectar being a suitable substitute. Jenson doesn't really know, and he knows that he'll never be certain about what anything to do with angels.
What Jenson does know, however, is that he is, to put it bluntly, hot property amongst angels and demons. All his life he had only been acutely aware of angels in his midst and now he has to keep his guard up against one more group of beings - demons that he cannot see. When these celestial beings have sex with humans, it results in a spike in demonic or angelic energy in the immediate vicinity. This makes it easy for demon (and angel) hunters to locate them, especially since they will be weakened during the act of sex itself, with their defences down. But these spikes in energy will be absorbed by Nulls, making them the preferred partner for angels or demons who wish to escape notice in the community.
Jenson tells himself that he isn't having some form of existential crisis. He's here to race, to win, to go faster and faster and be the first to cross the finish line. So what if his body has the necessary attributes for him to be a useful sex object to angels and demons? He's here for himself. He comes first.
So he forgets his first relationship, but it's always there, at the back of his mind.
Maybe it hadn't been love after all. Maybe, just maybe, it had only been about sex and survival, nothing more.
where the heaven are we.
Nico Rosberg is an angel. Jenson had always known, ever since that day at Silverstone. He had been only thirteen then, or twelve, Jenson doesn't really remember. He looks back with rose tinted lenses and he tells people that Nico had been a shy boy, hiding behind his father's legs. The reality is that Jenson had seen Nico's wings, shimmering and pure white, and he had been rendered speechless. He had never seen anything quite like it before. Nico had looked up at Jenson with an unreadable expression in his eyes, and Jenson had stared back, eyes challenging. Nico had given him a small smile that seemed to say that he had known all about Jenson, and had backed away afterwards, ducking behind his father, playing the part of the shy little boy. Jenson had been left flustered, thrown off guard.
The memory had stayed with Jenson, even when he had seen Nico again in Formula One. There had been something about Nico that had gotten to Jenson, and now that he had entered Formula One, it didn't feel wrong any more. Or rather, it still did, because Jenson had felt like an old bastard coming on to Nico like that, but then again, it hadn't been as if Nico had been some innocent little waif that he had seduced. Nico had known, and Jenson supposes that he had grown up being aware of his beauty. Not in the way that sticks itself obnoxiously into your face, but in the matter-of-fact sort of way, the way someone acknowledged the existence of something like, say, a scar on one's arm and made no attempt to hide it.
It's not about Nico's face or his body or that smile that he gives Jenson all the time, like he knows some stupid secret about him that he's not about to share. Or maybe it is about Nico's body, because Jenson thinks he's beautiful (and so does more than half the paddock and really, Nico could have anyone he wanted with those lips of his and his beguiling eyes, pulling you in, threatening to drown you in his mystery) and he wants him.
The first time Jenson fucks Nico, Nico bites hard at the juncture in between Jenson's shoulder and neck. Jenson had looked at him afterwards, amused. Nico had returned his look, eyes unblinking, and had leaned up to whisper 'remember me' in his ear. Jenson had wanted to tell him that he wouldn't be able to forget him even if he wanted to but instead, had said 'Of course I would, princess.'
The second time comes after Jenson's first win in Hungary. Nico had come to offer his congratulations, and later on, with Nico still in between Jenson's legs, Jenson had reached for Nico's wings. Nico had flinched under his touch and Jenson had stilled, looking at Nico, eyes assessing.
'You're not here because you know I'm a Null and you need your fix, or are you?'
Nico had blushed and looked down, avoiding Jenson's gaze. 'It's not just that,' he had said, hesitating. Nico's usual confidence had been gone, and all of a sudden, Jenson had felt more tired than ever.
'You should go,' Jenson had said, and Nico had gotten to his feet. Jenson could never forget the look in Nico's eyes as he had turned back to look at him, as if to make sure that he should really leave. It had looked like regret and hurt, and Jenson had felt a pang in his heart when the door had slammed shut.
Then came the third time. The fourth time. The fifth time. Until the point where Jenson wonders what it is really, if he really wants to put a name on what he has with Nico. It isn't just sex, but it isn't exactly a relationship, or is it? Nico leans in when they're together, and he seems to genuinely enjoy Jenson's company, and Jenson notices how Nico seems to light up when he's around him. It isn't just about sneaking off to one another's hotel rooms to fuck any more, it's about meetings in Monaco to go biking or swimming or just to do anything together. Eventually, Jenson spends so much time in Nico's flat that he's got toiletries there and a space in Nico's wardrobe reserved for his clothes.
When Nico wakes up to the smell of food in the morning, he saunters over to the kitchen, clad only in his boxers. He drapes himself over the counter, watching as Jenson cooks, and Jenson turns around, taking in the lovely sight of a half-naked Nico, bent over with eyes for only him.
