Glad you’re okay. - Henry #4
“Sure, if you want to put it that way.”
“I do.” Fritz is completely serious, and he stares at the side of Henry’s head until the older man turns to look at him. “That does not change our success. We are the only race engineer and driver to win in a VFIbr. That does not happen by accident.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Right. So maybe we are on the same level.” Fritz tries to shrug with nonchalance, but it’s scary to face the unknown alongside someone who also doesn’t know what to expect. “Maybe I suck without you. Maybe you suck without me. But—you have to admit—together we do not suck. The data says so.”
Henry stares back at him with a blank expression until the corner of his mouth pulls up. “Together we do not suck.”
“Except, perhaps,” Fritz adds, with a hush. “In the shower.”
Henry groans, throwing an arm over his face. A smile is still peeking through, though. “God, that was the sexiest thing I have ever seen. Ever been a part of. I still think about it.”
“You still—?” Fritz gapes. “Then why did we stop?”
“God, not tonight. You’re going to think it’s so stupid.”
“It probably will be stupid any night.” Anything that keeps them apart is stupid.
Henry laughs, but when he looks at Fritz, his eyes are full of fondness.
“I tried to push you away so you’d have a better chance at finding a good team.
I didn’t want you to think of me—to tie yourself to the Red Boar ladder for the next five to eight years—because of what we had.
When Sven approached you, I had to let you go. ”
“You are right.” How obnoxious. “That was a very stupid thing to decide on your own.”
“Yeah, I know.” Henry sighs. “One day you’re going to realize I'm not as smart as the data makes me seem.”
“But I had already asked Sven to hire you by then.”
“Jesus, that long ago?! Why?”
“I do not want to race without you.” Fritz’s eyes dip down to Henry’s mouth and back up again. “I knew even then.”
Henry’s eyes darken. “C’mere.”
Fritz forgets how strong Henry is until he’s manhandled—pulled by the hip until he rolls. Fritz instinctively throws a leg over and straddles the older man.
One of Henry’s hands settles on Fritz’s waist, the other cradles his face, drawing him closer until the driver hovers over him, just centimeters away.
“Do you still want this?” Henry whispers, his breath playing on Fritz’s lips. “Even now? After everything?”
Fritz swallows, though his throat feels dry. “You know I do.”
“That contract is too good for me.”
“I do not care,” Fritz huffs. “The only thing that matters is that I want you. We are good together. World Champions.”
Henry surges up and finally closes the gap.
His kiss is more controlled and stiffer than Fritz remembers. Fritz rocks forward to encourage him, pushing and pulling.
Henry’s hands are completely motionless, planted exactly where they started. Fritz can’t have that. He breaks the kiss and guides the hand on his hip to explore his body. Stomach, side, back, ass.
“Touch me, Henry.” He guides the other hand down from his cheek to his throat, around his neck, and up to his hair. The thick, calloused hands scrape at Fritz’s skin and he vibrates with the sensation. “I missed you. Please, give me more.”
“I get it, I get it,” Henry says, gasping. “I thought I’d let you set the pace.”
“Faster pace,” Fritz demands. It’s been months since he’s had him and they need to make up for lost time. “Push this lap.”
Henry takes the hint and sits upright, keeping Fritz seated in his lap. Their lips find each other again, but this time it’s hungrier. Biting. Fritz claws at Henry’s shoulders, at his biceps, at his stupid bald head—anything he can reach.
Henry’s hands explore the expanse of Fritz’s back, dipping under his shirt to get to his bare skin. “You don’t need this.”
Fritz leans back long enough to whip his shirt off, but returns just as readily. His hands tug at the offensive fabric still covering Henry’s chest. “You.”
“Okay, okay,” Henry laughs as Fritz continues to tear at the buttons of his shirt. “You have to let me go if you want it off.”
Fritz leans back again and watches Henry wrestle the shirttails out of his trousers. He can’t keep his hands to himself, and he reaches forward the moment he sees exposed skin.
Fritz has only had him once, but he’s missed this. Missed the sight of Henry’s expansive chest under his palms, his fingers combing through his chest hair. He’s missed being able to map out Henry’s body, to run his hands over the hills and valleys of him.
Henry lets him explore for a moment, to reacquaint himself. His own hands stay parked on Fritz’s hips again, his thumbs rubbing in circles.
When Fritz pinches his nipple, he jerks, pulling Fritz impossibly closer. Both men groan when their dicks grind against each other.
“Is this okay?” Fritz wants to rut up against Henry until he comes in his pants, but he also doesn’t want to lose him again.
