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Oscar sits in his papaya car that he has come to adore and watches fireworks explode overhead. The sky is a painting in a rainbow of colors and lights. The crowd is loud and lively even through his helmet and ear protection, from all around. He rests his hands on top of the steering wheel and stares up through his visor for a dragging second. Once he takes his helmet off, he will have to control his face for the scrutiny of the world.
Even now that he has lost it all, the job still isn’t over. Now the world and Mclaren expects him to prove he can lose with grace and humility. He needs to show all the people who have believed in and supported him that the weight of this loss won’t weigh heavy on his shoulders or mind. That he can still bring it home someday, even if it isn’t today.
He wanted it to be today.
He had known going into the race that he wasn’t going to win the championship. The team had already told him his strategy would be based around neutralizing Max Verstappen’s championship bid against Lando. He was third down the list, a non-threat unless something wildly unexpected happened. Even as his team had tried to sound apologetic and matter of fact, he can’t help but to feel this is what they have wanted all along.
That he was always going to be designated a support driver for Lando Norris.
He shouldn’t feel any sort of bitterness about it really; it’s the nature of the sport. Lando has been racing for seven years here and this is only Oscar’s third. He should have expected this outcome. But his heart is screaming in his chest and he isn’t so sure misery isn’t obvious in his scent.
He had led the championship the majority of the year. Yet at no point was any discussion of him receiving support from the other side of the garage. He had been ahead when they asked him to give Lando tows in qualifying and to switch back positions for a slow pitstop.
He shouldn’t be thinking about all of this right now. His bitterness and upset will only become more obvious the longer he lingers on it. He hadn’t won the championship the previous two years racing in Formula 1 either. He can cope, he has no choice. What had George said? He is only 24, he has his whole career practically ahead of him.
The thought activates a tug from within him. A deep yearning from inside his chest, maybe from his very essence of being. He wants to be with George. George, who is right behind him in championship points and should be in the paddock somewhere. His beautiful Omega who sees and wants him in ways no one ever has before.
It gives him strength to climb out of the car. He can see he is already behind; the FIA official is looking around for him. Lando is nearly done doing his burnouts out on the track. The screeching of his car’s tires and the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Good; hopefully no one will be able to smell Oscar before he can get to his driver’s room and put fresh scent blockers on. Only George should have the right to smell him and know how he is feeling without any words or walls.
He goes to the scale and lets the official weigh him then reluctantly pulls off his helmet. No Mclaren crew members are calling to him or attempting to celebrate with him and he is grateful. This is Lando and their moment; not his. Lando has wanted this his whole life just as he has, as they all have.
“Excellent season, mate.” Max startles him, he doesn’t look as devastated as Oscar feels. He had suspected his posturing about not caring about the championship was bullshit but maybe being a new father really did change his perspective. He looks in good enough spirits now. They shake hands. Oscar has to swallow back the defensive, challenging rumble the sits in his throat. Max isn’t his enemy and isn’t even his competitor anymore till next year.
“Thank you. Epic comeback.” Oscar offers stiffly. He means it deep inside but he is in no mood for small talk. The other Alpha’s dominant presence feels grating despite his genuine intentions.
“Can’t believe you managed so far on one set of tires!” Max chuckles, as they walk towards the cool down room together. Lando is getting out of his car some twenty feet away. It’s hard to hear Max over the swarm of cheers and screams for his teammate. Oscar refuses to look. Won’t give whatever camera man who is undoubtedly waiting to catch his expression the satisfaction.
He doesn’t respond to Max, because his throat is too tight to speak. He just nods and follows him. He is burning hot and desperately humiliated. He will be the only Alpha on the podium tonight who isn’t a world champion. Funny. Max doesn’t take any offense; he must know it’s not personal.
Oscar hesitates after he sets his helmet down in the cool down room. There are still camera’s watching them. There is an itch under his hot skin that makes him want to run far away from here. His feet stay rooted to the floor out of pure will.