'You'd better get dressed, or we won't be eating breakfast,' Jenson says cheerfully. 'I'll be eating you.'
'Or maybe I'll be eating you,' Nico teases, walking over to Jenson, placing a kiss on Jenson's neck, and Jenson laughs.
how (not) to keep a secret.
'You told him, didn't you?' Nico asks, lying beside Jenson. His eyes are thoughtful, and he's propped himself up with one hand cupped underneath his chin.
Jenson shrugs, idly stroking Nico's wings. The feathers are soft and warm under his touch, and Nico shudders, a wave of pleasure going through him. 'I might have,' he says, a small smile playing at his lips.
'You're an idiot.' Nico sighs, leaning forward to kiss Jenson on his forehead.
'You wanted to know,' Jenson says, and Nico shakes his head.
'I've always known,' Nico says, getting up.
Jenson stares at Nico's figure, takes in his majestic white wings and the fine curve of his arse. He doesn't want to let Nico go, not now, but he's pretty certain that shit is going down somewhere in the hotel, with Maldonado off to hunt Sebastian down. Nico had felt the spike in demonic energy just a while ago, and Jenson had never seen him that aroused before. It had been a rather, ahh, enlightening experience, and Jenson wonders what will happen if he manages to get Sebastian into their bed the next time.
'Go save the world, princess,' Jenson calls out, watching as Nico's wings disappear as he pulls on his clothes.
'This is all your fault,' Nico answers, but there's no heat in his words, only a vague hint of amusement.
(part iii.)
don't you worry child (heaven's got a plan for you).
Pastor had always known that he had been destined for great things. Great things like becoming a competitive racer, getting a seat in Formula One. Like getting his first pole position at Valencia, although technically, he had inherited it from Lewis Hamilton. Like winning his first grand prix from pole, fending off the likes of greats like Fernando Alonso and Michael Schumacher. It made him feel better when he thought about his true purpose.
His father had been disappointed when he had made the decision to race. His mother had turned away, crying silently. The Maldonado family is considered as one of the great families of demon hunters in Venezuela and Pastor, being the eldest son of the eldest son, had been expected to take up his father's mantle as head demon hunter. His father had let him participate in kart races as a child as he had seen no reason to discourage his son from taking part in a sport that would hone his hand-eye coordination. But when it became apparent that his son had been far more interested in driving cars going round and round in circles, Pastor's father had tried desperately to keep his son away from racing. He had brought Pastor out with him from demon hunts, and Pastor had cowered in fear the first time he had seen his first demon. It had been a grotesque half-human, half-gargoyle, like those he had seen in pictures hanging in his father's office. Pastor's father had shot at the demon, and it had let out a wretched cry as it had been shot in its wings, ugly and webbed. His father had tried so hard to get Pastor to join him in the hunt, but each time, when it came to when he should pull the trigger, Pastor would back away, both in fear of hurting something, even if it were a monster, and in fear of what might happen to him.
'You were named Pastor for a reason,' his father had roared.
'Not to preach,' he had argued, voice passionate. Nevertheless, he had carried his father's shotgun with him, race after race after race. For protection, his father had told him in the end, giving him his blessings, albeit reluctantly.
He had had a few close shaves, in Montreal they had taken a wrong turn and he had faced his first demon alone. Eyes yellowed, cheeks sunken, lips blood red, illuminated by the headlights of the car. The driver had screamed, and so had everyone else on board, and Pastor had scrambled to get his gun. While his father had trained him to use the gun, Pastor had never shot at anything apart from a target board. As a teenager, Pastor had sworn never to shoot at anything or anyone, but now, with the lives of others in his hands... Pastor had pulled the trigger and had missed the demon's heart, but he had wounded him enough to enable their escape.
Word got out later on. Pastor Maldonado hunts demons, Pastor Maldonado lives up to his name. His father had been proud. Pastor had been shaken.
hit me baby one more time.
The second time had been in Barcelona. There had been a strange presence, as if someone or something had been following him. It had turned out to be a demon, with a pallid face and chapped lips and its wings had been the most horrifying thing Pastor had ever seen. Pastor had pulled the trigger without hesitation, but what he hadn't known was that the Williams crew had been watching him.
Word got out again. Pastor Maldonado kills another demon. Have you heard? I think Sebastian Vettel might be one. You'll never know. Nico Rosberg's an angel. I've fucked him before, I've seen his wings. They're beautiful.
A whole lot of bullshit.
When Pastor returns to Venezuela, his father teaches him. Not all demons have cruel intentions, and not all angels mean well. They may be celestial beings, but once you get to what these beings really are, they are no better than humans. They have their selfish desires and when demons lose control, it is up to demon hunters to put an end to them. Leave the angels to those who hunt them, and do not get caught in the dealings between demons and angels, for it will only lead to disaster. Be careful. Kill only the ones who put humans in danger. His mother tells him that it's his hunter senses tingling, not a horrible sense of nausea or sickness that he feels every now and then. It means a demon is nearby, rotting inside a human shell, about to lose control.
angels and demons (in the goddamn paddock).
