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He feels like a naughty schoolboy as he steps inside the factory, head bowed down, hands shoved in his pockets. He knows that it’s childish of him to begrudge this, it’s what he deserves, but it’s still so embarrassing to contemplate what he’s about to do. Christian’s words echo in his head, the culmination of a day spent in Austria explaining himself and listening to a list of all the things he’s ever done wrong.
“You need to make a trip to Milton Keynes,” Christian had told him, “and you need to apologise to every person in that factory who works so hard on that car, because that’s who you’ve let down. When you pull stupid stunts like that, when you ignore instructions and make the decision to follow your own agenda, that’s who you’re hurting. Make it right with them, every one of them, and then we can move on.”
And so here he is, sooner rather than later, trying to make it right. It feels like an impossible task now that he’s here. He made a mental map through the factory before he arrived, the most efficient route, and he wonders now what that says about him. He doesn’t think anyone could really blame him for wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.
He tries not to repeat himself, tries to be honest and sincere, but he soon discovers that there’s only so many words to say what needs to be said. In the end it becomes almost like a routine and he starts to feel like maybe he’s lying. By the time he gets to the last department, his mouth is dry and he’s covered in shame. He wants to leave, go take a hot shower, move on like Christian suggested, but all those apologies have only highlighted just how much he really has to make up for.
He shifts on his feet as he stands outside Christian’s office, fingers tapping awkwardly against his thigh, and he’s not sure whether he’s trying to talk himself into or out of this. He eventually convinces himself to raise his hand, knocking against the wood.
“Come in,” Christian calls.
Sebastian pushes the door open, stepping inside. It takes Christian a moment to look up, engrossed in the paperwork in front of him. When he does, he seems almost disappointed. He straightens up slightly.
“Have you done it?” he asks. Sebastian nods. “Good,” Christian tells him, turning his attention back to his work. “That’s done then. Let’s focus on China.”
“Christian,” Sebastian says, knowing his voice sounds needy and childish.
Christian looks up at him with an expression of thinly veiled irritation. “What?”
“I want to apologise to Mark.”
Christian’s face falls and he looks openly pissed off now. He sits back in his seat. “Seb, it’s done, we’re moving on.”
“But...”
“You’ve said sorry, you shook hands, leave it at that,” Christian insists.
“I want to make it right,” Sebastian says.
“You can’t,” Christian tells him. “Not with Mark, not now. Just accept the truce and get on with your job. That’s what Mark intends to do.”
Sebastian feels himself sag. He moves across the room, dropping into the chair at the other side of Christian’s desk. Christian doesn’t look very happy about it. He picks up his pen, twisting it in his fingers, and Sebastian finds himself watching the hypnotic movement.
“I made a mistake,” he says.
“The important thing is that you learn from it,” Christian tells him. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. As far as I’m concerned it’s finished.”
“But Mark...”
“Mark is in Australia, which is the best place for him because it’s as far away from you as he can get,” Christian states. “He’s clearing his head and he’s getting ready for the next race and that’s what you should be doing too.”
Sebastian sits back in his chair, vaguely aware that he’s pouting. He looks at Christian. “Have you spoken to him?”
“Yes,” Christian replies, the word closely guarded.
“Can you speak to him again?” Sebastian asks.
Christian gives him a weary look. “The last thing I want to speak to him about is you.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “Organise something for China. So I can prove it to him. So he knows how sorry I am.”
Christian looks at the pen in his hand, twisting it one way and then the other. He’s silent for a long time, his breaths slow and deliberate. He finally looks up at Sebastian. “This is a very bad idea.”
“I owe this to him,” Sebastian says. “I take full responsibility.”
“That’ll be little comfort when I have no team left,” Christian says.
“This is what we need,” Sebastian insists. “It’s what we all need.”
Christian studies him, searching his face until Sebastian feels like he can see right down into his soul, and then he sighs, putting the pen down on the table as he leans forward.
“I’ll talk to Mark,” he agrees. “No promises, but I’ll talk to him.”
Sebastian nods gravely, taking a deep breath as the anticipation rolls through him. There’s no excitement to be found in the possibility of this becoming a reality but he knows it’s something that has to be done. Christian’s right, it’s dangerous and maybe it will break everything, but Sebastian is still naive enough to think that things can’t really get worse.
