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kingofthecotas · 8 days

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find tomorrow with you

5 times valentino suggests they get married and 1 time marc does | 2.4k words

5+1 is a fun and whimsical format that we should use more often

–––

It’s not the first time Marc has been to Tavullia since Valentino decided his life was infinitely better when they spoke—and, indeed, fucked—but today is the first time he truly seems comfortable.

Pecco being here is helping, helping soothe the agitation that is all Bez’s, helping to be a friendly face—and Luca, if he weren’t finding it all so funny, would be helping as well. Marc is smiling, talking, laughing—and he isn’t dragging his feet as they all get ready to ride. That’s the crux of it, the load-bearing pillar that crumbled their first time around.

Not this time. They won’t let it.

(Not ever again, Valentino won’t let that happen ever again. He won’t do that to Marc ever again.)

It’s never polite when they race at the ranch. It’s animalistic, all friendship abandoned at the archway that marks the start of the track, screeching under helmets as they tear around corners and dive into the side of opponents. No quarter. No prisoners.

Naturally, Marc, now he’s comfortable, is perfectly suited to this kind of all-out warfare.

(He’s terrifying. Valentino is entranced. He loves him.)

It happens after about an hour, all of them hot and tired but no one willing to throw a white flag. Marc goes for the lead, throws it up the inside of Bez, and outbrakes himself. He skids to the edge of the track, where his front tyre finally surrenders, and he’s sliding through dirt, one leg dragged with the bike.

Even over the growl of two-stroke engines, Valentino can hear Bez’s, “Oh shit.”

He pulls to the side of the track, kicks the peg-stand down with a practiced ease that covers his panic, because Marc is staggering away from under his bike, is collapsing on his back, shoulders shaking, and what if he’s hurt—?

“Marc?”

Marc is cackling like a maniac, leathers dusted white, one hand over the part of his helmet where his forehead would be—even Bez can’t stop himself laughing in return.

Valentino kneels beside him, pushes his visor up. Then he pushes Marc’s open, too.

“You idiot,” he says, slow and deliberate, yet without sting.

Marc laughs harder. “That was fun!”

Valentino leans down, helmets almost touching. “I am going to divorce you.”

Bez chokes on his giggle.

Marc doesn’t miss a beat, eyes still smiling at Vale through his visor. “You have to marry me to do that.”

“I will marry you,” Valentino agrees, “and then I will divorce you.”

Marc laughs again.

——

ii.

Valentino’s phone alarm goes off at 5:45, fifteen minutes to spare before lights out, and he stifles a groan, rolls away from Marc. Marc does not appreciate being woken up before seven on a Sunday.

(He knows that. He loves that he knows that.)

Qualifying had been hairy, drizzling but not completely wet. It should be a dry race, though, and he settles himself on the sofa downstairs just in time for the broadcast to start scrolling through the starting grid. Kimi had done well, and he smiles.

There’s a noise in the doorway: Marc, a hoodie thrown over his bare chest, eyes heavy.

“Good morning,” Valentino says, raspy. “Did I wake you up?”

“Who has a race at this time?” Marc grumbles.

“They are in Japan,” Valentino says, and lets Marc crawl into the space next to him, tired and clumsy with it. “Now you know what it is like when I am watching you in Japan, or Malaysia, or Australia.”

Marc groans in the back of his throat.

“You could go back to bed.”

“You’re not there.” Unfocused eyes peering over the top of his hoodie, Marc glares at the screen, seemingly unaware that he’s just curled something warm and tender around Valentino’s ribs. “Who are we cheering for?”

“Ah, your friend Carlos managed only twelfth. It is Piastri and Verstappen at the front—Kimi is there in fourth, you see? And the Ferraris in fifth and sixth—always we want them to do well. Lando had a penalty, so he is seventh, but the McLaren should be fast here.”

They’re pulling away for the formation lap, weaving to warm their tyres. Marc watches, focused as ever, until he yawns. Valentino shushes him.

“They are not even racing,”

“They are explaining the strategy.”

Lights out. Clean start. Marc is watching more intently now, undivided attention, check pressed against Valentino’s arm.

Ten laps in, Gasly dives down the inside of Ocon, and they’re both spinning off into grass and gravel; embarrassing but harmless, enough to bring out the safety car. Valentino pulls himself free and goes to make coffee.

Marc is barely visible beneath the throw when he returns, dark eyes glaring balefully at the television like it’s offended him personally, but he softens when Valentino hands him a mug.

“You are the best,” he mumbles, then, “At making coffee.”

Valentino laughs—once, he might have bristled at the harmless joke—and slides back into his spot between Marc and the sofa arm. Marc thumps his head down, somehow burying himself even deeper in his swaddling of blanket and hoodie and Valentino.

It’s—it’s something they never would have imagined, even two years ago. It’s gentle, early Sunday mornings wrapped around each other; the kind of softness that shouldn’t be possible after years of tearing each other apart, digging in fingers and pulling until they drew blood.

Valentino doesn’t ever want to go there again. He doesn’t ever want to lose this.

Marc is breathing softly against his arm, still, quiet, perfect.

“I want to marry you,” he murmurs.

Silence. His stomach drops.

Marc’s inhale catches in the back of his throat, halfway to a snore, and Valentino laughs, gentle so he doesn’t wake him. He plucks the coffee cup, dangling precariously, from slack fingers, and places it on the side table.

——

iii.

They’ve created a routine over the past few months.

(Valentino’s stomach jumps every time he thinks about it, thinks about how they’re falling into habits, into familiarity. Every time, he smiles.)

It’s their last day together for a while: Marc is leaving later, and Valentino flies early in the morning to get to his GT race. But the routine doesn’t change. He’s making lunch for them. Marc is upstairs—his phone had rung, insistent, and he’d groaned but pulled away, leaving Valentino to chop the rest of their salad.

Marc emerges after nearly twenty-five minutes, eyebrows pinched together, but accepts the plate Valentino slides towards him with a distracted smile.

“Everything okay?” Valentino asks.

“Ah, my accountant.” Marc scowls. “Apparently I am spending too much time in Italy.”

Valentino can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

“It’s not funny,” Marc says, almost whines. “It’s a tax thing. Between all the time I spend here, and time at the factory—not enough in Spain, apparently.”

Shrugging, Valentino taps one finger on the table. “We could get married.”

Marc snorts. “Would that help?”

“I don’t know. I am very bad to ask about tax advice, remember?”

“Me too.” Marc stabs a piece of his salad—viciously, in Valentino’s opinion.

“Don’t frown. It will be okay.”

“I can hide here. It is difficult for you to be in Madrid.”

“It will be okay,” Valentino repeats. “And remember, we can always get married.”

He thinks he deserves it when Marc throws a slice of bread at him.

——

iv.

Clouds hang heavy on the mountains in Spielberg, threatening rain but holding off for now. Valentino leaves Luca with a last pat on the shoulder, weaving his way up the grid towards Franky’s starting spot.

It’s slow going, stopped every few steps, shaking hands with people he recognises, people he doesn’t.

“Valentino—Valentino!”

It’s Laverty, and Valentino doesn’t mind that because he doesn’t tend to ask stupid questions. He indulges the interview, long past acceptance of the fact that he built his own mythos and will never be left alone for the rest of his life. Yes, he’s doing well, thank you. Yes, it’s nice to be on the grid. Yes, he’s proud of his boys. Yes, he’s still enjoying racing with BMW.

“And a final question,” Michael says. “You seem like you and Marc Márquez have finally buried the hatchet. Is everything put to bed? How did you manage it?”

Maybe Michael Laverty does ask stupid questions.

Perhaps he should have been expecting it, because clasping hands before a race, sharing a smile under the podium—people notice. Especially when the norm used to be nothing at all, or worse.

“Ah, you know.” He has plenty of shields for the media, and it’s no problem to pull out an old favourite. “We talked. Dinner with candles. It is all going very well. Maybe soon we get married.”

Michael laughs, loud and boisterous, like Vale hasn’t just wrapped up the truth in a pretty package and presented it as a joke. He smiles, camera-easy, and returns Michael’s ciao.

It’s only when he turns around that he realises Álex and Bez, lined up side-by-side on the grid, are staring at him.

——

Misano is hot, sweltering August-end heat. Valentino is sweating under his cap and sunglasses, pressed in a red throng of Ducati engineers. One-two. Red on red.

It’s Marc who’d won, victorious in the battle of weaving-turning-diving along long straights and through heavy-brake corners. Pecco had given him a good fight, an Italian classic of a race; he’s smiling at Marc, learning to enjoy the scrappy thrill of battle as well as the ease of a flawless win.

Marc’s shining, beaming at his team, smiling down the cameras, alive under the sun. Valentino swallows down the urge to kiss him, if only because their comms officers would kill them both.

The podium has never seemed so long. Media obligations have never seemed so long. It’s an age before they’re alone, motorhome door locked, and Valentino has Marc, to himself, finally.

He used to think Marc was too much for him, in danger of eclipsing him, their implosion inevitable as two brilliant stars orbited closer, closer, too close. Too much light for the world to handle.

If he met that version of himself now, Valentino thinks he would shake him.

Marc glows, yes, but there’s a brightness that only Valentino gets to see, one that erupts out in starbursts of ecstasy when they’re together, when Valentino is pushing inside him, when Marc is staring up at him like there’s nothing else in the world.

Valentino stops, earning a petulant glare; even that’s breathtaking. How—how—he can’t find the words.

“I think,” Valentino forces out, elbows taking his weight, “I want to marry you.”

Marc blinks, face suddenly cutting, incredulous. “You are telling me this now?” He’s a livewire, crackling with sparks, hot with triumph, shooting static through Valentino’s skin. He’s beautiful. Valentino wants to see this for the rest of his life, so yeah, he’s saying it now.

He tilts his hips, and the disbelief is gone, washed away as Marc gasps. It’s something like reverence now—but not how it used to be. Nothing that Valentino could shatter this time, even though he still wants to hold it close.

Contrary as always, Marc winds fingers through his hair, pulls him down for a breathless kiss—and Valentino smiles into it, because he can do this, he can have this effect on Marc, still. Still.

“Vale—”

He’s helpless when it’s Marc. Still. Always.

When they’re finished, when they’re lying curled into each other, Valentino breathing heavy into Marc’s hair, Marc looks up, eyes narrowed.

“You did well today,” Valentino tells him softly, and the hard expression is gone once again, replaced with a different kind of wonder.

“Did you mean it?”

He knows what Marc means. “Yes.”

Marc nods. “Ask me again. Another time.”

It’s—Valentino smiles again. “That was not a no.”

——

It’s not a bad crash—it’s not, not by the metrics of this sport, not compared to what it could have been, what it has been in the past.

It’s not bad, but it could have been: Marc, bumped wide by Acosta, unable to save it, sliding helplessly through the corner apex—and Bez, unsighted, trying to avoid the recovering KTM, sailing past his braking point towards Marc, and almost—almost.

It’s not bad, but it was close, and when Marc is back in the paddock, when he’s speaking to cameras, when he’s with his engineers, there’s something wild about him, something faraway sitting behind his eyes, and Valentino knows. He knows.

(He still dreams, sometimes, of Austria; not of the crash, but the feeling of it, the prickle at the back of his skull, the cold finger-brush of something not right. The almost that he didn’t see coming.)

So he waits. Marc is settled enough, trusts him enough, to reach for him when he needs him. Valentino trusts Marc enough to let him.

The knock on his motorhome door comes long after the chequered flag has fallen. Valentino doesn’t get up, knows Marc will let himself in.

“Sorry. Pedro wanted to talk—I am not angry, but good he apologised.”

“That’s okay,” Valentino says, gentle.

Marc drifts, loose, unmoored, towards the sofa, folds his legs underneath him, presses into Valentino’s space. Valentino lets him, waits for him to speak.

Marc is shaking. Not a lot, just enough for Valentino to notice when he takes his hand.

“Okay?”

He’s not, of course he’s not, but it’s a door nudged ajar, an opening if Marc wants to take it.

“That was—close.”

“Yeah.”

“I was—watching the bike.” Marc swallows. “Just—that was all I could do. Watch it coming towards me.”

Valentino pulls their joined hands up, presses a kiss to the back of Marc’s.

Marc’s next exhale trembles in the space between them.

“You’re okay.”

“If Bez didn’t turn—”

If. Almost. “You’re okay,” Valentino says again, because he needs to hear it himself. Marc’s fingers clench in his. “Okay? Look, you are holding my hand. You’re okay.”

It won’t be long before Marc is through this, before he’s smiling, before he’s raring to climb on his bike again. Not yet, though. Valentino knows—he knows.

“We should get married,” Marc says abruptly.

“I have been saying—”

“Seriously.”

Valentino takes him in: pinched eyebrows; hair flattened from his Ducati cap; pursed lips. “I think I am offended, that you only ask me after today.”

Marc pulls his hand away, the laugh jolting out of him. “Valentino—”

“And you are asking me in a motorhome—really, I would have taken my hoodie off at least—”

“Vale,” Marc groans, but he’s there, he’s smiling, he’s back.

He can’t stop a smile twitching the corners of his lips in return. “Yes?”

“That was not a no.”

Valentino takes his hand again.

#quite possibly the most self indulgent thing i've ever written #offering it up to you like the lion king baby #domestic fluff! they think they're funny!#motogp rpf #rosquez #marc marquez #valentino rossi #academy boys as background characters #cara.fic #motogp fic #ftwy

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yaoigovroom · 10 days

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A couple of scenes from my fic...

#myart #marc marquez #marco bezzecchi #marcmarc #bezquez #marcbez #is marcmarc the official ship name fr i used it before but i also rly like bezquez oof! IDK #motogp #motogp rpf #the first pic has been slowcooking in my head for a few days.. def things i communicate better with drawings lol like #so many things. idk. i cant put it into words obviously but hope it shows through here <3 #sry to be annoying and shill my fic but it was lovingly cooked in dms with oomf ok please have a lookies if you want !!!!

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formulapookie · 3 months

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Under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3 <3

I'll commit your every scar to my memory rosquez, 6k words

(set 2025)

Marc has been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now.

Inspecting for every micro feature which signaled he was getting older.

He doesn’t want to get older, he can’t.

All his career, his success had come when he was a kid and he had been nicknamed “alien” for it goddamnit.

youngest pole sitter, youngest podium finisher, youngest winner, youngest champion.

key word being young.

he doesn't feel old, but older, god yes. Everyday.

A new source of pain coming out, an old one resurfacing, the fear of falling behind, of not fitting in anymore and of running out of time.

All present and heavy on his body, which took the hit every time.

Why he thinks that, he isn’t sure.

But he feels like he must get everything now or it will all have been useless.

It’s been one year now since he and Vale reconciled, and nine months since they made their relationship official, but only to intimate friends and their families, since Marc was still a target in the paddock, and they both knew that having a gay relationship wasn’t exactly the greatest thing to share in a sport like theirs.

And while the respective families had reacted well (except for a bit of skepticism on Alex’s side) the Academy had been more bitter, especially Uccio, but it was to be expected since he is so obviously in love with Vale since the dawn of time.

The mirror in their room at the Ranch keeps reflecting his toned and muscled body, along with his freshly shaved face and regrowing curls.

If he has to be honest he isn’t the one who brought up the aging thing.

First Vale, at his birthday, after he was officially a Ducati factory rider for that year, telling him he was “growing up”, getting closer to 35.

And it terrified Marc.

Then his brother, joking about him retiring so that he could be the only Marquez on the grid “haste que tu y Mr doctor creéis un hijo con magia y aterroricen a MotoGP” (Until you and Mr Doctor will create a son with magic and terrorize MotoGP)

And finally Bezzecchi two weeks ago.

He was talking to Celestino, to which he seemed glued to the hip, almost symbiotic, as if they only existed one attached to the other.

“Sta invecchiando comunque, magari Vale con i gusti per i più piccoli che ha se ne trova uno più giovane e meno sfasciato” (He’s aging by the way, maybe Vale with his taste for younger people will find a younger and less broken one)

“Sei un coglione Marco dai” (Marco you’re a dickhead come on)

“Dico la verità, magari tra una settimana ci porta un ragazzetto di 20 anni che lo guarda con gli occhi a cuoricino e che non sia mezzo pieno di cicatrici” (I’m saying the truth, maybe in a week the he’ll come to us with a 20 year old boy who looks at him heart-eyed and who’s not half covered in scars)

“Immagini? Tanta fatica e poi se ne sbatte un altro”

(Can you imagine? So much trouble and he ends up fucking another guy)

“Sarebbe karma” (Would be karma)

Marc had been hidden behind the door throughout the whole conversation, and a wave of nausea and vomit overwhelmed him, causing him to rush silently to the toilet and throw up.

