#rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

Re: your recent frivolities, I’m chewing on non-driver galex on a little drunk friend party weekend in the mountains warm from drinking almost too much, fumbling around in the starry dark trying not to get caught for some inscrutable reason idk i just think it’s COMPELLING and would like your scholarly opinion!!!

The longhouse in Devon has been George’s idea; something he could plan sprawled on the couch after a long day, something to hold onto when he got yet another pls fix email for the contract he drafted, now annotated with question marks and no-s. It was a small miracle that they even found a time that worked for all of them, even if it was a bit awkward timing, the first weekend of December that Lando and Alex both marked with if need be in the Doodle, something about marketing being overwhelmed with the Christmas fuckery, or whatever Lando was trying to say in the dozen texts he sent into the groupchat. 

‘You can really tell he’s doing the socials, always on his phone’, Alex texted him in private, followed by a screenshot of trading his Sunday shift with one of his buddies. 

It’s been a few years since they last managed to get the whole gang together for a getaway. The last time, George was doing his CPQ, begging off in the early afternoons to cram for his exams, locking the door to their room with Alex and ignoring the ruckus outside. He picked Alex up at the vet clinic, let him sleep off the overnight shift on the drive there, the roads first slow in the London traffic, then clearing up as they finally left the city. 

It’s easy to tell the lads that he’s missed them after everyone is loose-limbed with mulled wine, especially with Alex’s hand big and familiar on his waist, warmth seeping through his t-shirt. When Alex’s thumb begins to stroke the line of his ribcage, slow and soft, George takes a look at him; but Alex is listening to Charles intently, nodding along the story that George has lost track of five minutes and two sub-stories ago. 

So George can be normal. He knocks back a shot with Daniel and then carefully puts the glass down on the counter; just behind Alex so he can press his arm along the strong line of his back. Alex leans back, his other hand coming to rest on George’s waist as well, and he can feel himself flush as he tries to imagine how it must look, Alex’s clever hands framing his torso like that, the hands that can soothe a wounded animal or hold down a desperate creature all the same. 

“Cold?” Alex asks, as quiet as he can manage over the music, when a shiver rakes through George’s body at the thought. George risks another glance; this time, Alex is looking at him, lashes fanning his dark eyes, like he’s considering his hands on George, too, and some long-buried hope flickers alive again in him. 

“Not at all, mate,” George tells him. He drags the vape out of his pocket and shows it to Alex – the bar is a pretty, deep purple, one of the less ridiculous ones Pierre has brought. “Wanna go out for a smoke?” 

“God, I wish it was a smoke instead of that kid flavoured abomination,” Alex sighs, but his hands tighten on George’s waist quite agreeable. They fetch their coat in silence, stepping outside without much fanfare. When George inclines his head, Alex raises a half-mocking eyebrow, but follows him behind the corner all the same, crowding into his space when George leans against the wall. 

“If you knew just half the shit these can cause, you’d be a lot less eager,” Alex says, nodding at the vape. George doesn’t give a shit about the vape; has taken it in hopes for exactly this, Alex lecturing him a little, his attention finally on George and only George. 

“You know I can be plenty eager,” he tells Alex, and the second Alex’s eyes go dark and wanton, he feels drunker than the whole night. 

“I do know that,” Alex says, now pressing impossibly closer, strong and warm and perfect all over. “You wanna remind me?” 

“Always,” George says, and then he barely notices when he drops the stupid vape, too busy rediscovering how Alex tastes and how his now thicker thigh still fits so nicely between his legs, firm and tantalizing.

#devon isn't the mountains but we move! #'my recent frivolities' wow can't believe i'm being called out on main like this. #george/alex #little fic #thank you for this gabby mwah ily #rosy.ask #sorry i didn't even read this back it is what it is

[rosyjuly]

approximately one million years ago you wrote a little 3 sentence fic about office workers George and Alex and I’m wondering how things are going for them IF you had any divine musings

Wolff finally takes mercy on them; hires three people for social media management. It’s only taken George half a year and two ppt-s to convince him that being under 30 doesn’t automatically qualify you as competent, and anyway his age is a depreciating asset. But they’re here now, and it’s great – they love to feature him, still, but at least it’s not him who has to edit the godforsaken TikTok videos to perfectly match the audio. 

