Charlos || Spicy Version 🌶

Abu Dhabi

This one is pretty explicit and intense so be warned. 

Very loosely based on the tumbler post linked below: 

The 2023 grid, if the budget cap meant that each team could only afford a single hotel room with one bed for their drivers:

Ferrari: There is a very half-hearted No Homo attempt that lasts all of three minutes because they cannot stop gazing at each other, then making excuses to touch each other, then snuggling up together in bed. They proceed to have big-budget porn caliber sex for the. Entire. Night. And every adjacent room knows it.

***

Crashing into the hotel room past midnight must've woken up the entire floor, but Charles and Carlos were too distracted by each other to care. The end of season party was probably still going on, but Carlos was tired and Charles didn't have enough shame to not follow him directly out of the party.

Charles was a bit too wrecked to care about washing up, but Carlos was trying to be a responsible adult, so when he moved to the bathroom to wash his face, Charles took the open door as an invitation to move next to him.

They took turns brushing their teeth, neither really noticing how they were standing closer than necessary. Shoulder pressed to shoulder.

Charles splashed his face free of soap, glancing up only to find Carlos staring at him through the mirror. He grinned, toothpaste still foaming at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm really trying not to make another innuendo about toothpaste right now," Charles said, grinning back.

"Something about white substances?"

"Yep," Charles agreed, leaning forward to point out some of the toothpaste still clinging to his lower lip. "Missed a spot."

Carlos leaned over the sink to spit, wiping his mouth clean. "Thanks." He ducked past Charles to leave the small bathroom, hand finding Charles's side to push past him.

Charles was hyper aware of the contact, the touch burning. He finished patting his face dry, and followed Carlos to the bedroom. He was pulling on a worn white tee, the collar stretched from use. Charles didn't bother asking what happened to the numerous pairs of Cars pajamas Carlos usually wore. He wasn't complaining about the view of Carlos in a plain tee shirt and shorts slung scandalously low on his hips.

When Carlos finished lowering the hem of his shirt he looked up at Charles, a smug look on his face. Charles blushed but didn't look away, knowing he was caught staring but not really caring.

Charles pulled off his own shirt, reaching for an oversized one to sleep in. His heart leapt when he realized Carlos was staring at him just as intensely. He made a show of pulling down the new shirt and changing into gray sweats. (Joggers for all the brits out there.)

He glanced up to find Carlos still looking at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Carlos said.

Charles panned up and down Carlos's form, stopping at the tent already forming in his shorts.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

Carlos didn't have the decency to look ashamed, only crawling into the bed and pulling the thin sheet around himself. Charles hesitated only a moment before joining him. "I'm flattered," Charles murmured, a smile on his lips as he lay next to the Spaniard.

The next thing he knew, Carlos had an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He let it happen, turning around in the embrace to sling his own arm over Carlos and cuddle closer.