A strange sense of peace overwhelms Pastor when he comes frighteningly near Nico Rosberg. Nico doesn't give him a second glance, but the next time he sees him, there's a small smirk on his face, as if he knows. Angels know everything, his mother had said. Pastor swallows hard, and he wonders.
Pastor is all too ready to downplay talk about Sebastian being a demon. Sure, he's a formidable rival, and as much as Pastor'd like to beat him, he knows that rumours are rumours. But there isn't smoke without fire, and it only takes one small thing to tip the scale. Demonic energy spikes in the hotel, his father's shotgun thrums on Pastor's bed and shaken, Pastor leaves his room in search of the source. He isn't feeling nauseous, nor is he feeling a sense of giddiness, or anything of the sort. If anything, it feels closer to arousal, and he's almost unable to believe his eyes when he kicks open the (forbidden) door and comes face to face with Sebastian Vettel in his full demonic glory, naked and wings spread, having sex with Mark Webber.
'Get down!' Pastor shouts, his hand is on the trigger, but he knows that he wouldn't be able to shoot.
notes:
-thank you silvis and zee for hand holding and love and everything!!! ;A;
-this was inspired by the idiot who called seb the devil on tumblr lmfao.
-there will be more. when i write it. soon orz
there are whispers in the paddock. vettel is the devil in disguise, someone says. he's a demon, that's why he's always trying to fuck around with rosberg, because rosberg's an angel. and maldonado hunts demons, but you'd never have known.
(part i.)
aussie grit.
There are whispers in the paddock. Vettel is the devil in disguise, someone says. He's a demon, that's why he's always trying to fuck around with Rosberg, because Rosberg's an angel. And Maldonado hunts demons, but you'd never have known.
Mark doesn't put too much stock into those words. Rosberg can hardly be considered an angel, if anything he'd be an angel that had fallen, deliberately descending to earth to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. They had been teammates and Mark had always known. People said things, as they always did, but the way he had lingered around him, the heated looks, the not-so-innocent smiles... What was that line from that song again? Oh yeah, you could be the sinner and I'd be the sin. Words that describe the Rosberg boy perfectly.
But demons are different. Mark had heard stories growing up. Don't go wandering in the woods in the dark, be wary of strangers with pale smiles and yellowed eyes. It isn't sickness or disease. They're demons, and they'll eat you alive. When Mark was younger, he had thought nothing of it. Urban legends, cautionary tales to ensure that children would be careful, would stick close to adults. He hadn't believed in those words until someone from his class had been taken.
Mark remembers a girl from his class in primary school. She had sat in front of Mark, had helped him with Mathematics whenever he had asked. Mark doesn't remember how she looks like any more, but he remembers the story well. They had found her dress in the forest a couple of kilometres away from the school, and nothing more. The rest of her had been mere ashes, and they had identified her with the bone fragments that had been found. She had been only ten.
Mark had left his small town soon after. There had been races to compete in with trophies to be won. But at the back of his mind, whenever someone mentioned demons, he thought of that girl from his class. He had never forgotten her, and he could never forget. Her class photo, staring back at him from the front page of the town newspaper.
Demons are dangerous. Even demon hunters can't control them so remember - you can never be too careful.
go home, you're drunk.
It comes as a shock when Mark ends up half drunk with Jenson at a bar and Jenson leans over and asks Mark if he had seen Sebastian's wings before. Or maybe, Jenson's the one who's half drunk, and Mark is still (painfully) sober.
'I've seen Nico's wings, they're obvious when we fuck,' Jenson says emphatically, and Mark's eyes narrow as he looks at Jenson's drink. It's Jenson's third mug of beer, and Mark vaguely recalls Jenson saying something about him being fairly lightweight but this is on a completely different scale.
'Seb's not a demon,' Mark says stiffly. He had done his research and Sebastian had seemed normal. At least, normal enough for Mark to classify him as a human being and not the demon people claim he is. To be honest, Mark knows that he'll never know for sure because he's not someone with heightened powers or some shit, so he tells himself that he'd trust what he sees with his own eyes. Right now, his eyes tell him that Jenson ought to stop drinking, so he reaches for Jenson's beer and pushes it out of Jenson's grasp.
'Don't change the subject. And don't tell me you're not fucking him,' Jenson continues, waving a hand about and Mark swats his hand away, annoyed.
'You're drunk,' Mark says. He should sound irritated but he doesn't. Instead, he sounds tired, like he has had far too much of everything, and Jenson laughs.