The only downside is that with the new colleagues, they desks no longer fit into the corner of the second floor where George has been withering away for the past two years. It wouldn’t make sense to separate the comms team, so Claire makes them move up to the third. It makes more sense to be with the marketing team, anyway, she says. But now they have got the sales department on the other side, and in the open-plan office there’s just a lot more calls George has to listen to while he drafts the copies for the latest campaign. It makes him miss the data analysts. 

For the first few weeks, it’s not that bad. He either gets lunch with the new coworkers, trying to get to know the boys and girls in the marketing team, or has half a pack of crisps while trying to finish a press release, wiping his hand after every bite to avoid staining his laptop. Then the onboarding finally finishes and he doesn’t need to spend two hours each day to explain the ropes to Frederik. 

All of a sudden, he looks around, watches everyone else type away or nod at their screens with their most faux-genuine face, and he feels deeply, excruciatingly alone. He picks up his phone, opening the WhatsApp thread with Alex. Instead of the steady flow of texts, he can see the date annotated after every message or two. 

He’s told himself that the distance might do them good; that it’ll be healthy to stop looking over at Alex after every joke he cracks, that he shouldn’t be so attuned with Alex’s tea refills. A pint or two on Fridays would still be fine – hunched over a barrel in lieu of a table on the pavement, shoulders pressed together and complaining about the bloody ridiculous prices. But he didn’t expect this. The hollow, tender part in his ribcage that feels half-filled with regret as he thumbs through Alex’s texts about how he didn’t know Quality Assurance could be so bad, and maybe George should still be doing that much overtime if it meant that Alex didn’t have to listen to one more overzealous phone apology. 

You think Sales is much better? he sends back. It’s just past noon. Wanna grab an early lunch? 

YES. You won’t believe the bs Marko pulled this morning, Alex sends back almost immediately. 

George shuts his laptop, doesn’t announce that he’s getting food for once, lest someone tries to join him. Walking back into data analysis should not make anyone feel fond, yet here he is; the philodendron on Patrick’s desk has a new leaf. 

“Here to pick Alex up?” Patrick asks, pushing his headphones back. It makes George’s stomach warm, both with embarrassment and, mortifyingly, with pride. 

“You know how he is,” he tells Patrick, “gets lost in those Excel sheets and I’ll starve to death.” 

“I’m ready, shut up,” Alex says, saving his work with a few efficient motions. “First person to complain about me in the sheets, I’ll tell you that–” 

“And how would I know?” George asks, trying to ignore the hot shiver that runs up his spine. Alex whips around and George almost walks into his chest; when he raises his eyes, Alex is looking at him with his head tilted, like he’s a pattern Alex needs to find in a set of corrupted data.

#i cannot find the old prompt for the LIFE OF ME #sorry i got carried away thinking about structures as usual #george/alex #little fic #rosy.ask #my fic

[rosyjuly]

also sky germany just did a segment about lgbtq and the reporter said "aston martin is very upfront with jessica hawkins, matt bishop and sebastian vettel ot course" and then there was seb saying "i don't think theres any difference between falling in love with a boy or a girl" 🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

AND he’s wearing a rainbow bracelet anon we Won. WE WON.

#the brazilian driver meltdown #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

into the garden, by the hand

Alex lets the text sit unopened for thirty minutes. 

He’s read it already, of course, when his phone buzzed, screen lit up with the notification. These days, he doesn’t get a lot of actual texts; it’s either a Whatsapp group chat or emails reminding him of the deadlines of grant applications and assignments alike, or a professor reaching out about a project they want to take him on. 

Hi Alex, the text says. I hope you are keeping well. I was wondering if you have some free time this afternoon, approximately around 3pm? No worries if not, of course. Let me know if you can. Take care, G. 

Because George stills signs off his texts, even after all these years, even though he’s never once changed his number. Alex wondered for a while if George would switch them to Signal – objectively a smarter option with the better encryption and disappearing text options. But George could be deleting their texts for all he knows: sit behind Jenson in the car afterwards, thumb the thread open and get rid of them one by one, elegant hand stretched loosely around the phone. 

Anyway, Alex started to think George wouldn’t– that he stopped for real, this time. He hasn’t been around for half a year now, hasn’t even reached out since the beginning of the summer, when Alex was stretched thin between his exams and work deadlines, because his post-grad scholarship wasn’t generous enough to stop working. It’s good for his CV, he keeps telling himself, even if it’s exhausting, and Vowles is miles better of a boss than Horner was at his old org. 

