Chapter 7
Hungarian Grand Prix
What the hell was he wearing?
Cam watched Scott stroll through the paddock toward him.
His outfit was... all white, which didn’t surprise Cam in this heat, but the shirt was basically an asymmetrical piece of loose fabric that gaped at the collar and barely reached his waist, leaving a strip of skin on display. Was this supposed to be fashionable?
Not that Scott didn’t look great or anything. He did. But with a face like that, he could make hospital scrubs look like high fashion.
“Hey!” Scott said, giving Cam a half-hug and slipping his sunglasses off as he grinned at him. “I forgot how unfairly handsome you were in the weeks I didn’t see you.”
Cam snorted. Reaching out, he plucked the sunglasses from Scott’s hand and slipped them on, sighing as his eyes finally found some relief from the relentless sun.
“Hey, those are mine,” Scott drawled with a pout, though he was smiling, his light eyes sparkling with mirth.
Christ, eyes like that were really wasted on a man.
“I’m sure you have four other pairs, Mr. Trust Fund Baby,” Cam said.
Scott laughed. “Okay, guilty as charged. But I’ll have to go back to my hotel for them.”
“Where are you staying this time?”
“We are staying at the Ritz-Carlton,” Scott said.
Cam frowned. “We?”
“Oh yeah,” Scott said. “Didn’t I tell you that I wasn’t coming alone this weekend?” He looked around and smiled, looking at something by Ferrari’s hospitality. “There he is. My new boyfriend.”
Cam followed his gaze until it stopped on a guy who was bothering Hunter for an autograph. He was short and slim, with a doll-like face and carefully styled blond hair.
“Your boyfriend?” Cam heard himself say.
“Yeah, Andy. We met last week. Gorgeous, isn’t he?”
Cam’s lips twisted. “He looks like a stereotypical gay twink.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Scott said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He clicked his tongue. “I see all the progress we made on your homophobia has gone down the drain in my absence.”
“I’m not being homophobic,” Cam said, studying that Andy person. “I simply don’t see the appeal. He even has a limp wrist.”
“The horror,” Scott said, rolling his eyes and glaring at him. “Don’t piss me off, Richter. You’re talking about my boyfriend.”
“You mean your new plaything,” Cam said with a scoff. “You met him last week.”
“So what? He’s still my boyfriend. Now be nice. He’s coming this way.”
“Hey!” the guy said, approaching them. He looked from Scott to Cam and smiled bashfully. “Andy Robin,” he said, stretching his hand out for a handshake.
Cam gave a stiff nod and ignored the hand. Who knew where it had been.
Scott let out a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t take it personally, he’s just touch-averse,” he told Andy.
The guy’s eyes flicked to Scott’s arm still slung around Cam’s shoulders. “Right,” he said awkwardly, returning his gaze to Cam’s face and blushing a little. “Can I have an autograph please?”
“Cam doesn’t like being bothered for autographs before the sessions,” Scott said before Cam could say no. “Just give me something you want signed and I’ll get him to sign it for you later.”
“Oh, okay,” the guy said, a flicker of a frown crossing his face before he smiled at Scott again. “I’ll go back to the paddock club, then. I’m kind of starving. Are you coming?”
“I have something to show you,” Cam cut in, looking at Scott.
It was gratifying how quickly Scott focused his eyes on him. “Yeah?” he said, a smile lighting up his face. “A present?”
“Let’s go,” Cam said, ignoring the question. He settled a hand between Scott’s shoulder blades and steered him away.
The Andy person said something behind them, but Cam ignored him. Maybe it wasn’t very polite, but to be fair, so did Scott, Andy’s boyfriend.
“So, where’s my present?” Scott said, looking around McLaren’s hospitality curiously.
“There’s no present,” Cam said, steering him to his driver’s room and closing the door after them. “Your boytoy just annoyed me.”
Scott huffed a laugh. “God, you’re awful! Andy is a darling! And he gives fantastic head.”
Cam grimaced. “Too much information.”
Rolling his eyes, Scott grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the couch.
“Come on. I know how to cure your case of homophobic grumps.” He pushed Cam down onto the couch before immediately plastering himself against his side, slinging an arm around his waist. “Now tell me why, exactly, Andy annoys you so much.”
Cam pulled a face. “You know why.”
Scott huffed and took Cam’s hand in his own. “Yeah, yeah, because you were raised to be a homophobic dick. But you were kind of mean back there. Truly mean. If I didn’t know you, I’d have punched you. You don’t treat me like I’m something nasty stuck to your shoe, and I’m just as gay as Andy.”
“That’s different.”