They agree to meet in Sebastian’s suite on Wednesday evening. Christian gets there first, heading through to the bedroom to set things up, and Sebastian’s too nervous to ask what that might mean. He sits on the sofa, curling the toes of his bare feet into the carpet, trying to make his mind a blank. The images dance through his brain anyway, making him feel squirmy and a little too hot. The sharp knock on the door startles him.
“Hi,” he greets awkwardly as he pulls the door open. Mark only meets his eyes for a brief moment, his expression tight and full of contempt. “I’m glad you agreed to come,” Sebastian continues. “I really...”
Mark gives a huff and pushes past him into the room. Sebastian closes the door, following after him, taking half a step back when Mark turns to face him.
“I really appreciate it,” Sebastian says, forcing himself to finish his earlier thought, but there’s no real conviction in the words now.
“Where’s Christian?” Mark asks.
Sebastian motions towards the bedroom. Mark gives a curt nod and disappears through the door. Sebastian can hear murmured voices, the words indistinct from where he stands. He chews on his lip, too agitated to sit down again, so he paces the room, trying to ignore the shallowness of his breaths, the rapid, almost skittish beating of his heart. Eventually, Christian appears in the doorway.
Sebastian stills, turning to face him. “Everything ready?”
Christian nods. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” Sebastian insists.
Christian considers him for a moment and then sighs, straightening himself up. “You walk over this threshold you make a decision and you don’t get to back out of it.”
“I know,” Sebastian assures him.
“Choose wisely then,” Christian tells him, stepping back into the bedroom.
Sebastian takes a few deep breaths but every one of them comes out more shaky than the last. This might be about letting himself be vulnerable, but he wants to at least be in control of himself. He thinks that might be cheating, bending the rules to his own advantage.
He shakes his head, wiping off his damp palms on his jeans. He doesn’t want to think anymore, can’t stand the constant spiral of thoughts in his brain. He needs this to be over and so he makes himself a little taller and walks through the door, trying to remind himself that he asked for this.
Mark is sat in the chair by the foot of the bed, his hands on the armrests like he’s trying to stop himself from doing anything with them; a self-inflicted kind of bondage. Christian is stood a little away from him, glancing at Sebastian briefly before gesturing towards the bed.
“Sit.”
Sebastian does as he’s told. He looks over at Mark but Mark doesn’t meet his eyes, his vision focussed on something indistinct that Sebastian can’t see. Christian moves over to him, leaning down to take hold of the hem of Sebastian’s T-shirt. Sebastian lifts his arms like a little kid being undressed for bedtime. As Christian pulls it up his body, over his head, Sebastian suddenly feels a chill that has nothing to do with his state of undress. Having Christian strip him of his Red Bull T-shirt feels mortifying, the symbolism threatening to crush him.
He looks over at Mark again but Mark’s eyes are sliding over his torso with a look of bored indifference. Sebastian looks down at himself, trying to see what Mark sees. His skin is pale, his body in good shape but still young looking, not as defined as someone like Jenson, someone like Mark. He’s never been insecure about that fact until now.
Christian hooks two fingers under his chin, forcing him to look up. Sebastian blinks at him.
“You do what I say when I say it,” Christian states firmly, a serious expression on his face. “Understand?”
Sebastian nods, the urge to shrink away all too tempting.
“Good,” Christian says. He moves his hand away, taking a step back. “Kneel.”
Sebastian’s eyes dart instinctively over to Mark and then he shifts forwards on the bed, sliding down to kneel on the carpet, feeling so tiny in front of them both.
“Up,” Christian says, exasperation clear in his voice. “Kneel up. What good are you down there?”
Sebastian feels himself blush, raising up from where he’s sat on his feet. He’s a little taller now but a lot less stable. He tries not to sway or shake but he can’t quite keep himself still. Christian steps up close to him, his crotch at eye level, and Sebastian feels so naive that it wasn’t obvious to him what Christian was asking for.
“Take my cock out,” Christian tells him.
