Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Indianapolis, USA
…
The tenth race is in Indianapolis, and that's where Kid finally learns why nobody wanted to tell him anything about that advertising deal Trafalgar signed with Ducati.
Trafalgar is going to be appearing in a calendar of Grand Prix champions that Ducati is putting together, one champion for every month of the year, posing with their bikes.
His people assumed, rightly, that Kid would throw a damn fit if he heard his bike would be used as a fucking photo prop, but Trafalgar and the sponsors have already agreed to the deal and made all the arrangements without consulting him. The only reason Kid even found out about it at all was because they assumed, again rightly, that he would kill somebody if he came into the garage one day and found his bike missing.
He's furious enough to start up a body count as it is, and it really doesn't help matters when he finds out that it's going to be a fucking naked calendar. For the female fans, they say.
Trafalgar. Naked. On his fucking bike. In a calendar that millions of people would own. Jesus Christ.
As much as he yells and swears up and down that they can use his bike for a goddamn pin up calendar over all their dead fucking bodies, the team's lawyers assure him there's nothing he can do about it, and the day of the photo shoot arrives.
He can't do any real work all day because the bike will be occupied by the stupid photo shoot, and it'd be pointless to make his crew put in hours for this kind of bullshit so he's left doing it all himself. Starting early in the morning he has to oversee transporting it to the studio, then getting it set up.
He refuses to let anybody who can't change a spark plug lay a hand on it once it's there, which means everyone, and takes over putting it into position according to the photographer's whims. There's a lot of 'a little to the left, no stage left, no not that far' that frays his nerves before Trafalgar even shows up.
After Kid's already been there for two hours, Trafalgar breezes in like he's some kind of supermodel: sunglasses on, nose in the air, trailed by his manager and assistant, and late as fuck. He walks straight past Kid without even a nod of recognition, and only stops to talk with the photographer for a moment before he's herded away to a dressing room.
He comes back out a few minutes later, barefoot and in a bathrobe, still being fussed over by hair and make up artists, and then with no warning he just shrugs off the robe and yep he is really naked under there. Goddamn.
Trafalgar is directed to artfully sprawl and drape himself across the bike in every position imaginable, which he does with no shame, while sending dark smoldering looks to the camera
Kid can only stand back and watch, and Trafalgar ignores him every time he snaps to be careful or he'll fucking knock it over. Why the hell did they have to use his bike for this? Couldn't they just paint somebody else's bike to look like his? It's not like anyone was going to be looking at it close enough to notice with Trafalgar sitting all tarted up on top of it like that!
The last straw is when the photographer tries to move the bike, lifting one of Trafalgar's feet off the ground as he does so.
"Hey! Don't fucking touch him like that!"
Shachi gives him a weird look, and Kid nearly chokes when he realizes what he just said.
"It! The bike! Don't- Fuck, just let me do it!" He's fuming as he stalks onto the set, and the photographer and his assistants have the common sense to scatter.
He has to shoo Trafalgar off the bike before he does anything, though. After that little slip up he does not want to risk touching any part of him, as it is he'll probably have to start pretending that he calls the bike some dude's name to convince people he's not possessive over Trafalgar.
Trafalgar just stands there with a hand propped on his hip and zero modesty, looking bored and very naked until his assistant manages to convince him to put the robe back on and stop giving everyone a free show.
It's the first time Kid has ever wanted to thank Shachi for anything. Having Trafalgar's dick out four feet away from him is the worst distraction he can think of, bad enough that Trafalgar's bare ass has been all over his bike already. He'd never be able to look at either of them the same way again after today.
For the rest of the shoot Kid's attention is torn between watching anybody who gets close to his bike like a hawk, and wondering who he'll have to bribe for a copy of all these pictures.
When the photographer calls it a wrap Kid is ready to follow Trafalgar off the set and into his dressing room so he can fuck him into next week, but he has to take care of getting the bike safely back to the garage first.
