He can’t even remember the last time he fucked someone from behind. It’s been years, at least. Not since he was in a committed relationship.
What if he’s bad at it?
No, that’s silly. He’d be really, really good at doggy style. He's good at every position. A professional.
But Thomas will never know, because Sam would never ever, ever degrade himself to take up his offer.
“You keep staring at me.”
“What?!” Sam misses nonchalance by a mile. “You keep staring atme!” Smooth recovery.
“How would you know?” Thomas’s lips curl up into a smug little smirk. “If you were not looking back?”
“Whatever.” Sam pointedly pivots to watch Lucas give his winner’s interview. With Sam’s third-place finish, he’s still holding onto the WDC title, but barely.
“You can say no.”
“What?”
“You can say no, I will not be offended.” Thomas isn’t looking at Sam, he’s watching Lucas. “We were both drunk. It happens. No need to make it complicated.”
So he’s been thinking about it too. Did he notice Sam is way more attractive than Rafael? That it’s basically offensive to compare the two of them?
Did he contort himself to stare at his own back in a mirror? To try to liken it to Lucas’s?
Did he finally understand his plan was doomed to fail?
At least he gave Sam an easy out. “Great, then no.”
“Okay, no.”
Wow he said that fast.
“Great.”
“Okay.”
“Yup.”
Besides, Sam is irresistible. Just because Thomas couldn’t get a leg over on Rafael, doesn’t mean Sam will strike out with Lucas.
It might not happen today, or tomorrow, but over the next couple of years they can grow closer. He just needs to get Lucas more comfortable with the idea of being lovers.
Sam stands on the lowest step of the podium, listens to the German national anthem, and soaks Lucas to the bone.
They have time.
The rumor mill in the paddock is horrible. It’s intrusive, conniving, and—worst of all—usually true. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and there’s smoke seeping out from under Lucas’s driver’s room door.
“Retiring?!” Sam asks. It sounds closer to an accusation, but he doesn’t care. “Why the fuck am I hearing that you’re retiring?”
To his credit, Lucas doesn’t look the least bit phased by the outburst. “Probably because I am retiring.”
“You can’t do that!”
Lucas huffs. “You sound just like Adam.”
What a horrifying thought. “Why would you leave when you’re at the height of your career? You’re still in the fight for a fourth title!”