Maybe they were right.

He was getting older, Vale had said that himself, joking about his smile lines.

He had started exercising even more, buying more products for skincare and trying to act like he was 20 again.

And suddenly he didn’t feel pretty anymore, he just wanted to ride a couple laps on the dirt track and forget about it.

He looks at himself one last time, not failing to notice the faint line of a wrinkle in the corner of his eyes staring right back at him, menacing.

He puts on his gear, ignoring everyone in the kitchen and heading straight for the track, grabbing the bike with the bright orange “93” plastered on front.

It’s the best way to shut his mind off, it’s just him and the track, the bike being a direct extension of his body.

He completes ten, twelve, fifteen laps then he slips, bike flying out of his hands and his body tumbling down in the dirt.

His arm hurts, but his brain aches more.

Finished finished finished.

He goes to grab the bike to climb on it again when he feels a pair of arms around his body. Vale.

“Are you ok Marc? Do I need to grab your painkillers? I’ll help you back on the bike if-” the older one gets cut off harshly by Marc, who has pain in his eyes

“I can still do things Valentino you know?”

He's angry, his tone bitter and his words harsh.

He’s not like that and Vale knows, he’s tender when they speak, they’ve hurt each other way too much already to be cruel to one another now.

Vale has a concerned expression painted on his face, his eyes quickly running to Marc’s right arm, then to his face again.

“Let me get up”

“Ok but-“

“I want to do some other laps let me do them”

it’s not a plea, or a begging, his voice is resolute and firm.

Vale is visibly worried, but lets him.

He looks as Marc gets back on the bike and restarts, the corner of his eyes caught by Bezz and Celin giggling between themselves.

Marc gets off the bike after one hour, when his body cannot take it anymore and his brain is foggy enough with thoughts about breaking, turning, speeding.

He leaves the bike in the garage, stripping out of his leathers, the only clothing underneath a sleeveless adherent black top, half dirty from soil and grass.

And just when he was convinced to have sedated the thoughts for at least a good few hours his eyes trace the outline of his scar, dead tissue on his arm.

He goes to their bedroom bathroom quickly, to avoid more sensations to overwhelm him, getting into the shower and turning the hot water on, letting it rinse away scenarios where he’s not present in Vale’s future. He spends at least twenty minutes under the water, washing himself carefully and almost trying to clean away the scars littering his body, obviously without succeeding.

As he gets out of the bathroom he’s only wearing a towel around his hips, and he inevitably meets his reflection staring back at him from the mirror.

He wants so desperately to see the 20 year old wonderkid he used to be, but that’s his past. Marc knows time passes for everyone, it takes from you, sometimes more than it should, sometimes it’s harsher on your body and sometimes on your soul.

He isn’t fucking eighty he knows that but still. He’s grown. He’s not the starstruck kid Vale first met and with whom shared many nights during their rivalry.

He’s a grown man now, he looks different, he can see the tiredness in his own eyes, pain sometimes so much it eats his body whole, the same pain which has him stay awake some nights.

And he knows Vale is older than him but Vale is also Vale and no one in their right mind would ever question his capacities or greatness, not even if he was 90.

And like Bezzecchi said he had a taste for youngsters, full of life and ready to do whatever he said as if it was a command.

He used to be one of those, but now…

He hears his name getting called downstairs for dinner, yells back he’s getting dressed and will soon be there.

He avoids the mirror while changing, his body feels wrong every time he tries to look at it, his face transpires the worry sleeping in his chest.

They all eat together, Pecco is there too, he’s getting used to sharing spaces with his future teammate which is good, but Bezzecchi is there too, casting funny glances at his best friend making them both giggle while sometimes looking over at Marc. He speaks maybe four words during the whole dinner, his brain feeling like it’s underwater and needs to be saved from drowning into the abyss.

As they finish eating he helps clean up the table and when he’s proposed to stay and watch a movie he fakes a headache, heading upstairs and leaving the academy to enjoy their time.

Not even two minutes later he’s in his boxers under the sheets, back turned to the glassy hell his mirror has become.

He hears the door opening and quiet steps making their way to him.

“Ei amore, everything ok?”

Vale’s tone is tender and caring, something which only surfaced once they reconciled, a side of Vale making him humane, not the cold and distant concept of a God Marc still had in the back of his mind.

It was good in a way, but on the other hand it made him feel weak, like he needed to be spoken softly otherwise he would’ve broken like glass.

“Si, I’m a bit tired and have a headache, can we just…can we just sleep?”

It was the most obvious of the answers, the fakest one, and yet the only one he could give him at that moment.

Valentino nods, taking off his shirt and pants and climbing into bed, Marc laying his head on Vale’s stomach, feeling the man’s hand stroke his curls gently.

Valentino is tired too, he had to follow an event all day and close a contract for VR46, he falls asleep in a half hour, while Marc has his eyes wide open in the darkness of a night lightened only by a pale moon in the distant sky.

He hears his mind speaking again, telling him how he’s not himself anymore, he’s not what Vale wants and he’s not the best Vale can have, because afterall he is THE Valentino Rossi and everyone wants a piece of him and Vale could feel entitled to request a piece of every one just because of who he is.

You’re not the one Vale deserves.

He could have them younger, prettier, faster, better.

He could have someone he can be seen with, with someone he could bring to races and shit like it was normal to do.

He could have someone who didn’t try to fight him so hard back then.

A new rookie maybe, fast, magnetic, idolizing him.

Vale would have every right to just let him go to find someone who doesn’t look so broken, who doesn’t risk getting more and more broken every week.

Perhaps he wants children.

And well for how much you can adopt kids maybe, no surely, Vale wants his kid to look and be like him.

Marc doesn’t cry, but just because he’s too afraid of waking Vale up, and surely seeing him acting so pathetic would be the last straw Vale would need to leave him and go find someone else.

So he doesn’t, he cries a lot internally, he tries to trace every mole on Valenitno’s body because he’s so afraid that in a matter of time he’ll be unable to see him like this again.

or feel the heat of his body next to his own.

Afraid to wake up without the smell of his shampoo or go to sleep missing the pair of arms that are holding him at this moment.

He manages to fall asleep after more than an hour, thoughts feasting on his brain like worms on a carcass, the same word echoing endlessly in his mind.

useless

He wakes up to an empty bed, no sign of Valentino in the room whatsoever, and he imagines his life could become like this in a matter of time.

He doesn’t understand how those little comments managed to get under his skin so much, he had never been the one to take those things to heart because…

because he had never actually believed any of that shit talk before.

But now he’s the first one to think that, the first to indulge on it.

He can feel a sense of inadequacy crawling in bed with him, wrapping his hands around his throat and slowly depriving him of the chance to breathe.

It’s burning and it hurts like hell, it’s ugly.

He scrambles to the bathroom, throwing up bent over the toilet, coughing and sniffing like during the worst hangover of his life.

He can make out rushed steps coming to the door, Valentino crouching down to level himself with Marc, stroking his hair and back, worry painted in his eyes.

“Marc, do you want me to get you something? Are you ok?”

Weak, undeserving, not enough

That fuckin voice doesn’t shut up goddamnit, it haunts his mind and poisons everything coming in close contact with him.

What if it can poison Vale?

What if by standing so close to Marc he’ll end up being corrupted by this voice?

No no no, he’d rather suffer alone and watch Vale be happy with someone else rather than seeing him hurting.

Because that’s what Marc is when it comes to who he loves.

Selfless, adoring and ready to let go, because he knows he’s not an easy person to put up with so he never pushes.

“No I’m ok I just didn’t digest dinner well that’s all”

“Marc”

“I told you it was yesterday’s dinner Vale, I’m already feeling better, see?”

And he smiles, the fake PR smile Vale has seen hundreds of times, he could recognise Marc’s true smile in a crowd full of people, his laugh in a room filled with clowns and most of all he could recognise Marc hurting in a massacre.

His eyes are lifeless, a veil of something trapping the joy and happiness inside, not letting them see the sun.

“Marc tell me what’s going on because you’re not ok and I am not letting you leave the room until you’ve told me what’s happening”

“I decide if I can get out of the room or not Vale, you’re not my mom, I told you i’m ok so let me go thank you”

Vale wants to stop him but he knows it would be worse, Marc would shut down and respond robotically to questions he dreads to know the real answer to.

“Marc. I won’t force you ok? But please tell me what’s going on, you look-”

“I know what I look like there’s no need to tell me”

Marc thinks of old, spent, expired, outdated.

All different words to mean only one thing.

undesirable.

And weak.

He fucking threw up in front of Vale, he almost had tears in his eyes, he had to come up with his fake smile he knew Vale would recognise, he’s so fucking stupid god how can he act like that and hope to still have a chance in keeping Vale.

He gets past him, putting on a pair of joggers and a short sleeved shirt of his and walks out the room, grabbing his biker boots and protective jacket by the entrance and putting them on, ignoring the boys sitting in the living room looking at him with curiosity.

Probably he yelled before, and they heard him.

Amazing.

He slams the door shut behind him and goes to grab his street bike.

Once he’s put the helmet on he’s alone.

Truly alone.

No other voices or sounds, not even the one in his head.

It’s quiet, like one of the earliest nights he remembers sharing with Valentino, the one in Aragon perhaps, or the many in between races when they could wander off in one of Vale’s secret spots and share everything, even the silence.

He starts the bike and goes for a ride, a long one, he didn’t bring his phone with him so he doesn't know how long precisely.

He comes back home once he’s hungry and beginning to feel tired.

Once again he doesn’t dwell on the academy boys watching him, he can only imagine what they’re saying.

He doesn’t let the thoughts come to him this time though, he just heads straight for the shower and gets ready for lunch.

Vale is an amazing cook, he prepared something that smells delicious, but Marc can’t eat more than half a plate before already feeling nauseous.

He eats everything anyway, he doesn’t want to upset Vale more, so he forces every fork until he clears the plate.

“Vale” it’s Bezzecchi’s voice, he has a strange tone to it “how’s Pedro? didn’t you say he should come to the ranch soon? To see what he’s capable of off track?”

Marc doesn’t want to suppose things, but the way he says the last sentence sends shivers down his spine

20, fast, starstruck by Vale, not half covered in scars.

Check, check, check, check.

The qualities Bezzecchi talked about a few weeks prior are all part of Pedro.

Marc excuses himself from the table for the second time in a row, feeling bad about doubting Vale but also not holding him responsible if that came up to be the case.

He had said it himself he was now the past of MotoGP, and Pedro the future.

Bezzecchi cackles from the table, Celestino elbows him in his ribcage, earning a harsh stare from his friend.

Vale just sits at the table, looking in the direction Marc had disappeared to, trying to understand what was going on with his boyfriend, because he truly has no idea and is scared something had happened outside of the peace of the Ranch, maybe someone finding out about them and threatening Marc to reveal their relationship to the public.

He decides to leave him alone for a while, maybe he’s just not used to having all these people around all the time and needs his space, a moment alone to quiet down his brain.

He spends the afternoon with the boys, racing around the track, checking and analyzing data and talking about Bezz’s newfound harmony with Aprilia.

The clock hits eight pm and they’re all hungry as hell, so the boys quickly make their way to the bedrooms to take their showers and change, since they also decided to go out tonight for a party held by one of Bezz’s DJ friends.

Meanwhile Marc had stayed in the room the whole time, spending half of it crying his eyes out because he couldn’t stop thinking about what if Valentino actually decided to break up with him again and the feeling of emptiness he would feel eventually.

The other half he spent it trying to understand how to make himself look younger for Vale, which clothes to wear, how to act, to talk, to lie when his arm hurt while they were having sex.

Fucking pathetic

He wishes he could tear his brain outside of his skull, anything not to hear that sharp voice commenting his every move and look, he just wants the world inside his mind to shut the hell up and leave him be, at least for a few hours, just that.

A few hours where he doesn’t have to worry about being abandoned by the one person he loves more than life.

A few hours where he can love himself again.

But his brain doesn’t concede him neither those few hours, it’s a machine programmed to drive him insane, unstoppable.

Vale knocks on the door, he recognises their passcode, never changed during all those years spent together.

“Dinner is in five minutes, are you coming?”

“Yes yes, just let me get dressed and I’ll be there”

“Ok, see you downstairs amore”

It cuts deep, the bug whispering in his ear the word amore is just a way to keep him close for need, not driven by real feelings.

He comes down two minutes later, a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt he stole from Vale not so long ago, still smelling like him.

He smiles softly at the man, sitting beside him, across Pecco, who greets him with a nod.

The boys eat in a rush, not speaking a word, apparently they were supposed to meet some other guys by nine and they’re never going to make it on time.

They practically absorb their food and are out the door in twenty minutes, in Luca’s car off to the bar they set as a rendez-vous point.

And so he and Vale are left alone.

He doesn't know how long it’s been since the last time they were completely alone, not even that annoying guard dog of Uccio staining the environment.

“You’re really beautiful tonight amore”

Lie

“My shirt looks really pretty on you, makes you look smaller”

He doesn’t actually like it

“Want to go upstairs?”

He just needs a release, not you.

“Yeah sure” he’s convincing, Vale doesn’t seem to notice his body twitching when his fingers touch his arm.

They reach their bedroom, Vale guiding Marc towards the bed, hands running under the stolen shirt to go catch on his abs, fingers looking for a strong grip.

They share a sweet kiss, nothing like the ones shared after their battles on track, quick, charged and filled with need.

Marc knows Vale wants those back, not these ones, too plain and domestic for him to ever like.

So he tries to pull the switch, biting at Vale’s lip, pressing himself against him, backing up until his body is caged between the wall and Valentino, who looks rather surprised at the sudden change of attitude.

“Fuck me Vale come on” it feels dirty, demanding, but that was exactly like he was back then, and he so desperately needs to feel like that again.

Vale’s lips are on his neck, biting and sucking hard, matching Marc’s tone.

It’s not what he wants, it’s what Vale wants.

And that is enough for him, he’ll just try to enjoy what was probably going to be one of the last nights together, and he didn’t want Valentino to resent him for it too.

He’ll just have to relax, think about Vale’s happiness and take it.

After one particularly harsh bite he winces, but so quickly Vale cannot register it while dragging him to bed.

The grip on his wrist is strong, possessive, needy.

It’s what Vale wants, stop being fucking selfish and let him have it.

The voice is right, he cannot be selfish and wish for Vale to stick around out of pity.

He needs to earn his lover back, who cares if he has to do things he doesn’t want to do?

In the end it’s all for love.

He lets Valentino undress him, sharp teeth attacking his nipple, making him moan loudly, he’s exaggerating a bit his actions but it’s for a good cause.

He keeps repeating to himself this is ok to do, he really wants to please Vale, it’s not bad, he used to like the sharpness and rush of adrenaline that came with battling on track so why should this be different?

He feels Vale’s hand cupping him through his boxers and he thrusts his hips up, eyes closed and hands gripping both on Vale’s hair and back, keeping him there.

“You smell so good Marc, never going to let you go”

And that’s where Marc loses his battle with himself.

He tries to keep it in but a sob comes out anyway, a tear rolling out of his eye and ending up on the pillow underneath his head.

And Vale knows Marc. He knows the difference between a sob due to pleasure and this.

This is not Marc enjoying it so much he cries, this is Marc not enjoying it at all.

He stops, getting up and sitting in front of Marc who has his eyes closed, hands balled into fists and his mouth shut in a rigid and thin line.

He’s fucked it up, he let his own feelings ruin everything again.

He doesn’t want to look at Vale, to see the disappointment and displeasure which surely the older has in his eyes right now.

He can’t bear to see how pathetic he is in Valentino’s eyes.

You ruined it for him, good job.

His head echoes with this thought, he was almost there, so close to faking it perfectly but he had to fucking cry.

He didn’t even cry in front of Vale when he told the world he hated him and he should be off the sport, but he cries for this.

“Marc?” Valentino’s voice is filled with something, it sounds like concern, fear almost.

“Marc, would you open your eyes?” no he can’t he fucking can’t because they’re filled with tears that are just going to spill out if he does, he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want Vale to see him weak and scarred and broken.

“Amore please, what’s going on? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry if I did just please open your eyes and tell me”

There, now Vale even thinks it’s his own fault, amazing, really fucking amazing, another step towards separation.

Vale is so fucking worried right now, Marc is practically crying in front of him, trying to hold his tears in to seem tough but his body is shivering and his lips already trembling.

If he seriously went overboard and hurt him he’s going to punch himself in the face, he would never want to wound Marc.

“Amore?” It sounds like a plea, and it is, he’s begging for an answer, because he has to know what he’s done wrong.

