Chapter Text
Lewis wins Spielberg. It’s not surprising, really, even though it’s only the second race of the season, but what is surprising is how he knocks on Sebastian’s door later that night. He hasn’t texted like he normally would, and from what Sebastian can see Lewis is somewhat tipsy, probably still riding high on the win.
“Hey you,” Lewis says, nudging past Sebastian to make a place for himself in his space -- much like he’s done many times before.
“Hey.” Sebastian shuts the door behind Lewis and leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is a surprise,” he says, not meanly.
Lewis is already sitting on Sebastian’s bed, Sebastian’s clothes messily scattered around him, and he smiles, a small thing. “I should have texted first,” Lewis says. “Right?”
Sebastian shrugs. “It wouldn’t have hurt,” he says.
Lewis holds Sebastian’s gaze for a moment, then looks away. “Sorry,” he says. He doesn’t sound it, voice light and teasing. “Got caught up in it all.”
Sebastian huffs, laughing. “I could have been busy,” he says.
Lewis turns to him again. He’s smiling again, wider now. “Are you?” he asks, always to the point.
Sebastian takes a moment, then shrugs. “No,” he says easily.
Lewis’ smile widens, takes on a heated edge. He pats the mattress next to his thigh, gesturing Sebastian over. Sebastian purses his lips, then pushes himself off the door. He takes the handful of steps towards the bed, towards Lewis, and then steps up between Lewis’ legs.
They’re very close like this, and Lewis has to look up to meet Sebastian’s eyes. Sebastian moves his hands to Lewis’ shoulders, light, and Lewis settles his hands on Sebastian’s hips. His fingers feel hot through Sebastian’s shorts, and then Lewis leans in and presses his lips to Sebastian’s stomach, light and over his shirt, but that feels hot, too.
“Come here,” Lewis says, pulling back.
Sebastian blinks. Places one knee on the bed, then the other one, on each side of Lewis’ thighs. He lets his weight fall and Lewis’ arms come around him, easily steadying him. “Hi,” he says, and Sebastian smiles, leans down and brushes their lips together. Lewis presses into it, his mouth warm and wet against Sebastian’s, and Sebastian parts his lips and they’re kissing, easy as that.
Lewis is a good kisser, which is something that Sebastian realized about 8 years ago, the first time they did this. He leans into Sebastian and Sebastian moves in closer and closer still, until they’re touching all over and there’s no closer to get. Lewis kisses him deeply, his fingers pressing into Sebastian’s hips and then roaming over his back, first over and later sneaking underneath his shirt.
Lewis’ hands are sweaty, a little clammy, but he’s touching Sebastian heatedly -- urgently, almost. He grabs fistfuls of Sebastian’s shirt and pulls it off him, and then they’re kissing again, Lewis’ hands making Sebastian’s skin break out in goosebumps all over.
Sebastian shivers, and then pushes at Lewis’ shoulder until he falls back onto the bed, Sebastian following. He kisses Lewis again, his lips and then his jaw, his cheek, up to his ear and down to his neck. Spends more time there because he knows Lewis likes it, likes feeling the graze of Sebastian’s teeth against the sensitive skin of his throat.
“Fuck, Seb,” Lewis murmurs. He presses into Sebastian’s lips, his whole body seemingly arching with it, and his hands are still wrapped around Sebastian, holding him close. Sebastian can feel Lewis start to get hard, and he’s right there with him so he presses down, grinds against Lewis until they’re both breathing a little harder.
Lewis keeps bucking up into it, fingers digging into Sebastian’s sides each time Sebastian lets his teeth bite down a little. Then Sebastian kisses the spot behind Lewis’ ear once, and Lewis shudders with it so Sebastian does it again and again, until Lewis is shaking.
“What do you want, baby?” Sebastian murmurs. His lips brush the shell of Lewis’ ear, and Lewis’ breath shakes.
Lewis turns to meet Sebastian’s eyes. “You,” he says, moving his hands to each side of Sebastian’s face. He holds Seabstian’s gaze for a long, torturous moment, and then he moves up and kisses him, lips dry and tongue slipping into Sebastian’s mouth.
Sebastian kisses back -- can’t not -- and pulls back when he needs to catch his breath. “Can you be more specific?” he says, teasing and grinning; light.