But good on George for finding the courage to text first. Even if it was better for both of them if he hadn’t; didn’t. Alex has started to tell himself that he should be thrilled to be free of this, of– well, not George, but this, this thing that leaves him feeling dirty and ashamed and larger than life, still. 

I didn’t know it’s a bad time, George said, months ago, eyes large and his tone getting that edge of defensive strain. Alex threw his arms in the air and finally let himself snap, years of tensions wearing his patience too thin, You wouldn’t know because you never fucking ask, you just show up whenever it fucking suits you. George didn’t even look at him when Alex told him to text him, before, the next time, just nodded, staring at the door, before slipping outside. 

He shouldn’t feel so relieved that George texted, now; but his chest is lighter, lungs taking in more air all of a sudden.

#my trick is just chatficcing things and then being like hey :) i wrote you this :) #prince au #but the au version where #his wife has filled his house with chintz #to keep it real i fuck him on the floor #i think gabby already wrote an installment of that but i can't find it in this heatwave #little fic #george/alex #rosy.ask #i didn't even proofread this it's DONE it's OUT #fic title ask game

[rosyjuly]

❖ pick 2 fics and I’ll combine them somehow

For 'work the blade' and 'consolation prize'

If you want to 😁

By lap 60, it's getting more and more obvious that save for some unexpected catastrophy, it's going to happen. Sebastian watches with his stomach in knots, sweat sliding down between the headphones and the curve of his ear. The rest of the race is a blur -- they put Corinna on the radio after Mick crosses the line, and then him, but he doesn't even know what he's saying, can only hear the fervent, euphoric catches in Mick's breathing, the breaks in his voice.

Half an hour later, Mick comes down from the podium, still absolutely soaked-- from sweat, champagne and tears, the stench of victory if there ever was one. He needs to go to the press conference, but Sebastian is selfish enough to not want to let him go; he's curled his hand around his bicep some time ago and Mick seems happy to stay right there, right until a stern looking steward shows up to remind him of the time.

"And I'll need your pick, too," he says before he steps back out of the room.

Mick's eyebrows twitch together; his eyes slip back to Sebastian, who's ignoring the hot sweep in his stomach.

"It's your day," he says, because that's what he's supposed to say. "You know what they say, you never forget your first. So have some fun."

Mick's lips do pull to a grin, then.

"A call like that, from you?" Seb says, unable to shut his mouth now, not until he finally hears Mick say a name and he'll have to smile and nod and back off. "That would wake the dead, handsome alpha like you can have anyone you want--"

"Anyone?" Mick asks. His eyes are narrowed, laser focused on Sebastian, like they had been, years ago, when Sebastian asked him to--

"For sure, yes," he nods, realizing that his hand is now tight as a vise. When he loosens his fingers to let go, Mick's hand flies up, folds his hand back over the curve of his bicep, his thumb rubbing Sebastian's wrist slowly.

"You, then," Mick says. He licks his lips; eyes slipping down to Sebastian's mouth hungrily. "You can say no, of course, but-- if I could have anyone, it'd be you."

#handwaving where and when and what team. the point is the CHOICE. #thank you this was delightful to think about #worked the blade #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

sebchal 😈

love and LIGHT but charles made the sluttiest man on the grid turn catholic. "you can kiss" and sebastian vettel only smiles? "we can start by holding hands" and seb doesn't even reach out? death would be kinder. the only dynamic EYE see working is a threesome where charles hyperfixates on seb and seb is entertained by it and then he'll be teased by his long term partner about charles's hero worship/crush.

#that being said i don't mean to rain on anyone's parade #you're all gorgeous beautiful talented human beings #and i love seeing you happy #it's just not MY cup of tea #brutally honest ship ask game #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

"Lewis slings an arm over Mick's shoulder, shoots Seb a cheeky smile, and says, 'don't worry, man, I've been taking great care of him.'"

Lewis slings an arm over Mick's shoulder, shoots Seb a cheeky smile, and says, “Don't worry, man, I've been taking great care of him.”

Mick laughs, quiet and pleased, but the apples of his cheeks are heating up with a pink flush. Seb forces himself to grin back, says, “Rubbed him all shiny and sweet, did you?” and exhales when they both laugh. 

They look good together; broad shouldered and soft in a way Seb has always been weak for. Mick’s bulked up since he’s last seen him, his shirt now straining around his bicep. He’s been training with Lewis, he’s told Seb – it hasn’t even bothered Seb, not until now. But with the back of Lewis’s hand brushing against Mick’s chest, the little smile they share…

He clears his throat and turns away, ignoring the hot, acidy clench in his stomach. It was his decision, anyway, to leave all of it behind, including whatever this was.