Sebastian looks up at him, meeting his eyes. Somehow he didn’t expect it to get here so quickly. He thought there’d be kissing, foreplay, promises forced from him through desperate, panting gropes. Words are meaningless in this situation though, Sebastian knows that now. His promises don’t count for anything, that’s why they’re all here in this room, Sebastian on his knees; to let the actions speak for them.
Sebastian reaches up with shaky hands, unfastening Christian’s belt, pushing the button through the hole, pulling down the zipper. He’s never been in this position before, never undressed someone from such a detached angle. As he pushes Christian’s underwear out of the way, using his other hand to pull out his cock, he wonders how he can be the one who feels so dirty and exposed.
“Get me hard,” Christian demands.
Sebastian instinctively opens his mouth, guiding Christian’s cock towards his lips, when Christian’s hand touches his cheek, pushing insistently until his head is turned sideways, away from what he wants. Sebastian lifts his eyes up, confused, and Christian shakes his head.
“Use your hands,” he says. “Just your hands.”
Sebastian sags back slightly but nods his agreement. He’s better with his mouth, he knows that, but maybe that’s the point. Christian doesn’t want him to feel clever; Christian wants him to do as he’s told.
Sebastian wraps his hand more firmly around Christian’s cock, starting to stroke him. Christian takes a deliberate breath and Sebastian can feel him swelling against his palm. Christian wasn’t exactly flaccid to begin with but it still feels like a slow process to Sebastian, trying to get the right angle with his hand, squeezing and twisting and putting it all together. He’s thinking about it, probably too hard, and he can just imagine the look of concentration on his face. He glances up at Christian who has his eyes closed, looks over to Mark who still seems entirely unmoved. It makes him feel even less sure of himself, nothing to feed off.
When those first drops of precome well up at Christian’s tip, Sebastian feels a tiny swell of pride that he uses to spur himself on. He swipes his thumb over them, smears them down Christian’s length, loving the feel of it against his palm. The urge to taste is overwhelming but he knows he’s not supposed to. He has to wait. He looks up at Christian again who looks back through slitted eyes, lust written so clearly over his face. He shows no signs of telling Sebastian to stop though and Sebastian suddenly worries that Christian is going to make him give himself a facial; he’s at exactly the right angle to make Christian come all over his face if this goes on much longer. When Christian eventually knocks his hand away, he lets out a sigh of relief.
“Open your mouth,” Christian tells him.
Sebastian eagerly complies, parting his lips as he tips his head back, his tongue peeping out to rest on his bottom lip in anticipation. He can practically taste Christian already, his nostrils filled with the musky scent of his arousal.
“Now don’t move,” Christian instructs, sliding a hand into Sebastian’s hair and holding on, making sure he obeys.
Sebastian makes a noise in the back of his throat and then Christian runs the tip of his cock over Sebastian’s tongue, filling his mouth with that heady flavour. Sebastian attempts to close his lips but Christian pulls his cock away, yanking on Sebastian’s hair.
“I said don’t move,” Christian says. “I fucking mean it.”
Sebastian opens his mouth again, looking up at Christian, an apology in his eyes. Clearly Christian doesn’t want to be sucked, he just wants a willing hole to fuck. Sebastian has to take what he can get.
Christian’s hips move closer again, apparently satisfied, but his cock doesn’t slide back over Sebastian’s tongue. Instead, he rubs it against Sebastian’s cheek, hot against his flesh, and Sebastian has to fight very hard not to turn his head and seek it out with his lips again. Christian thrusts against him, sliding his cock over Sebastian’s cheek, his jaw, his chin. Sebastian can feel the precome smearing over him, leaving trails across his face, and this is so much more humiliating than getting a facial.
He feels needy, desperate, so close to what he wants and yet so far away from it. Christian slides the tip of his cock back over Sebastian’s tongue, letting him have another taste, and Sebastian moans appreciatively, trying to say thank you. His tongue twitches as he fights with himself, his self-control fraying at the edges, and then Christian is tracing Sebastian’s lips over and over with his dick, leaving a shimmering layer of precome over them. It takes all the willpower in the world for Sebastian to not dart his tongue out to taste it.