Lewis’ eyes dip down to his lips. He puts his arms around Sebastian and plants his feet on the bed, and his body goes taut against Sebastian’s as he flips them over.
Sebastian’s underneath him, like this, Lewis' body against him and Lewis’ weight holding him down, and it feels good. Sebastian looks up at him and lets his breath out in a smooth whoosh , kisses back when Lewis dips down.
Lewis rocks against him, slow at first, gentle and then harder, and Sebastian feels hot all over. He lets his legs fall apart further, gives Lewis more space to move against him, and that feels good, even better than before, has Sebastian panting into Lewis’ mouth, grinding up against his dick.
Lewis pulls back after a moment, sudden, but he only moves to kiss Sebastian’s throat, his way down Sebastian’s chest. Then he moves away, snakes his way down until he’s lying between Sebastian’s legs, his hands deftly working Sebastian’s shorts open and off.
Sebastian is hard, his dick resting against his thigh, and Lewis holds his gaze as he dips down and takes it into his mouth. Lewis uses his tongue, takes him in deep, and it’s no surprise, really, that Lewis is good at this, too. Sebastian is breathing hard too soon, quiet sounds dropping his lips that he’s desperately trying to keep down. He has to close his eyes after a moment, and he moves his hand to the top of Lewis’ head, just -- encouraging.
Lewis hums and presses into it, takes Sebastian a little deeper and deeper still, until he’s choking. He pulls back, coughing harshly, and Sebastian looks down at him, at his wet eyes and even wetter lips and thinks this is the best Lewis has ever looked.
“Sorry,” he finds himself saying, either for his thoughts or for making Lewis tear up, but Lewis just shrugs it off.
He smiles, a small thing, slips two fingers into his mouth and gets them wet. He keeps looking at Sebastian until Sebastian has to look away just to hide from Lewis’ eyes, and then he feels Lewis’s fingers between his cheeks, rubbing over his hole.
Sebastian hasn’t done this in a while. He thinks Lewis can tell, too, in the way Sebastian’s body goes taut, his thighs tensing. He stills, asks, “You want to?” Lewis’ voice is quiet, hoarse still from how deep he just took Sebastian’s dick, and Sebastian turns to look at him again.
Lewis looks -- he looks about as good as he always manages to look. He presses his lips to Sebastian’s thigh, and Sebastian’s muscles loosen. Lewis does it again, close to Sebastian’s groin, and Sebastian lets out a breath, shaky.
“Keep going,” he says, letting his head fall back, and Lewis does. He keeps kissing Sebastian until Sebastian’s skin is tingling with it, and then he strokes a hand down the back of Sebastian’s thigh, rests it just under his knee. He pushes Sebastian’s leg back to his chest and kisses the crease of his thigh, then bites at the same spot.
Sebastian makes this sound, choked and off guard, and has to push his forearm against his mouth to keep quiet. Lewis just breathes against him, keeps kissing and biting at Sebastian’s thighs until Sebastian is moaning quietly. He parts Saebastian’s cheeks then, and for the longest there’s nothing, just Sebastian’s face burning and the urge to close his legs, and then Lewis leans in and licks over his hole.
Sebastian is panting, he can tell, his thighs trembling, but Lewis keeps going, keeps making it good. He licks at Sebastian until he’s not holding himself quite so tightly anymore, and then he starts using his teeth, too, just a little, simply grazing, and Sebastian jumps each time before pressing into it.
“Lewis,” he keeps saying -- breathing, really, and it just urges Lewis on. Sebastian can feel Lewis’ breath against him, hot and wet, and when he sits up, he can see Lewis’ arm flexing like he’s touching himself. Sebastian looks at that and wraps a hand around his dick, strokes himself in time with Lewis’ tongue licking into him, and that feels good, has him grinding against Lewis’ face.
Lewis moans into it, into Sebastian’s ass and that’s embarrassing, but then he pulls back and spits on his hole, and that’s even worse, has Sebastian making a small, shameful sound, half caught in his throat and half slipping out against his arm.