“Sit down,” Max points to a spot on the chair beside the couch. His voice is calm and non-confrontational. Oscar has always prided himself in being level headed but he feels like he barely has control of himself. It’s anxiety inducing how desperately he is holding himself together.
He sits where Max told him too. He sees his reflection in the glass; his face is flushed red and eyes watery. He doesn’t look like much of an Alpha at all; he drops his gaze to his lap. There is a moment of awkward silence as Max seems to have given up conversing with him but this is somehow worse. Fuels the restless anxiety under worn thin composure.
“At least we won’t have to drive these cars again.” He tries to make light, as if he doesn’t feel like he swallowed down a handful of glass. Max looks over curious.
“What did you say?” Oscar feels himself flush harder, his voice had been too choked for the other Alpha to understand. He can’t just leave it now though so he repeats himself again, despite the obvious wobble of upset in his voice.
“At least we don’t have to drive these cars again.” Max huffs a laugh and nods agreeingly. All their backs have a semi-permanent ache these days. But Max walks away from the ground effect era a four-time world Champion and Oscar leaves it just another in a long line of ‘almosts’.
Lando sweeps into the room, his scent billowing proud and happy. Oscar is sure he’s not intentionally doing it, simply caught up in the greatest day of his life. He’s smiling and his face is still wet with tears and sweat. He drops down easy beside Max. Oscar tries to smile at him, knows it will hurt Lando’s feelings if he doesn’t manage it.
His stomach is in his throat, every breath hurts to pull in past his tight ribs. He feels like he broke his ribs again. He can feel his skin burning and a growing restlessness. Oscar focuses on his breathing, counting them on his fingers, trying to hinge his self-control on the simple repetition.
In one-two-three-four Out one-two-three-four and repeat
The crowd in screaming below the podium. There is a sea of papaya orange and blue. The British Anthem is playing and desert’s breeze isn’t cool enough on his face. In one-two-three-four Out one-two-three-four and repeat.
He pops his champagne bottle and sprays the shorter Alpha with it. Max is spraying him too. This moment isn’t about what he’s lost or how he feels. This is his teammates moment and he tries to keep his support convincing. A smile on his face but his eyes never really focus anywhere. Drifting around them, searching for something- someone who isn’t there. In one-two-three-four out one-two-three-fourand repeat.
He just has to get through this.
Lando is completely wrapped up in the moment, facing the crowd, tears streaming down his face. Oscar turns away and finds Max watching him, something strange in his expression. He steps away from the lights and the noise.
More than anything he wants to just go home. He wants to go to his hotel room at the very least. Shower this heat and sweat off himself, shut the curtains, and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. He wants his George, to wrap him in his arms, smell his sweet scent, and be sure he is still wanted there.
“Are you okay?” Max asks from behind him. He must know he isn’t but something drives him to ask Oscar anyway. He just wants away from the Alphas and everything else. He nods once and keeps walking.
He gets through media without remembering much of it at all. He stays focused on his breathing exercises and must answer the questions out of habit alone. His media manager is right beside him and would drag him away if he said anything too horrible so he must manage himself alright.
When he is about to leave the media pen and their probing questions, he swears he must catch George’s scent in the air. He stops in his tracks and scans the room desperately. He might launch himself right into his Omega’s arms in front of the whole room and media when he sees him. No one even knows they are together but that all feels terribly unimportant right now.
George probably wouldn’t want that though. His media manager is tugging on his arm sleeve, confused and urging him to keep moving. Every instinct tells him to go seek his Omega. George wouldn’t want their relationship coming out like this, wouldn’t want the world to find out Oscar is his Alpha on the night of his failure. He forces himself to turn away and it hurts. Every step further away tears at something inside him.
He doesn’t know how blood isn’t streaming from his fingertips. Pain becomes an increasingly physical beast as he denies himself the one home his heart calls for.
He steps into the Mclaren garage, he has been guided here by his media manager without being aware of it at all. He feels disoriented, hot, and on edge. He’s felt a little like this before but never at this intensity. Never this miserably.