He looks up at Christian, begging, pleading with his eyes. Christian doesn’t respond, just keeps up the slow torture. Sebastian whines, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, trying to shut it out, but he just can’t help himself.
“Please,” he says, the word broken.
Christian steps away from him, his hand sliding out of Sebastian’s hair, and Sebastian opens his eyes just in time to watch him tuck his hard cock back into his underwear. It looks absurd, the way they’re tented up, but the message is clear. Sebastian is being denied. He slumps down as Christian steps away, licking his lips and savouring the salty taste that Christian has left there. He hears Christian moving behind him but his eyes find Mark instead. He hasn’t moved, hands still on the arms of the chair, and he looks almost like a statue. He meets Sebastian’s gaze, his expression one of contempt and something like disgust, and it makes Sebastian feel even smaller.
“Open,” Christian says from behind him.
With a sigh he opens his mouth again, not breaking his gaze from Mark. He expects more of the same but instead he finds a piece of material placed across his open mouth and pulled tight. His eyes go wide, falling down to try and see what Christian’s done. The gag is secured behind him, stopping his mouth being able to close properly, and then Christian steps around to stand over him again.
“This is about following instructions,” Christian tells him. “I won’t tolerate you arguing with me.”
Sebastian knows his expression is indignant, which must look ridiculous in his current predicament, but he wasn’t even arguing, he was only asking. He thinks that he should be allowed to ask.
“Get on the bed,” Christian says.
Sebastian moves, feeling suitably chastised, perching himself back on the edge of the bed. His saliva is already soaking into the gag and he feels so powerless, drooling into the material. He has absolutely no control over the simplest things.
“Back,” Christian tells him. “Lie down.”
Sebastian shifts up the bed, laying down with his head on the pillows. He looks down, checking that he can still see Mark, but as their gazes meet over Sebastian’s body it only highlights how Mark can see all of him. He feels laid out and on display and it makes him want to shy away.
Christian climbs on the bed beside him, casually pushing Sebastian’s legs further apart, making him feel even more like a whore. He stares down at Sebastian’s face and then places his palm against Sebastian’s crotch, squeezing him through his jeans. Sebastian can’t help moaning and arching upwards, feeling inescapably wanton. His dick is already hard and he’s embarrassed by how much this turns him on, makes him throb, straining against the confines of his pants. Christian presses down more insistently and Sebastian humps up against his hand, a series of strained noises caught in his throat.
He breathes harshly against the gag, looking down to where Mark is. His expression is unmoved, perhaps slightly judgemental, and it makes Sebastian flush. He’s showing himself up, rubbing himself against Christian’s hand like this, his hips lifting off the bed in desperation. He hates being seen as vulnerable but he knows that’s something he has to give up right now. The trust is gone, or maybe it was never there to begin with, but that’s why they’re here. If he can do what he’s told and show Mark that he means it then maybe some good can come of this.
Christian leans over him, his hand still pressing down against Sebastian’s crotch as his lips drop down onto his neck, leaving a trail of kisses. Instinct tells Sebastian to tilt his head back but instead he just lets it fall sideways, wanting to keep his eyes on Mark. Mark’s gaze is slowly, lazily, taking in everything Christian is doing to Sebastian. It makes Sebastian feel self-conscious but he tells himself that trust works both ways; hiding anything now would be no better than telling a lie.
Christian’s mouth moves downwards, teeth catching on Sebastian’s collarbone, and Sebastian groans, body arching upwards. He slides a hand into Christian’s hair, writhing against him, his eyes starting to close, when Christian moves back, placing his hand calmly around Sebastian’s wrist and pulling his hand gently but insistently away.
“No touching,” he says. “Hands on the bed.”
Sebastian frowns at him. His mouth moves as though to speak but he knows he can’t around the gag. It pulls uncomfortably at the corners of his mouth, the dampness making it chafe now. He makes his eyes big, imploring.
“You can’t just take what you want,” Christian tells him. “But if you’re a good boy you’ll get a reward. That’s how it works. You have to earn it first.”