Was he too harsh? Too demanding? Did he hurt his arm? How many possible things may he have done wrong?

Marc gathers what little forces he has left and props himself up, sitting on the bed and opening his eyes, but he doesn’t look at Vale.

He wouldn’t be able to see him even if he wanted to, tears clouding his vision and falling on the bed.

Vale grabs the shirt he discarded earlier on the bed, the one with a wrinkled 46 printed in front in a now not so bright yellow font.

“You’re shivering Marc put this on, you’ll get sick if you don’t” he lets Vale dress him, he feels like he doesn’t have control on his body and it makes him go insane.

He always needs to have control, otherwise how can he handle reality?

He finally manages to look up at Vale, and the man can see the pain rooted deep into his stare, and he aches.

He aches because how could he not notice how much Marc was truly hurting? His eyes look like the ones he had back in 2014, after the press conference where he first broke his heart.

God that stare, the haunted gaze he had that day, it will haunt him forever.

A kid, he was a kid and he managed to kill him.

And now he looks like that kid again. Confused, hurt, crushed and dead.

“I-I’m sorry I ruined it Vale, I didn’t mean to I-” he stops, a hiccup interrupting his words “I can’t I’m not what you need right now and I get it” What was he saying? What does he mean not what Vale needed? He is everything Vale needs and way more than what he deserves.

“I just…I thought I could at least still let you have this but I can’t even fucking bring myself to ignore myself for this while”

Vale is so confused right now, because he doesn’t understand. Why is Marc talking like he’s going to fucking die in a minute? Why should he ignore himself?

He has so many questions but he cannot even pose one, his lips sealed by incredulity.

And Marc on the other hand feels like he isn’t even deserving of an answer, he wants to scream and cry and beg Vale for a chance, but he doesn’t.

Finally Vale manages to speak up, the feeling of instability being suppressed by the need to understand what was killing Marc’s mind.

“Marc, what are you saying? let me have what? you didn’t ruin everything and what’s with the 'I'm not what you need’ thing?”

It looks so real to Marc now, the concern and the preoccupation radiating from Vale.

You failed him, you just had to shut up and endured and you fai-

For the first time this week he manages to shut the voice up, sending it back to the hell it came from long enough to be aware of the fact Vale really cares about him.

He breaks down, crying in front of the man he loves for the first time.

It’s ugly and messy, and he’s fuckinging exhausted, he wants to hold Vale, he wants to be held by him, he needs to feel at home.

And even if he doesn’t say that explicitly Vale gets it, he throws his arms around the boy, keeping him there for a while, not bothering to check how long, he places him on his lap, Marc’s ruffled hair tickling his neck as he continues sobbing into his collarbone, shoulders shivering at every sound.

He gets his head up from Vale’s neck, and fixes his gaze on Vale’s.

“Please Vale promise me you won’t leave me for someone younger and prettier, because I know you could do that anytime if you wanted because you deserve it but please don’t, I know I’m not beautiful like before and that I’m broken now and that you should be with someone who doesn’t hurt himself every week and I know I can’t do what I did before in bed but I swear I’ll try to do it again, and and I get it you could have anyone because you’re you but I only want you please please I love you I can’t let you go I need to be with you I know it’s so pathetic and dumb but I beg of you don’t leave me”

He rushes his words out, one attached to the other not caring anymore if he sounds weak, his face is now completely wet with tears and Vale’s shirt is soaked as well, but he doesn’t care, it feels like he let go of an enormous weight and is finally free.

Vale's answer comes like a helping hand to a drowning person, the hand that grabs yours and drags you out of the angry waves keeping you underwater, your lungs burning.

“Marc I- I don’t even know where to start I mean…why would I ever leave you if you’re the best thing I ever got the chance to have in my life? Why would I need someone younger when I have you and how could I want someone prettier when no one’s more perfect than you?

You’re right you’re not as beautiful as before, you’re far more breathtaking now, and you’re everything but broken, do you think that just because you fell and injured yourself you aren’t attractive to me anymore? Those scars symbolize you never giving up. They are one of the most attractive things you have, amore.

Marc I don’t care if we cannot have that rushed sex we used to have when we raced together, I love what we do now, I adore it, I feel much more connected to you, back then it was adrenaline and desire, now it’s love and need, I wouldn’t trade it for any sum on money in the world you must know this, I would never want to hurt you or force you to have sex with me if it hurts you, ok?

And I don’t fucking care I am who I am, or the fact I could have anyone else because

I. have. you.

And you’re the only one I want or need or dream about sharing my life with, you get it?

I love you Marc Marquez and I’ll be damned if I let these thoughts get to you and make you act like that.

I’m never going to leave unless you want me to, because I already left once and I hurt you and myself and I cannot go through it again.

It was the worst period of my life because I looked for you every night and you weren’t there, because of me.

I should be the on worrying about you leaving me because of what I did, never never never the opposite”

And now Vale is crying too, his eyes holding onto Marc’s gaze like his life depends on it, like he needs an answer to breathe again, because he too feels like he’s drowning and being brought to safety by his lover.

“You still love me? You swear?” It sounds so feeble and desperate Vale wants to open his chest with his bare hands and gift Marc his heart as proof of his love, because the only way he could doubt his love for him would be Vale not showing it enough, not doing everything the boy needed to feel loved.

“Of course I still love you Marc, I never stopped, and I never will, I want to share my whole life with you, you are my star and I will never let you say those things about yourself again, got it?”

“Even if I’m older now? I’ve got scars and lines and I look-”

“You look perfect. Listen I know I said I don’t believe in therapy and all that shit but I just- it’s just I didn’t like what they told me there and I decided to shit on it, but it actually helped me realize I still loved you and if you need to go there to understand how much I love you I’ll pay for it, I’ll bring you to your appointments and I’ll accept whatever outcome you get from it”

It feels good now, to Marc. It’s like he got dragged out of a stormy ocean onto a tropical beach, sunny, warm, quiet and calm.

Quiet.

No wretched voice demonizing or belittling him, just Vale, the only other presence on his dream beach, so close to him he can feel their hearts beating in unison.

He locks his fingers with Vale’s, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah I- I want to go, because I don’t want to feel like this again, I need to free my mind. Do you understand me? It’s so full it feels like it’s going to explode”

Yes, Vale knows. He’s gone through it more than he likes to admit, and he just nods, pulling Marc even closer, pressing a sweet kiss on his forehead, feeling the boy relax under his touch.

Marc tilts his head, looking up at Vale, and goes to plant a soft kiss on the man’s lips.

No rush, no lust, nothing except deep love and trust, a feeling of peace hovering over the couple who drifts to sleep together, Marc being able to dream of a beautiful snippet of his life with Vale, them together at the Ranch, not worrying anymore about hiding because Marc is retired and nobody will say anything, Stitch and Shira running after a kid with big blue eyes in the garden, the academy boys discussing who’s the favorite uncle.

Marc and Valentino holding hands, Marc’s head on Vale’s shoulder as they look at the little girl laughing, playing with the dogs and the grass.

It’s domestic, soft, and quiet.

So quiet.

The only sound being the laughter coming from their friends and families and the dogs panting behind the buzzing girl.

She looks like Vale.

She calls him and Marc picks her up, she smiles, they’re happy.

There’s no need to worry anymore, Vale never left him, Marc neither, they went through Marc’s insecurities together, they didn’t let go of eachother.

In the real world Valentino is smiling, putting Marc to bed, covering him with their sheets, dreaming of the same thing.

A life, a future with Marc.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #angst #lots of angst #tw throwing up #tw self hate #tw intrusive thoughts #marc marquez #valentino rossi #bezz #celin #pecco #vr46 riders academy #motogp fic #motogp rpf

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ray935sworld · 3 months

Text

Thunderstorm and children's laughter

Valentino Rossi was sound asleep when his little brother woke him up. Nothing he wasn't used to by now. Afterall there was a nasty thunderstorm and Luca was only 4. Except he wasn't. The night before he was 26, like the rest of the academy.

Rosquez with academy fluff (~5.5k words)

Vale was actually not already awake. He was lost in a dreamless sleep. The summer heat had hit them with another hit. It was too much for his brain to actually function. Even making up dreams felt like too much effort. So he didn’t really lost much when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. It was a tight grip but without much strength.

A warm summer night in Tavullia.

Disorientated he turned towards the movement. He was still light-headed as it was the pressure that had woken him up. He blinked a few times. He was confused but his brain remembered what a tiny hand on his arm meant. It was the silent code he and his baby brother made when he needed something.

“Tino“ It was barely more than a whisper. It could easily pass as a hiss rather than an actual word. But Vale would recognize it easily. It was small, barely even audible but the voice made all his attention focus on the spoken words. He had learned to hear it over the sound of deafening motors, screams and laughter. He could identify it over loud music and yelling, no matter how far away. He had sworn to protect the little voice and now he would recognize the voice of his baby brother anywhere.

He was used to it by now. Since his mom had his little brother, he just had to adore Luca. When he first learned about his mother’s pregnancy, he was unsure how to approach the situation. He and his younger sibling would have a large age gap. He would be a lot away with racing. He feared that he wouldn’t be able to be actually involved in his siblings life. He didn’t want them to resent him for that. But ever since Luca had been born, the young adult had realized that his worry had been silly. Luca seemed to be glued to him every time he was visiting his mom. And he loved waddling to him in the middle of the night. He often insisted on sleeping in his bed which caused Vale to take the coach, as he didn’t want to risk hurting him.

This must be one of these times. “Ciao bambino” he answered and smiled. He opened his eyes. He was so tired he felt like his eyelashes were glued together. He had gone to bed way too late to be already up again. But he couldn’t remember what had kept him awake.

The child in front of him was undeniable Luca, but he couldn’t be older than 4. Therefore Vale’s tired brain had decided that it must be at some point in the summer of 2001. Luca hadn’t even been 4 years old back then. He was about to turn 4 and Vale was determined to spend the birthday with his brother. He had gotten him a mini bike, helmet, a suite and everything to make sure his brother was safe after the little one had constantly expressed curiosity in the work of the older brother.

He chuckled about the way he could only see his shoulder when he had his head pressed against the mattress. Luca’s longer hair was falling in his face. He’d soon have to cut them again. The strains were slowly getting long enough to reach his eyes. He looked at him. The two piercing blue eyes had small tears in them. He had been crying. He noticed the tears and his giggles was muted. He looked at his red eyes. His cheeks had a trail of water on them. How did he not notice immediately? Worry overtook him. He stretched his arms out to quickly brush the tears away. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked. His voice caring and full of love.

“Weather scary” he whispered. It was only then that Vale’s senses kicked him. He heard loud rustling. At first it was only quite then it got suddenly louder. It sounded metallic and plastic at the same time. The wind was howling while kicking the window shutter. It was raining. The drops were tipping the roof and made a natural rhythm. It was undeniable loud. The bedrooms were directly under the roof so there was not much space that could have silenced the noises. It was Luca’s whimper when a loud bang silenced all those noises. A thunder crashed. A summer thunderstorm had woken the little kid. It scared the boy and that was the only thing he cared about right now.

“Awe, do you want to cuddle?” he asked softly and pulled him closer. He sat up a little bit to put his arm under the armpits of his brother. He lifted him easily. “I promise, I will protect you no matter what. I have experience with some of the worst storms in the history of -“ He wanted to fall in a story to distract his brother while settling him on his side. But therefore he had to move to the side. While moving, he felt a leg next him. Someone was lain next to him. But for the love of god, he would never bring an one night stands to his mom’s house since and his relationship – oh.

He realized he might had the wrong date. In 2001 he wasn’t dating anyone. But in 2024 he was. He had been in a long term relationship since 2020. Again.

He turned around. There he was. His boyfriend. The love of his life. He smiled. A sleeping Marc Marquez, being 31 years old – half naked as usual – was next to him. He was in their shared bedroom on the ranch. Not his mother’s flat. Just for a moment he was thanking god that he and Marc weren’t somehow sucked back in time and were stuck at his mom’s house. That’d be awkward to explain.

Which lead to the new problem. His brother would soon celebrated his 27th birthday. The summer of 2001 was 23 years ago. Luca was not supposed to be barely able to look above the bed. He was supposed to be freaking taller than him. But there he was, sitting innocently on his lap and burying his head in his chest. Another thunder had made him shiver. His whole body was trembling and he couldn’t help but hug him closer. He knew he was crying so he put his hand on the back of his head and softly stroke his scalp. He needed to calm him. He didn’t like seeing his brother in pain – emotionally or physically.

At the same time he started kicking his boyfriend awake. He only needed a few to shake him awake. “Valeeee-“ he was greeted with complaining, as expected. He couldn’t really blame him as he would have the same reaction. “It’s too early- lemme sleep. We can fuck in-” “Marc, Luca turned into a 4 year old.”

He couldn’t believe he just said that. But it was true. It was the truth. At least that was the only explanation how a 4 year old version of his adult brother ended up in his arms.

“Who is 4 years old?” his voice was muffled by the cushions. “Luca” “Eh?! Luca is 26” Finally the Spaniard open his eyes and sat up to stare at little Luca who stared right back at him. “Ehm… Hi” he managed to get out. He couldn’t deny the similarities between the child and the Luca he knew – and the few childhood pictures of Luca at various ages in Vale’s home that he’d never get rid of – so he had to believe his lover when he said it. If he said it was Luca than it must be Luca.

“He’s… Why is he…” he tried to put the situation in words. But stopped himself in his sentence. He watched how the little body cling to the older who absentminded patted him. “I don’t know. He is scared of the thunder. He came here like this” “This never happened before… Right?” “Oh how could I forget?!” he asked and the way he said it made Marc immediately knew it’d be sarcasm. “He always randomly turns into a baby!” “M not a baby” a silent protest interrupted him. “I know. I’m sorry, you’re a big boy” he hurried to say and added a short kiss to his forehead to make sure he was being forgiven. The bright grin told him everything he needed to know.

Marc already felt his heart melting. He still couldn’t stay cool when seeing his lover show affection. Seeing him interact with his academy boys always made him feel warm. He was kind to them, willing to protect them from anyone and everything. He always encouraged them. He somehow felt reassured and more safe. Seeing him with his little brother – now even younger than usual – was the sweetest thing imaginable.

Until another thought hit him. “Wait… If he… That means he has no clue who I am.” He didn’t want to risk upsetting him or even scare him. Watching the slight look of panic wash over Vale proved that this was a worry worth considering. Even though Luca had always been a polite child, he didn’t like stranger. With his brother’s profession and the younger one’s frequent visits at the circuits, he had taught Luca very early to just start screaming, running, hitting and biting if someone was trying to take him.

Before Vale could warn his boyfriend that he might be challenging him to a screaming match, Marc turned to the child. He levelled with him and patted his shoulder. “Hey… Luca. Luca, do you know who I am?”

Vale felt the little head move. He looked at Marc for a second and Vale was full on prepare to deal with whatever happened next. But instead he just said “Eh? You’re… Marc. Why?” “Thank god” he breathed out. He wasn’t sure how he could have dealt with it if he had no clue.

But it reminded him that he should get a real overview of the situation to make sure that everyone was okay. After all, the question how it happened was connected with who else was affected. He was lucky that Marc was like he was when he fell asleep but the whole academy had stayed over.

“You’re right. That’s Marc. You can trust him. He is a big brother too! So he knows how to take care of you. There’s no problem if you stay with him for a few minutes.” He decided and exchanged a look with the Spaniard who nodded in agreement. “Here, you keep an eye on him. I will-“

He was just trying to lift the little boy to hand him over when Luca quickly tighten his grip around his shoulders. His nails were digging in his shirt and he tried to pull him back. He wanted him closer so he could feel his warmth again. Vale stopped in his track, confused about the sudden reaction. “No, Tino. Don’t go. Plewse. You promised. You promised.” “I… I will be back soon. Look, it’s Marc. You like Marc, don’t you? He’s your friend. He is kind and lovely, caring and way more fun than me” he tried to argue. “But… Want you”

The way his lips were shaking when he said it, almost broke him. Helpless he looked to the younger rider. “I need to check on the other boys” he whispered and got a nod in return.

“Luca, look” Marc started and slowly put his hand on his shoulder. “Your brother really, really needs to check on your friends okay? Remember?” He slowly let his hand wander to his back so the change would go more smoothly. He hoped to just be able to pull Luca from Vale while they were talking. “We had a sleep-over. Maybe they are scared too. You wouldn’t want that, right?” “Yeah, but… Tino” “He’ll be back soon. I promise. We can cuddle in the meantime. I may not be Vale but I promise I keep you just as safe.” He seemed hesitant but a loud thunder quickly made his decision. It was a loud rumbling that made little Luca jump. He rushed in Marc’s open arms who quickly cover the kid with the blanket.