“Come on, you’re so hot,” Lewis says, like he can sense Sebastian’s unease. He kisses Sebastian’s thigh, and his thumb is rubbing circles over his hole again, a firm pressure that eventually dips inside. Sebastian breathes hard with it, his face burning, it feels like, but he lets go of his dick to hold his leg back, opening himself up.
“There you go,” Lewis says. His voice is soft but unsteady, like this is getting to him, too. That’s doing it for Sebastian, and he lets himself go loose for Lewis, first for his thumb and then for two of his fingers.
Three burns, just because it’s just been so long but also Lewis’ fingers are a little dry, too. Sebastian makes a quiet sound when they press inside, and Lewis leans in to spit on his rim again, and that’s better but also worse, simply for how embarrassed it has Sebastian feeling. He knows he should get over himself, but he can hardly think with Lewis’s fingers inside him, and then Lewis presses in just right and Sebastian can’t think for real.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says. He presses into it and Lewis keeps going, stretching Sebastian and getting him close, close enough that Sebastian has to reach down and still him.
“Okay,” he says. “You -- come on,” he tries, not making much sense, but Lewis gets him anyway.
“Yeah, okay,” he says. He looks at Sebastian almost dazedly, sits up. Lewis pulls away to reach for his cargo pants, comes up with a small bottle of lube. He’s quick slicking himself up, even quicker settling back between Sebastian’s legs.
“Should I --” Sebastian starts, making a gesture that he should roll over, but Lewis just shrugs.
“However you want,” he says easily.
Sebastian thinks for a moment, stays put. He wraps his leg around Lewis’ waist and pulls him in, hard enough that Lewis has to reach out to steady himself. Lewis chuckles, maybe at Sebastian’s eagerness or something else entirely, Sebastian doesn’t know and doesn’t want to, either. He breathes in when Lewis takes himself in hand, lets his eyes flutter shut as Lewis pushes inside him.
It’s -- different; been a while -- both since he’s done this and since the last time he felt this close to Lewis. Sebastian curls his hands around Lewis’ biceps and lets his nails dig in, hikes his leg up higher around Lewis’ side and pulls him in. It drags Lewis deeper inside him and Sebastion chokes on his breath, not quite ready but aching for it nonetheless.
“Okay?” Lewis asks from above him. He sounds out of breath, and when Sebastian makes himself open his eyes, he looks it, too.
“Yeah, just --” Sebastian cuts himself off, tries to tilt his hips up instead. “Slow,” he manages finally, and it feels like the single word takes a lot out of him.
Lewis gets it; gets him. He pulls back, just a little, pushes back in and starts over again. He’s knocking Sebastian’s breath out each time he rocks into him, and Sebastian loves that, lets Lewis hide his face in Sebastian’s neck and clings to him.
“You feel so good,” Lewis mumbles, his lips catching on Sebastian’s skin. He’s still going slow, just like Sebastian asked him to, and he’s careful. He pulls back after a moment, shifts a bit, and then Sebastian shivers when Lewis gets him just right.
It felt good before just because it was Lewis, but it’s even better now, and Sabstian finds himself grinding up against Lewis’ stomach, trying to get some kind of friction. “Come on, come on,” he says, “Harder,” and Lewis makes this deep sound and gets to it, fucks into Sebastian harder, faster, making it good for him.
“You’re close?” Lewis asks. He’s sweaty where Sebastian is holding onto him and he's breathing raggedly against Sebastian’s neck.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sebastian nods, eager with it.
Lewis moves then, straightens and sits back on his heels. He strokes his hand down Sebastian’s calve, wraps his fingers around Sebastian’s ankle and hoists his leg up onto his shoulder. He leans forward after and pushes in, and Sebastian feels so full, stretched open around Lewis and folded in half with how deep Lewis is fucking him.
It’s a lot, and then it’s Lewis’ fingers wrapped around his dick, jerking him off quickly, and that’s even more. Lewis is looking down at him, holding Sebastian’s gaze as he moves inside him, and Sebastian is so close. He can feel his body going tense, muscles taut as he comes into Lewis’ hand.
“There you go,” Lewis murmurs. He fucks Sebastian through it with slow, measured thrusts, and when Sebastian goes limp he picks up pace. He’s going even harder now, and Sebastian can tell the lube is starting to go dry, but he presses into it anyway. Lets his legs fall apart and lets Lewis fuck inside him until he’s coming, shaking all over and getting Sebastian slick.