Sebastian settles slightly, nodding his head in agreement as he places his hands back down on the bed. He takes a breath as Christian dips his head back down again, licking over a nipple. He squirms, eyes closing, hands tightening into fists in the covers to keep them there. Christian’s tongue makes a path down Sebastian’s torso, Sebastian arching off the bed into each dragging lick. As Christian dips into his navel, Sebastian sucks his stomach in at the ticklish feel of it, embarrassed by how responsive he is, how his body has so many tells. It’s a good thing, he reminds himself, as he looks over at Mark. This is what he owes them.
Christian straightens himself up, one final squeeze to Sebastian’s crotch before both hands go to the waistband of his jeans. Sebastian lifts his hips up in eagerness before Christian even has the button open. He must look like such a slut and the thought makes his cheeks heat, his gaze falling away from Mark’s critical eyes. He knows he shouldn’t be allowed but he needs a moment to collect himself, his exhibitionism cutting too close to the bone as Christian drags his trousers down along with his underwear. He whines around the gag, knowing he’s not being a good boy now.
Christian pulls his jeans free from his feet and Sebastian instantly closes his legs, wanting to curl up and hide. Christian places a hand on each knee, encouraging them back apart. Sebastian screws his eyes shut, whimpering.
“Just let go,” Christian tells him. “You have to let go.”
Sebastian nods, trying to take a deep breath, but it doesn’t really work with the gag across his mouth. One of Christian’s hands drops from his knee and wraps around his cock, stroking it firmly. Sebastian chokes on the noise that rises up in his throat. He opens his eyes, looking up at Christian hovering over him, looking over to Mark whose eyes look darker now, and then he decides he can’t handle it and stares up at the ceiling instead, hands tightening around the sheets he already has fisted there.
“Let go,” Christian says again, something in his voice so close to an invitation.
Sebastian lets himself feel it, let’s himself enjoy the slide of Christian’s hand, the way his thumb swipes over the tip, the twist he does with his wrist that makes Sebastian’s whole body stutter. He nods, in agreement or encouragement or surrender, he’s not sure. With a shuddery breath he feels himself relaxing into the bed, hips seeking out more.
“That’s it,” Christian praises, his hand slipping further back, cupping Sebastian’s balls, squeezing before a finger makes its way down behind, his intentions clear. Sebastian moans. “Yeah,” Christian agrees. “You want me to fuck you? Is that what you want?”
Sebastian nods, lifting his head, seeking Christian out. He can’t quite read the expression on Christian’s face as he pulls his hand away, reaching to the nightstand for the lube. He throws it down unceremoniously on Sebastian’s stomach.
“There you go then,” he says. “You open yourself up for me, I’ll fuck you.”
Sebastian looks at him sharply, his jaw setting in distaste. He shakes his head.
“Then you don’t get fucked,” Christian responds easily. “You don’t get to have everything your own way. Sometimes you have to do something a little bit unpleasant to get what you want. Sometimes you have to take one for the team, swallow your pride and do what you’re being asked to do.”
Sebastian’s face softens, his eyes falling away, but there’s a wall of defiance that he can’t quite push through. He can’t do this, can’t literally lay himself open like that in front of them; it’s so degrading, so humiliating. He knows that that’s the point though. He made a promise when he entered this room, to give away everything he was asked to part with, but now he’s not so sure he can put his selfish pride aside. That’s what got them into this mess to start with.
He opens his eyes, looks up at Christian, trying to convey everything that’s in his mind, how he wants to prove himself but Christian’s asking too much. But if he thinks Christian’s being unreasonable, Sebastian guesses he hasn’t really learnt his lesson at all.
“It’s your choice,” Christian tells him, his voice neither kind nor hard, simply factual. “You lube yourself up and I fuck you or I’ll just get myself off over you now and we’ll all call it a day.”
Sebastian shakes his head, not even sure what he’s trying to communicate anymore. He looks down his body, the tube of lubricant sitting accusingly on his stomach just above his still hard cock. He thinks that’s probably an answer in itself. He looks further down, over at Mark, whose jaw is jutting out slightly, lips pursed as though he’s thinking about something, but his eyes give nothing away.
Sebastian reaches down, picking up the lube, and then instantly lets it drop from his fingers, looking agitatedly away. He can’t do this, this is something he can’t do, but the alternative scares him even more. If he turns down this chance at redemption he knows he won’t get another, but he never thought his salvation would come in the form of this.