#seb/mick/lewis #first line meme #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

PLEASE I WOULD DIE FOR 5 HC'S OF COWBOY MICK

thank you to both you and @userhamilton for indulging me 😌

1. When his mother tells Mick that it’s time he starts overseeing the ranch, Mick thinks she must be joking, because Gina is doing an absolutely stellar job at it. His mother purses her lips, tells him that Ian’ll propose soon — he’s already asked for her blessing. So they hire someone who can ride out in Mick’s stead while he tries to learn the — the damned big picture. After a too long week, Gina grows tired of it, and tells him that he needs a better teacher than her.

2. He’s known Sebastian for years, running into him in the parlor or on the porch, thick stacks of books pressed under Sebastian’s elbow. He’s kind, and patient, Mick finds, always ready with a joke to lighten the mood. The ledgers seem so simple, so evident when Sebastian talks about them, receiving Mick in his office in town after the sun’s gone down and less work is to be done.

3. They take to sharing a glass of whiskey or two when Sebastian deems their lesson done for the day, pulling out the chess board from his drawer. It’s a well-loved set: the pieces smooth and shiny from wear. Sebastian keeps a captured piece curled in his palm, his thumb idly tracing its edges as he thinks of his next move. Once, when neither of them are ready to cut their game short, Sebastian topping up their glasses, Mick takes his hand after another terrible pun, and recklessly presses his lips to the ridges of his knuckles. The piece clatters against the table and Sebastian’s hand slides to cup his jaw, and then they’re kissing, Mick finally stroking the gentle curls framing Sebastian’s face. Afterwards, Mick spends a good five minutes trying to locate the white queen that rolled under Sebastian’s desk when they knocked over the board in the heat of the moment, Mick too busy trying to press himself along the length of Sebastian’s body, the roll of his hips tantalizing, addictive as they rutted against each other.

4. “Take the long way around,” Sebastian tells him, and Mick was planning to — it must be what, ten more minutes, but it feels like a lifetime. When he finally spots Sebastian’s cabin, the soft light spilling out the windows,it’s a relief and torment all the same, vicious doubt twisting in his chest. It quietens when Sebastian opens his door, the small, pleased smile lighting up his face immediately. He takes Mick to the small stable, pats Angie’s side and tells her she’ll do just fine here with the horsies. Then they’re in the kitchen, Sebastian asking if he’s eaten, if he wants a drink— but his half-lidded gaze betrays that he hungers for what they’ve confessed they want, pressed into the other’s skin, breathed into his ear, promised between hot wet kisses. “Maybe— after,” Mick says, and Sebastian laughs, takes his hand and leads him into the bedroom.

5. Birthdays are a quiet affair. Mick spends most of it working, eats apple fritters with his mother and sister, and then steals away to Sebastian’s, where a notebook bound in soft leather is waiting for him, identical to the one he’s admired on Sebastian’s nightstand. And then Sebastian’s underneath him, drawing Mick in with his strong arms, winding his legs around him, heels digging into Mick’s back. The noises spilling out of him are everything; the choked off moans, the little sighs, the litany of Mick’s name repeated in his lovely voice. “Your mother asked me if I have any suggestions who you should marry,” Sebastian says, afterwards, and Mick’s hand promptly stills on his back. “I— what did you say?” Mick asks. Sebastian is still tracing idle figures on his chest, his fingers featherlight. “That I’d think about who’d make a good match,” Sebastian says, and then he finally looks up, his blue eyes still glinting as a promise, but his smile is sad, resigned. “We knew what this was.”

#sorry to make it about sebmick it’ll happen again :/ #sebmick #5 hc s about an au #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

ANYTHING Seb Mick Lewis but especially if you've got go-go au headcanons please??

my favorite trio as discussed with @grideon

Mick keeps his head down when he gets there; barely says a word during his trial shift in the locker room. Once he gets on the stage, his shyness is all gone. Lewis leans against the bar, sipping his lemon water, nodding along to the beat. "He's good," he tells Seb, who's pouring four pints of Guinness. Seb looks over to the stage then back at Lewis; his eyes are dark. He clears his throat, nods, and turns back to finish filling up the first glass, studiously avoiding Lewis's eyes now.