Marc looked up and smiled, happy that his plan had worked. Vale watched the scene in fascination. He knew that Marc was good with kids, but actually seeing it was different. Not to mention that this child was his dearest little boy. He looked so content to deal with his little brother.

“I love you” he confessed without thinking and leaned in to kiss his lover. He captured his lips for a moment. He wanted it to last longer but an “Ihhh” made them break. Luca was staring at them with a disgusted face. “What? He’s cute” The oldest defended himself and kissed his cheeks which made Luca giggle.

Vale finally stood up but not without leaning closer once more. “You sure you can handle him?” Vale reassured himself. Marc almost looked offended. “Yes! Now go check on your kids. We’ll be okay” he insisted and pushed him playfully away.

Now there was no more reason to wait. He got up and quickly left. As soon as he stepped out on the corridor, he heard the rain basically punching every available surface. It was loud like hits. And there was no way to escape the sounds. Vale really couldn’t blame anyone for being scared, especially a child that didn’t understood what was going on. He had just crossed the hallway, getting closer to the boys rooms when he saw light through a window. The light was burning downstairs.

It could only be one of the riders he was looking for cause he was sure he had turned the light off when he went to bed. So he took the few steps down and headed for the kitchen where he assumed he’d find the source of it. With every step, he prayed that he would find an adult version of Bez laying high on the kitchen floor or Pecco making himself tea in the middle of the night like he did so many times already.

He considered praying but either this was one of the hard challenges the priest always talked about or God couldn’t help him too.

At least he guessed the right person. When he entered, his eyes curiously looking around, he was faced with Pecco. The champion was standing in front of one of the cupboard and had turned around when he heard him. He looked at him, his big eyes even bigger than usual. His face was yet to grow on them. His cheeks were rounded than they had been when saying good night. And his signature beard had disappeared.

Pecco was now a very small Pecco. He had lost around half his height. A very young – maybe 5 – and scared looking Pecco, was staring at him and smiled in visible relief. Still he didn’t left his cover.

Little Pecco was hiding behind Franky. Franky who had lost approximately more than half a meter of his own height as well. But he was noticeable taller than the little one. Franco’s curls had returned and were hanging in every directions. He looked like he hadn’t seen a hairbrush in a year but it was just his natural hair. He seemed older than Pecco and Luca. More around school age. If he had to place it, he’d say 7.

Franky felt how Pecco had suddenly moved and turned around as well. Holding a yellow package, he smiled at him. Vale was able to make out that he was missing one of his teeth.

“He wanted cookies” he explained. He closed the door to the shelve were they kept the snacks. Now this was a detail he could work with. It might be the only thing that made sense in this situation. A scared child wants a cookie. Of course.

That said child was Francesco Bagnaia, the current MotoGP world champion was another story. Vale decided to deal with that after he had helped them. “Yeah, sure.” He agreed. There wasn’t really anything else to say. He was lucky the boys seemed to remember him. The thought of having to deal with two or more kids scared they had been kidnapped made a shiver run down his spin.

Without thinking about it, he got two plastic cubs out a storage – something they barely used, only when they were outside on track and for some reason didn’t had bottles or when one of them decided to get too drunk to function. Right now he was really happy to have them. He wasn’t sure if he could hand glass to Pecco… A weird thought.

He filled both cubs with milk and lifted the little rider from Turin on a chair with Franco next to him. “Thank you” both said unisono. They smiled at him. He smiled back. The younger one was sat almost directly against Franky but was now clearly more relaxed. To distract them further, Vale activated the radio in a corner. He hoped it would cover the remaining sound of rain, wind and thunder. It was less noticeable on this floor but still audible.

He watched them for a few more seconds. He just needed to take it in. Pecco was 4. Luca too. Franky seemed like 7 – maybe 8. It was a situation he never believed could be possible. But now he had them munching cookies and dipping them in milk. He was not going crazy. Marc had seen Luca. He wasn’t insane.

He asked if they needed anything else. He wanted to make sure they were okay. They were already joking about something he hadn’t quite caught. Partly cause he hadn’t listen. Partly cause Pecco was speaking so sloppy, it was impossible to hear. He took it as a good sign and returned to finally checking the bedrooms.

He stood in the hallway, looking from one door to the other. Luca, Franky and Pecco were alright. That left Cele, Bez and Migno who were sleeping at the ranch as well. Sometimes they drove home as most of them didn’t live far away but today they had a long training in the evening to avoid the heat and most had alcohol with dinner. And none of them would be driving when they had a drink. Vale would prevent that. So they had slept in some of the spare bedrooms that he had for this exact reason.

He decided to check on Migno first. He was already having the handle in hand when he realized that they was a real possibility that he would be faced with Andrea Migno as a 5 year old – probably completely unhinged and wild. If that was the case he might actually take a few years from him. Not to mention Bez. In combination with a young Cele or Pecco. He swallowed. He was already happy they weren’t his legal responsibility. But as kids… That could be fun.

But all the horrors he imagined they would bring were now only in his thoughts. He needed certainty so he silently opened the door.

He almost laugh when he saw Migno.

As feared, Migno was now even smaller than usual. He had the statue of a 5 year old. But he was laying on his bed, which was now way too big for him. He was spread out over the covers. He was sleeping like nothing happened. Vale could hear him snore loudly. He was actually sleeping. During the worst thunderstorm in years, he was sleeping like a little child – like the little child he currently was. He smiled and looked in the sky. Maybe there was still a god that had pity with him.

Therefore his newest mission was now to make sure that no one of the baby academy would decided that cuddling with Andrea by jumping on him and waking him was a great idea. The less he had to deal with, the better.

The next person on his check list was Cele. This time, there was no hesitation. He wanted to rip the bandage off. But he immediately noticed that the youngest one wasn’t in his room. Even after turning the lights on, seeing the raffled bed, making clear that someone had sleep there before leaving.

A wave of panic hit him. Where was the little trouble maker? At 22 he was already a handful – back when he first joined at only 14 years old he was mainly to shy around him to be a manic, but after the stories Bez told him, he sure wasn’t a calm one either. But as a little kid with no hesitation or sense of boundaries? Immediately, the worst case scenario started in his head. What if he had ran off? He couldn’t ask to look for a 22 year old that might be only 3. He tried not to think about a panicking Cele that woke up, unsure and scared where he might be.

Pecco and Franco seemed to remember him – Luca did it anyway – despite not knowing him when they were this young. And Luca knew Marc so maybe even a baby Cele would know that he was safe on the ranch. He pushed the ‘what if he doesn’t back in his mind’

Then he remembered that Cele had a tendency of sneaking in his boyfriends room or motorhome. Bez was only a door away after all. He never blamed them and now, this might be the best shot to prevent the heart attack he felt in his chest. He quickly rushed to the door and opened it.

He was met with a dim light when he opened the last door and stared at 4 very scared eyes. Cele and Bez. Both were shivering and buried up to their noses in Bez blanket. They looked at him like he was their saviour.

“Loud” Was all Cele said as an explanation. He was definitely still the youngest. He couldn’t be older than 3. He looked so small that Vale barely recognized him. But he knew that the only person that Bez would press this close to himself was Cele. And right now, there was no way he would give him up. He was sure the 4 year old would bite him if he even suggested to hand the little one over.

“Yes. It’s very loud and very, very scary” he tried his best to stay calm. He went around the bed to look both of them in the eyes. He was kneeling beside the bed and gave them what he hoped would be a comforting smile.

He looked at them. Those were the men he knew. What if they didn’t change back? Would they grow up again? Would they still want to ride when they’re old enough? How the hell was he supposed to explain this to the boys’ parents anyway? Surely they would not expect to get their babies back in the literal sense. But rationally, he couldn’t keep them. He would but he wasn’t their legal guardian. And they would have to come up with an explanation for the world why all academy were suddenly declared unfit and potentially return in… 9 to 13 years in Moto3.

But now his priority was to make sure they were okay. “Were under the roof, so the storm is kinda close.” He explained. Knowing what was going on, might sooth them. “Why don’t we go down to the kitchen, mm? Pecco and Franco are there too. We can have some cookies and listen to music. Then you want even notice the storm. We’ll distract each other.”

Cele looked up to Bez. They were having a silent conversation. Both were reading the other to find out what they wanted. “What about Andrea?” Marco asked. “He is still sleeping. He’ll be alright” he reassured him quickly. Again, the two shared a look before Bez stood up. Cele was still pressed against his chest. He was holding him tightly but Vale’s fear peaked more than having to watch Luca race for the first time. The last thing he needed was an injured child whose existence he couldn’t explain but needed a trip to the ER.

He watched Bez closer than when they were on track and hold his little hands steady while Cele buried his head in his neck. Together, they walked downstairs again. Vale was ready to grab the boys ever second but the Rimini born rider was very careful.

Vale was sure he had just gained grey hair by the time the two boys finally made it down. Safely. It was only then Bez had decided it was okay for Cele to walk on his own. But not without holding his hand. The other accepted without hesitation and smiled a little bit. The retired rider quickly opened the door to the kitchen and was met with… nothing. The room was empty. But a sound stopped him from worrying. Instead he checked the living room.

He stayed in the entrance just for a second. He wanted to take the scene in. He hoped he could safe this moment in his mind forever. He didn’t want to forget it. Ever.

Marc sat in the middle of the couch. He had a soft blanket draped over him and the boys. Pecco had apparently decided that the spot exactly under his arm was the best place to be. Franky was sitting next to him, excited to see Cele and Bez. He grinned at them and waved which cause Cele to run towards him, dragging Marco with him. Luca was sat on the other side, clearly sleepy. His tiny eyes were almost closed. Nonetheless, he smiled when he spotted his brother.

“Hey, what are we watching?” he asked as he took the place next to Luca. He was now squished between Marc and Vale and didn’t seem to mind. He just shifted his head to lay on his brother instead.

“Cars!” Pecco announced. Bez and Cele were now sat next to Vale. And slowly a calm atmosphere returned. No one spoke. Marc refused to question the situation. He was just trying to make the little kids feel safe and comfortable. They couldn’t change what happened to them either way and at 2am no one would help the either. They would deal with the rest in the morning.

So they just watched Cars. Around half way in the movie, when most of them had already started to get tired again, the door opened. A very sleepy Andrea entered. He look at them, grinned and ran towards the end of the coach. Suddenly his tiredness seemed to no longer affect him.

“Migno, don’t-“ Vale started but it was too late. He had already jumped on the side and was now looking very guilty at their dad. “Sorry” he smirked. “Yeah, yeah” There was no use in scolding him. He wouldn’t listen, now that he was taking his place next to Franco.

Now they were all together. The kids still shifted a little. At that point, Luca had found his way to Vale’s side in the Cele – Bez hug. Franco and Migno were a little bit fooling around, but calmed down quickly. Pecco was sleeping leaned on Marc. The Spaniard himself was asleep as well. He was breathing calmly. His head was placed on Vale’s shoulder who was still very much awake.

The older rider had always appreciated moments like this. He actually couldn't really get enough of them. He loved to look at his lover and make himself aware just how lucky he was to be with him, even after everything that he did to him. He had wasted so much time. He promised himself to never waste another minute. And in moments like this, this included, to look at him and realised just how lucky he truly was. He thought about how much he loved him during the whole movie. He wished he could spend the rest of their lives like this.

Cuddle together with their children - with their actual children, not with the de-aged Academy riders preferably. But he knew that they belonged in his vision of his perfect little family as well. But as their adult versions. Hopefully. They would watch movies, make food and play together. Even if Marc would want to still race or work in racing, he wouldn’t mind taking care of them on his own.

He would teach his kids how to ride the bike once they're old enough, and he would show them everything their papa had done. He would show them Marc's accomplishments, not his own. That was the life he wanted. That was his new goal. With this thought, the credits of the movie began to roll. He had to break his dream and come back to his new, weird reality.

“Who is still awake?” he whispered “Me” “I’m tired” Luca and Migno answered. “Okay… Do you want to sleep in my bed?” “Yes!” “No, I’ll go back in mine” Andrea decided and was already wandering off. Vale decided not to try to understand him. Instead, he turned to his little brother and smiled. “OK, then I'll just make sure that they're not freezing and then I’ll be there.”

The thunderstorm had already died out. Not that they had even noticed. It was calm outside. He heard Luca following Migno. They were joking about something. They laughed about how their mentor had smiled at Marc the whole time and had thought they actually hadn’t notice it.

Vale was at the same time busy getting a blanket from one of the shelves. It was technically warm enough to sleep without one, but he didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t need Marc or the children to catch a cold.

He carefully pulled the blanket over them and then adjusted them. He made sure that no little nose or mouth was accidentally buried under the material. When he was sure that they wouldn’t get cold and could still breath, he smiled about them.

“Good night boys… You are adorable like that and I hope you know how important you are for me but I really, really need my adult boys back, okay?” He knew that he was just speaking to himself. And they probably had no say in what happened but it felt right to say it. He smiled about them and brushed Franky’s hair back.

Then he leaned in to kiss his boyfriend’s forehead. He watched Marc smile in his sleep. He wanted to believe that it was because of his kiss but he was happy either way. Knowing he was happy and able to sleep soundly in his house was enough. “I love you so much” he whispered. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I hope you know that, tereso. I want to spent the rest of my life with you and make you the happiest you’ve ever been. Every day. For what remains”

He went upstairs to say his goodnights to Migno who was already absent minded asleep. He gave an barely audible sound back, which was supposed to be a “You too”.

Then he quickly got in his own bed, where Luca immediately started using him as a pillow. While drifting away, there was one certainty… He would ask Marc how he felt about adopting a child. Maybe even two. He smiled about his plan, looking forward hopefully as he finally fell back asleep.

I really hope you enjoyed this story, feedback and (writing) suggestions are always welcome

@hotmessmaxpress @formulapookie @thesunthemoonthestarstheearth I hope this is similar to what you imagined and thanks a lot for the extra motivation :)

WITH CUT OUT SCENE!

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hotmessmaxpress · 7 months

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A/B/O bond rejection au where vale bites marc shortly before argentina but because of how badly it goes and because of sepang, the bite doesn’t heal and just festers with vale’s rejection of him until half of his body is basically unusable and he finally collapses and vale has to grow up and pick up the pieces

Tw: a bit of body horror (slightly worse, maybe, than the body horror already canon in marc’s life?)

(Somewhere in the realm of 2500 words)

At first it’s just itchy and a little painful, but then it darkens and scars, and eventually black veins start to spread from it like spiderwebs. Marc has to wear a bandage over it to hide how disgusting it looks.

Doctors throw out words like “retirement” and “care home” and “palliative care”. He’s told that unless his alpha either releases his bond or he bonds to someone else he’ll die. Marc, stubborn Marc, refuses. He will never bond to another alpha again, even if it saves his life.

The bite becomes so painful that Marc moves in a haze, arm often tucked into his pockets to disguise how it otherwise hangs limply at his side. His chest hurts when he breathes too hard and he can’t fully turn his neck.

He takes painkillers almost constantly now, instead of just when riding, but it’s become apparent that it’s not enough. The infection has spread from the bite to his heart and down his arm, and he knows his brain is next.

It’s Luca who finds him, collapsed between motor homes, neck gauze soaked through in blood and black pus. He nearly gags, but he drops to his knees and checks for a pulse. Marc’s eyes wrench open as Luca grabs his phone to call an ambulance, and Marc grabs his wrist.

“No. There’s nothing they can do,” he says, curling up on himself. “I need Alex.”

“How did this happen?” Luca says, filled with panic and anxiety about his brother’s former lover. He thinks of Bezz, their own pack omega, being in pain and nearly wants to wrench his hair out. He is overcome with the sudden urge to find his teammate and bury his nose in his neck.

More pressing matters, however, lay trembling in his arms.

“What is Alex’s phone number?”

Marc repeats it and Luca calls. Alex doesn’t answer, so Luca sends him a text with one hand, begging him to find them.

Luca pulls Marc up, letting him rest his head against his chest. He may not be his alpha but he’s still an alpha, and he hopes that gives Marc some comfort. Marc nuzzles his head against Luca’s collarbone.

“He rejected me,” Marc finally explains. “He bit me but then he rejected me. An incomplete bond— it’s fatal. It infects the rest of your body until it kills you.”

Luca feels himself shake from the effort of not crying out.

“How can we fix it?”

“You can’t,” a voice from behind them says, harshly. “Only your brother can, and he’s made it clear that he’d never do anything to help Marc, regardless of the consequences.”