'Bet he has horns,' Jenson says, slapping his hand on Mark's shoulder. 'They'd be sensitive. Try it, feel them. He'd love it.'
'If this is a joke, I'm not laughing,' Mark says.
That girl in the woods. All that was left was her red dress and she had been reduced to ashes and fragments of bone. The work of demons. You can never be too careful.
For a moment it's as if something comes of Jenson, and his expression turns serious. He looks sober in the dim light of the bar, and Mark wonders if he had been the one who had been drunk all along. 'I'm serious,' Jenson says, voice a low whisper. Then it's gone, and Jenson flashes Mark a grin that says that he knows far more than he's actually letting on. Either that, or he's being an annoying little shit. Mark isn't sure which any more.
how to seduce a demon.
This is how Mark ends up trying to seduce Sebastian. Well not really, it's more of him trying to get Sebastian into his bed because what Jenson had said to him while he had been drunk. Is Sebastian really what people say he is? And if he's really a demon, is he a malevolent one? What exactly is a demon trying to prove in Formula One, that it's equally capable of racing?
Mark wants to know if Sebastian has horns hidden in his hair and he finds himself looking, staring, trying to see if he can make out anything. His back is normal, his underclothes cling to him and the curve of his back is just like any other person's. There's nothing out of the ordinary, just like with Rosberg, but Jenson's words ring in his head.
They're obvious when we fuck.
If Mark wanted to uncover the truth, he supposes that there's no other way to do it. He had read somewhere that demons draw their energy from humans through sex and the draining of their souls. Mark vows not to end up like Alyssa, but somehow, he feels like he has to know. Maybe it's some sick sort of sense of duty to the others in the paddock because he knows of the horrors that demons can wreak upon humans. Maybe it's just to satisfy his curiosity. Maybe he really wants Sebastian in his bed, and all this bullshit about uncovering the truth about Sebastian is, well, just bullshit. Mark isn't too sure any more.
Mark hadn't believed the whispers, but now he finds himself paying attention. But demons have ill intentions, or do they not? Mark isn't sure any more. He scours the web for information, pays for access to online databases because he hardly has time to go to libraries and reads countless journal articles and resources to do with demons. The bottom line is that most demons are a threat to humankind (and to angels too, but angels can hold their own, they're different) when they lose control, but that's about it. There's nothing that talks at length and comes to a conclusion about a demon being fundamentally evil or good or anything. It has been thousands and thousands of years after the rift had opened, allowing demons and angels passage into the human world, and yet there is little scholarship about demons, much less angels.
There isn't a 'How to Identify a Demon 101' handbook or anything, especially when a demon is fully in control of, well, itself. It is indistinguishable from humans and angels, except for its horns, but even so, horns may be surgically removed. It is a painful process, as it is home to a whole bunch of receptors, but it is possible, should a demon wish to fully integrate itself into human society. Its tail and wings can be fully hidden from the human eye.
Mark takes to observing Sebastian around Rosberg instead. If Jenson's words are to be believed, then surely, Sebastian the demon would have some form of reaction to an angel. True enough, Mark realises that if he looks close enough, Sebastian's different when he's around Rosberg. Like he wants to get close, like he wants to touch him and take and take and take until he can take no more. It isn't about making him angry, it's about trying to... Steal something, Mark would say, for the lack of a better description. Rosberg plays along, flirting with him just like he flirts with almost everyone else in the paddock, and Sebastian is none the wiser. Or maybe he isn't, but Mark doesn't think he'll ever know. And when Rosberg touches Sebastian, in that instance, Mark is almost certain that he sees the fabric of Sebastian's shirt rip from behind, wings threatening to expand.
Or maybe he's just hallucinating, dwelling too much on Jenson's words. Jenson, who doesn't seem to remember whatever he had said to Mark that night, and goes on with life as per normal. Mark is left looking at Sebastian, letting his fingers wander over whatever available surface as he watches. His fingertips slide over the car, feeling the smooth finish but he isn't looking at the car. His eyes are on Sebastian, and his hands move all over things, objects, tables, even his thigh, dragging his fingertips slowly over his racing overalls.
But things aren't normal. Nothing can ever be, because Sebastian is starting to notice. He's a manipulative little shit at times, Mark thinks, but at others it's almost as if he had been pushed out into the spotlight far too young and now he's growing older in terms of numbers for his age but inside he's still stuck at ten. Mark should feel guilty, but he doesn't when Sebastian comes up to him and fists his hands in his shirt and demands to know why he keeps looking at him in that manner of his, and he manages to turn the tables so that Sebastian's beneath him, pinned against the wall, helpless.
(Well, almost)
i'll fuck you if you're good.
