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Ayrton shifted in bed, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep. He changed sides every few minutes, but insomnia seemed to stick to him like chewing gum. After several failed attempts, he finally gave up on finding something truly comfortable and sat down, staring into space with a distant gaze.
His feet dangled absently as he clutched the sheets tightly, closing his eyes and forcing himself to feel sleepy.
But it was no use.
He had to admit, it was really difficult to sleep without his husband's company. Ayrton was missing Alisson's almost natural scent that the French man had.
Despair began to take hold of him and an irritated sigh escaped his lips. Perhaps an evening walk would be the solution; he always did this at home, and it helped him clear his mind. However, at that moment, he was far from Brazil and very far from his home.
Clutching the sheets even tighter due to stress and dissatisfaction, Ayrton remembered that he was not staying in a hotel, but in a house that Alain had rented in an upscale neighborhood in Japan. Relief washed over him as he realized he would have the opportunity to take his night walk.
Finally making up his mind, he stood up and walked to the bedroom door. With a smooth movement, he pushed her aside and walked towards the kitchen, where he intended to get a drink of water before leaving. The atmosphere was silent and welcoming. He opened the cupboard, took out a glass and filled it with fresh water, drinking slowly as he looked around.
The kitchen and the house itself displayed a peculiar architecture that was strange to him, but Ayrton didn't care. The house was cute and cozy, even if it was different from the Brazilian houses he was so used to. When he finished drinking, he dried the glass and placed it back in the cupboard before heading towards the front door.
He grabbed the keys arranged on a small shelf and left the house. His bare feet touched the cold stone floor and he shivered slightly, but he did not hesitate. Determined to go on his trip, he reached the gate and unlocked it with his keys. When he left the house, he came face to face with a completely empty street.
Ayrton sighed heavily as he remembered that he was in a neighborhood known for its safety. And also, her husband had chosen the place, and he knew perfectly well Ayrton's preferences. This helped calm his nerves as he began his stroll under the soft illumination of the sidewalk lamps.
His bare feet complained about the cold, but he ignored the uncomfortable feeling and continued walking.
There he was: Ayrton Senna walking barefoot down a deserted street, dressed in a loose white Seninha shirt with long red sleeves and black shorts, which he had stolen from Alain. His mind wandered as it always did during these nightly walks;This not only helped to clear his thoughts but also contributed to a more peaceful night's sleep.
His eyes took in every detail around him as he memorized his route.
Suddenly, something caught his attention: a figure standing in a dark corner of the street seemed to be watching him intently. His stomach instantly churned in panic. He stared at that silhouette in the distance before deciding that he couldn't just stand there. With his heart racing, he quickly turned around and started running towards the rented house.
The figure's footsteps echoed behind him like lingering shadows as Ayrton tried to increase his speed. However, his efforts were in vain as the figure finally reached him, grabbing him by the waist with surprising strength and lifting him off the ground as if he were made of feathers.
Frozen with fear, Ayrton instinctively grabbed the figure's hands as he panted heavily. The person began to move slowly, taking off his own shoes and then carefully lowering the Brazilian to the ground again.
Confused, Ayrton looked down and saw himself wearing expensive shoes that clearly weren't his. They were very similar to her husband Alain's shoes, which he often stole because they were more comfortable. The soft fabric caressed their feet, and they felt grateful.
The figure behind him tightened his grip on his waist, almost as if he were making his presence felt there; the pressure was intense, but familiar. Ayrton felt a warm breath on his neck and shivered involuntarily. He took a deep breath, recognizing Alisson's enveloping scent, the perfume Alain wore. It was a smell he knew so well and looked forward to smelling every night before he went to sleep.
Gently, Ayrton caressed the figure's hands, noticing the slight protruding veins and the shine of the golden ring perfectly fitted on her ring finger. The figure began to loosen his grip on her waist, sliding his hands beneath the white fabric of her shirt and gently caressing the skin that had been previously abused.
With all these surrounding stimuli, the Brazilian allowed himself to relax his limbs. He whispered, almost like a prayer:
— Alain...
Her husband's soft, husky voice responded with a tenderness that melted Ayrton's heart:
— Hé mon amour — the affectionate and intimate nickname made the Brazilian blush slightly, feeling the necklace rising on his cheeks.
— Pardonne-moi si je t'ai fait peur, tu m'as tellement manqué. — Alain apologized genuinely, his voice full of regret for scaring him,while placing soft and delicate kisses on her lover's neck. Ayrton laughed at his husband's affection.
— Você poderia ter sido mais sutil — Ayrton said, although he had already forgiven Alain in his heart.
— Je sais, j'ai essayé — the Frenchman admitted with an embarrassed smile. — J'ai vraiment essayé mais tu as couru et j'ai dû te récupérer
He released Ayrton, allowing him to turn to face him. Alain looked at him with those big puppy eyes, and Ayrton felt dizzy seeing so much love reflected in them. She brought her hands to her husband's face, caressing his cheeks affectionately.
— Tudo bem eu perdôo você — said Ayrton, with a radiant smile. Alain's smile widened even more as he hugged the Brazilian's waist affectionately.
— Eu também senti sua falta — Ayrton brought their faces closer, sealing their lips in a soft kiss. The touch was sweet and affectionate; Alain felt his heart melt.
After a shared moment of silence and affection, Ayrton pulled away slightly and confessed:
— Eu quero terminar a caminhada.
— Alors finissons-en ma chère — Alain replied, moving away a little and offering his arm to the younger man in an elegant and charming gesture. — Me feriez-vous l'honneur de ce retour ? — he asked with a mischievous smile and a slight wink.
Ayrton rolled his eyes in amusement, but accepted the invitation with a smile on his face.
After all.
How could he refuse?