He hobbles back into the pits as the dragging noise grows louder.
The mechanics who hike him up and wheel Julien into the garage don’t even look at him—they stare at the right side of his car. It must be bad.
As soon as he's parked, there’s a flurry of activity—a rush to diagnose the issues and fix them in the few hours before race Qualifying.
Julien sees himself out. He reattaches the wheel and bolts away from the wreckage before removing his helmet and gloves. The balaclava’s next, and the driver runs his fingers through his hair as soon as it’s free.
Fuck, that’s frustrating.
DNFs are a part of the game, but he was soclose.Soclose to proving he’s just as good as—if notbetterthan—Thomas.
What the fuck, Sam? Now Julien has beef with both Red Boar drivers.
“Sam sucks. Try not to take it personally.” Rafael is a welcome sight amongst the chaos of the busy garage. “You couldprobably hide in the driver’s room for a bit before facing the media.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” It doesn’t really, but Julien can already see a camera at the edge of the garage, pointing at them. “Could you grab a cup of water and meet me there?”
“A cup?” Rafael repeats. “Not a bottle? We only have those little paper cones.”
“That’s good enough. Fill it as full as you can? Thanks.”
Julien’s pissed. He’s pissed and there’s nothing he can do about it except stomp back into his driver’s room.
No amount of punishment for Sam will get Julien back on that track. There’s no reversing time, no changing tactics, no cut screen do-over. He just has to accept the reality for what it is—cruel fate.
But Julien won’t take it lying down. Fate has already told him how to fix it. It made its point loud and clear.
He stands behind his open door and closes it with a soft click as soon as Rafael steps inside.
“Here you go.”
He tries to hand the water over, but Julien points to the massage table. “Can you sit first?”
“What’s this about?” Rafael watches the water line kiss the lip of the cup as he carefully reaches one leg up, then the other. With one of his hands busy and the other strapped to his chest, it takes a bit of maneuvering. “You want this yet?”
“It’s not for me.” Julien steps between Rafael’s spread legs and kneels.
“What’s it for?”
“To keep your free hand busy.” Julien adjusts his race suit, tucking the sleeves under his knees for additional padding. If he has to be subjected to this, he may as well be comfortable. “I don’t want you to fuck up into my mouth. Try not to spill any of it.”
“Wait,what?”
Julien unbuttons Rafael’s fly and tugs at his zipper. “Guys love to pull my hair and fuck my mouth. Hate that. You still wanted me to suck you off, right? Or is the offer gone?”
He cups Rafael’s soft cock, massaging the flesh through his silky boxer briefs as he waits for a reply.
“Yeah, of course I do, but what’s going on?” Rafael groans at a particularly rough press. He shifts, but his hips struggle to buck into Julien’s palm without any leverage from his hands.
Perfect.
With nimble fingers, Julien works Rafael’s cock free from the confines of his last layer of fabric. “I have to do something about the incident.”
“You give blowjobs after DNFs?”
Julien sits up straight with a frustrated exhale. “Look, I said I wouldn’t blow you for P4 and I crashed. To me, that sounds like a sign from the universe to suck you off. Do you want it or not? I’m sure there’s a bunch of people out there who’d bemorethan willing?—”
“Não!No, you’re right—you’resoright. The universe definitely wants it to be me.”