Mark tells Sebastian that he'd fuck him if he's a good boy. Sebastian looks up at him, eyes shimmering and Mark thinks this is it. Sebastian gets down on his knees, fingers trembling as he undoes Mark's jeans and peels it away. Mark asks if Sebastian has done this before, and Sebastian says no. Liar, whispers a voice in Mark's head, and he echoes the sentiment under his breath. Sebastian looks up at him, dismayed and Mark fists his hands in Sebastian's hair, pushing his head down.
'Suck,' Mark says, and Sebastian scrambles to obey.
Perhaps Sebastian hadn't been lying after all, but Mark can hardly give a fuck now. Mark tugs hard at Sebastian's hair to remind him that he's using far too much teeth, and Sebastian's practically choking around Mark's cock, trying to take more of him into his mouth. He makes up for what he (seems to) lack in experience with enthusiasm, Mark supposes, and there's a sharp intake of breath when Mark finds Sebastian's horns, tiny little nubs hidden amidst Sebastian's hair.
Sebastian pulls away immediately, eyes wide and stricken, shivering.
'You liked that?' Mark asks. He rubs at Sebastian's horns, they're smooth and warm under his fingertips, and Sebastian moans, trying desperately to get away from Mark. 'No you don't,' Mark continues, gripping Sebastian's shoulder hard with one hand, holding him in place in between his legs and Sebastian looks like he's got tears in his eyes but at the same time...
'No more,' Sebastian whimpers as Mark rubs circles against the tip of one of his horns. There're definitely tears in his eyes now as he slumps forward, burying his face in Mark's thigh, sobbing brokenly as Mark continues to play with his horns. 'No more, no more,' he gasps, body lying slack against Mark, and it is only then when Mark realises that Sebastian might have just had an orgasm from having his horns stimulated.
(Just as Jenson had suggested)
'Sebastian?' Mark asks, removing his hand from Sebastian's hair and he's pretty certain that Sebastian lets out a high pitched whine when he does so. 'Get up,' he says, and Sebastian shakes his head, face still buried in Mark's thigh. Mark pulls him to his feet, and for a moment, Sebastian doesn't look quite like a man but a teenage boy, as if he had been caught by someone jerking off to porn. There's a stain at the front of his jeans and Sebastian's tugging at his shirt, trying to hide it to no avail.
'You're a horny little demon,' Mark says, voice reverent and Sebastian looks at him, cheeks flushing. His eyes look wet and fuck, Mark had never thought that touching Sebastian's horns would actually make him cry.
'Are you still going to fuck me?' Sebastian demands. He's wearing a pout and it suits him, a childish little demon, Mark supposes. So one orgasm isn't enough for the demon, and if anything, this seems to suggest that the refractory period isn't a problem either.
Part of Mark thinks that he shouldn't be doing this. Sebastian's a demon. He could be dangerous, and Mark would never see the danger coming.
(Oh, the irony)
'Strip,' Mark orders, and Sebastian does, removing his clothing like he's trying to do a striptease but it's just weird, especially when Mark thinks of what had just happened. When they end up on Mark's bed, with Sebastian sinking his nails down into Mark's skin (they're sharp but not sharp enough to cut through his skin, thankfully) as he rides him, Mark finds himself speechless when wings start sprouting out of Sebastian's back. They're dark red and black and they keep expanding, full of rough edges and in a strange way, it reminds Mark of the webbed feet of a duck. Mark reaches for Sebastian's hair, finding his horns, stroking idly and Sebastian cries out. His other hand slides lower, past Sebastian's hip, past the curve of his arse, lower until he feels something quite unlike what he has ever felt before.
'Fuck!' Sebastian cries out, and this time, his nails sink down so hard into Mark's shoulder that it hurts.
'Seb?'
'No, ahh, tail,' Sebastian manages, barely coherent. Mark shifts beneath him, hoping to get a glimpse of this tail that he's feeling, it's short and warm in his hand, throbbing and when he wraps his hand around it, stroking-
'Mark!' Sebastian screams, voice broken and fuck, this is probably the hottest thing that Mark has ever heard. 'Not, not my tail,' he whines, shifting against Mark as Mark strokes his tail. Sebastian's almost rutting against him, and Mark can feel Sebastian's leaking cock against his stomach. It's almost as if Sebastian's desperate to get himself off, and Mark loves every single moment. Sebastian's wings glow, thrumming, radiating heat and he's hot and tight around Mark's cock. It's unlike anything Mark has felt before, with Sebastian moaning and whimpering and telling him he can't take any more even though he knows he can, and the feeling is intense and overwhelming and ridiculously good all at once.
That's why Mark doesn't realise that there's someone trying to get into his room until it's far too late, when he's faced with Maldonado holding a shotgun aimed at Sebastian's back, ordering Mark to get down.
(part ii.)
you are young only once.
