Relaxation on Race Day

Grand Prix Winner

He's only gone and done it. He's won the Austrian Grand Prix. It was a real nail-biter, having you forget how to breathe on many occasions. As Charles had crossed the finish line you literally had to sit down on the floor from exhaustion, this sport is brutal.

The rest of the evening had gone by in a blur, you barely saw a glimpse of your champion, eh... the champion, as he went straight from the podium to press to meetings and so on. You had managed a quick hug from the other side of the barricade at parc ferme as he had gotten out of the car but that was it.

You had done your job of sorting out the driver's room and after a few minutes of just hanging out there, scrolling through social media about the race, you decide it's time to go back to the hotel for the night.

As you swing the backpack over your shoulder there's a soft pling coming from your pocket. You pull your phone out only to have your heart doing a flip in your chest.

21:48 Charles: Come over to my hotel room. 22:30? ;)

You read the message twice, just to make sure you haven't misread, before responding.

21:50 You: I see you 22:30!

Too short and concise? Maybe, but you have no idea what the correct respond to such a message is. Since that first "massage" a few weekends ago he had kept his promise to you. You had managed to find some spare time to jerk each other off before every race. Even now you can't wrap your head around the fact that Charles fucking Leclerc has coaxed you to orgasm with his magical hand on numerous occasion. But that has been it, hand jobs, a bit of dirty talking, but never further. You haven't kissed either, which makes sense since this whole situation is nothing but business. But oh, how you have been fighting every urge in your body not to lean in and swallow his moans as you pull his hair with one hand and jerk him off with the other.

So the question stands, why has he invited you to his hotel room? For a congratulatory handjob? Maybe he just wants some company from his assistant? Fuck. You're definitely overthinking this entire thing.

———

The seconds passed excruciatingly slow as you restlessly paced your hotel room. Even after convincing yourself that Charles' intentions probably are completely platonic you still found yourself taking a quick shower, trimming certain areas for good measure, just to later throw yourself on top of the bed, shouting into a pillow at your own stupidity. Then, suddenly it's 22:30.

Room 305, one floor above you. As you approach the door you flatten out your button up shirt and take a deep breath. It really shouldn't be this difficult for an assistant to visit his boss, even this late, but oh well, here we are.

Two knocks. Footsteps. The door being unlocked.

"You came!" Charles' smile is instantly contagious. He opens the door completely and take you into his embrace at once.

"Congratulations Charles! You were incredible out there" you say into his shoulder as you hug him back. You can feel your nervousness just falling off your as you breathe in his familiar smell.

"Thank you. It felt incredible" the Monegasque sighs and holds you by your shoulders as he takes a good look at you. His intense gaze makes you blush, you look down at your own hands, trying to figure out the best way to ask him what you're actually doing there.

"I was just wondering..." you start quietly and lift your head to face the gorgeous Grand Prix winner.

"I want to kiss you so bad" Charles interrupts, shutting you up immediately. He's still looking at you, searching your face for signs of permission. He's about to get it.