Okay, so Lewis generally tries to leave people to do their own thing, but Mick's make up skills are infuriatingly lacking. Before he can apply that coral blush again, Lewis curls a hand around his shoulder. After a quick crash course in colour theory and the correct placement for bronzer and blush, respectively, Mick looks radiant; his high cheek bones almost doll-like. "You're a little butch," Lewis says, smiling, when Mick bashfully thanks him for his help. "Am I?" Mick asks, in a tone that sounds more like, Do you want me to be?

It's only kindness to pull Mick aside to tell him that Seb's never going to sleep with him. Mick's eyebrows jump high, his eyes darkening with affronted anger, so Lewis hurries to add: "It's not about you, man. He has, like, rules about not fucking his coworkers." "Oh," Mick says, the disappointment clear in his voice. Then his eyes dip down on Lewis's body. "Do you have the same rule?" Lewis doesn't.

They talk about Seb all the time, in the locker room, or on the subway on the way back to Lewis's, but not -- not like that. Lewis likes Mick, likes the single-minded attention he has. It reminds him of Seb, if he's being honest, makes him wonder if Seb'd be like that, too. So he asks Mick, whose eyes snap to him so fast he must get dizzy. "It's not a trick question," Lewis tells him, and Mick's hesitant to talk, first, even though Seb's also his favorite topic, but then Lewis palms his hardening cock to incentivize him, and well. It does work: Mick's young enough to go again, and he's cutting off little moans while he's saying how much he wants Seb face down ass up, which, same for Lewis.

They don't know when it shifts from foreplay to a plan, but suddenly it's all Lewis can think about. And yes, Seb said that he won't sleep with a coworker anymore, but what about two? What then?!

#mick/seb/lewis #:))) #5 hc s about an au #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

If you’re still taking prompts……. Galex + cry (😈)

When they get down from the podium, Lewis squeezes his elbow on last time and lets Angela whisk him away, leaving George feeling like a bruise, throbbing tenderly with every heartbeat.

“Congratulations, boy,” Alex says from out of nowhere, his honey-blonde hair sticking up in every direction. George makes a sound and before he can catch himself, he’s stepped into Alex’s space, wrapping his ams around Alex’s strong back.

He thought the tears have dried now that he was drenched in champagne, but when Alex pulls him closer with an amused little noise, George hears himself take a wet breath, and then he’s burying his face in Alex’s shoulder, trying to stop his body from trembling again. Alex rubs the small of his back, makes some soothing sounds; the bright bliss of victory tangles together with the relief that Alex was happy enough for him to find George, after.

#i’m doing ask amnesty and ignoring my back that’s killing me #galex #george/alex #little fic #five sentence prompts #rosy.ask #hey anon i got this IN FEBRUARY #wrote it on some overnight transport i think #and got SO mad because it disappeared when i tried to post it and i thought tumblr ate it #but no it was in my drafts all along!!!!!!!

[rosyjuly]

seb + christian and terms of endearment 🥺🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

"I want more sim time," Sebastian says without preamble. He doesn't seem bothered that the door hasn't even closed behind Mark just yet, but today must be Christian's lucky day, because he doesn't come back in.

"Well, if princess wants more sim time," Christian says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Now Sebastian does look at the door. Then he crosses the room in a few, quick steps and curls his palms over Christian's shoulder. He pushes his chair back -- Christian knew the rolling chair was a mistake, no matter if it helps with his back pain -- and when there's enough room, he plops down on Christian's lap unceremoniously. Christian is only human: he takes hold of his narrow waist, squeezes it once.

"Yes," Sebastian says, his hands warm on Christian's chest, "princess does. You gonna give it to her?"

#hehehehe #ch x sv #little fic #rosy.ask #team principals principaling

[rosyjuly]

galex!

truly one of my f1 otps i'm afraid. alex is an incredibly charming, funny guy who's very guarded and has worked hard to not need anyone's approval or support. george is to ME the opposite of boring: insufferable a lot of times, just as headstrong as alex is. he tries to be just as scaldingly funny as alex is and fails miserably. they have been friends for more than a decade and have acknowledged that in public! they hang out! they post each other! they're friends who like and enjoy each other so much and i struggle a lot with interpretations of them where alex is just using george to get off just because. it's everything alex isn't in my opinion -- alex wore a LATIFI HELMET in abu dhabi 2022 to say goodbye to him. he is KIND.

#also sorry to be corny on main but JD and gabby truly two bright spots on this hellsite #brutally honest ship ask game #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

for the first line fic game: Sebastian frowns at Mick, saying, “You wanted to do Le Mans with me?”