Jenson sees angels. He sees their flaming crowns above their heads, their majestic wings unfurled in their full glory behind them as they stride purposefully towards their cause.
When he was younger, Jenson had wondered if they were nightmares, having somehow escaped from the realm of dreaming into that of being awake. His father had held him close and stroked his hair, telling him that everything was going to turn out just fine. Those beings weren't nightmares, they were angels. They are blessed beings, and they leave part of themselves with those they touch, a good part that helps to heal and restore. That's how the expression 'touched by an angel' had come about.
Jenson had asked his father if he had been able to see angels. His father had smiled and shook his head, telling him that he hadn't been bestowed such a gift.
The years had gone by, and Jenson had discovered that the ability to see angels in their true forms had been anything but a gift. Where others would see nothing, Jenson would see oddly shaped objects floating in the air. He had read the religious texts and they had described them as archangels. To Jenson, they had always seemed more terrifying than holy or blessed.
there is no heaven on earth.
By the time Jenson enters secondary school, he's used to seeing angels in unexpected places. One of his teachers in primary school had been an angel, one of the marshals at his first karting race had been an angel and sometimes, on the streets, he sees angels, walking amongst humans, and everyone else is none the wiser. It doesn't bother him, it's not as if he's about to get attacked by an angel just because he's able to see them. Besides, angels don't attack people if they haven't done anything wrong, according to a whole bunch of different religions.
It's unsettling though, when Jenson realises just how many angels are present at his first race at the European Super A Championship. Track marshals, general spectators, mechanics, so on and so forth. Jenson's stomach turns, watching the hungry leer they try to hide underneath their angelic masks. Their aura is soothing and warm and when Jenson closes his eyes, everything seems alright. But once he starts looking, it makes him sick and wretched.
It's almost as if the angels are harbingers of death, waiting to carry some poor soul off into death.
in the arms of an angel.
Jenson's teenaged years go by in a blur of racing and cars and awkward fumbling at the back of garages and sneaking into hotel rooms and after school meetings in empty classrooms, hoping that he wouldn't get caught. There's nothing serious, until he meets someone. He doesn't remember her name now and to be perfectly honest, he doesn't even really remember her face. If anything, it might've been because she broke his heart so badly that he had forgotten almost everything about her.
(But the truth is that she was an angel and she had worked her magic on Jenson, although it hadn't had its desired effect and Jenson knows, but sometimes, it makes him feel better to think that he had loved her far too much)
She had been warm. She had soft curves and a sweet smile, but Jenson doesn't really remember any more. It comes to him in a blur, and his head hurts when he tries to recall. And then there had been the sex, which had been, well, phenomenal. But Jenson doesn't remember, because she had done her best to make him forget.
See, Jenson isn't just someone who can see angels. He's more than just that. He's a Null.
It takes Jenson years to learn that angels aren't like normal human beings, but they don't feed on shit like the goodness of mankind. All things on Earth require sustenance, and angels are no exception. Here's where their similarity to demons begin and end - they run on 1. consuming part of the human soul or 2. sex with humans. Human food doesn't have much effect on both angels and demons, they may consume them but it'd be useless for them, for their metabolism is far too high. But there's the fabled ambrosia too, and some sources speak of nectar being a suitable substitute. Jenson doesn't really know, and he knows that he'll never be certain about what anything to do with angels.
What Jenson does know, however, is that he is, to put it bluntly, hot property amongst angels and demons. All his life he had only been acutely aware of angels in his midst and now he has to keep his guard up against one more group of beings - demons that he cannot see. When these celestial beings have sex with humans, it results in a spike in demonic or angelic energy in the immediate vicinity. This makes it easy for demon (and angel) hunters to locate them, especially since they will be weakened during the act of sex itself, with their defences down. But these spikes in energy will be absorbed by Nulls, making them the preferred partner for angels or demons who wish to escape notice in the community.
Jenson tells himself that he isn't having some form of existential crisis. He's here to race, to win, to go faster and faster and be the first to cross the finish line. So what if his body has the necessary attributes for him to be a useful sex object to angels and demons? He's here for himself. He comes first.
So he forgets his first relationship, but it's always there, at the back of his mind.
Maybe it hadn't been love after all. Maybe, just maybe, it had only been about sex and survival, nothing more.
where the heaven are we.
Nico Rosberg is an angel. Jenson had always known, ever since that day at Silverstone. He had been only thirteen then, or twelve, Jenson doesn't really remember. He looks back with rose tinted lenses and he tells people that Nico had been a shy boy, hiding behind his father's legs. The reality is that Jenson had seen Nico's wings, shimmering and pure white, and he had been rendered speechless. He had never seen anything quite like it before. Nico had looked up at Jenson with an unreadable expression in his eyes, and Jenson had stared back, eyes challenging. Nico had given him a small smile that seemed to say that he had known all about Jenson, and had backed away afterwards, ducking behind his father, playing the part of the shy little boy. Jenson had been left flustered, thrown off guard.