He is on medication to make sure he doesn’t go into rut until he is on break. He has been intending to discuss it with George. The possibility he would want to share it with him. He has never spent his rut with anyone before and they’ve always been frustrating and miserable.
His ruts have never felt like this before… but some of the symptoms are similar. His ability to think and awareness are increasingly hard to hold on to. He feels increasingly out of control and defensive.
Fuck.
“Oscar!” Andrea calls happily when he sees him. He looks like he’s been crying tears of joy tonight as well. Lando is up on the television screen still. He’s in the media pen now, face flush with pride and smiling so wide is must hurt. Oscar is friends with Lando and that fact only makes him feel worse about how he can’t stand to see it. Not yet.
“Good to see you,” Zak offers from where he seemingly materializes beside Andrea. “You did a great drive tonight for the team.” His voice is condescending and his eyes unapologetic. Oscar realizes he is trembling, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth are aching.
These men aren’t his pack. They are just old men he has devoted himself to; worked himself to the bone for. He is trapped under these too knowing and pitying eyes. If he were the animal his instincts would have him be, he would bare his teeth and challenge them for some essence of his pride back.
Instead, he stands there, paralyzed by social convention. Tears are sharp in his eyes but he doesn’t want them to see him cry. Not after how they have manipulated and pitied him.
“You, okay?” Zak asks too loudly; he steps into Oscar’s space and slaps his shoulder. There is no controlling the hissing growl the tears its way out of him. He is cornered and touched by this man who has power over him in every way. He feels wild, like he should be ready to fight for his life. Instead, his body shakes with his tenuous grasp on control.
“Jesus Christ!” Zak jerks his hand away, surprise obvious. Andrea takes a step further back as well, the smile dropping from his face. All the team members in their area are watching now, the pure jubilance in the air tainted. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Shit,” Andrea says, he is an Alpha unlike Zak a Beta. “He’s going into rut.” Oscar wants to wilt to the floor under their judgement.
“I thought that was regulated against happening at the paddock?” Zak asks, like so many betas who cannot understand what it is like to have your dignity stripped from you so suddenly against your will.
“They take medication but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.” One of Oscar’s engineers speaks up, he steps past Zak. He is an Alpha too and Oscar struggles to not stagger away from him when he approaches. He walks slowly, one palm out, and makes eye contact with him. “Come on, Oscar. Let’s get to your driver’s room.”
He doesn’t want to touch the other Alpha, his skin like a raw wound but they’re both wearing their work gloves still so he takes his hand. The man leads him towards him driver’s room with harried steps. Oscar throws himself through the door when they arrive, grateful to finally escape the scrutiny of everyone.
“Do you want me to get you some water? You should drink something,” he says but Oscar collapses into his couch. He had made love to George here for the first time earlier this year. Pressing his face into the fabric he can still smell the barest essence of his omega there, from the few times he’s visited.
“Please, leave.” Oscar chokes, mortified how tears are already overflowing from his eyes. He doesn’t want witnesses to him crying and falling apart. He doesn’t want to be around anyone but George right now but he can’t ask George to come here. Not when he surrounded by a pack that he is subservient to and he wouldn’t be able to protect him from.
The door is closed gently behind his mechanic as he leaves. Oscar presses his hand over his mouth to stifle his sobs because he still hears voices right outside his door. Every sense is heightened with the oncoming of his rut.
“Lock the door,” he hears Zak tell someone through the wall. “We need to make sure he stays contained while he’s out of his mind like this.”
Oscar buries his head in the couch cushions, not wanting to hear anymore. Not wanting to hear their judgement for his lack of control and weakness. He knows.
He isn’t sure how long he cries. His eyes, chest, and jaw aching. He’s still curled half laying on the couch. There are a rapid series of knocks on his door before it opens slowly. He lifts his face from the cushions, overcome with anxiety. He doesn’t want to see any of them, can’t fathom having to find the strength to pretend anymore tonight.
“Hey, pup.” It’s Mark. The older Alpha steps into the room slowly cautiously. There is something like grief in his eyes and Oscar has to look away. He stares at his hands instead where they shut the door behind him. “I can’t believe they fucking locked you in here.”