Luca flinches but Alex doesn’t care, instead moving toward the two and gently peeling Marc away from Luca. Marc immediately buries his head in Alex’s neck, who purrs soothingly.

“I’ll talk to him,” Luca croaks. “Please let me. I can’t— if I’d known—“.

“He won’t,” Marc says wetly, without moving his face. “You can try but I know he won’t.”

Alex helps Marc to his feet, and begins guiding him the short distance to their shared motor home.

Luca watches for a moment, terrified, before he runs.

Bezz finds Luca screaming. He’s never heard him this way, and when he realizes Luca is screaming at Vale, he’s stunned. He’s not sure who to comfort— his instincts scream at him to intervene, but his feet feel frozen to the floor.

It’s Luca who makes the decision; as soon as he smells him enter the garage he turns, throwing himself at Bezz and scenting him. It’s then that Bezz realizes he’s crying.

“Maro,” he breathes worriedly.

Vale is standing there, watching them both.

“Vale… what happened?”

Vale doesn’t respond. He walks over, tucks his face close to Luca’s, and presses a kiss to Bezz’s head.

“Take care of Luca. I’ll be back.”

Bezz drags Luca to the pack room of the VR46 motor home, and is happy to find Pecco and Cele lounging around. He deposits Luca on one of the long loungers and then climbs on top of him, resting his entire weight against the alpha and keeping his face firmly pressed against his scent gland.

Pecco and Cele sense something is wrong immediately and tuck themselves around the two. Pecco brushes Luca’s hair back, who is still shaking.

“What happened?” Cele asks, eyes wide.

Bezz reaches for him, sensing his distress, and takes his hand.

“It’s Marquez— did you know he and Vale bonded?”

Bezz feels himself tense, and Luca whines, so he forces himself to relax again.

“What?” Bezz hisses.

“No they didn’t,” Pecco says, stunned.

“They didn’t do it all the way I guess. Vale bit him and then they had their falling out and now Marc is going to die. I didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. You should have seen it, oh my God.”

Bezz purrs to try and comfort Luca as he continues.

“He looked terrible. I found him collapsed— it explains why his riding has been so terrible. He was bleeding and his neck was infected. He said the doctors can’t do anything. It’s Vale’s fault,” he sobs.

Bezz has trouble having empathy for Marquez, normally. He knows what Vale has said— that Marc is a dangerous rider and should not be allowed on track and that he ruined Vale’s championship. He’s seen Marc’s danger on track firsthand.

Still… he doesn’t deserve to die, even if Bezz hates him.

“But Vale will fix it right?” He asks, finding himself anxious.

Surely Vale wouldn’t let someone die. He’s too good for that. He would never, never treat an omega poorly. Vale has always supported Bezz and ensured without a shadow of a doubt that Bezz’s omega status would never be a detriment. He’s always kept him safe and loved and supported by his pack, swift to correct anyone who doesn’t treat Bezz well. Surely Vale would never hurt an omega so deeply, even if it is Marc.

“I don’t know,” Luca whimpers

Pecco runs a hand down Bezz’s back, and it’s only then that he realizes he too has begun shaking. He presses himself closer to Luca, both to comfort and be comforted. He needs to feel safe and reassured. The thought that any of the boys would do that to him— leave him half-mated and slowly dying— fills him with such distress that he knows the others sense it.

Pecco rises and comes back with blankets, and Bezz leaves Luca only enough to make a makeshift nest around the four of them.

Cele puts a hand on the back of his neck, and he tilts his head so Cele can scent him. He hears the tapping of Pecco’s phone keyboard behind him, clearly rallying the other pack members to come comfort Maro and Bezz. Their pack needs to be together.

Alex might kill Valentino Rossi with his bare hands and teeth. He wants to tear into his jugular and rip it out in a spray of blood. It’s what he deserves for doing this to his brother. He deserves worse.

Still. When Vale turns up on their motorhome steps, smelling like distress personified, Alex knows he has to let him in.

He makes eye contact and growls, until he sees Vale’s shoulders dip and his eyes drop in submission. He growls once more for emphasis and his own satisfaction, not needing words to warn Vale against misconduct. Then he steps aside, and allows Vale to take unsure steps toward a delirious Marc.

Marc has been whimpering and crying softly since Alex dragged him here after his collapse, and when he sees Vale he whines and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Alex, please,” he whimpers.

Vale takes a staggering step toward Marc, as if in pain, and drops to his knees beside the bed where he is laying.

“Marc,” he says softly.

Marc opens teary eyes, and Alex clenches his fists.

Alex knows that something is passing between the two as he sees Marc relax. Vale turns to him.

“Please,” he says, and Alex closes his eyes for a brief moment.

“Marc?” He asks.

Marc nods, and despite every instinct screaming at him, Alex steps out of the room and closes the door. He refuses to leave, though, and instead parks himself just outside the door. He won’t give up Marc’s safety just to give them privacy.

Every instinct tells Marc to throw himself at Vale, to tuck his face in his neck and beg him to bite him again. The pain in his neck has lessened just at Vale’s proximity. He can only imagine how it would feel to be held by him.

Still, Marc knows he cannot.

He stares at the older man, blinking away tears. He has no idea how Luca got him here, or how he managed to get Alex to let him through the door.

“Vale?” He asks quietly.

Vale takes Marc’s hand, the one with blackened veins from the infected bite, and presses it to his lips.

Marc whines, and gives up resisting. He reaches for Vale, prepared for rejection again. Instead, Vale tugs him close, pressing Marc’s face into his neck.

Marc inhales, deep, letting Vale’s— his alpha’s— scent wash over him. It settles something deep in his bones, and he relaxes completely against the older man.

Marc floats from there. He remembers crying, sobbing, relaxing as Vale rumbles low in his chest. At some point Vale joins him underneath the blankets, allowing Marc to press himself against the full length of Vale’s body.

He loses himself in the sound of Vale’s low rumbling and his familiar scent. He’s pretty sure that it’s a fever dream and that he must truly be on the verge of death, but he enjoys it while it lasts.

At some point Vale’s phone buzzes, and he has a soft conversation in Italian that Marc’s brain is too sluggish to parse out. Vale has several more hushed conversations as Marc drifts in and out of sleep. At some point Alex returns, speaking to Vale in worried tones, but he leaves again shortly after.

Marc whines as he wakes one time, feeling sluggish. He flexes his fingers, grabbing onto Vale’s shirt. His arm doesn’t burn, for the first time in years. His body is exhausted and sore, like he’s just woken from a long nap he hadn’t meant to take.

“Vale?” he whimpers.

“Marc,” Vale soothes. “Good morning.”

“Morning?” Marc questions after a moment. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, or really what has happened.

“Yes. You’ve been recovering.”

Vale holds Marc’s hand up for him to see, and Marc stares unblinkingly at the smoothness of his forearm and bicep. He still sees blackness on his shoulder, near where he knows the bite is, but the infection of his arm has receded.

“How?” Marc questions.

Vale nuzzles behind his ear, and Marc realizes that it’s just Vale being near that has had such an effect on him.

“Oh,” he breathes.

There’s a long pause where he and Vale simply lay together.

“You’re really here?” he asks.

He feels Vale tense, and he shrinks away, afraid that now he has broken some spell and Vale is leaving. He wraps his arms around himself and bites back a whine.

Vale rumbles, low in his chest, and tugs Marc back.

“I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long. Why didn’t you tell me?” Vale asks.

Marc is afraid that Vale will leave if he says what he thinks, but he can’t help it.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he croaks, feeling like he’s cracking his chest open. “I didn’t want you to reject me again. I couldn’t take it. It hurt too much the first time. It was better to just let it happen.”

Vale makes a pained noise, and Marc shrinks away again.

“Shh,” Vale soothes, running a hand down Marc’s arm. “I’m not angry with you.”

Vale shifts so Marc can tuck his nose against Vale’s neck, breathing in his scent.

Vale is quiet for a long moment. “I should have done a lot of things differently. We can talk about it all later. For now you need to heal.”

“How?”

Vale snorts. “Did you ever actually talk to a doctor about this?

Marc grumbles, and Vale laughs.

“You’re stubborn.”

Marc growls.

“Alex and I talked. And I called a real doctor. We can reverse everything.”

Marc yanks away, dizzy with the force of sitting up and scrambling away from Vale so quickly.

“No!” he squawks.

Vale stares at him in shock, hands held up in surrender.

“No, please,” Marc begs. He knows it’s killing him but he doesn’t want the bond to be reversed. He knows it’s nothing good, not even a real bond, but the thought of it being gone is painful. “Please, Vale.”

“Why would you want to stay sick?” Vale asks, hurt coloring his features.

“Please don’t take it away from me,” Marc whimpers, pressing his hands to the bite.

At once, understanding dawns on Vale’s face.

“No, no, no,” he says, emphatically. “Not like that, Marc. We can fix the bond.”

Marc’s brain whites out in relief and he clambers onto Vale’s lap.

“Oh,” he says, dumbly.

Vale chuckles.

“You’ve been healing,” he says. “All it took was time together.”

Marc frowns, looking down at his arm and craning his head to try and see as close to the bite as possible.

“But you hate me,” he argues. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t hate you,” Vale breathes. “I tried, but it didn’t work. I have been mad for a very long time but I don’t think I can be angry any more.”

Marc huffs.

“We’ll have to talk about it.”

“I know. Heal first. Hard conversations later.”

Marc nods, allowing Vale to once again wrap his arms around him and scent him.

Vale presses the most gentle of kisses to the bite, which Marc knows must still be scarred and black.

“Does it hurt, still?”

Marc shakes his head and then shrugs.

“I don’t remember what it’s like for it to not hurt. It hurts less now.”

Vale kisses it again, and Marc purrs. He has no idea who Vale talked to or how exactly Vale intends to fix him, but he can at least enjoy this new turn of events.

“Will you stay with me this time?” he can’t help but ask.

Vale pulls back enough to look him in the eye.

“I promise,” he says, and seals it with a kiss.

(A/n: in this universe, Mark never breaks his arm because he has enough body horror in his real life that I feel like if I add some, I need to take some away.

Also I know it’s controversial to make bezz the only pack omega but for the purposes of this I wanted him (certified Marc Hater) to be the only one on the team with the unique perspective of also being an omega and coming to the realization of “oh god would vale do that to an omega? Would he do that to me?”

Plus I love the idea of him being the One Special Boy, Center of Attention in the academy but then Marc and Vale fix their whole mating thing and now Vale has His Own Omega hanging around. And bezz is SO JEALOUS, literally pussy out growling and basically begging Marc to fistfight him in the parking lot

Until vale finally long-sufferingly sighs and grabs him by the back of the neck and shakes him, then kisses him (on the forehead? Side of the head? Straight on the mouth?) and reaffirms to him that even though Marc is around Bezz will always be his and the pack’s Most Specialest Boy

also Bezz being the only omega gives me an excuse to fantasize about him being the center of a vr46 academy gangbang but let’s not get carried away

#rosquez #motogp fic #valentino rossi #marc marquez #posting this then going to sleep lollll please don’t hate me #rosquez a/b/o au

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danipedrosas-boatest · 5 months

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Podium Celebrations

In which Marc gets a well deserved reward after a hard fought podium

Pairing: Marc Márquez x Reader

Genre: Smut

A/N: reader is heavily implied to be female, softdom!Marc, use of Spanish and feminine endings (I’m not fully fluent so please let me know if I got anything wrong!) petnames, blowjob

“Oh, eres una buena chica para mí.”

Marc hadn’t even walked in two minutes ago and he was already tossing his head back, hands wrapped in your hair as you gave him little kitten licks. Your hands rested on the bruised leather on his thighs, keeping him up while his knees began to buckle. The arms of his leathers threatened to hit you every time you moved your head, but that was the least of your concerns right now. All that mattered was the man in front of you and the smile that hadn’t left his face since he got on that podium.

He started bucking his hips as you began to lightly suck on his head, fingers digging further into your scalp as you teased him. The saltiness on your tongue let you know he wasn’t going to be holding on for long, but you couldn’t help yourself. You thrived in the moment when you got to tease Marc as much as he teased you, but the way the man in front of you made your scalp start to sting may have other ideas.

“¿Estas tan ansiosa por mi no eres bebé?” He growled out, the pressure on your scalp lessening as he brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face. You could hear the smirk decorating his face as you sunk further down onto him, opening your jaw as wide as you could to take all of him in.

His hands went to grip on the side of your head, thrusting in and out while you dragged your tongue on the underside of his cock as best as you could. Your moans vibrated around his cock, the wetness between your legs coating your thighs and pants as you started to grid against them. You could see the little bit of your panties peaking out of his leathers, having had you strip and give them to him as “good luck” before the race. You have a feeling you’re going to start doing that much more often after today.

The way you start to gag around his cock makes Marc moan, digging your hands further into his thighs as the grip on your face gets harsher and harsher. You start to move in time with his trusts, digging your nose against his pubic bone, your pants getting more and more soaked by the minute.

“Querida estoy-“ Marc moans out, releasing into your mouth. He holds you for a second before relaxing his grip, whimpering when he feels you continuing to lightly suck on him. Eventually you came off, a light string of cum connecting you to him.

“Abre a boca princesa.” Marc says, lightly tapping your jaw. You open up, letting him see you swallowed all of his cum, a wide smile breaking across his face. He tugs you up and brings you into his arms, pressing kisses all over your face as you giggle.

“Gracias princesa, eres tan buena conmigo.”

#my favorite Spanish war criminal #motogp #marc márquez #marc marquez #motogp fic #marc márquez imagine #marc marquez imagine #marc márquez x reader #marc marquez x reader #marc márquez smut #marc marquez smut #jerez 2024 #libby writes

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serve-cunt · 4 months

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special topics in calamity physics

by serve_cunt Marc Marquez/Valentino Rossi, 8k, rated explicit! Academia!AU

"You are too busy to find somebody to fuck?" Vale asks, with a smirk. "I don't remember that being a problem when I was in grad school." "That was a long time ago," Marc shoots back, and Vale laughs off the sting. "True," he says. "Times are different. Now, for example, it seems that graduate students only have time to fuck their professors."

lost my ever loving mind and wrote myself a little angsty academia age-gap romance ... as a treat

read it here on ao3!

#lots of gratuitous physics references in this ... what's wrong with her #don't worry landoscar moots I'm coming back to them I just had to get this out of my system #this pairing had me feral for a few days!!#valentino rossi #marc marquez #rosquez #my fic #can't stress how unbeta'd this is #i'll reread for typos tomorrow sorryyyy

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whirlwindofcomplications · 4 months

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on brocedes, rosquez, and a secret third thing (sebschumi)

I’ve heard many a comparison between rosquez and brocedes, which is fair given that they’re both divorces with butterfly effects in their respective motorsport category (they're always gonna haunt the narrative). It’s also fun that both sides of each divorce has a side in the other one that they’ve taken, pre-conflict (I’m taking pre-conflict to mean pre-that presscon and pre-2016, though of course the silver war started far earlier), so Marc Marquez and Nico Rosberg vs. Valentino Rossi and Lewis Hamilton.

I have a feeling the intense rivalry and atomic fallout is the only thing they have in common though, since the crux of brocedes is a brutus/judas type betrayal on both sides as far as they’re concerned, with brutus/judas being someone you’ve known for more than half your life, cosigned on your dreams with, and found solace in when the rest of the sport kept their distance.

On the other hand, Valentino is Marc’s hero and idol, and Marc is the upcoming hotshot that Vale takes an interest in because of his talent, and from there they get closer. From what I’ve seen, the rosquez fallout was a one sided thing from Vale, wherein he thought Marc was doing something dubious (he wasn’t), publicly discredited his ability as a rider and said he had no respect for him, in front of Marc and the world. To hear something like that from your idol is crushing, and I would never ever want to be Marc in that press conference.

Personally, I’ve always thought of rosquez as sebschumi gone horribly wrong. Both Marc and Sebastian Vettel have publicly expressed their admiration of Vale and Michael Schumacher respectively, and everyone knows that it’s mainly because of their idols that they race (love of racing and bikes/cars aside). Now, where rosquez ‘went wrong’ and sebschumi ‘went right’, in my opinion, is that Sebastian became Michael’s specialest little boy while also not fighting him for the championship.

While I don’t think that Michael would truly pull his punches, there’s certainly a difference in the way he treated his championship rivals. Seb was on the rise when he was arguably in his decline, and so Michael was able to maintain a friendly mentor relationship with him. If Seb had been older (and therefore entered F1 earlier), or if Michael was fighting for his eighth in 2010, which is a lot of ifs I’ll admit, I have a feeling their relationship wouldn’t really be the same, and may have faced the exact same trajectory as rosquez.