The memory had stayed with Jenson, even when he had seen Nico again in Formula One. There had been something about Nico that had gotten to Jenson, and now that he had entered Formula One, it didn't feel wrong any more. Or rather, it still did, because Jenson had felt like an old bastard coming on to Nico like that, but then again, it hadn't been as if Nico had been some innocent little waif that he had seduced. Nico had known, and Jenson supposes that he had grown up being aware of his beauty. Not in the way that sticks itself obnoxiously into your face, but in the matter-of-fact sort of way, the way someone acknowledged the existence of something like, say, a scar on one's arm and made no attempt to hide it.
It's not about Nico's face or his body or that smile that he gives Jenson all the time, like he knows some stupid secret about him that he's not about to share. Or maybe it is about Nico's body, because Jenson thinks he's beautiful (and so does more than half the paddock and really, Nico could have anyone he wanted with those lips of his and his beguiling eyes, pulling you in, threatening to drown you in his mystery) and he wants him.
The first time Jenson fucks Nico, Nico bites hard at the juncture in between Jenson's shoulder and neck. Jenson had looked at him afterwards, amused. Nico had returned his look, eyes unblinking, and had leaned up to whisper 'remember me' in his ear. Jenson had wanted to tell him that he wouldn't be able to forget him even if he wanted to but instead, had said 'Of course I would, princess.'
The second time comes after Jenson's first win in Hungary. Nico had come to offer his congratulations, and later on, with Nico still in between Jenson's legs, Jenson had reached for Nico's wings. Nico had flinched under his touch and Jenson had stilled, looking at Nico, eyes assessing.
'You're not here because you know I'm a Null and you need your fix, or are you?'
Nico had blushed and looked down, avoiding Jenson's gaze. 'It's not just that,' he had said, hesitating. Nico's usual confidence had been gone, and all of a sudden, Jenson had felt more tired than ever.
'You should go,' Jenson had said, and Nico had gotten to his feet. Jenson could never forget the look in Nico's eyes as he had turned back to look at him, as if to make sure that he should really leave. It had looked like regret and hurt, and Jenson had felt a pang in his heart when the door had slammed shut.
Then came the third time. The fourth time. The fifth time. Until the point where Jenson wonders what it is really, if he really wants to put a name on what he has with Nico. It isn't just sex, but it isn't exactly a relationship, or is it? Nico leans in when they're together, and he seems to genuinely enjoy Jenson's company, and Jenson notices how Nico seems to light up when he's around him. It isn't just about sneaking off to one another's hotel rooms to fuck any more, it's about meetings in Monaco to go biking or swimming or just to do anything together. Eventually, Jenson spends so much time in Nico's flat that he's got toiletries there and a space in Nico's wardrobe reserved for his clothes.
When Nico wakes up to the smell of food in the morning, he saunters over to the kitchen, clad only in his boxers. He drapes himself over the counter, watching as Jenson cooks, and Jenson turns around, taking in the lovely sight of a half-naked Nico, bent over with eyes for only him.
'You'd better get dressed, or we won't be eating breakfast,' Jenson says cheerfully. 'I'll be eating you.'
'Or maybe I'll be eating you,' Nico teases, walking over to Jenson, placing a kiss on Jenson's neck, and Jenson laughs.
how (not) to keep a secret.
'You told him, didn't you?' Nico asks, lying beside Jenson. His eyes are thoughtful, and he's propped himself up with one hand cupped underneath his chin.
Jenson shrugs, idly stroking Nico's wings. The feathers are soft and warm under his touch, and Nico shudders, a wave of pleasure going through him. 'I might have,' he says, a small smile playing at his lips.
'You're an idiot.' Nico sighs, leaning forward to kiss Jenson on his forehead.
'You wanted to know,' Jenson says, and Nico shakes his head.
'I've always known,' Nico says, getting up.
Jenson stares at Nico's figure, takes in his majestic white wings and the fine curve of his arse. He doesn't want to let Nico go, not now, but he's pretty certain that shit is going down somewhere in the hotel, with Maldonado off to hunt Sebastian down. Nico had felt the spike in demonic energy just a while ago, and Jenson had never seen him that aroused before. It had been a rather, ahh, enlightening experience, and Jenson wonders what will happen if he manages to get Sebastian into their bed the next time.
'Go save the world, princess,' Jenson calls out, watching as Nico's wings disappear as he pulls on his clothes.
'This is all your fault,' Nico answers, but there's no heat in his words, only a vague hint of amusement.
(part iii.)
don't you worry child (heaven's got a plan for you).