Mark watches him for a second, he finds it easier to stop the flow of tears in his presence. He feels exhausted yet restless. The older man goes into his bag and digs him out an outfit and then finds a washcloth, wetting it in the sink.
“Let’s get you out of your suit and to the hotel.” Much like Max had earlier he keeps his tone calm as possible. There is something oddly parental in how talks to Oscar now. He approaches him, like only an Alpha who has known another since childhood should, another Alpha in rut.
“Okay,” Oscar agrees miserably. He wants to get away from Mclaren and pathetically he can’t manage it on his own right now. He got so caught up in his emotions he forgot to even try. Though he had been locked captive in his room anyway.
“First we clean your face,” Mark says calmly. There is no judgement in his voice but an aching sadness in his eyes when Oscar dares glance up. He takes the damp rag and wipes away the sweat, tears, and snot from himself. He must look a disaster. He had never reapplied his scent blockers so the whole room stinks of his self-loathing misery. Mark is taking it all rather stoically. “Now we get changed into something cooler.”
Oscar wants George, he wants his calm guidance and understanding. His Omega would know how to take care of him and comfort him. He trusts Mark but his presence aches in his head. He scrambles to tear off his race suit and Mark hands him his day clothes one piece at a time as he dresses. Despite his overwhelming negative feelings, and overall feeling of disgust he has a raging boner.
Mark pretends not to notice.
He hadn’t even noticed until now but he is aching there as well. He just needs to find George, hide away with him somewhere, and forget this whole day ever happened. He grabs his back pack and clutches it in front of himself so no one will see.
“I’m parked as close as possible,” Mark tells him gathering up anything else they may need. The season is over finally. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Please.” He wants the comfort of touch but the presence of the other Alpha being close feels grating. Make his hackles feel raised, though he knows Mark well and trusts him. Mark probably doesn’t feel comfortable touching him when he is so clearly aroused, though against his will, anyway.
He just wants to find his Omega, make sure he is okay, and take care of him.
He follows Mark out of his driver’s room and thankfully no one seems to be paying them much attention. He can hear celebrations and life but keeps his eyes locked onto Mark’s back ahead of him. He doesn’t want to risk looking around and finding people looking back at him. Judging him, for something that has happened completely beyond his control.
A sickness settles into his gut as they reach the parking lot. An anxious nausea that he is leaving someone unfathomably important behind. His hands are shaking when he throws the back pack into the back seat before climbing into the passenger seat. His face is already damp with sweat again when he goes to rub his aching head.
Mark turns up the air in the car, the cool air is pleasant but ineffective against the heat building inside of him. He cracks the car’s windows as well, barely hiding the twist to his face. Being trapped in a small car with the intense scent of another Alpha in rut and upset must be terribly uncomfortable.
He remembers how George’s entire expression had broken open when Oscar had wiped off his scent blockers for him the first time. As if he had found some forbidden pleasure. He bites his tongue to hold in the whimper for his Omega. They aren’t even bonded. He shouldn’t be so needy.
But what does him being an Alpha even mean if not for his Omega? He wants him so terribly, as Mark pulls out of the parking lot it makes his heart pound. His heart is beating so hard and fast it hurts in his chest. It pulses painfully intense in his neck. He needs George more than he needed to win. If he had to choose one, it is no decision at all, the Omega every time.
“I need my Omega, please Mark.” Oscar begs, a tear of desperation dropping down his face, curling in to himself. He couldn’t trust George to be safe at Mclaren but they aren’t there now. He needs to hold him, scent him, and be with him. “I’m sorry, I need him.”
“You have an Omega?” Mark asks in disbelief. He realizes he’s probably hurt his mentor’s feelings, keeping something so important from him.
“Yes,” every passing second, they’re probably getting further away from him.
“Who is it? Have I met them?” Mark asks, sounding surprised. His eyebrows are raised and he keeps looking over at Oscar as he drives.
“Ugh,” Oscar hides his face behind his hands, already knowing Mark will not approve. “Yes. Please, we need to go back. I can’t leave without them.”