Lewis breathes hard after, and Sebastian wraps his arms around him and squeezes, just a little. He touches Lewis’ ribs lightly and Lewis huffs, shying away from it. “Quit it,” he says, but he’s smiling.
Sebastian does anyway because this feels nice, quiet. He shivers when Lewis pulls out, finally, breathes out when he feels Lewis curl around him.
“Good?” Lewis asks.
Sebastian turns toward him. Lewis’ eyes are open, inviting. Sebastian wonders how, after all this time, Lewis can still wonder. Then he reminds himself he’s not exactly vocal about this, hasn’t ever been. He swallows. “Better than,” he says.
Lewis smiles. He keeps looking at Sebastian, and Sebastian is starting to get the fearful feeling that Lewis will want to talk about this -- about them -- again. Sebastian doesn’t want that. He feels loose now, calm, and he doesn’t want to see the easy look on Lewis’ face turn shuttered. So Sebastian leans in and kisses him instead, deep and thorough, and pulls back only to drag Lewis into the shower with him.
They start out washing separately but fall together pretty quickly, Lewis stroking his hands up and over Sebastian’s back and Sebastian turning around, blinking water out of his eyes so he can kiss Lewis again. Lewis smiles into it, and they end up staying under the spray for too long.
Lewis gets dressed slowly afterwards, though he doesn’t ask Sebastian if he can stick around. He kisses Sebastian one last time before he makes his way to the door, and even opens it before pausing abruptly. He closes it again, quiet about it, and turns around. He’s got a determined look on his face, his jaw set and his gaze level, and Sebastian already knows where this is going.
“Why not?” Lewis asks. His voice is steady and he’s holding himself very tightly. “Why not try this for real?” he explains when Sebastian doesn’t answer.
“Lewis,” Sebastian starts, stops. Forces himself to breathe. “It wouldn't work,” he says for lack of anything better. His voice is weak though, shaky, and that’s all Lewis needs.
“Why?” he presses, at the point where he’d otherwise usually leave it alone.
Sebastian swallows. He wants Lewis to have left five minutes ago, and he wants to not be having this conversation. “It just wouldn't, Lewis. You know it,” Sebastian says. He looks at Lewis and hopes Lewis understands, but once Lewis finds a weak spot he never stops digging into it.
“I don’t, though,” Lewis says. Sebastian hates how calm he sounds where Sebastian is feeling like he might break into pieces. “We could -- we could make it work, I think, dating,” Lewis pauses. “I think we’d be good at it.”
That last bit is quiet, and Sebastian doesn’t know how to keep going like this, in this inbetween ground where he has Lewis but also doesn’t, not really, and all because of himself. Lewis is still looking at him expectantly, though, and Sebastian can tell in this moment that as much as he’s hurting himself, he’s hurting Lewis, too.
“I don’t --” he starts and stops twice, trying to find the courage to do this, break it off while he still can. “I don’t see you that way,” he finally manages, and has to look away from Lewis as he gets the words out.
Still, he’s not quick enough to miss how Lewis’ face hardens. “Are you -- you’re joking,” Lewis says. His voice has a tense edge to it. There’s a moment, Lewis blurting out, “You don’t mean that,” and Lewis voice shifting into something desperate.
Sebastian doesn’t dare look up. He thinks if he did he’d lose whatever courage he has left, which -- it’s not much, honestly. Lewis still waits him out -- for a few seconds anyway. After that he scoffs and curses under his breath, turns around and opens the door again. Lets it snap shut loudly behind him.
+
Sebastian knows he’s a coward, is the thing. Has always been with Lewis, in the beginning because they were both too young to be brave in any way other than stupidly, and then because it was never the right time. At least that’s what Sebastian told himself. First he was seeing someone, then Lewis was, and when neither of them were they just fell back into each other.
It was never for long periods of time, never consistently, but even those fleeting moments seemed to be enough back then. Sneaking around, sometimes excited and others scared, always together though which somehow made it worth it. Until Lewis started asking for more, at least.