Sebastian frowns at Mick. “You wanted to do Le Mans with me?”

“I– are you for real right now? Is that what you’re focusing on?” Mick asks, incredulous, his previous yelling still echoing in his ear. Sebastian’s shoulders creep upwards, then– it’s like his sheepish expression is wiped away by a single stroke, defiance taking over. 

“What do you want me to say, Mick?” He crosses his arms on his chest. 

Mick looks at him some more: his jutted out chin, the lines between his eyebrows, how his fingers dig into his biceps. 

“Nothing,” he says. The lump in his throat is closing up, choking him slowly. “You don’t have to say anything, you can just– keep ignoring it. Whatever.” He rubs the pads of his fingers against his forehead, trying to shove the mess of emotions back into the box he shouldn’t have opened in the first place. “You can just– fucking forget that I have feelings for you, it’s my problem anyway– Do Le Mans with Lewis for all I care.”

#😈 #sebmick #first line meme #prioritising non-anons and mutuals fyi #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

who's mick in the porn au? the rookie pornstar who still has so much to learn and, surprise surprise, seb has so much he can teach him?

please nobody @ me about the atrocities of the porn industry but to answer your EXCELLENT and very welcome question,

i think he's first casted as the litte bottom boytoy (blond shy guy being bent over by a [looks up toto's age] 50+ man who finally coaxes these nice little sounds and please-s out of him. and then he's casted with seb for this idkkkk public scene where he and seb are eyeing each other at some bar and then mick blows him in the bathroom, except he feels a lot more comfortable with him than with the godawful daddies, and seb's a lot more playful, so it ends up having this delicious push and pull where when mick pulls off his dick to tell him how good he tastes, he's all intense eyes and seb feeling weak in the knees, and they get such good engagement that the producers want mick to top seb. preferably in some hysterical role play with the mustache and stuff.

#incredible to think about while eating the world's best salad thank you #rosy.ask

[rosyjuly]

i wish i was the one who got seb pregnant :(

#even the sunglasses check out #who gave mick my url #rosy.ask #coincidentally the plot of REDACTED

[rosyjuly]

professor rosy july....... I require your wisdom...... is it true before my time there was even a dilfier silver fox 🤌 who could top even the neurotic Austrian stallion......

my liege… we must venture into the unexplored and brave the unknown. 

all i’m saying is toto asking an entire room full of journalists whether they want maurizio and him coming out and maurizio leaning in close, telling him to shut up…

maurizio coming over to his hotel room later and toto preparing a nice bottle of cabernet savignon, polishing the glasses with a sterilized microfiber cloth, arranging them so they make a perfect picture on the tray – not that maurizio cares. but maurizio takes a seat opposite him and takes generous sips. he’s a man intending to enjoy life to the fullest. they talk, and he lets his eyes linger on toto’s vulnerable throat, watches him swallow the wine, and then swallow again for how heavy maurizio’s gaze is. they both know why they’re there. but maurizio is in no rush. and he knows how toto gets, under his pristine, done up shirts, how the little tremors must be running across his skin already. 

maurizio finishes his glass and puts it down with a quiet thud: on the bare table, not on the coaster toto has painstakingly placed next to the tray. toto’s jaw ticks. maurizio stands and goes to look out the window – toto follows him like they’re tied together with the red string of fate. and then maurizio runs his big hands up toto’s back, dragging his shirt out of his pants, and then trails them back down, hooks the tips of his fingers under his waistband, grazing the swell of his ass. toto exhales. maurizio is looking up at him with dark eyes, cataloguing his reactions – not that they’re anything new at this point. 

“now tell me what you wanted to achieve today,” he tells toto quietly, “when you told your jokes.” 

“you know what i wanted,” toto says and licks his lips. maurizio chuckles. 

“va bene.” and then he makes toto undo both of their pants. he gets a firm grip on toto’s cheeks and pulls him in, and tells toto to move, and toto does, gripping maurizio’s shoulders, grinding and rubbing against him. maurizio has his head tilted up, his dark eyes half-lidded and all-observing. 

and then maurizio tells him to get on the bed, and he fists a hand in toto’s hair and presses his face into the million-thread pillow until toto is gasping for both the lack of air and the relentless pace maurizio keeps fucking him with.

#thank you for your attention :) #toto #maurizio #i would like to see it. #anyway i wrote this in 10 minutes and i dare not reread it lol #rosy.ask #team principals principaling