“Who. Is. It?” Mark presses, serious now. Oscar clenches his jaw to restrain the instinctive growl that bubbles under his lips.
“George. It’s George.” He feels immensely proud his Omega chose him, but he can’t help but to say it shyly. As if Mark may laugh and not believe him. He slides his hands up into his hair and pulls on it, desperate to use the pain to ground himself. “We’ve been together.”
“George Russell?” Mark does sound shocked.
“Yes,” Oscar hisses, “I need to see him. Now.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mark asks, tone uncertain, looking a little like he’s trying to deactivate a ticking bomb. “You two are rivals.”
“I know that.” But he couldn’t want George to fail. He would only feel pride to see George on the top podium.
“A lot of drivers have tried it and it’s rarely worked out pup.” If he was feeling more himself, he would appreciate how worried Mark sounds rather than judgmental. Those drivers weren’t George or himself though. He’s met plenty of drivers in his life and could not have seen himself taking this risk with any of them. George, doesn’t feel like a risk at all. He makes Oscar feel chosen and seen and good enough.
“Most kids karting never make it to Formula 1,” Oscar snaps back. “I’ve never let other people’s failures decide for me what I can do.”
“No, you haven’t.” Mark agrees softly. “You can’t go back to the paddock like this. I’ll call him and see if he can meet us somewhere.”
“Okay, okay, thank you,” he drops his hands back down to his knees. Squeezing them to have something to do with his access anxious energy. Mark pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through his contacts. Oscar doesn’t know why he’s surprised that Mark has George’s number.
“Hello,” Oscar stares at Mark presses the phone to his ear. As if he will be able to form some form of connection with George vicariously through him. “Yes, I am calling about Oscar.” Oscar’s mouth his suddenly dry, worried George won’t want to see him, despite his trust in the Omega.
“I’m with him right now. The… stress must’ve broken through his suppressants. We are on our way to the hotel right now.”
“Yes. He is.”
“He did. He is asking for you.”
“Alright.” Mark glances over from the road and meets Oscar’s intense gaze. He sighs wearily and holds out the phone for Oscar. He snatches it so fast; he almost takes Mark’s hand with it.
“George?” He presses the phone against his face, still warm from Mark’s skin.
“Oh, baby,” George coos over the phone and Oscar almost collapses against the door of the car at his Omega’s voice. He wants him so badly he wishes he could climb through the phone. “It’s okay, Oscar. I’m coming to the hotel, right now, okay?”
“Okay,” Oscar whimpers into the phone, still clutching it with both hands. Knowing they are moving towards each other now, finally. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” George chides, his voice sounds so worried but normal. Oscar has felt like his life was almost coming to an end but George still sounds like George. It’s good, it’s comforting. “It’s not your fault you’re in rut. I’m sorry, you don’t feel well.”
“Will feel better when I see you.”
“I know,” he can hear the brit’s smile through the phone. Can hear the sound of the car’s engine purring in the background. “We will talk until we get to the hotel, okay? Traffic isn’t as bad as it could be, it shouldn’t be too long now.”
“Mhm,” Oscar agrees without looking out the window. He hasn’t bothered to look or notice what is happening outside the car at all. George is talking to him through the phone, sweet and reassuring and that is the only thing that matters.
“Once we are ready to fly out, we will go somewhere beautiful far away from all of this. Doesn’t that sound nice? I always have enjoyed Africa when I have gone, would you like to visit with me?” Evidentially, George doesn’t require any response, keeping up a monologue on his own without ever sounding unsure what to say next. “I still have some sponsor events I have to be at, off season. You are always welcome to come with me, of course. It will be much more fun together anyway. Besides, I do love to see you in a suit.”
“We are here,” Mark announces and Oscar startles. He’d been so zoned into his Omega’s voice he hadn’t even noticed Mark had parked the car. The hotels bright lights shining down on them. The parking lot is relatively quiet at this hour thankfully.
“We are at the hotel.” Oscar tells George.