He takes a breath through his nose, reaching for the lube again. This is about him proving that he understands he can’t have everything his own way. He turns the small tube over in his hands, considering it, and it reminds him of Christian’s office, the way he twisted the pen between his fingers. After the humbling experience of apologising to everyone in the factory he’d felt so vulnerable, so small, and he’d wanted Christian to look after him but maybe he also wanted him to take advantage of him; it was what he deserved. He flips the lid open, considering his options.
He turns onto his side, thinking it will be easier to reach behind himself and not let Mark see what he’s doing, but as soon as he’s moving slick fingers back behind himself he realises that having to see Mark’s face while he does this might be worse. He looks away, trailing wet fingers down the crease of his arse, and he can feel himself tensing up before he even gets to his hole.
His clumsy hands leaves a smear of lube before he shifts and finds the right position, the tip of his middle finger pressing against his opening. There’s no give and he immediately panics. He’s never done this before, not to himself, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to relax enough to make his own body respond, especially not now. He takes in shaky breaths and tries again, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax.
With a murmur he manages to get the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle and it feels so weird to be doing this to himself. He’s aware of his face screwing up at the sensation and then remembers that Mark’s eyes are on him and instantly feels ridiculous. It takes a couple of measured breaths through his nose before he can move his finger deeper, his body starting to ease up. He groans slightly, the sound mostly lost behind the gag that’s soaked through with his saliva now.
His finger starts to move more freely, starts to feel good, and he unthinkingly opens his eyes, not meaning to look at Mark. He has an expression on his face like he’s considering Sebastian, working something out, and for some reason it spurs Sebastian on, pushing his finger deeper before he moans at the feel of it. He looks away, embarrassed by what he’s giving up, and yet he can’t find it in himself to hide from Mark anymore. This is what he needed, what they both needed, Sebastian bare in the emotional sense as well as the physical one, giving Mark the most private part of himself.
He moans again, tentatively pushing a second finger inside himself. His eyes roll back and his body arches into it as he stretches himself deep. This is real, no walls, no pride, just raw emotion, and reaching this place is so freeing that he wants to thank Christian, but even without the gag he doesn’t think he’d find the words. He feels himself there, on the brink of something amazing, this connection spanning the space between he and Mark and wrapping itself around Sebastian.
He looks down at Mark again, meets his eyes with something like honesty and yearning, and then Mark is getting to his feet and Sebastian feels giddy. This is it, everything they’ve built up to over the last 4 years, everything they both deserve. He presses his fingers deeper, moans as he arches his back, but Mark doesn’t come over to the bed. His eyes scan Sebastian’s body from where he stands, taking him in from head to toe as though he’s taking a mental photograph of everything he sees before him, and then he turns around, walking out the door.
Sebastian freezes, trying to process everything as he hears the door to the hallway slam shut as Mark leaves the suite. Sebastian feels himself tense around his own fingers and he pulls them out, resting them wetly against his hip as he lets it sink in. He gave Mark everything, let him see him completely unguarded, only for Mark to throw it back in his face. Or maybe Mark did take what Sebastian had offered, but he wasn’t giving anything back. He wasn’t letting Sebastian feel better about who he was or what he’d done.
Sebastian is confused by the tears that he can feel running down his face but then the first sob rips through him and it consumes him all too quickly. He can’t breathe, struggling for air through the snot and wetness, and he feels like he’s going to drown. Christian puts a hand on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back and pulling the gag out of his mouth so that it hangs around his neck. Sebastian gasps for air, his body convulsing with it as the tears keep falling.
“We’re stopping,” Christian tells him. “That’s it. That’s enough.”
“No,” Sebastian cries out. He reaches up, fisting a hand into Christian’s shirt, and he’s embarrassed when he realises it’s the fingers he had inside himself.
“Look at you,” Christian says softly and Sebastian can’t stand his pity, has to look away. “Don’t worry, okay. You proved your point. I think we’re all on the same page.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “I need to finish. Please.”
Christian shrugs. “There’s no one left to prove anything to.”