Speaking of the way Michael treats championship rivals though (I’m not an expert on his rivals so I’m missing out a huge chunk of his history as a pilot, but I suppose it also makes more sense to compare Kimi to his contemporaries), we all know how he fought with Fernando, and considering the first person you always have to beat is your teammate, we all know how he treated Nico. It’s funny how his battles with Kimi never seem to reach that level of intensity or dare I say, rancidity. I often think of Nico being Mika’s protégé, and the way that might have affected his relationship with Michael, but that never seemed to influence his treatment of Kimi. Not really relevant to my original point, but I thought it was interesting.

Anyways, given my lack of expert knowledge in the rosquez lore, vs. sebschumi brainrot, forgive me if I’m making assumptions, but I also think Seb meant more to Michael than Marc ever did to Vale. The phrase ‘everyone knows Michael would pick Sebastian’ rattles around my brain more often than I’d like to admit, and what Seb is to Mick is another thing entirely, but as far as I can tell, out of the whole grid, it wouldn’t be Marc that Vale went to first. To me, it’s because fighting him for that top spot at the same time, as well as, I’ve been led to believe, certain whispers in his ear, meant Valentino couldn’t ever really be comfortable being that close with someone he ultimately wanted to destroy, and it wouldn’t have taken much to tip him the other way (the other way being suspicion and hostility).

This may be where the connection between rosquez and brocedes comes into play again. Lewis and Nico’s friendship, while technically stronger than the other two pairings combined, was deeply affected by the experiences they’d had in F1 prior to being teammates. The suspicion, paranoia, and games they’d learnt over the years destroyed what could have been one of the strongest pairings formula one has had. It’s quite easy to argue that had they become teammates earlier, say in Mclaren or Williams, they may not have met the fate they did (not having a championship winning car tends to help, though god knows what’s going on in Alpine).

Of course, the shared nationality aspect helps sebschumi in a way that doesn’t exist for rosquez, and that tension may have played a hand in rosquez’s unbecoming. Although everyone knows that being german definitely didn’t help Nico any. If rosquez were teammates, I actually don’t think they would have been very different from Michael and Nico, except that perhaps they’d be worse.

The original intention of this is getting away from me, but essentially, while rosquez and brocedes is all well and good, rosquez and sebschumi are two different paths the idol/successful fan relationship can take, so I thought the comparison obvious, and that I'd give it some attention!

#brocedes #rosquez #sebschumi #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #marc marquez #valentino rossi #sebastian vettel #michael schumacher #reading through this and I've come to the realisation that maybe the lack of attention is just because sebschumi isn't as recent #and relationships with conflict stick in people's heads easier than ones without #also probably means there's a sizable population who doesn't know what I'm referring to when i say sebschumi... hopefully it's obvious #my points still stand though #if anyone with more insight into rosquez wants to contribute their pov by all means!! as I said I don't have much knowledge #i've read a few fics and multiple tumblr posts but like. there are some real scholars on here #long post #mimi.txt

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moonshynecybin · 8 months

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Hi! I have been thinking about Marc and the ways he expresses his anger... giving the cold shoulder... the silent treatment if you will (he will speak ABOUT vale but not TO vale let alone WITH vale)... need your input please....

hmm good question.... this got. STUPID long sorry

uhhh marc is, in general, good at keeping his (negative) emotions in check. like i think marc loooooves to think of himself on track as a mature, controlled, and rational dude. above distraction. a killer. a cyborg. idk his dad has talked about how he doesnt really complain much about injury and there's also allll these stories about what a mature kid he was... so i think that when he was young - ESPECIALLY in a racing sense because he was so much younger than most of the people he was competing against - he internalized that in order to do all the stuff he wants to do racing-wise, he reallyyyy has to keep a level head and not well. act his age! and i think that extends to a lot of how he manages his emotions today (at least in a public setting). even in places where im pretty sure hes PISSED (sepang. phillip island 2013.) he just kind of. visibly contains himself. not a confrontational dude in the outright sense he'll clench his jaw and try to work through it.

which is part of what makes his valentino-oriented crazy so interesting. bc people were noticing that marc in 2015 was kind of. being weird. as his and valentino's relationship deteriorated. like they were both outwardly very much like we can keep it on track :) until the big fallout towards the end of the year but uhhhh. well marc has said that vale started pulling back in september of 2014 like he was noticing SOMETHING, and they clashed on track A LOT in 2015, and i think marc sensed vale cooling on him and freaked a lil. hashtag neurotic 22 year old moments. he is my favorite crazy ex girlfriend. like usually he IS good at separating that stuff out and managing his emotions in the racing sense but in assen that year when vale overtook him off track after they made contact he raised a BIG stink with race direction and actually had some uh. not especially chill quotes about it. (it should be noted marc was also flopping for the first time in his motogp career. like in his brain he stopped winning AND vale stopped talking to him he was goin through it) adn all the reporters noticed too they were like. why werent you sucking and fucking in parc ferme. like vale's left turn wrt to spaniard sabotage comes outta nowhere but people WERE noticing that things were changing. i bet marc noticed too. BUT they are not the type of people to talk about these things so they keep it to vague flirting in presscons and escalating on-track tension slash proxy wars waged in race-direction contexts... liek truly you are 22 you are not going to keep your championship title and your hot sports idol bestie is no longer flirting with you on twitter and you COULD just talk to him about that but you'd rather DIE so youre going to ask honda to back you up to race direction about your last race where you DEFINITELY lost bc winning is the ONLY thing thatll make you feel better. even though thatll help convince your hot sports idol that you are engaging in a benedict arnold level betrayal scheme against him. an insane time to be marc marquez. 2015 really kind of is a study on how both of them handle losing: NOT WELL.

and then the thing about sepang is that then the lid is blown clean off and marc spends the ENTIRE race being annoying on purposeeeee. hes so fucking pissed and hurt at valentino that he decides to get under his skin for REALSIES instead of focusing on his race. like idk he probably would have fought hard for the win without the drama that how he works but uh. i think he was being annoying specifically to bite at vale's edges. and part of that is bc marc is naturally and effortlessly annoying. but i think part of it was SPITE. like his team advised him not to speak on anything from that presscon and he didnt, but he can still fuck him over on track. get under his skin. like he cant tell vale to his FACE that he's angry and confused and hurt. but he CAN let him know on that fucking racing line. where he cant be ignored. idk like i cant see marc letting anyone else get under his skin like that.

AND another big ass exception to the marc marquez anger management philosophy is from misano 2019 where vale messes with his qualifying lap. a lovely anon sent me some videos of marc talking to the press and jesus christ i dont think ive ever seen him angrier oh my god. AND the anon also linked the race from that weekend where he won and he celebrated harder than ive seen him celebrate some TITLE wins like he went. notably nuts. the commentators were all like uhhhh. he mustve REALLY wanted to get one over on vale adjfhlkdh... idk if any of this answered your question but his relationship to his emotions fascinates me hes so weirddddd. and its interesting to me that he can shrug off jorge ruining his last race at honda and be friendly but also be like. kind of aloofly pissed at bezz. because of valentino! he can repress the rest of it, but valentino shines through the cracks.

#its interesting bc theres also this tension with him where he keeps all of this tightly controlled and then he also REALLY wants you to know #about it. like in his docuseries hes like okay i know we have to talk about valentino :/ which is CRAZY bc he is producing that series #and its about his comback from injury. he could have EASILY left it out but he wanted to set the record straight #and also pull the punch/make it seem like hes no longer invested by saying he doesnt wanna talk about it #idk i think he was smart to keep his mouth shut in sepang 2015 but it CLEARLY cost him #like i think his own reservedness confines him sometimes and he chafes. and it bubbles out. like marc dont you just wanna go apeshit.#anyways this isnt even my entire marc and anger thesis like i need to go back to grad school lmao #callie speaks #motogp #asks #marc marquez #rosquez #tbh. i should just write some fic. hmm.#long post

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formulapookie · 2 months

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wooo

Looking for perdition rosquez, 9.1k words

smut under the cut, here to read on Ao3

Marc can feel his ears ringing on the podium, the people cheering for him, the smell of prosecco in the air, Valentino.

He’s there with him, spraying him with that bottle, drenching him like he’s a fucking grid girl.

God he wishes he was one, that way Vale would act on the obvious tension that sparkled between them, without backing up every time they got close to it.

Just the thought of Valentino taking him apart made his nights, when he was alone in his room, hard in his pants and imagining it was Vale opening him up instead of himself, that it was Vale fucking into him with a brutal pace and not that dildo he always had with him because the older didn’t gave into his flirting.

He’s hard in his leathers now, Vale is so close he can feel his breath on his neck, he wants to kiss him and make him feel so good he will never forget him.

At first he thought it was wrong, to thirst for a man 14 years older than him, it was sinful and dirty.

But he sees the eyes with which Vale looks back at him.

They’re full of the same lust and deep desire as his, burning with the need to have the other right then and there.

But as much as Marc tries, and he does try a lot, Vale always puts a stop to it before anything goes over the phantom line the italian traced already last year, when Marc went up to him after winning his championship and asked him for a gift for winning, and Vale told him “you’re too young bimbo, come back once you’ve grown” and he felt so insulted back then, he was offering himself to Vale and he refused.

He ended up sharing the night with more than a random guy at the bar he went to, they left him covered by marks and limping, the day after Vale had fire in his eyes, Marc knew jealousy when he saw it, and Vale was fucking drowning in it.

Good.

It just made him try harder and harder every time he had the chance.

And right now he can feel that stare again, it’s burning a hole in the back of his neck, he’s talking to Lorenzo now, and he knows the other man looks at him with need too, not like Vale, no one could, but it gets Vale riled up and he lives for it.

So he steps closer to Lorenzo, asking him something more about his move to overtake Vale, looking at him with great interest as his countryman explained the way he used the brakes a certain way to keep Vale out his racing line.

Vale is pissed off, to say the least.

What kind of business does Lorenzo have to be talking that close to Marc?

He doesn’t need to be standing a few centimeters only from the boy’s face, he can still talk about his totally not great move by standing further than that.

“They’re calling for us to go back, we can't stay on the podium forever” Vale grits his teeth, he doesn’t like the feeling of jealousy gnawing at his stomach, it’s consuming and it gets him unfocused.

Once they’re out the public’s eye Lorenzo goes away, he’s being called by his race engineer, leaving him and Marc alone.

Marc.

Probably the most beautiful and talented guy he’s ever seen in the sport, he looks perfect, even right now, after being drenched in Prosecco and tired from the race.

Actually, right now the boy looks better than in any other moment he’s seen him, because it was him to cover him in alcohol, it was his way of claiming him.

He knows he shouldn’t be having certain thoughts, that’s a kid he’s looking at, he’s barely 21, he can’t want him.

But his eyes betray him, they follow Marc’s movements, the way he goes to unzip his leathers very slowly and pool them to his hips, a black sleeveless undersuit leaving his arms and collarbone completely out in the open.

And Vale can’t fucking believe his eyes.

There’s marks all over his collarbone, one so high it could’ve been seen peaking also from the leathers.

If he squeezes his eyes enough he can see the faint line of a handprint on the boy’s hips through the undersuit, not to mention the hickey on his pec, standing proud right there, eye level.

Marc is clearly doing it to catch his attention, he’s smirking, his little cat smile that gets Vale every time.

They’ve been playing this little flirting game since last year, when he refused to fuck Marc after he won the championship. He would’ve lied if he said that as soon as the boy left he didn’t run to his bed to push his hand into his boxers and start touching himself at the thought of having Marc with him for a night, imagining it was his mouth around his dick, not his hand.

“We’re going partying tonight Vale, you coming with us?”

“Eh I’m a bit old Marc, i don’t know”

“Come onnnnn I am inviting you, we’re celebrating my win, it'll be fun!

“I don’t know Marc I should probably sleep and recover for next race”

“Please? I promise you’ll have fun, there’s plenty of drinks, Honda’s offering”

Vale sighs, he knows he won’t refuse, he also knows that once he’s in the club Marc is gonna glue himself to his giving him barely space to breathe and he’ll have to control his instincts all night long not to act like a fucking animal.

“Fine”

Marc smiles, cheeks tinted of a soft pink that makes Vale’s head spiral.

God he didn’t even do something remotely arousing and he was already feeling the need to kiss him until they ran out of breath.

“See you tonight then, bye Vale” he turns around to go away, then turns back towards the man “wear something cute, I like the black shirt you put on last time, it…enhances you”

Marc smirks again, this time walking away, still smiling and biting his lower lip at the idea of seeing Vale that night.

He knows he’s going overboard with the flirting but that’s Valentino Rossi he’s got charmed, it’s not everyday that man has someone get this kind of power over him.

He wants Vale to crumble, to give in to his teasing because he can’t keep faking that the men he fucks with are Valentino, he can’t keep waking up at 4am bricked up and having to take care of himself thinking of Vale whispering in his ears how good he’s being or how much of a slut he is for touching himself when he knows his teammate is asleep in the room next to his and the walls are so thin you could hear a fly in the other room.

He needs to have Vale, the real one, inside him, needs to suck him off and have him forget anyone else ever did it, wants to feel those beautiful hands around his throat, squeezing that much to get him light headed, wants to feel his mouth on his neck and his own, his own hands in the man’s curls, tugging at them as they make out.

He also needs to get to his shower quickly, because he’s hard as a rock and can’t keep walking around like that.

On the other hand Vale is not doing much better, he looked at Marc’s ass as he walked away, he noticed the twinkle of pride in his eyes when he accepted the invite.

God what kind of situation has he gotten himself into?

He needs a shower too, to calm himself down and get himself together before the party.

He’s going to have to restrain himself all night long, and it's going to be difficult, because even if he tried to divert his attention from the kid he knows he’d end up looking at him dance and flirt with other men and get jealous, because even if he never touched the boy he’s his nonetheless, it’s him Marc goes to look for in the crowd, him Marc teases to the point of no return, it’s him Marc wants.

Vale gets to the hotel as quickly as humanly possible, the only thing in his mind still the boy from Cervera, it’s an obsession at this point he thinks, every and each thought is contaminated by Marc.

As he showers he tries to keep it at bay, but the smell of Prosecco on Marc’s skin is something one doesn’t forget too easily, and he finds himself gripping at the tiles of the shower as he comes, thinking of how beautiful Marc would look if he stood on his knees beneath him, his release painting his face.

He comes out of the shower with guilt and a towel covering him, his phone dings and the reminder for his dinner comes through.

He decides he doesn’t want to eat with the others and orders some food in his room, while he looks for the shirt Marc asked him to wear.

It could be embarrassing if it wasn’t extremely arousing too.

Marc on the other hand is shifting in his seat already, he went out to eat with his crew, they were all already a bit tipsy, but he was drunk on adrenaline and the idea of seeing Vale at the club.

He wanted to break the fragile glass that stood between them tonight, he was set on doing it, whatever the cost may be.

He didn’t even care about dignity in asking Vale to rail him honestly, he just wanted wanted wanted.

Eager, someone could’ve called him, but was he to blame? He has the chance to have Vale for himself and he isn’t one to back up from a challenge.

The dinner ended later than he would have liked it to, he still has to go back to the hotel and change into something a bit more club-suited, as well as having another shower and using that cologne he bought just two weeks ago.

He’s running to his room once they’re back, his crew laughing at him because all they can see is a kid excited to go to the club to get drunk and party.

He’s quick as a lightning, showers, shaves, puts products and combs his hair, chooses a fucking new pair of boxers to put on, grabs the clean and fresh clothes from the cupboard and sprays a bit (a lot) of cologne on his neck and collarbone.

He looks at himself in the mirror, he looks good, he’s a bit tipsy from the dinner and the more than few sips of prosecco he’s had before and he’s out the door.

They’re not in the same hotel, so there’s no chance they’re gonna cross paths, but Dovi is.

He can see the other man in the hall, dressed for a night out, and comes up to him to greet him.

Dovi is pleased to see Marc, he always is, he compliments him too, and Marc blushes a bit, because after all Dovi is hot, there’s no denying it, and receiving a compliment from an older hot man does it for Marc.

They go to the club together, it's only a ten minute walk and they talk about the race, while Marc triumphed Dovi only came 7th but it wasn’t a disaster all things considered.

When they arrive at the club and enter Dovi is practically kidnapped by his crew and waves at Marc, who barely acknowledges the gesture.

His brain is in radar mode, looking for the one person he truly wants to see.

And it doesn’t get long to meet that pair of blue eyes that haunt his dreams.

They’re staring at him, a light veil of jealousy still covering them, probably he saw him come in with Dovi.