“I’ll be there in two minutes.” George promises him. “Just wait for me.”
“Always.” Where else would be go?
Both Alpha’s climb out of the car and stand on the sidewalk. Oscar stares out towards the road, desperate to see a Mercedes. Mark is waiting patiently somewhere nearby, his phone still in Oscar’s hand.
“Almost there,” George gives him constant updates as he drives, it allows Oscar to center himself and stay present. Headlights, the purr of a high horsepower engine, and a silver Mercedes is weaving into the parking lot. George pulls up close as possible and Oscar is already heading to him before he’s climbed out of the car.
George looks freshly showered, hair still damp and loose. He smiles brightly when he sees Oscar and steps to him. Any doubt is washed away as he finally steps into his Omega’s arms.
His face in his Omega’s neck, he must’ve showered off his scent blockers and not reapplied. It’s heaven on Earth. It’s home. His Omega embraces him tightly in return. He feels his Omega pull the cell phone from his hand and toss it somewhere.
“Thanks.” George tells someone, as he lets Oscar lead him inside. Nothing matters beside them.
A blurry moment and they’re stumbling into the hotel room. Oscar locks the door behind them, he doesn’t want to be bothered or see anyone aside from his Omega for the foreseeable future. Nothing in the world matters aside from them in this moment. He finally pulls him into a kiss, feeling his Omega lean into him, scent meeting his own and filling the room.
“George, you’re so beautiful,” Oscar kisses him tender than hungry than tender again. Watches those incredible blue eyes dilate. “You smell so good. So delicious.”
“Oscar,” George gasps as he walks the Omega back towards the bed. He wants to wrap around him and protect him from the world forever.
“I wanted you so badly,” Oscar tells him, eyes watery even as the tearing pain in his chest is finally soothed. He needs to be closer still. “I need you.”
“You have me,” George promises as he lets Oscar guide him to lay down. No one in the world has ever looked so beautiful in his eyes as George does now.
“I could never want anyone else,” Oscar promises him, hands soft as he touches him with reverence. Feels the Omega’s pulse under his hand, the heat and pulse of his life. “My Omega.”
“Alpha,” George gasps as Oscar dives down and presses his face back into his long neck. He tastes that skin the holds the scent that calls to him. His Omega’s scent is a lighthouse in the storm. His safe pathway to salvation.
“My Omega. My Georgie,” he nibbles as sucks on the skin enjoying how it makes his Omega whimper underneath him. “I need you so badly. I love you.”
“I love you too, my Alpha.” It heals his heart to hear it from those beautiful lips. He carefully removes his Omega’s clothes. Kissing every centimeter of skin as he exposes it. His tongue peeking out to taste his sweat. He can’t get enough of him. “I was so worried about you, Alpha.”
“My Omega,” he kisses down George’s body, soothed and overwhelmed with his care and warmth. “You don’t need to worry about me. Just let me take care of you. Let me be with you.” His eyes water with just the memory of the agony of their separation.
“I’m with you,” George promises softly, sounding emotional himself.
His Omega is already worked up and plenty wet by the time he kisses all the way down his torso. Despite how his dick is aching and pulsing with need, he refuses to be selfish. He will not be rushed with the one thing that feels right and good in his life. Here in George’s arms is the one place he is still sure he belongs.
He buries his face in George’s hottest, most private place; one that he trusts Oscar with. He will earn it; he will keep earning it. Keep proving himself worthy of George’s trust. Even if he can’t bring him home a trophy, he will still do everything he can to be a worthy Alpha. George wraps his long legs around his shoulders and pets his hair.
He licks and sucks at George like he has something to prove. Savoring in every moment he is allowed and moaning at how he can feel his Omega writhing. He doesn’t tease or linger. He chases his Omega’s pleasure like the championship but this time he gets to taste satisfaction sweet on his tongue.
George’s hands urge him to crawl back up face to face. His Omega kisses his own taste off his lips. One leg over his shoulder and the other around his waist. He looks down at his Omega so angelic underneath him when he finally presses his way inside. He isn’t going to last long. He’s been hyper aroused and overstimulated for what feels like hours and very well may have been.