Light blue eyes studied him curiously. “Why? I mean, yeah, you actually know me, but you didn’t even give Andy a chance! You didn’t even shake his hand. That was incredibly rude, by the way. You shook mine when we first met.”
“Obviously,” Cam said, his brows furrowed as he played with Scott’s fingers idly. “You were a VIP guest. I had to be nice to you. I don’t have to be nice to a random nobody hanging on your arm.”
“You’re really making it hard to like you, you know,” Scott said, but he was smiling.
“Did you want me to lie?”
“Nope,” Scott said, glancing down at their entangled fingers.
“I like how honest and no-nonsense you are, even if you say incredibly offensive things. It’s refreshing.
” He chewed on his lip. “But I can’t have you insulting my boyfriend again, okay?
Try to be a bit nicer, babe. I know you’re capable of being nicer. You’re nice to me these days.”
“I’m not,” Cam said, raking his free hand through his hair. His neck felt hot.
Scott laughed, squeezing his hand. “You’re the first person I’ve ever seen get embarrassed by being called nice.”
“I’m not embarrassed by that.”
Scott grinned. “Aww, are you blushing because I called you babe? That’s cute.”
Cam glared at him. “I’m not blushing. I do not blush.”
Scott touched his face with the pads of his fingers. “Your face is warm, babe.”
Cam fixed him with a steady, unimpressed look. “Humans are warm-blooded mammals. Of course my face is warm. It’s sweltering in this country.”
“You’re adorable when you get defensive,” Scott said with a shit-eating grin. “Babe.”
“Stop calling me that,” Cam ground out with an exasperated sigh.
“Why? I like it. And you are a total babe, even if you aren’t my type.”
Cam rolled his eyes with a laugh. “You’re going to call me that all the time now, aren’t you?”
Scott grinned and pecked him on the cheek. “Absolutely! Annoying you is my favorite thing about Formula One weekends!”
“Glad to be of service,” Cam said dryly.
“You should be of service, since you led me here under false pretenses,” Scott said, sulking in exaggerated fashion. “I really thought you got me a present.”
Cam snorted. “What would you even want? You’re a billionaire’s only son. You probably already have everything.”
Scott cocked his head to the side, sighing dramatically. “Presents aren’t about their material worth, buddy. It’s the attention that matters. You could give me an ice cream, and I’d be pretty happy, especially in this heat.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cam said, getting to his feet and striding toward the closet. He opened it, grabbed a shirt, and threw it at Scott. “Here.”
“You think I can’t buy overpriced merchandise myself?” Scott said with a chuckle.
“This is limited edition for my use only,” Cam said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Scott studied the shirt in his hands more carefully. “Huh. Yeah, it’s less tacky than the stuff your team sells to the fans. And it has your name on it. What do the little stars under your name mean?”
“Two-time world champion,” Cam said, watching in bemusement as Scott took off his weird shirt. “You don’t have to wear it. It’s not exactly your style.”
“I’ll have you know I can pull off anything,” Scott said with a haughty little grin before slipping into Cam’s shirt.
It fit him well in the shoulders, but was a little loose across the chest. It wasn’t surprising—he was slightly leaner than Cam was.
Though he had bigger tits. And pink, hard nipples.
They were visible even through the fabric of the shirt.
“Not bad,” Cam admitted, his gaze lingering on his own name. He wrenched his eyes away and cleared his throat. “Now shoo. I really need to focus before quali.”
“All right, I’m going,” Scott said, stepping forward and kissing him on the cheek. “Good luck, babe.”
“I don’t need luck,” Cam said belatedly.
As the door closed after Scott, Cam sat down on the couch and took a deep breath. But the agitation under his skin refused to go away. Sighing through his gritted teeth, Cam yanked his fly open and pulled out his hard dick.
It wasn’t unusual for him to get aroused before qualifying or a race. Adrenaline and tension could do strange things to a man’s body. Good thing he had time to take care of that before quali.
Closing his eyes, Cam leaned back against the couch and started stroking his cock.
His mind went to the usual things he thought about when he jerked off: nice, soft curves.
Big tits bouncing at every thrust of Cam’s cock…
Pink nipples begging for Cam’s mouth on them…
He would suck on them so hard they’d become dark pink and swollen.
Groaning, Cam jerked his cock rougher. Tits, nipples, full lips parted in a moan… light-colored eyes glazed over with pleasure… long legs over Cam’s shoulders… soft hands clinging to his back as Cam fucked into that tight, wet hole, the bed shaking under them—
Orgasm ripped through him so unexpectedly it left Cam blinking, dazed, and unfocused.
Right.
He needed to clean up and get dressed.
Quali would be starting soon.