Chapter 6 – David
I couldn’t tell what it was about Lars’s words that had settled my spirit, but they had.
I was driving the best I had in years. Hell, I would say, possibly my entire career.
I still fully intended on leaving, but I was going out on a high.
I would be world champion. I knew when I announced I was leaving in the garage that Vincent would be pissed, but I wanted Richard to know that I was serious about leaving.
Since getting back to my room, my mobile hasn’t left my side.
I’d been waiting for a text from Richard, to ask what the hell I was playing at, but the text never came, and all I felt was alone.
The walls of my room felt like they were closing in on me, so I had gone for a walk.
Only around the inside of the hotel. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the crowds that could be outside the hotel.
It was as I was walking back to the lift that I spotted Vincent waiting for it. I debated about holding back, but what was the point of avoiding him? I was going to have to talk to him at some point, and explain my decision.
“Vincent,” I say as I walk over to him.
“David,” he responds, but I can tell Vincent is still pissed at me.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier,” I start.
“You know that you gave Otis heart failure, but I also think you made his year. But you know I haven’t decided who will drive for me once you leave.”
“You would be crazy not to lock Otis into a contract. His potential is amazing. Plus, you will have me to mould him.”
“Thought you were leaving?” Vincent adds.
“The drive. Not Montague Racing.”
“After the trick you just pulled, maybe I don’t want you.”
“Oh, Vincent, you love me too much to let me leave.” I give him a smile, and I’m rewarded with a laugh.
“You really do test my patience.”
The lift comes, and we step in. When I turn around, I look across the lobby and see Richard sitting at a table in the bar, two bottles of beer in front of him.
I guess that’s where Vincent just came from.
Richard and I lock eyes, and I can’t help myself.
I smile over to him, expecting to be met by dead eyes, and maybe indifference, but Richard smiles back at me, and I see the longing in his eyes.
The fucking bastard lied. In that second, I know Richard cares about me.
There’s no mistaking the emotion on his face, but I need to know why he lied to me, and why he’s been acting the way he has over the past few months.
Before I’m able to react, the lift doors close, and Vincent has pushed the buttons for my floor and his.
Fuck. I need to get back down to Richard. Need to talk to him.
“Good night, Vincent,” I say, as the lift stops at my floor.
I’ve only moved a few steps before the doors close and I’m turning around on the spot, pushing the button to recall the lift.
I contemplate rushing down the stairs, but I have just won an F1 race, so I should rest my legs.
Mercifully, the lift is empty when it arrives, and I’m stabbing the button for the lobby like it will magically make the lift move faster. It doesn’t.
Finally, the doors open, and I head straight over to the bar, but Richard is nowhere to be seen.
Shit, it took me too long to get back to him.
I want to race up to his room, pound on the door until he answers and talks to me, but for the first time, I don’t know what his room number is.
I’m going to have to leave it for tonight.
I need to concentrate on my race tomorrow.
Knowing that Richard still cares for me grounded me even more than Lars’ words, and I had the drive of my career.
The whole team came together, and I got pole and the fastest lap.
I was ecstatic. Then I saw Richard in the crowd, he was there to celebrate my win, and I had to whisper that I missed him.
I thought that my words would have brought him to my room, but it hadn’t, and I couldn't wait any longer.
Rushing out of my room, I virtually run to the lift and push the call button, mentally crossing my fingers that he’ll be in the bar having a drink.
I’m trying to control my breathing as the doors for the lift open.
I go to step out, but I almost walk straight into Richard.
He must have been waiting for the lift himself. So, I take a step back inside.
“Going up?” I ask, giving him a smile.
Richard doesn’t say anything, but steps into the lift next to me.
I push the button for my floor, and wait for Richard to stretch in front of me to push the button for his floor.
I know he’s staying on the same floor as Vincent, but I have no intention of pushing the button to his floor.
Hopefully I’m making my intentions perfectly clear. I want him in my room.
But Richard doesn’t move. Just keeps standing next to me, staring straight ahead, not saying anything, and that’s how we stay, until the lift dings on my floor. I take a step out, and I’m about to ask him if he’s coming, but he’s already stepping out. Okay, looks like he’s coming with me.