“You don’t need to hold back,” George whispers, still trembling around him. “You can take what you need. I’m here.”
“Fuck, George,” he presses, his Omega down into the bed. He wants to ravish him and make him his forever. But he could never be careless with him, not even when his thoughts are fever pitched and half mad. “You are here.” In the ashes of his dream, they make their own warmth. He is not left wanting.
“Everyone wants you George,” he grinds deep, panting with the overwhelming pleasure of his Omega around him. “But, you’re mine. You chose me. Only I get to have you this way.”
“Only you,” George cries out as he thrusts for real. He sets a pace without pulling away, he can’t bear for there to be more than an inch between their bodies.
George’s soft walls spasming around him, as he nears another orgasm sends him over the edge. He tries to only pull George closer as he shakes and pants through it. He feels George cum around him and with a clumsy hand he reaches up and soothes his Omega’s hair back. He presses his face back under George’s chin where his scent is strongest.
It's the best place in the world he’s discovered yet.
He stays over George, holding the majority of his weight off but unwilling to move. He wants to canopy George from the rest of the world. Wishes it could just be them. The brit’s hands go from clutching him tightly, to softly, absent mindedly running up and down his back.
“Are you okay?” Oscar asks, lips brushing George’s soft skin. They hadn’t had a chance to see each other since the race. Hadn’t even had a chance to talk properly before they’d fallen into bed. He feels overwhelmed when he remembers everything that has happened today and tries to shut it away because he doesn’t know how to deal with it yet.
“I’m okay,” George sounds calm and soft. “You’re still tense, my love.” His long fingers running over every muscle softly down Oscar’s back.
“I’ve never felt like that before,” Oscar admits reluctantly. He had been so transparently on the edge of his self-control. So visibly affected. He feels exposed against his best efforts and will. George makes a wounded sympathetic sound, his hand finding the back of his neck. “I felt like everything was slipping away,” he is mortified how his voice breaks.
“Not your humanity. Not your worthiness.” George says quietly, but completely sure. His fingers playing with the baby hairs at the back of his neck. “You were hurting. We will figure out how to get through it together.”
George is an Omega, of course, he knows what it feels like to have your instincts overcoming you. For people to be able to see how you are struggling. His Omega’s ability to see through his words to the issue at heart… he could cry again. The calming, soothing scent from George is only thing keeping him from sobbing. Instead, he chooses to sink further into his heat and peace.
“There you go,” George hums as finally relaxes into George’s arms.
“I knew it would be hard.” Oscar had thought he was better prepared to lose. He had known he was going to for weeks. Yet he had shattered apart, all the way down to his core biology. “I thought I was ready for it.”
“You are surviving it.” George answers without judgement, pressing his face into Oscar’s hair and inhaling his scent. “You’re allowed to need me.”
“They’re going to be disappointed in me.” Oscar confesses quietly. Shame would hold his tongue but George already holds his heart safe. He shouldn’t care what Zak and Andrea think, not after how they’ve disappointed and hurt him. He shouldn’t be worried if Lando is mad at him. If the paddock is thinking him a sore loser or a bad friend for not being present to celebrate his teammate. But he cares anyway.
“You don’t owe them anything more than you’ve given them.” George’s hand clamps down tight on the back of his neck, grounding and possessive. “They don’t get to have all of you; that’s mine.”
“Only yours.” Oscar softens under George’s hand, accepting the truth of his claim. He gets to have THIS and that makes whatever battles he has ahead sound much more bearable. If George finds his crawling back to him in ruins to hide acceptable, if it means that he is still his, that he survives as himself… It eases the weight of his self-incrimination.
“You going to win it all next year, baby?” Oscar asks him, kissing his neck.
“I don’t know,” he can feel George is smiling. “We will both have our time, yeah?”
“Yeah.” There is no one else he would choose to share them with. He wants to win it all but he also wants George to. Either way; they will come together at the end of it and that is something rare; something priceless.