Sebastian feels his face drop but he wipes at the tears with the back of his free hand, setting his expression into one of determination. “I need to finish,” he says again, stressing the words. “I need to see it through.”
Christian studies him for a moment, his reluctance clear, but something else shines through, something Sebastian can’t quite read. “You’re sure?”
Sebastian nods. “Do exactly what you’d do if he were still here.”
Christian reaches down, gently unclenching Sebastian’s hand from his shirt. “I’d have you on your hands and knees.” Sebastian begins to turn over but Christian puts a hand on his arm to stop him. “I’d have you facing Mark.”
Sebastian hesitates, glancing down at the chair. He pictures Mark there, his stony indifference, and it makes him feel so small. Being watched could never have made him feel worse than been left though. There’s a gap in all this now and he feels like his motivations to continue are purely selfish. Christian’s right, there’s no one to prove himself to now, but he wants to let them break him just so that he can tell himself he tried everything and let it be someone else’s fault.
As he positions himself on his hands and knees facing that empty chair, as he hears Christian adjusting his clothes behind him, feels his hands on his hips, he has to admit that there’s something very liberating about taking his punishment. He’s learning from this, he tells himself. He’s not sure it’s the lesson Christian is trying to teach him though.
He feels Christian’s cock against his hole and he presses back with a little groan, the empty chair somehow making him even more aware of how he must look. There’s no witness now so he has to witness this himself. As Christian pushes inside, Sebastian’s mouth falls open in a silent moan, overwhelmed. The distraction of Mark’s sudden departure meant that Sebastian didn’t prepare himself for this as thoroughly as he would have done and he can feel the burn as he’s stretched open, the deep down twinges as Christian settles himself inside.
He whimpers, his arms folding down to his elbows, his forehead resting against them. Christian doesn’t give him any grace period, immediately starting to thrust hard and fast into his body so that Sebastian can barely catch his breath. He whines and shudders but it doesn’t make any difference to Christian who just holds his hips in a bruising grip to stop Sebastian’s body swaying away from him as he pounds into him.
Sebastian’s sweating, his ragged breaths too loud, but he can still hear Christian behind him, the way he grunts, clearly putting everything into it. He can hear their bodies too, the slap of skin, the wet noise of Christian thrusting into him, and it makes him want to hide in shame. Instead, he forces himself to lift his head, facing the empty chair. This is what he’s left with. This is what it means to win at all costs.
His eyes begin to water again, stinging him, and he screws them shut for a moment but doesn’t let himself hide for long. He stares at the chair as Christian fucks him harshly, listening to the hitching breaths that tell him this won’t go on much longer. He’s not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He’s not sure what he thinks about anything anymore.
Christian cries out as he comes, a noise that’s almost frightening in its ferocity. He doesn’t savour his orgasm, just pulls straight out and rolls Sebastian unceremoniously onto his back. Christian’s eyes are dark, something slightly out of control about his ragged breaths as he grabs hold of Sebastian’s dick hard, and Sebastian feels like such a naive idiot for not seeing sooner how much he owed this to Christian too.
He was so focused on Mark, on building bridges, that he never even thought about how his stupid stunt had made Christian feel. Christian was mature, reliable, and though he was passionate he never let that get in the way of the job. He was always fair and so Sebastian never gave more than a fleeting thought as to how all this had affected him. He’d shown Christian up in front of the whole world when he’d ignored those team orders, had stamped all over his authority and made it look like Christian had no control inside his own team. Now, Christian is taking back what’s rightfully his.
Sebastian arches up off the bed into Christian’s tight fist, moaning brokenly. Christian stares down at him with hungry eyes, looking pleased as Sebastian throws his head back, a shiver rolling through his body.
“You’re not allowed to come,” Christian says. Sebastian lifts his head up, eyes wide, a pleading whine escaping his throat. “Not until I say so.”
Sebastian nods in understanding. Christian needs to know that he can be obedient; Sebastian doesn’t want to let him down, not again.