He smiles at the man, who nods in response, leaning against a wall in the other corner of the neon filled club.

Marc goes for a drink, and Vale is quick to join him, ordering something with whisky probably. Ew.

He’s still a kid, he gets a neutral VodkaRedbull and waits for it.

“You wore the shirt I suggested you” he’s smiling, a wicked sense of pride in his chest.

“It’s the only good one I have bimbo, don’t flatter yourself too much” but he’s smirking too, they both know he wore it just because Marc asked him to.

Their drinks arrive, and they’re both quick to down them.

It’s around 2 in the morning, the club is beginning to be packed, and Marc wants to dance. So he grabs Valentino’s hand and guides him through the crowd, finding a spot fairly near a wall but still a bit distant.

He begins to move and it’s hypnotic almost, the naturalness with which he moves his body, he’s flexible, Vale knows, he’s seen videos of him at the physio, guilt eating him whole as he felt envious of the man’s hand massaging the boy’s thighs.

He’s close, too close Vale thinks, it’s already dangerous, he can feel his mind telling him to ignore the age gap and take him to the nearest secluded space and fuck him until morning.

And he wants to listen but he also doesn’t want to give in to his instincts, he wants to control himself, but he wants Marc.

Marc who is shamelessly pushing him more and more towards the wall, the club is dark enough people won’t notice, red and blue lights creating an inviting atmosphere.

“Marc. Marc calm down, come on” he’s biting at his lip, he needs to direct his blood flow anywhere but his dick, and it’s very difficult, especially when Marc is looking up at him with those eyes.

Marc’s breath becomes heavier, he’s got his lips parted and his cheeks tinted of that beautiful pink again.

He knows he looks good, his fingers dance on the buttons of Vale’s shirt, feeling the goosebumps on his skin, he wants to press himself even more on the other.

And he does, positioning himself so that one of Vale’s legs is between his, and Vale closes his eyes, inhaling a deep breath from the nose and releasing it through his mouth, a hand going to cover his mouth, eyes flying open again.

It’s desperation.

“Why won’t you touch me Valeee?” it’s slurred, but somehow firm. Marc still has his hand on the man’s pec, he’s standing a bit on his tips, face leveled with his chest, hot breath on it.

“You’re a kid Marc, I’ve got tattoos older than your career, it’s not right” God it’s arousing. Vale is trying so hard not to grab him and have him suck him off in front of all these people, but it really is a hard task with the way Marc looks at him.

“But you want me Vale, I can see it. And I can feel it right now. You want me as much as I want you. I need you to fuck me Vale please” and Marc now has lost every last drop of dignity, he’s basically dry humping Valentino’s leg, small sounds leaving his lips, a hand pressed lightly against Vale’s now painfully obvious bulge.

The lust in both their eyes is undeniable, tension so thick it’s dangerous, Vale can feel the fragile glass barrier he built shake and crack before his eyes.

“Marc I am trying not to grab you and fuck you in front of everyone don’t make this more difficult” and Marc is fucking smirking now, he has Vale where he wants him, admitting to his needs, voicing them.

It would be so hot if Vale actually did what he said to be dreaming. Have him before everyone, so that they knew he was his, no one else wanted, no one else needed.

”But whyy I like you you like me we can fuck, I’m 21 not 17. Please Vale just take me” he’s desperate too now, whining, he wants Vale to finally get it’s ok, he doesn’t need to be his age to fuck him, and Marc is mature enough to handle it. He’s pressing himself even closer to Vale, it’s already intoxicating.

“Marc. You’re 21, I’m 35 it’s…it’s not…I can’t- you should look for someone your age for this kind of fun, I’m too old for you bimbo” Vale is hard in his pants but tries to ignore it, he would feel like he’s corrupting Marc by giving in, while Marc knows he still has one move he can use.

What he’s about to do is subtle, cruel and immoral, but he doesn’t care.

Whatever the cost he said, he must have Vale.

“Mh. Well if you won’t do it I’m sure Dovi or Cal or anyone else in this room will take me, they all want a piece of me and I can’t deny them that, have fun with yourself later Vale”

That’s what does it for Vale. What gets him going, fired up, as if he just got a shot of adrenaline and has to run a marathon.

Marc daring to compare him to others, stating he can have them all because they all want him, which is true, but it’s also infuriating.

Marc is HIS.

He finally lets go of the last rational thought holding him back and his hand moves faster than his words.

He grabs Marc by the wrist, doesn’t even speak, and drags him in a dark and mostly solitary corner of the club, secluded from people’s gazes, his vision blurred from excitement and need.

He pushes Marc against a wall, and he makes a soft sound at the contact, then Vale finally kisses him.

Hungry, wanting, needy, desperate.

Marc tastes like fucking Redbull and something so peculiar it can only be Marc himself.

Vale has his hand on the boy’s hips. Possessive, demanding, burning, gluing him to the wall, a leg pressed against Marc’s bulge, mouth hot and eager messing with his.

Marc is barely registering what’s happening, he can feel Vale’s hands on him, fucking finally, if that’s a dream he never wants to wake up, he can feel electricity sparkling between their bodies, the huger from Vale translating in the roughess of his kiss, Marc’s hand going for Vale’s curls, pulling him even closer.

Marc moves slightly and his dick brushes against Vale’s thigh, making him moan in the kiss, the grip on his hips strengthening.

“Vale” Marc already sounds desperate, his voice is trembling, a wet spot has appeared on the front of his jeans, where Vale’s thigh was.

He looks shining, like he did when he won the championship last year and like he looked earlier today on the top step of the podium.

Vale takes in the sight, snapping a mental picture of this moment.

“Come with me” and Marc doesn’t need to be told twice, he follows the older man through the crowd, past the bar and ignores the stare coming from Dovi, blushing at the idea that he knows.

A part of Vale’s mind, probably the sane one, still yells it’s wrong, still sees Marc as a kid, still wants him to stop. But he shuts it up, Marc is glowing, his eyes are shiny and look like he’s been crying, he’s perfect.

Vale leads him to a bathroom a bit further than the others, and almost doesn’t give him any time to think, he’s already on him again.

It’s as needy and hot as the first time, but now his hands are one in his hair and the other squeezing his ass, while slowly guiding him to a stall.

“Fuck…Marc you are beautiful” Vale closes the door of the stall they ended up in and goes to attack Marc’s neck, biting a little at the flesh and licking his Adam’s apple.

Marc is set on having the upper hand at least for one moment during this and finding some strength he pushes Vale onto the other wall of the stall, who’s got a surprised face, especially when Marc goes to unbutton his shirt to place hungry and wet kisses all over the man’s chest.

He slowly goes lower and lower, Vale’s shirt now completely unbuttoned and whole torso on display. “You’re gonna suck me off here Marc? Get on your knees for me and make me feel good?” Vale strokes the boy’s hair as he speaks, and Marc moans, he’s finally on his knees, where he so shamelessly wanted to be for the past year basically.

He goes to unbuckle his pants but Vale is quicker, a rapid movement and they’re already pooled at his ankles. Marc goes for the boxers and finally takes them off, Vale’s dick standing in front of him.

Marc wastes no time in getting his mouth on it, lips slightly stretched and red cheeks making a beautiful picture.

“Mh fuck Marc you already feel so good, can’t believe I waited so much to have you” Vale’s hand goes to tangle itself in Marc’s hair, but he doesn’t take control, just stays there, he just needs to touch him.

As soon as Marc begins to bob his head it’s heaven for Vale.

It’s even better than what he imagined, it’s as if Marc is made to do it, hollowing his cheeks at the right moment, his tongue playing with his head, his dick sliding in and out so smoothly Vale thinks he’s dreaming.

And Marc is loving it, the control he has now over Vale, he’s the one dictating the pace and the intensity, and it gets him even more aroused, one of his hands pressed against his crotch, giving him a bit of pleasure, but none close to the one he wants to feel from Vale.

Marc keeps on sucking, obscene sounds coming from him as he gags on Vale’s dick a few times, feeling it hit the back of his throat, it’s like a spell, Marc can’t desire anything else from now on.

“Marc I’m gonna come cazzo you need to-” but this time it’s Marc that doesn’t give him time to think, as he’s already coming hard down the boy’s throat.

Marc lets go of Vale’s dick, a thin string of saliva still connecting it to his lips. “Was I good Vale?” god that kid needed approval for this too, it made Vale feel dizzy, it was the best head he ever received, the need of validation Marc has is a powerful knowledge to him.

“You were amazing bimbo, now get up and turn around you deserve a lot more tonight”

Marc smiles, he’s hard in his pants, embarrassingly a lot, but obeys to Vale’s commands.

He feels Vale’s hands going to unzip his jeans, slowly dragging them down his legs, a groan coming from the older man when he notices his smooth skin.

He took the lube he kept in his pants out already, passing it to Vale with trembling fingers, as if he is afraid to break it.

When Vale finally coats his fingers with it and pushes in the first one he meets no resistance, Marc going red as a neon light out in the club, he can feel Vale smirking.

“Did you prep yourself before coming out tonight tesoro? Not really a good boy then mh? Couldn’t even wait for me to take care of you properly”

Marc whines, he can feel Vale starting to get hard again against his back.

“No no I wanted to be good, wanted to be ready to take you Vale, I ah fuck want to be good for you”

As he is speaking Vale pushes a second finger in, this time it’s met with more resistance, Vale’s fingers were slimmer and longer, even if Marc tried he couldn’t touch where Vale is reaching right now, ghosting over his prostate like a punishment.

“You teased me all night Marc, all year actually, because you just can’t keep calm can you? You need to get fucked so good you finally shut up. I could tell you not to come until I give you permission and you would obey right?” Marc nods, legs trembling as Vale’s breath becomes hotter against the base of his neck, his fingers scissoring him slowly.

“You also said you could go to other men and have them satisfy you…not good Marc not good, you really believe they could make you feel like I can?”

Marc is already crumbling under Vale’s touch and teasing, his words adding gasoline to the fire that burns in his body. “Answer pretty boy, or you’re not getting anything” he knows that’s a straight up lie, now that he got a small hint at what Marc is he can’t let go, but playing with the boy’s mind is too funny not to do, seeing how desperate he can get for him makes him feel powerful.

And it’s sick yes, but no one could have the willpower to resist Marc if he looks like that.

“No Vale no one, I want you, always wanted you, I need you now please I won’t say that again”

His voice breaks, god he knows he sounds pathetic, but it gets Vale going, small hungry kisses on the back of his neck as he scissors his hole more and more, stretching him more than he himself usually does, making him whimper more than moan, and Vale loves those little sounds coming from his throat.

“Mh you make such pretty sounds Marc, wonder if they can hear us right now, maybe they’re listening because you’re so hot they can’t resist.

Maybe your friend from before is right there, wishing it was him and not me here with you”

It makes Marc blush even more if possible, the recurring and present idea of having someone know, or hear them.

“Would you like for them to hear tesoro? To listen to you while I fuck you in here?”

It’s shameless how Marc whines at the words, Vale’s fingers still too slow inside him.

“They can’t hear anything if you don’t get on with it Vale, you want them to know you’re the one fucking me than actually do it and make me scream your name”

Vale has to take a second to process Marc’s shift in attitude.

God that’s hot. He really has no shame whatsoever, he wants it, he gets it.

“You've got a filthy mouth for someone who came after me like a desperate slut for a year” Vale adds a third finger, drawing a hot and long moan from Marc, whose hands are planted against the stall’s wall for stability.

“Don’t worry tesoro they are gonna hear you”

and he’s quick in exchanging his fingers brushing against his prostate with his cock, making Marc’s knees almost give up at holding him up at the sudden change.

“Vale God you- you stretch me so good” Marc’s gripping at the wall for dear life now, he can feel Vale getting hard inside him and oh God it’s the most fulfilling sensation he’s ever felt.

Vale bottoms out, then turns him around, pulling a leg around his waist and pushes back in, he wants to see his face, needs to feast at the desperation and need the other feels for him.

Marc looks absolutely beautiful right now: watery eyes, red cheeks, pink puffy lips on display.

Vale has to kiss him, there’s no other possibility.

So he does, hungry and hot, not interrupting his thrusts once while doing so, having Marc moan in his mouth, little whimpers escaping his throat and getting the older fueled.

Marc's knees are wobbly and they both know he isn’t gonna be able to stand in a matter of minutes, so Vale just goes to grab his ass and picks him up, Marc whines, arms thrown around Vale’s neck and his legs holding onto his hips.

He’s somewhat gently pushed against the stall wall, Vale starting to move again, Marc feeling the harsh contact of skin on skin and the pants coming from Vale’s mouth in his ear.

He starts feeling drunk with it, Vale’s cock fully hard inside him, still stretching him a bit, pain and pleasure meeting to get him absolutely fucked.

And now Marc is loud, moaning, whimpering, chanting Vale’s name and asking him for more, more, more.

Vale’s eyes are fixated on the marks the boy has been left with by someone else, and the rush of possessiveness makes him almost light headed.

He starts to kiss Marc’s jaw, then his neck and collarbone, still never stopping fucking him

“I don’t like these marks on you bimbo, these are not mine.” He speaks as he mouths at the sensitive skin on Marc’s nipples, ghosting a breath over them. “And I need you to be marked by me only, you get it right? I am not gonna share you, I am very possessive of what’s mine”

Marc whimpers, he can feel he’s getting close, and Vale saying those things just makes him weaker, he wants, needs Vale to mark him, wants to feel his teeth on his flesh like a signature.

And Vale does it, biting down on his collarbone, still holding him against the wall while fucking into him, Marc’s hand tugging at his curls.

He moves up his neck, sucking deep purple marks on it, then getting to his jaw, kissing it with hunger.

His thrusts begin to be more erratic, Marc immediately gets it, so he slowly untangles his legs from Vale’s hips, who flips him once again, facing his back, Marc’s asscheeks red from the grip he held until now, a fucking hell of a sight.

Vale wastes no time in fucking into him again, moaning at the tightening sensation of Marc around his dick.

His hands move to the boy’s nipples, twisting them lightly, but to Marc is more than enough, he knows he’s sensitive there, he has tears in his eyes from pleasure.

“Vale Vale Vale I’m- if you keep like this I’m gonna cum” it’s forced out, he can’t really think anymore, he can just feel Vale’s hands roaming his body, a smirk forming on his face.

“You’re so sensitive here amore, you’re blushing all over” but it’s not enough for Vale, he wants to have Marc’s full devotion, he wants to be the only one in his mind.

His left hand travels to Marc’s dick, stroking it a few times, his right one goes up, up, up until it meets his throat, closing on it tentatively, lightly, barely doing anything.

But the block of the oxygen gets Marc over the edge, he comes rapidly, a loud moan echoing in Vale’s ears and the whole bathroom, fuck if someone is truly there they have for sure heard.

And it leaves Vale mesmerized by how Marc can melt under him, how a hand around his throat can be enough to satisfy him.

It’s arousing, so much he doesn’t last long either, with his hand still around Marc’s throat and his dick Vale tries to pull out, to at least have the decency to not cum inside, but Marc realizes, and turns his head so quick it could break, Vale’s fingers brushing at his throat.

“No Vale please come inside I-I need you to I want to feel you inside me” and Vale is a weak man for this, for him, and complies, coming with a deep moan inside Marc, feeling him clench against his dick, soft whimpers coming from the younger.

Vale slips out, his cum slowly dripping from Marc’s hole down his legs, making him feel dirty, but so so aroused.

He turns Marc around again for the like fifth time this night, and kisses him hungrily, his fingers playing a bit with the boy’s oversensitive nipples.

They keep on making out sloppy, until none of them has oxygen left, then they just keep still, their foreheads pressed against each other, panting like they just ran a marathon, eyes glued together, in a moment where only the two of them exist, the post-fuck haze where both can feel the presence of the other.

“I need you now Vale, need you so badly please” it comes out as a whimper almost, Marc’s voice cracking under the continued overstimulation Vale is keeping him under, and Vale smirks, goes to place a light kiss on his neck, so gentle it’s barely there.

“Was me fucking you in this stall not enough baby? You need more? So eager let me take care of you” he whispers all this so close to Marc’s ear he thinks he could catch on fire, Marc blushes even more than before, a little whine escaping his mouth as he tries to answer while Vale still has his fingers playing with his nipples.

“please let’s get to my room Vale I need to - please”

and he’s just too cute like that, desperate eyes, wet puffy lips and those cheeks tinted of a red so deep they look artificial.

“Sure baby let’s go”

They make quick work of dressing themselves, trying to look at least presentable in other people’s eyes.

Marc’s jeans still have a stain on the front, and for how much he can try to find excuses it’s too obvious what that is.