That’s when Sebastian started breaking down, little by little, started realising that he couldn't keep this up. Sebastian started making excuses, finding more lies to answer Lewis’ pointed questions about what they had, and after a while Lewis got the point. Stopped asking and started taking what he could instead, and Sebastian could see the change and hated himself for it. Knew he was at fault and knew he had to put an end to it, but each time he had to pull the trigger he gave in instead.
So, the fight in Spielberg is not their first, but Sebastian doesn’t think it’s going to be their last either. He hopes so, but Lewis -- he always pushes at where Sebastian hurts, and Sebastian, after all these years, doesn’t know how to go without that kind of pain.
+
Nothing really changes after that night, though. Lewis keeps winning, tearing it up where Sebastian struggles to just cross the line in one piece, and Sebastian feels proud of him each time but doesn’t tell him any of them, and that -- it makes Sebastian feel like shit.
But he can see how Lewis looks at him, coolly and angrily almost, and Sebastian decides to simply give him some space. He thinks that’s always worked before, and Lewis will come to him when he needs to, not even for the sex but simply -- to talk. Sebastian has missed talking to him, being around someone who knows him as well as Lewis; someone who laughs at his jabs and gives back just as good.
It’s difficult, but Sebastian just waits him out. He thinks that’ll do the trick, and it does -- in Silverstone. Lewis wins and Sebastian barely gets points, which is telling for how the season is turning out to be. It sucks, and Sebastian flees to his room as soon as he’s done in the paddock. He’s just out of the shower when he gets Lewis’ text, a simple, busy?
Sebastian thinks he should say yes. He thinks that would be the right answer to Lewis’ offer, and he almost sends it, is the thing, has it all typed up. But the race has him feeling raw, and the cold shoulder from Lewis hurts, and Sebastian just wants things to be easier. He sends, no .
Lewis doesn’t reply but a few minutes later there’s a knock on Sebastian’s door. Sebastian knows it’s Lewis and doesn’t bother with a shirt, simply pulls on his shorts and gets the door. Lewis looks -- he looks good if a little tense, worn around the edges. Sebastian steps back to let him in and doesn’t miss the way Lewis’ eyes linger on his chest, high up on his collar bones, before he tears his gaze away.
“Hey,” Lewis says. He pushes the door shut behind himself, leans against it.
Sebastian nods. “Congrats on the win,” he says.
Lewis chuckles. “Thanks.” He’s not looking at Sebastian now, his eyes glued on his own shoes.
Sebastian doesn’t know what else to say. They stand still for a moment, just a meter between them and Sebastian’s heart hammering away in his chest. Lewis is wearing a cap and Sebastian gets stuck on that for so long, wants to take it off him and kiss him. He takes in a breath and goes to do just that, taking a step closer to him, but Lewis only steps back.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, and it’s not -- it’s not ominous, but the rejection still makes Sebastian’s face burn.
“Okay.” He nods. Anything to move past it.
Lewis nods, too, squares his shoulders. He walks over to Sebastian’s bed and sits on the foot of it. Sebastian looks at him and wishes he’d thought to put a fucking shirt on.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asks instead because he doesn’t want to give away how naked he feels.
Lewis looks at him for a moment, silent. “I’m coming out,” he says, finally. His voice doesn’t waver and it’s not particularly loud, but Sebastian feels like it pierces straight through his eardrums.
For the longest time, Sebastian simply looks at him. His heart is beating so hard and he’s sweating. “Oh,” he finally manages.
Lewis doesn’t look impressed. He huffs, shakes his head.
Sebastian hates letting him down -- even though that’s what he’s been doing for so long now. “Why?” he asks, in the end, and hates how pointed it comes out.
Lewis either doesn’t notice or doesn’t pay it any mind. “I’m tired of hiding, I’ve told you,” he says.
Sebastian doesn’t know what to say -- again. He feels like that’s turning into a theme. Then it hits him, this strange urge to just -- know. “Is there -- are you seeing someone?”
And Sebastian doesn’t even need Lewis to answer. He can see it on his face, in the set of his jaw and the resigned tilt of his mouth. The protective spark in his eyes. “Yes,” he says. He opens his mouth, presumably to add something, but Sebastian can’t do this.
“Thanks for telling me,” he says and hates how weak it sounds.
