Work Text:
An unexpected ending
Ayrton Senna x Alain Prost
In another of his races, at the height of his career; an accident.
On the 42nd lap he is side by side with Alain Prost, the track is tight and the cars are practically rubbing the tires.
Alain loses control and ends up reaching Ayrton and pushing him off the track, colliding the two cars.
They get out of the car furious, ready to kill.
-You are crazy?!
-I?!? You do it on purpose!
But before any kind of aggression could occur they are held and taken away from each other.
Cars are taken from the grass and taken to the pits, while they are taking off their protective clothing and giving interviews, always barbing when there is a chance.
Both had the same idea to go for a walk and cool off from the events, they just didn't expect to find themselves in this trajectory.
Everything seemed in favor of their fight; a place far and isolated, no one there besides the two pilots, that is, no one to hold them back and prevent the fight they wanted from the first time they met.
Without speaking a word Prost walked over to the other and punched him in the corner of the mouth.
This aroused anger in Ayrton again, who without thinking twice jumped on top of the other, and both rolled on the ground while attacking each other, depositing all accumulated stress.
-You fool
-You are crazy taking me off the track like that!
They got up again and went to beat each other again. But they had just come out of a race. The same race in which their cars had crashed at more than 280 km / h.
Alain held the collar of Senna's blouse, which ended up falling back from fatigue and pulled him along.
Now they were almost like lovers on the floor, an extremely awkward situation. It was obvious that they wanted to get out of it and walk away, but they could barely breathe.
The body betrays them. No muscle worked.
-Damn it...
-That is ... very ... strange.
-Yeah, I know, get off me soon.
-And why don't you come out from below?
-Maybe because I can't move ??
-Great. Me neither
-I don't feel my body.
After 5 minutes like that, Alain managed to raise his head, coming face to face with his biggest rival, who had his eyes closed and a serene expression on his face.
Ayrton's mouth was bruised from the punch he had taken earlier. Determined to irritate him anyway, he started to run his tongue over that wound.
He was surprised when the hands of others encircled his waist, squeezing him, and a tongue found his own, initiating an awkward kiss.
-Why did it? - Prost spoke in disbelief after the act.
-You started it! I thought you were interested.
-I am not gay different from you!
-Yes, but you responded.
-Take your hands off me. I thought I wasn't feeling your body
-Yeah, I wasn't, but now I am. He said as he laid Alain on the floor so he could move. He got up ready to go.
-Where are you going?
-Back to where I should be, my motorhome.
-You can't leave me here, I still can't get up!
-What can I do? I think I'm too "gay" to help you. - He had an expression of someone who resented the words he had heard before.
-Look ... I'm sorry ... I shouldn't have said those things.
"Of course you shouldn't ..." he said with a hand on his forehead, sighing.
Ayrton took the other bride style, who without much to do decided to be quiet, after all everything was better than being on the floor for hours, alone.
Luckily for the boys, there wasn't a soul alive in the trailer area.
-Hey! Why are we going to yours?
-I don't know where yours is, and even if I did, it wouldn't do to leave you alone.
He left Alain lying on his couch and went to get his first aid kit.
-Where are you hurt?
–I don't need you to do that! I'm not a little child!
-But you act like one and are just as disabled.
Alain lowered his morale, after all Ayrton was right.
-I think I twisted my foot and a cut on my abdomen.
–I will need to take your shirt off
-It's all right
He helps Prost to remove the piece and noted the size of the wound.
-You will need to wash, let's take a shower.
-Why do you care so much? I thought you hated me
-Because the responsibility is mine and no, I don't hate you.
As he could not walk, Senna served as a support for him, entering under the shower together, the two only wearing pants. He ran his hand over the soap and then over the cut to make sure it didn't contaminate.
That touch excited Prost. It was not easy to hide, as they were wet and the erection was very evident.
–I thought you weren't gay
-But I'm not just thinking about some women. - he said trying to look firm.
-So out of nowhere? Of course it is.
Ayrton pinned him to the wall, causing the hard parts to press. Discreet moan escaping Alain's mouth.
-Can I kiss you?
-You didn't ask the first time, why are you asking now?
-Why do I want to hear you say you do?
Alain couldn't run anymore, he really wanted to feel those lips again.
-Yes, yes Ayrton I want to kiss you
But things went far beyond just kissing. After they dried off and Senna bandaged his ankle, and covered Prost's exposed cut. Soon they were already in bed, clinging desperately. There was more adrenaline there than in the dangerous runs they did, but underneath all these superficial feelings of pleasure, need, need, something was unfolding.
Love.
Something they would never have imagined could exist between them. That not even one day came close to imagining, let alone yearning for it.
Everything was new to them. They moaned each other's names. They reached the summit and lay on the bed, holding each other, trying to regulate their breathing.
-Is that you? Do you hate me Alain?
-Would it be weird if I was liking you?
-I think not, considering that I am in the same situation.
They laughed together. Finally light. Finally a moment of their own, without fights, without pressure and discussions about money and victories.
Its consequences? Are the bosses of your teams brave? Scolds that would lead?
None of that existed there. There were only the two of them, in a bubble created by themselves.
Comfortable. It was how they felt there.