“More than.” Henry pulls Fritz’s face in for another kiss, a chaste thing, before shifting them closer to the edge of the bed. “Here, let me—”
With his feet planted on the ground, Henry uses Fritz’s hips as leverage to thrust up, punching a moan out of the driver, who isn’t expecting it.
“Yes!” he gasps. “Like that.”
With every thrust, every slide of his cock against Henry’s bulge, Fritz fills out. Harder and harder until he’s stiff and leaking, his tip rubbing against the wet spot growing in his pants.
“I could come like this,” Fritz warns.
“That would be a shame.”
Henry pushes off the bed again, harder this time, and Fritz feels a swoop in his stomach before he registers that he’s been picked up.
Fritz yelps, wrapping his legs around Henry’s middle. Though he’s maybe three feet off the ground, he holds on for dear life.
“How do you want it?” Henry is smug when he bounces him up, readjusting his grip to support, his palms splayed over Fritz’s ass.
He just clings tighter. “I picked champagne shower. It is your turn to choose.”
“Mmmm, that’s what I like to hear.” Henry pats his butt before setting his driver down. “Clothes off. Where do you keep your lube?”
“Front pocket.” Fritz points to his carry-on sized bag while he stumbles over the legs of his sweatpants. Once he’s completely naked, he tries not to be disappointed when Henry turns the lights off. “Why are we shy? I want to see you.”
“It’s my turn to choose, remember?” Henry whips open the blackout curtains that hide the floor-to-ceiling windows. He turns, backlit by the city lights. “Come here.”
Fritz is butt naked and rock hard as he approaches the window, but with the lights off in the room, he isn’t afraid that anyone can see in.
S?o Paulo glitters with lights—the city bursting with hundreds of thousands of extra people in town for the race.
Henry steps behind him, and holds his hips for a moment. His breath ghosts across Fritz’s skin before his lips find his neck, trailing kisses from shoulder to ear. He still has his trousers on, that infuriating man, and the fabric is rough against Fritz’s ass. “Hands on the glass.”
Fritz obliges immediately.
“Very good.” Henry reaches forward and adjusts Fritz’s hands until they’re lower. He then walks Fritz’s legs backwards by the hips until he’s at a right angle and leaning into the window for support. “Stay here.”
Suddenly, he’s gone.
Fritz tries to look for a reflection, tries to figure out where Henry is, what he’s doing. He can’t—the wall of lights on the other side of the glass is far too illuminated. It excites him, not knowing what’s next, but he still strains his ears for any clue.
A couple of thumps. The clink of a belt buckle and the slide of leather. Collapsing fabric, keys hitting the ground. Soft footsteps. A bottle cap popping open.
The glass is cold against Fritz’s palms, and it fogs as he exhales a shaky breath. He’s so exposed, not just from behind, with his hole on display, but also from the front, where it feels like the entire world is watching. His dick twitches and another glob of precum drips to the ground.
“So patient for me,” Henry coos. His fingers trail a light line down Fritz’s back, pushing when he reaches halfway down, forcing Fritz to arch further. He cups the globes of his ass again, massaging him. Teasing him.
Fritz whines and pushes himself back, but Henry’s grip is rock solid.
“Eager little thing.” His hands disappear for a split moment, but one returns to grasp an asscheek and pull it aside.
A finger circles Fritz’s rim, wetting it. Henry’s fingers are much thicker than his, much larger than what he’s used to being stretched by.
“Relax for me, Fritz.”
He does, but it’s still a surprise when the blunt tip of Henry’s thick digit breaches him. “Fuck,” he gasps. “You are huge.”
“Would you like to stop?” Henry retracts his finger, but Fritz pushes back, following it.
“No! No, just… slowly? I have not done this for a long time.”
“I can go slower.” Henry rubs the base of Fritz’s spine in a comforting way. “If it’s still too much, let me know.”
His finger is even wetter when it returns and circles Fritz’s rim, lube soaking the entrance. Henry’s finger dips in just a tease, then circles again. Tease, then circling. It drives Fritz crazy. Circle, circle, tease.
“More.”
Henry pushes in to the first knuckle before he pulls and circles again.
The light touches around his hole, another hand massaging his ass, the cold of the window—everything is too much but not enough. “More, please!”
Henry works him up to a full finger, then two. Scissors them until he can fit three. Fritz is shaking by the time Henry has decided it’s enough, a puddle of precum dampening the hotel carpet underneath him.
“Ready?” The blunt head of Henry’s condom-wrapped dick catches on the tight rim as he lines himself up.
Fritz nods, his face hidden in his shoulder. “Ready.”
When Henry pushes into him, he’s achingly slow.
“A-ahhh!”