The next time he gets Trafalgar alone though, all bets are off. It's still five days before the next race, but he doesn't care how long he has to wait. He is going to ruin that beautiful fucking bitch.
…
Kid doesn't end up asking about getting copies of the photos, he doesn't trust any of those studio monkeys not to gossip. Instead he just remembers the shoot, over and over again, for the rest of the week.
Whenever he sees either Trafalgar or his bike, instantly the image of Trafalgar lounging naked on it pops into his head. After a few days of that he's ready to give himself a fucking concussion to get it off his mind. It was bad enough when it happened, but over time his imagination embellishes it to the point of being pornographic.
Well it was already practically soft-core porn, but Kid's stupid head just can't help mixing together the artsy editorial poses and sultry fashion model looks Trafalgar was throwing the camera with how he knows Trafalgar looks when he's coming, or sucking cock, or demanding Kid to please, please hurry up and fuck him already.
It's driving him fucking crazy. All day long before the next race he's only got half his mind on work, and the other half is concerned solely with all the exact positions he's going to get Trafalgar in later that night.
He wants to fuck him on top of the bike. Trafalgar would look so fucking good laid over it and taking his cock, but there's no way Kid would risk causing any damages so that's out of the question. Still, he's gonna fuck Trafalgar every other way possible. The little shit would have to win the race tomorrow without being able to sit down.
The day passes slowly, so very fucking slowly, but finally Kid manages to get his work done and thinks of a reason to get away from his crew for the night. His nerves are buzzing on the way down to the garage for the expected rendezvous, though when he gets there not even a whole week of fantasizing about every scenario that will result in him fucking Trafalgar has prepared him to deal with what he finds.
Trafalgar is already there, which is not a surprise. Half the time he'd be there before Kid, and half the time Kid would hang around until Trafalgar showed up.
The thing that gets him is that Trafalgar has already stripped, and is perched on the bike completely naked. He's sitting more primly than he was at the shoot, legs crossed and hands propped behind him, no obvious attempt made to look seductive (besides the lack of clothing), but even without trying he's just as aloof and devastatingly gorgeous as before.
The sight of him sitting there waiting for him like that is about as shocking as a punch in the goddamn face. Kid just stands in the doorway, speechless for a minute.
Had Trafalgar read his fucking mind or was he being that obvious? Did everyone else know that all he'd been thinking about for the past five days was Trafalgar naked on his bike?
Shit, more importantly, he has to get his hands on that irresistible bitch as soon as fucking possible.
Trafalgar doesn't say a word. He only watches as Kid crosses the room towards him, and Kid has no clue what he's thinking.
"Jesus, you look..." Kid trails off when he realizes that before he does anything else, he wants a fucking picture. He is not gonna be satisfied with the same calendar pic everybody gets.
Trafalgar had to know how fucking hot he looked, right? Asking to take a picture wouldn't be weird at all, right?
He's reaching for his phone before he can come up with answers. "Can I..." oh shit how is he going to ask this without sounding like an idiot. Why does talking to Trafalgar about anything besides work have to confuse him so damn much?
The photo shoot is already imposed all over his memory, where he didn't touch him and Trafalgar just ignored him and they were nothing to each other in front of anyone else. This is sex though, Trafalgar is different during sex.
With that in mind, Kid closes the gap between them and takes out his phone, holding it up, camera ready. "Spread 'em, sweetheart."
Trafalgar, perfect untouchable Trafalgar, uncrosses his legs and opens his knees, smirking when he does it.
He's actually posing, the smug fucker.
Kid snaps a picture, then reaches forward and pushes Trafalgar's legs a little farther apart, taking another pic that includes his hand on Trafalgar's thigh. Trafalgar lets him do it, even seems to be just as into it, judging from the expression he has on that just screams 'fuck me,' looking a million times more inviting than anything he'd shown in the studio.