Lewis is quiet. He nods. “Yeah,” he says.
Sebastian’s heart is beating so, so hard. His eyes burn. “How are you doing it?” he asks.
“Instagram tomorrow,” Lewis says. “Mercedes is good with it, they’ll have my back.”
Sebastian nods. His vision is getting blurry and he rubs a hand over his face, glad that Lewis isn’t looking at him. He doesn’t want to speak, worried about how wet his voice will come out.
Then Lewis says, “Seb, I’m --” and Seb does speak, just -- cuts him off.
“Is that it?” he asks. He turns to look at Lewis now, suddenly brave, if only for a hot second.
Lewis is taken aback, blinking. “Yes,” he says. He gets up. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Sebastian nods. His muscles feel so tense, everywhere, and he wants Lewis out of his space. “Yeah, I’ll see you,” he says. He steps aside so Lewis can get the door open, but Lewis just steps up into his space. He meets Sebastian’s eyes, and they’re closer than they have been in weeks. Sebastian never wants to move away.
Then Lewis touches Sebastian’s shoulder, his hand too warm, and Sebastian flinches. He takes a step back and Lewis shakes his head. “Okay,” he says and it’s for his own benefit, Sebastian thinks.
Lewis opens the door then, and Sebastian just -- gets out of his way.
+
Sebastian wants to be angry, he really does. And at first he is. He is angrier than he thought, because four weeks ago they had sex and now Lewis has someone else and he’s coming out for him, and that hurts. Sebastian wonders how it can hurt this much when he’s the one who broke Lewis’ heart first.
That’s when he abruptly deflates, all the anger seeping out of him and replaced by shame. Because Lewis is planning to do something very difficult, Sebastian thinks, and Sebastian couldn't even be there for him. Sebastian reaches for his phone then, types up and deletes about a dozen messages before finally settling on something; good luck.
The message feels lacking. Sebastian actually wants to say so much more. Wants to tell Lewis how proud he is of him, again, and how much he loves him. But none of that comes out, and Sebastian doesn’t think Lewis would want to hear those things from him either. Anyway, Lewis doesn’t even get back to Sebastian until a good few hours later; even then it’s just a thumbs up emoji that Sebastian doesn’t know what to do with. In the end he does nothing.
+
Sebastian doesn’t sleep much that night. He keeps waking up at random times and checking his phone, going on instagram just to see if Lewis has posted yet. Lewis hasn’t and Sebasitan finally gives up at around 7am and gets out of bed. He busies himself making breakfast and getting in a workout, then spending too long under the hot spray of the shower. He gets out when he hears his phone vibrate, a heavy feeling settling in his gut.
Lewis Hamilton has made a new post , the notification reads.
Sebastian reads it and puts his phone away. Reaches for it again. He’s just in his towel, dripping water everywhere, and his hands are wet against his phone case. He taps on the notification and waits the split second it takes for the post to pop up on his screen, and then it’s just --
A photo. Two hands, fingers linked. One of them is Lewis, Sebastian can tell from the tattoos, and the other he doesn’t recognize. There’s a small caption, too. It reads, thank you for making me a better person <3 #loveislove , followed by the emoji of the two men holding hands.
Sebastian just stares at it, at his phone, for the longest time, until the screen dims and eventually turns black. His heart is hammering in his chest and he feels hot all over but also -- proud. Proud of Lewis for doing this, for being honest and putting himself out there like this. It’s not a foreign feeling when it comes to Lewis but it is intense.
There’s a twinge of something else, too, though. Something sharp and jagged in his chest, wearing him down. Not jealousy but hurt, maybe. Part of Sebastian thinks he should be the one holding Lewis’ hand in the photo but most of him knows he wouldn't have the guts to do it, and that makes him feel unreasonably jealous.
That’s an ugly feeling though, and the comments on the post have been turned off, Sebastian couldn't help but notice; he doesn’t think Lewis needs more ugliness in his life right now. So Sebastian opens their text thread instead. He doesn’t think about it for too long, just types the first thing that comes to mind: I’m proud of you .
He doesn’t get a thumbs up this time, but he does get two words: thank you. It’s really not much, but Sebastian thinks he can made do.