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Summary
It wasn’t shocking that Nico was plastered against him the second the door clicked shut behind them.
His hands were everywhere all at once, shoving at the grey fabric of the team kit, his mouth on Gabi’s, then on his neck, then on his mouth again. And Gabi just surrender. Just allowed the onslaught of desperate kisses and apologetic hands, until they were both down to their underwear and collapsing back onto the king-size bed, left messy and unmade from where they’d pulled themselves out of it that morning.
After Gabi’s last insistence, that the survival pod would’ve done it’s job, Nico had buried his face in his neck and had just breathed him in deeply. His semi-hard dick pressed against Gabi’s hip, and Gabi’s even harder dick was pressing up against him in return, but suddenly Nico didn’t have the urgency. Suddenly, it seemed he just needed to be close to him, his nose pressed to his rushing pulse point against his neck, the blood thrumming through him, reminding Nico he was still very much alive and there, underneath him.
So maybe Gabi needed to be a little more real with him now. Maybe the time for dismissing was over.
Post Zandvoort, Nico and Gabi... reflect.