He tries to concentrate on breathing in and out, tries to push that sharp edge of desire away. He’s so wound up, so turned on, that every pore in his body seems to be leaking with desperation. He feels like he’s burning up, sweat collecting in the small of his back and sticking the sheets unpleasantly to his skin, and Christian is good, his hand so skilful, so knowledgeable, that Sebastian wants to come just from how fucking sexy it is. He moans, a molten mess of want and need, everything threatening to crash down around him. He’d never realised how precarious everything he’d built up over the last 4 years really was.
“Okay,” Christian tells him. “You can come, if you think you deserve it.”
Sebastian feels his face fall, an unpleasant feeling rolling through his gut. His eyes cloud over again and he blinks it frantically away, needing to keep Christian in focus. Christian’s words are clearly an accusation, implying that Sebastian is self-important, that he rates himself too highly. But it’s not an implication, it’s a fact, Sebastian made it that way. But that’s what makes a champion, he wants to say. That’s why I win and he doesn’t.
Christian carries on staring at him, carries on doing infuriatingly good things with his hand, but Sebastian doesn’t give in. Christian might be right in the long run but that’s not the message Sebastian wants any of them to take away from today. He wants to try harder. He wants to be good. He wants to believe that this team can still be a team and he doesn’t have to go out there and do it all on his own.
He pleads with his eyes, puts all the sorrow and remorse into his expression that he can. He doesn’t have the words, couldn’t begin to form them, but he needs Christian to know. He needs to be believed. Something softens on Christian’s face and then he nods his head.
“You deserve it,” he says, his voice earnest.
The relief that floods Sebastian’s body might be better than the orgasm that follows closely afterwards. He arches off the bed, writhing through Christian’s touch, losing himself to it so completely that it takes him a moment to come back to himself. As the warm sensation fades away to be replaced by a creeping cold he tells himself it’s just the air conditioning.
Christian touches his hair, an affectionate gesture. Sebastian looks at him, feeling totally wasted, his body heavy against the bed.
“You did good,” Christian tells him. Sebastian stares blankly at him for a moment, the words not quite touching him. Christian pulls his hand away. “I’m going to run you a bath.”
Sebastian closes his eyes as he listens to Christian splashing around in the bathroom, already dozing by the time he returns. He’s nudged back into consciousness and can’t help but pout, making a disgruntled sound. Christian doesn’t argue with him, just helps him up and walks him through to the bathroom, steadying him as he climbs into the tub. The water is warm and he hums happily as it eases something inside him. Christian reaches out and unties the gag that’s still around his neck.
“It’s done now,” he tells Sebastian, tossing the material into the small bin by the sink. “We’re moving on. Let it go.”
Sebastian nods his head, wondering if Christian can tell that he’s lying already.
The next day he sees Mark around the paddock between media obligations but it’s not until late in the afternoon when he finally spots him alone. He’s sat at one of the tables in the Energy Station, an empty plate in front of him, reading a magazine. Sebastian glances around and then heads over to him, sitting in the seat opposite. Mark doesn’t look up, doesn’t even react to Sebastian’s presence. Sebastian’s not sure what to do with that so he just stares at Mark until he eventually looks up.
“What?” Mark asks. There’s no anger there, no contempt, just the tiniest hint of irritation that could almost be affectionate if Sebastian didn’t know so much better.
Sebastian feels put on the spot and it takes him a moment to respond. He could make small talk but he knows that Mark will only tolerate him for so long. He has to just say it.
“You left.”
His voice sounds so small and even he wants to sneer at how pathetic he is. Mark has completely the opposite reaction though, shrugging his shoulders like it’s no big deal.
“Sometimes people let you down, mate.”
Sebastian knows he must look devastated but Mark doesn’t waste any more time looking at him. He turns his attention back to his magazine as though Sebastian is already a thing of the past to him, nothing to be concerned about. The casual comment hits Sebastian hard though and tells him everything he needs to know about how Mark sees him. There’s no fixing this.
When he sat down with Mark he expected Mark to be the one to walk away, possibly storm off across the room like he does when he gets riled up. He’s not riled up though, he’s not passionate about this at all anymore, and Sebastian feels a hollow in his gut. Mark is giving him no choice but to be the one who walks away. As Sebastian gets to his feet it’s inescapable that walking across the Energy Station away from Mark is the most humiliating walk of shame he’s ever done.