Luckly the club is dark enough people shouldn’t notice the state they both are in, but before they can even make it out the bathroom completely they cross paths with a certain italian man.

Vale and Dovi have a five-second long staring contest, where Dovi loses quickly, mostly after seeing Vale’s pride shining in his eyes, the way his fingers are tangled with Marc’s.

But most of all the blissful look on the boy’s face, not to mention the unholy amount of hickeys littering his neck.

Marc snuggles himself more into Vale’s arms as the older pulls him closer.

Dovi has no business even staring at Marc now, Vale arrived first, and Vale’s known to be pretty possessive of what he gains.

Dovi looks away with a light blush on his cheeks, but Marc is quicker and waves at him smiling with his cat-like grin “Bye Dovii”.

Stronzetto.

Luckily Vale doesn’t hear Marc, he’s too busy dragging him out the club to care anyway, he needs to have him again like right now.

“How are we going back Vale?” and the man smirks, grabbing two helmets hung on his bike.

He brought two Marc thinks. He brought two helmets he knew I’d go with him. And it makes him blush as he secures it under his chin.

Vale hops on front, Marc behind him, arms tight around his body, fingers lightly teasing his abs.

“Behave” is the only word coming from Vale before he speeds off to the hotel Marc gives the address of.

They get there in a matter of minutes, Marc is sure they broke at least three speed limits on their way, but he doesn’t care, he can still feel Vale’s cum sticking shamelessly on his legs, the burn of a hickey on his neck, and he can’t wait to have more of it.

They climb down the bike and as soon as their helmets are put away Marc grabs Vale’s hand and starts to walk through the Hall towards the elevator.

Vale smirks at the boy’s eagerness, but as they enter the elevator and Marc is ready to throw himself at Vale they notice there’s already another person inside.

Vale pushes him in nonetheless, he wants to see how Marc acts when he’s this needy in front of other people.

The man barely acknowledges the two coming in, and Marc pushes the button for the 6th floor.

The ride until the fourth is already torture, he can’t get close to Vale, that guy is standing right in the middle of the elevator, waiting for his stupid floor.

Marc’s biting his lip, bouncing a bit on his tiptoes, picking at his nails.

He looks like he could throw the guy out if he doesn’t leave in the next two seconds.

The elevator dings, the guy is quick to go out, probably has some kind of business to attend.

The doors are not even closed all the way but Marc is already on Vale, hands pushing him against the elevator’s side and keeping him there, fingers tugging at his shirt as the two make out.

It’s a mess of teeth and saliva, and they barely feel the elevator stopping at their floor by how taken by each other they are right now.

“Your room Marc. Now” and Marc giggles, Vale wants it as bad as he does, and that makes him feel a little less pathetic.

Vale follows the boy blindly, not really taking in any of the surroundings, his eyes focused on Marc.

“Here here” Marc stops, taking his key out the back pocket, sliding it through the reader and waiting for the little dot to turn green.

It can’t do it faster, because as soon as it does Marc is pushed past the door, hears it getting shut and locked and then has Vale’s lips on his again. The same want from the club coming back, but this time they have a bed, and Marc desperately needs it if he wants to do what he’s been dreaming of since last year.

“Vale, take me to bed now please” and who is Vale to deny this perfect boy his wish?

He takes him by the hand, gently yes but still possessive, as if he thinks after tonight Marc could ever want someone else again.

Vale sits on the edge of the bed and Marc goes to settle on his lap, lips crashing again.

“Off everything off Marc I need to see you” it’s night but the moon is full tonight, shining through the window the boy left open for the breeze to come in and cool down the room a bit.

Marc obliges, taking off his shoes together with Vale and making half a show while taking off his shirt.

As soon as it hits the bed Vale’s lips and hands are on his nipples, biting and twisting them making Marc feel electricity all over his body “Vale if you ah if you keep like this I’ll cum God it’s so good”

It lights something up in Vale, the idea of having Marc come untouched by him just playing with his nipples.

He lets go briefly of them. moving Marc off his lap and onto the bed, not uttering a single word but making a deep sound when looking at how disheveled Marc already looks.

He goes to unzip Marc’s jeans, yanking them off a bit more harshly than he should, but at this point none of them cares about it.

He sits straight up, removing his shirt and jeans in like three seconds, then going to sit on the bed again, tapping his lap.

“Come sit here amore” and Marc is embarrassingly fast at following his orders.

Without the jeans forming a barrier but only briefs he can feel Vale’s hard cock against his much more than before, making him whine.

“You said you could cum from me playing with these alone? You really think you can do it?”

And this is how Marc finally dies. Sat on his God’s lap, almost naked, hard and with his cum still inside him.

“I- I yes I can” he stops, then goes all in “if you want me to”

Vale groans, throwing his head back against the headboard, a wicked smile painted on his face.

He starts to rub small circles on Marc’s hips, just above the waistband of his boxers, this id is going to be the death of him.

“I want you to Marc, I’m going to make sure you’ll never forget this” and he doesn’t give Marc the time to process the answer that he’s already mouthing at his right nipple, twisting the other between his fingers.

Vale’s tongue gets him light headed, it’s so good Marc could cry.

He whimpers and moans instead, his hands tangling themselves in Vale’s unruly curls, making him moan against his already overstimulated nipple.

“Vale Vale Vale” it’s the only thing he manages to half-moan half-say as he’s basically tortured by the man sitting beneath him.

Vale lets go of his right nipple, all red and swollen, and immediately gets to work on the other, while Marc whispers soft pleas above him.

He takes it between his teeth, torturing it a little, just to listen to the sounds it makes Marc do, and oh god would he record them and have them always ready for when he needs a quick release in his shower.

A louder moan comes from Marc, his hands tug at Vale’s hair a bit hared, and he’s so close it must hurt.

“Fuck you’re sensitive like a girl here Marc it’s crazy” and this is what has Marc definitely loose all the little dignity he has.

He lets out a high pitched moan as he cums in his briefs, staining them even more than before.

Vale smirks, working his way up Marc’s chest until he reaches his neck, sucking on it once more, just to be sure it stays there, then it’s Marc that kisses him and Vale can taste the lust on his tongue.

“Let me ride you Vale. I need to do it since last year I’ve been- been trying to get you here all night. Please just let me” it’s a mix of beg and resolution that gets Vale so aroused his head spins.

“Please be my guest Marc” and he’s so casual about it Marc wants to cry from happiness.

But his look transfixes to horror when Vale goes to open the drawer next to the bed.

He doesn’t need lube they just went before, he can’t can’t find it, not like that.

But he’s too weak and slow to stop Vale, who by opening the bedside drawer sees the only thing Marc could pretend was him all year long.

“Marc…you are a dirty dirty boy eh? You travel with a dildo to every race you go? Is it because I never fucked you before?”

And Marc wants to combust, disappear like a ghost, cause he’s too embarrassed of Vale finding out.

“Did you use it before tonight’s party amore? Is that why you were already stretched mh?”

God he has to stop, he's going to have him cum again by talking alone.

“Do you pretend it’s me when you’re alone in your room Marc? Do you say my name when you fuck yourself with it and wish it was me?”

Marc blushes again, even more this time, his cheeks matching the stark red of his red bull cap sat on a chair next to the bed.

“Answer me Marc come on I know you can do it”

no he can’t cause if he does he’s just going to sound pathetic, he doesn’t even know if he can speak right now.

But for Vale he tries, for Vale he would catch the moon so he tries “Yes yes I pretend it’s you because you always said I was too young but I needed you I wanted you I say your name every time I use it now please Vale let me ride you I- just please”

Vale seems happy with his answer, closes the drawer and looks at Marc with a smile, something burning in his eyes.

“If you weren’t this pretty and needy I’d have you fuck yourself with it in front of me, but you look too good and I want to feel you right now” Vale’s fingers go to hook on his waistband, and the motherfucker licks his lips like he wants to taste him.

“But don’t worry tesoro, next time you’re gonna do it, for me you would si?”

Marc feels his blood run all the way to his dick, leaving his brain empty, just the words next time resonating in his head.

There will be a next time.

Vale doesn’t even want an answer, he just tugs at his briefs and Marc is quick to remove them, Vale doing the same, looking at Marc with a fondness he shouldn’t feel.

Marc is even quicker to climb back on Vale’s lap and smash his lips against the man’s, muffling his moans as he lifts himself up and takes Vale’s dick in hand, slowly but steadily lowering himself on it.

“You’re so hot Marc so so hot you look divine like this” Vale groans as Marc finally sinks down completely, he never wants to feel anything else, he’s just too perfect to be true.

Marc starts to ride Vale, slowly still because his legs are tired from their first round in the club. But after a few moans from Vale and the man’s hand squeezing his ass like he owns it he forgets everything about the soreness in his thighs and picks up the pace, steading himself with his hands on Vale’s shoulders, his eyes unable to leave Vale’s as he keeps on squeezing his ass, for sure leaving a red mark on it too.

It’s the possessiveness he does it with that gets Marc more aroused, the feeling that in that moment he belongs to Vale.

Vale straightens up a bit, the new angle catches Marc by surprise and has him yelp like he was just caught doing something illegal.

One of his hands shifts from his ass to his hair, tugging at them just enough to make him whine.

The boy doesn’t stop his movements, chanting his name like a mantra.

He's basically bouncing on Vale’s cock, and it becomes the only thing he can think about, feeling Vale filling him up so nicely and never wanting to forget this sensation.

Vale’s hand moves once again, slowly letting go of Marc’s hair to close around the boy’s throat.

He had seen what it did to him back at the club, but now that the boy is even more sensitive and fucked out, he needs to see what happens now.

Marc is riding him with passion as if it’s a competition and he’s the fucking Olympics contender for the first place.

But when one of Vale’s hands closes around his throat and the other goes to his chest, his fingers teasing his nipples again, he loses his rhythm, letting out a moan so pornographic Vale is sure he’s about to ascend to Heaven.

Marc is melting under his touch, he feels so hot Vale thinks he could get burned, especially when Marc picks his pace up again, just whispering in a loop “yes yes yes yes” as he rides him, head thrown back, eyes closed and a strong grip on his shoulders.

“Fuck Marc you-God you really are perfect” Marc smiles as much as he can at the compliment, his brain now putty and so filled with Valentino’s name he fears he may just black out from pleasure.

“Ah you should see yourself right now tesoro, you look so pretty on my lap like this, a fuck a pretty princess on his throne”.

Marc goes completely red, moaning audibly at the comment, making Vale’s eyes sparkle with interest.

But even Marc has his limits and for how much he can try and not feel his thighs burning from exhaustion they ultimately give up, not holding him up anymore as he tries to still ride Vale.

And he’s half crying, he wants Vale to come inside him as he was riding him, but all his thoughts are shut down by Vale’s lips on his own, brushing them a bit too lightly for the kind of sex they’re having.

“You felt so so good riding me Marc, but after all you’re the winner no? Shouldn’t be doing all the work, you should let me do some of it too, don't you think?”

“Please” it’s almost indecipherable, a whine coming softly out the boy’s mouth.

Vale breaks away from the headboard, the hand previously placed on Marc’s chest sliding on his back, accompanying him gently on the bed, to then go rest on his hip, a permanent feeling carved in Marc’s memory and -at least he hopes- on his body too.

The hand on his throat stays there though, it gets Marc too fucked out and it would be a crime to move it away.

Vale picks up a fast pace immediately, Marc’s legs around his waist making him go feral with want, Marc’s whimpers not helping, especially with the way he is very clearly enjoying having a hand choking him.

Vale moves to kiss him but Marc’s hands are faster, pulling him closer, lips messily meeting in a rush that makes Vale moan in the kiss.

Marc’s hands travel to his biceps, he’s digging his nails in, which for sure will leave marks, but Vale just doesn’t care in this moment, too taken by how perfect Marc feels around his cock, hot and wet like in his best dreams.

When Vale hits his prostate Marc dies, he moans his name so loud Vale is sure the whole damn floor heard him, which is good, this way they know who he belongs to.

He starts babbling nonsense, his legs losing every last bit of strength to hold around Vale’s waist, the oxygen flow so light he can’t even think.

“Papi please” it’s said with tears in his eyes, begging for something he doesn’t even know.

Vale stops mid thrust and asks Marc to repeat, lightening the pressure on the boy’s throat.

Marc panics for a moment, maybe it was too much, too soon but when he sees Vale’s stare burning with lust he knows it’s the opposite, so he says it again, the oxygen to his brain a bit more making him able to form a decent sentence.

“Please papi I need to cum please”

Vale’s grip on his hip tightens, both his hands there now, as he resets the pace from before, aiming and hitting his prostate at every thrust.

“Fuck Marc you’re going to kill me if you say that” Vale’s brain is melting too, Marc calling him papi being the only thing he can hear.

“Papi please”

After a few more thrusts hitting his prostate Marc is back again to not being able to talk anymore, Vale lowering himself to kiss him sloppy, moans dying in their mouths, Marc’s hands gripping Vale’s back and nails digging and scratching, leaving marks Vale is gonna remember for a while.

a series of ah ah ah leaving Marc’s mouth as a beg, he can hear the slap of skin against skin and Vale’s grunts and he fucks into him more and more rapidly, his own moans filling the room.

“Papi you fill me up so good fuck” and Vale’s pace becomes irregular, he’s so damn close, they both know he is, Marc thightens the grip of his legs around Vale’s waist, he’s completely gone, he can just feel Vale inside and around him, and he would die right now a happy man if this was the last thing he got to experience.

“Marc I’m close you feel so good you’re so hot” they both are on edge, Vale is trying to keep composure, Marc doesn’t care anymore, he just needs Vale to claim him again, wants to feel the hot liquid spilling inside him and Vale calling him his.

“Please inside, please” Vale mutters something underneath his breath, then pumps Marc’s dick a few times, Marc can feel the roughness of his hands, and it’s so good, he sees white, cums arching his back and holding onto Vale’s for dear life, his release panting both his and Vale’s abs.

And when Vale finally feels Marc clenching around him it’s too good to try and resist, he cums too, shooting his load inside a completely blissed Marc who can just whine at the sensation.

Vale starts kissing all over Marc’s face, still inside him, the boy letting his legs fall from Vale’s hips, not an ounce of strength left in his body.

“Mine mine mine mine mine, all mine” his hands are still on Marc’s hips, keeping him glued to the bed, as he lets out soft, almost inaudible moans.

“Say it again Vale please, say I’m yours again” Vale grins, as he does after winning a though race, satisfied, conquering, powerful, because he just managed to win him, win him over every other person who wants a piece of that perfect boy lying beneath him, smiling at him with an unprecedented softness.

“You’re mine Marc” and Vale kisses him deeply while slipping out, both responding to the action with a moan of displeasure.

Vale really wants to just bring Marc to have a bath and clean him up, he really does, but no one could’ve prepared him for the sight he would’ve come across once breaking away from Marc.

His hole is pink and still swollen from the brutal pace he set before, overflowing with his cum, and Vale practically stops breathing, while Marc is blushing profusely, because he knows what Vale’s thinking, and he desperately needs him to act on it.

And Vale does, he starts eating him out, pushing his release back inside Marc, obscene and squelching sounds filling up the room, together with what little whimpers Marc can still form.

He goes on for a good minute, before Marc grips his hair, a string of “too much too much” making its way to Vale’s ear, who promptly gets up, cleaning the drops around his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Sorry sorry you were too beautiful to let you like that tesoro, I needed to do it”

God. Vale needed that, him. It’s more than enough for Marc to smile, completely fucked dumb, and rapidly drifting to sleep.

“Woah no no no tesoro need to take a bath si? I have to clean you up I promise after the bath you can sleep for two whole days”

“might need two days just to recover from this” Marc smiles, his usual cat-like smile, as Vale helps him up from the bed, his legs still shaking and wobbly, so much Vale has to pick him up and bring him to the bathroom, sitting him on the edge of the bath.

Marc plays with the water filling the bathtub for some minutes, until he decides the temperature and level are ok.

He slips in, a warm sensation making his muscles relax, immediately followed by the sound of Vale getting in as well, wrapping his arms around Marc, pulling him against his chest.

“You were amazing bimbo, really, haven’t felt so good in forever” he nuzzles the boy’s neck, making him laugh slightly, he’s ticklish there, better make a mental reminder of it, Vale never knows when it could be useful.

“So beautiful”

Marc eventually falls asleep at the sound of Vale praising him and calling him beautiful, his arms keeping him close.

And it feels like a dream.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #motogp rpf #motogp fanfic #motogp smut #valentino rossi #marc marquez #jorge lorenzo #cal crutchlow #andrea dovizioso

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