Pastor had always known that he had been destined for great things. Great things like becoming a competitive racer, getting a seat in Formula One. Like getting his first pole position at Valencia, although technically, he had inherited it from Lewis Hamilton. Like winning his first grand prix from pole, fending off the likes of greats like Fernando Alonso and Michael Schumacher. It made him feel better when he thought about his true purpose.
His father had been disappointed when he had made the decision to race. His mother had turned away, crying silently. The Maldonado family is considered as one of the great families of demon hunters in Venezuela and Pastor, being the eldest son of the eldest son, had been expected to take up his father's mantle as head demon hunter. His father had let him participate in kart races as a child as he had seen no reason to discourage his son from taking part in a sport that would hone his hand-eye coordination. But when it became apparent that his son had been far more interested in driving cars going round and round in circles, Pastor's father had tried desperately to keep his son away from racing. He had brought Pastor out with him from demon hunts, and Pastor had cowered in fear the first time he had seen his first demon. It had been a grotesque half-human, half-gargoyle, like those he had seen in pictures hanging in his father's office. Pastor's father had shot at the demon, and it had let out a wretched cry as it had been shot in its wings, ugly and webbed. His father had tried so hard to get Pastor to join him in the hunt, but each time, when it came to when he should pull the trigger, Pastor would back away, both in fear of hurting something, even if it were a monster, and in fear of what might happen to him.
'You were named Pastor for a reason,' his father had roared.
'Not to preach,' he had argued, voice passionate. Nevertheless, he had carried his father's shotgun with him, race after race after race. For protection, his father had told him in the end, giving him his blessings, albeit reluctantly.
He had had a few close shaves, in Montreal they had taken a wrong turn and he had faced his first demon alone. Eyes yellowed, cheeks sunken, lips blood red, illuminated by the headlights of the car. The driver had screamed, and so had everyone else on board, and Pastor had scrambled to get his gun. While his father had trained him to use the gun, Pastor had never shot at anything apart from a target board. As a teenager, Pastor had sworn never to shoot at anything or anyone, but now, with the lives of others in his hands... Pastor had pulled the trigger and had missed the demon's heart, but he had wounded him enough to enable their escape.
Word got out later on. Pastor Maldonado hunts demons, Pastor Maldonado lives up to his name. His father had been proud. Pastor had been shaken.
hit me baby one more time.
The second time had been in Barcelona. There had been a strange presence, as if someone or something had been following him. It had turned out to be a demon, with a pallid face and chapped lips and its wings had been the most horrifying thing Pastor had ever seen. Pastor had pulled the trigger without hesitation, but what he hadn't known was that the Williams crew had been watching him.
Word got out again. Pastor Maldonado kills another demon. Have you heard? I think Sebastian Vettel might be one. You'll never know. Nico Rosberg's an angel. I've fucked him before, I've seen his wings. They're beautiful.
A whole lot of bullshit.
When Pastor returns to Venezuela, his father teaches him. Not all demons have cruel intentions, and not all angels mean well. They may be celestial beings, but once you get to what these beings really are, they are no better than humans. They have their selfish desires and when demons lose control, it is up to demon hunters to put an end to them. Leave the angels to those who hunt them, and do not get caught in the dealings between demons and angels, for it will only lead to disaster. Be careful. Kill only the ones who put humans in danger. His mother tells him that it's his hunter senses tingling, not a horrible sense of nausea or sickness that he feels every now and then. It means a demon is nearby, rotting inside a human shell, about to lose control.
angels and demons (in the goddamn paddock).
A strange sense of peace overwhelms Pastor when he comes frighteningly near Nico Rosberg. Nico doesn't give him a second glance, but the next time he sees him, there's a small smirk on his face, as if he knows. Angels know everything, his mother had said. Pastor swallows hard, and he wonders.
Pastor is all too ready to downplay talk about Sebastian being a demon. Sure, he's a formidable rival, and as much as Pastor'd like to beat him, he knows that rumours are rumours. But there isn't smoke without fire, and it only takes one small thing to tip the scale. Demonic energy spikes in the hotel, his father's shotgun thrums on Pastor's bed and shaken, Pastor leaves his room in search of the source. He isn't feeling nauseous, nor is he feeling a sense of giddiness, or anything of the sort. If anything, it feels closer to arousal, and he's almost unable to believe his eyes when he kicks open the (forbidden) door and comes face to face with Sebastian Vettel in his full demonic glory, naked and wings spread, having sex with Mark Webber.
'Get down!' Pastor shouts, his hand is on the trigger, but he knows that he wouldn't be able to shoot.
notes:
-thank you silvis and zee for hand holding and love and everything!!! ;A;
-this was inspired by the idiot who called seb the devil on tumblr lmfao.
-there will be more. when i write it. soon orz