Opening the door to my hotel room, I step aside, and Richard goes in first. I take a deep breath, and follow him inside. The second the door clicks closed, I find myself being pushed up against the door, lips connecting with mine, and a tongue demanding that I open for him.
Then, just as suddenly as the kiss happens, Richard is taking a step back, breathing hard. His eyes are ablaze with a mixture of emotions and the two most dominant are passion and annoyance, I think.
“What the fuck is going on with you?” Richard demands.
“I could ask the same thing of you,” I throw back.
“I asked first. Why the hell did you pull that stunt downstairs? Telling Vincent you were leaving.”
“Because I am. I promised a year.”
Richard steps closer to me. “You aren’t fucking going anywhere.”
“That’s not up to you.” I don’t want to admit it, but seeing Richard acting like this is hot as fuck.
It’s taking everything I have not to pull him to me, turn us around, and push him up against the door, and then a voice in my head asks me why I’m holding back.
Richard’s the one that willingly came to my room.
Grabbing hold of him, I pull him to me, twisting at the same time so that I’m pushing him up against the door, and wedge my leg between his. I’m rewarded with a moan from Richard, and I give him a smile. I knew he still wanted me. I place small kisses along his jawline.
“Dave,” Richard whispers. I push back off the door and look at him. I can feel him shift and a hand goes into the pocket of his trousers. He pulls something out and holds it in front of me.
“Oh, I had hoped I would see this again,” I say, taking my favourite tie from him. One that he no longer wears with suits. It’s the one that he keeps just for me. “Have you been hiding this in your pocket all day?”
Richard doesn’t answer me, just keeps staring at me, awaiting my instructions. When I took the tie from him, the power dynamic switched, and oh, I’m going to have some fun.
“Tell me, have you used the service since our last get together?” I ask. I know that the last time we slept together, Richard had said he hadn’t been with anyone, but I wasn’t sure if I had awoken something in him that would need release.
“No,” Richard confirms.
“Good,” I tell him as I move out of his space. “Go and stand by the bed.”
Richard does as I ask and goes to stand at the bottom of the bed, and just keeps looking at me. Right beside the bed there’s a single chair, and going over to it, I sit down and look Richard up and down.
“Take your clothes off. One item at a time,” I instruct.
When Richard and I first started to fool around I didn’t know about his sexual preferences.
The sex with us had always been good, but I had gotten the feeling that Richard wasn’t telling me something.
Then, one night, he asked me if I could control him.
At first, I wasn’t sure. This wasn’t something I had done before, but we had talked, and the first time I took control and Richard submitted to me, the sex had been something I still find difficult to describe.
Richard has never once broken his eye contact with me as he slips off his suit jacket, and pauses for a moment, wondering what he’s supposed to do next. I realise that I gave him an instruction to take his clothes off, but not what to do with them.
“Table behind you. Place your clothes in a neat pile. Give me your jacket.” Richard passes over his jacket, and I place it on the back of the chair.
He slowly undoes the buttons of his shirt, pulling his arms out one by one, and then folds the shirt and places it on the table. His hands move to the belt of his trousers, when an idea hits me.
“Pass me the belt. I think I have an idea for that,” I say.
I spot Richard’s eyes widening slightly, and his lips curve into a small smile at the statement.
Looks like he likes the idea; he doesn’t question what the idea is, just hands over the belt to me and I place it on the bedside table as Richard continues to strip.
He takes off his shoes and places them on the floor behind him under the table, then removes his socks and places them on top of his folded shirt.
He pushes his trousers down his legs, and when he stands up straight, I can see his dick is hard and a small wet spot has appeared on his boxers.
Once he’s neatly folded his trousers and placed them on his pile of clothes, I speak.
“Come here,” I demand.
Richard walks over to me, and with me sitting down, his dick is at the perfect level for me. I lean forward, placing my nose into his crotch, and take a deep breath. He smells like my Richard, a mixture of his spice aftershave and sweat. It’s glorious.
“Aren’t you tired?” Richard asks.
“I don’t think I gave you permission to talk to me,” I state, looking up at him as I run my hand over his dick, that I swear, twitches at my question.