Chapter Text
Jorge was mad. Well. Not mad. More like disappointed. The race start had been decent and he was definitely fighting for the podium at least. Well, for those two corners he'd managed. For fuck's sake, at least he got taken out by Marc fucking Marquez. Yeah. No, that didn't help out his mood. Neither did his PA yelling his name and trying to get to him from across the pit box. No. Not a fucking chance in hell, he'd had enough interviews for the day. He'd even heard from Honda and their "we're sorry our eight times world champion took you out" PR team. Fucking lame way of apologising. Not a single peep from the man himself, of course. Jorge was sure he'd land on one of those apologies that were funny as fuck if they didn't refer to you, but that would be annoying when they did and that would be it. Entering his private room at the back of the Pramac garage did nothing to improve his day. First, he tripped over some shit he had laying around. Second, he was either hallucinating or that was Marc himself, lounging gracefully on his shabby couch, amongst all of his clothes and track sketches, all sleek lines and not a piece of Honda merch in sight. Just a black Tshirt, black skinny jeans and a backwards cap. Smirking at him. Jorge just couldn't take it. No.
"You're here. Honda already apologised for you, in a very Marquez way. We're sorry you're offended by our eight times world champion. So, if you've come to say the same shit, you're forgiven, race incident, get out. Also, seriously, how did you get in here. Who let you in? They should be fired.", Jorge started to ramble, since the man on the couch did not seem to disappear, nor did he seem to actually make any sort of moves, just staring amused at him and his annoyance. Fuck, the smugness was both the hottest thing he'd ever seen and making him want to strangle Marc. Right. No. Jorge refused to allow the bisexual in him to have any sort of input and just drool over the sight.
"Well, not the welcome I was expecting, but I can understand the attitude. You're a rookie, every race matters to you to keep your seat. Although.", Marc got up, flawless grace and so, so, so fucking delicious looking and fuck, there went his libido flaring up. Oh, he was still talking. "You've won races and gotten poles and everything this season. Not constant enough for a championship, but that's fine. There's a lot of time for that."
The young man kept waiting for anything that wasn't a backhanded compliment to come out of Marc's mouth, but it didn't seem to happening, so his temper made a different kind of appearance. He was generally calm, polite and charming, people pleaser and fucking poor compared to most of them, so he'd had to bite his tongue so many times to get where he was now that he'd just trained that instinct into himself, to shut up and smile and then go out on the track and do his thing. But right now, still able to taste that podium and putting his team-mate even more in his shadow, Jorge simply did not give enough of a fuck, not with Marc still smirking at him, in his personal space, just this whisper taller and so fucking beautiful and unrepentant. He snapped, done with the champion's attitude and with himself for not being able to stop his eyes from wandering and his mouth from watering.
"Fuck you, you utter asshole, fuck you so hard. Nothing you said has been an actual apology or anything of the sort. Fuck you and your attitude and your style of get out of my way or I'll remove you and just plain fuck you, Marquez. Get out.", Jorge growled, low and quiet, a whisper away from Marc, who wasn't backing up. Fine. He could posture with the best of them too. He'd been doing it for years. He also knew how to break these kinds of stupid mind games, so he leaned in closer, lips to the older man's ear and smiled into his words. "I need a blowjob, a hot bath and a good fuck to calm down. In that order. Since you won't provide either of those, leave."
He felt Marc freeze next to him and knew he'd been right. Standstill broken, let's move on. Except. The other Spaniard wasn't moving. Not out the door, at least. He was turning his head and looking Jorge in the eyes, the smirk turned to genuine smile and his face a picture of keen interest. There was no way, was there. No fucking way. Fuck, why was he more gorgeous like this, not a trace of falsehood in his eyes. Great, now he was blushing and Marc was back to smirking. Obviously.
"Well, not here I won't. That door doesn't lock and no one is going to keep me out if I'm charming enough. And I can be. But you seem to like all of my attitudes, don't you.", Marc whispered wickedly, slowly moving his gaze from Jorge's eyes to his lips and lower, to his neck, his chest, his hands. Back up again, pointedly licking his lips and taking in the blush spreading wildly across Jorge's body. "Can I kiss you, Jorge?"
No way did he hear that right. No way. This was a weird fever dream. He'd hit his head harder than he'd thought and now he was hallucinating Marc asking for permission to kiss him. No way. But he was tired, he was over everything and just wanted this stupid, feverish day dream to be done so he could catch his flight back to Andorra and his puppy. So he took one determined breath and nodded. Nothing happened. Of course. Great. Now he would be the dumbass that actually took that question seriously. Still. The other man wasn't moving or mocking him in any way. Oh. Was he...
"Words, please. Can I kiss you?", the older man whispered, leaning closer and closer, but not touching. Not yet. Jorge's decision. Yes. Yes. Yes. Please. Words.
"Yes. Yes, kiss me. Fuck yes. Kiss me, please.", he got out, desperate and breathless and fuck, he was stupid for falling for this, so stupid, so naive. So... Lips. Marc's lips on his. Marc's hands on his neck, pulling him closer. Soft, gentle nibbling at his lower lip. Fuck. He had to react. Electric. Marc was electric and magnetic and moving away because Jorge was frozen. Oh. No. No. No. He focused and wrapped his arms around the other man, molding himself to Marc, one hand on the small of his back, feeling those muscles move at his touch, and the other between his shoulderblades, bringing their upper bodies together once more.
Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Lean back in. One chaste, short kiss. Another. Another. Another. Kitten licks to his lower lip. He opened up for Marc just to be completely devoured, tasted and tested. Marc was pushing at him, but fuck, he'd not give ground. He pushed back, running his hands all over this gorgeous man, moving them backwards towards the couch and falling back on top of Marc as soon as the other man sat himself down once more.
Oh, fuck, he was making out with the man that crashed him out and it had to be the hottest thing he'd felt in a very long while. Fuck. Marc's hands were definitely straying, but not presumptuous. Shoulders, waist, abs, chest, neck. Nowhere below the waist, not even his ass of thighs. He whined hard and bit at Marc's lips when the older man rolled his hips up and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was definitely getting harder and Jorge was ready to go right then and there. Fuck. He wanted to get naked with Marc. Now. Now. Now.
Jorge pushed a hand underneath Marc's tshirt, shivering at the intensity of that connection. Skin on skin, electricity traveling up his fingers to the back of his neck, down his spine to his hole and his cock. Marc's mouth was making him dizzy with want and they were rutting into each other, panting and moaning and that one touch was driving him out of his mind with want. He tried to take off Marc's shirt, but the Spaniard trapped his hand between his back and the couch and pulled out of the kiss, smiling softly and nosing at his jaw to get him to stop whining. One delicate kiss to the tip of his nose had Jorge melting against the other man and... Well. Fuck it. Just running his hand through Marc's hair and over his cheekbones.
"Fuck, you're amazing. Fuck. Not here, Jorge. The door doesn't lock, come on. You're so gorgeous and your eyes are killing me and you're so polite and nice and I've managed to piss you off, which I didn't think was possible.", Marc said softly, looking him in the eyes and smiling. Not smirking. Smiling. "I'm sorry I crashed you out. I genuinely am sorry. I fucked up the overtake and you were just a victim of my stupidly unstable bike. And of myself not being able to control it fully. I'm sorry. Please accept my apology and let's get somewhere with more privacy than this and let me suck you off and let's get naked. A bath works too. Whatever order you want. Just. Not here."
Jorge took everything in and couldn't find anything remotely sarcastic or condescending about this apology and, well, it could be the fact that they were both hard and panting and still nosing at each other and sharing soft kisses, but he'd take it at face value. Fuck. He had a flight to catch back to Andorra, but he really wanted to get laid. Like. A lot. How... Could he. Well, the answer to everything had been yes so far, so why not.
"Forgiven. Much better than before, so forgiven. I can't stay for much longer, I have to fly back, my puppy's alone after tonight. I have to get to her.", Jorge bit his lip, hoping he'd not regret diving into uncertain waters here with this man. At least he'd not scoffed at him blowing him off to go to his puppy. Points for that. "I... Marc, would you like to come visit me? This next weekend? I'll come pick you up from the airport? If that works for you."
Marc shook his head, but before Jorge could completely deflate, he got kissed breathless again and any trace of confusion was wiped away from his head when the other man pulled back, rested their foreheads together and inhaled deeply, then lifted his face up, smile wide and happy.
"I won't fly, it's a very small airport, there's no way I won't get recognised. I'll drive up there on Friday. Give me a location and I'll find you, it's okay.", Marc assured him and... Well. This was happening, apparently. He'd just agreed on a weekend with this man at his place. Fuck, yes. He was doing it. The chance to get his hands on Marc and to fuck him. Get fucked. Who cared. Anything. Everything.
"Yes, deal. Of course. I'll share the location when I get home. I... Um, I don't have your phone number?", he felt shy all of the sudden, unsure how to proceed, but desperately wanting this to happen. Marc smiled, pulled out his phone after a little wiggling, which only made Jorge moan again, because. Well. That was still delicious, no matter how settled they were right then. After a quick exchange of numbers and a lot of kisses, Jorge heard a hard knock on his unlockable door and practically jumped out of Marc's lap. Thankfully, his PA didn't actually step inside, but did warn him about the fifteen minutes he had left before he had to leave for the airport. The other man was back to smirking, but this time Jorge just rolled his eyes at his antics and started throwing everything that was on the floor into the two bags he had, completely unbothered by Marc checking out his ass.
"Would you like to leave or do we walk out of here together, looking very much like we made out for an hour? Which we did. Your hair's a mess and I'm pretty sure you sucked a bruise somewhere on my neck.", he snarked at Marc, who just bursted out laughing and shrugged, getting up, arranging his hair with his camera's help, since Jorge didn't actually have a mirror in that tiny backroom. The young man rolled his eyes at Marc's look of exasperation over that little fact, but that was cut short by the other rider grabbing at him and kissing him breathless once more, then pulling back and placing one single sweet kiss to his forehead, making Jorge melt and coo at him.
"I'm leaving, I'm leaving or we are fucking here and that's not happening. See you on Friday! Bye, Jorge.", Marc said, opening the door and waving at him, stepping out of sight and leaving Jorge alone.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. They were doing this. Well, if Marc showed up on Friday. Fuck. He couldn't wait.