He only gets a few more pics of himself touching Trafalgar in increasingly obscene ways – putting fingers in his mouth, tweaking a nipple with wet fingertips, stroking his cock as it gets hard – before he gives up on capturing the moments and needs to put his phone down so he can use both hands.
He gets Trafalgar off the bike first, and laid on his back on the closest worktop. Goddamn, they really had to do this in a room with a bed sometime, so Kid could fuck him on all fours without bruising the hell out of his knees...
This is good too though – Trafalgar's legs wrapped around his waist, Trafalgar's hands twisted in his hair, dragging him down into an open kiss that lasts forever and wipes every thought from his mind, leaving him with only the instinct to fill Trafalgar with his cum until the little bitch's hole is loose and soaking wet.
When he finishes the first time, he finds that Trafalgar's stomach is already covered with his own release but Trafalgar is hard again. Kid can't help leaning down to lick every drop off him before sucking his cock, fucking him on three fingers up to the last knuckle inside him, where he's a slick mess from Kid's cum.
Trafalgar is crying himself hoarse over it, and his ass feels so damn hot that Kid wants to eat him out next, but before he gets a chance Trafalgar is helplessly bucking into his mouth and coming hard.
God he loves it so much, the fucking slut.
"You're fucking filthy," is what Kid says, his voice rough after he swallows and pulls off. He wiggles his fingers, still shoved deep in Trafalgar's ass, and Trafalgar moans brokenly, arching up off the table.
"Ah-h Eustass, that's too much—"
"You better not be done yet." Kid drags his fingers out and admiring the way that makes his cum drip out as well. "I've been going crazy all week," he confesses.
Trafalgar is sprawled out over the table so relaxed he looks boneless, chest rising and falling on slow heavy breaths. He cracks an eye open to look at Kid. "You liked the photo shoot, then?"
"Hated it." Kid pinches one of Trafalgar's cheeks before he straightens up and props his arms on either side of Trafalgar's waist.
Trafalgar stretches lazily under him, and smirks. "I'll sign your copy when the calendar comes out."
"What month did you say you're gonna be?"
"January."
Oh, that's his birthday. Lucky. He's not going to mention that though, Trafalgar doesn't have to know he's probably going to buy ten copies of the damn calendar.
Trafalgar only needs a few minutes before he's ready to go again, and he's pushy about it too, even though he's the one who kept Kid waiting.
They don't get a chance to fuck in every position Kid wanted, but they still get through a quite a few, taking much more time than they usually did.
He ends up sitting down for the last round, with Trafalgar on top of him, starting out facing the other way but then twisting halfway back so he can hook an arm around Kid's neck and be kissed on the mouth, distracting Kid from sucking any more bruises into his shoulder. They stay like that for a while even after they both finish, the kissing slowing down but dragging on with no end in sight.
Kid absentmindedly strokes over him with both hands, smoothing down the tops of his thighs then up his sides to his chest before repeating the process, just enjoying the feeling of having Trafalgar in his lap, loose and long-limbed and relaxed against him.
"I want to see the pictures you took," Trafalgar says, his tone low and soft from all the sex.
"Sure," Kid says. He has zero confidence in his skills as a photographer, and he wasn't planning on sharing the pics, but it's easy to agree to anything Trafalgar has to say when he sounds like that.
He grabs his phone off the table, keeping Trafalgar in place with one arm so he doesn't accidentally dump the guy onto the floor, and hands it over.
Trafalgar spends a minute flicking through the photos, and Kid can't see his face but he's still feeling smug thinking about what he's looking at.
"Better than the shoot, right?" he says, laying a kiss on Trafalgar's neck.
Trafalgar just goes, "Mm," and gives his phone back.
"Wha- you deleted them?! What the fuck!" Those pics were supposed to tide him over for the two weeks between tomorrow's race and the next, what the hell is he going to do now!
"I never said you could keep them," Trafalgar says, sliding off Kid's lap and going over to where his clothes are neatly folded on another chair.
"Oh come on," Kid complains while thumbing through the settings on his phone. So he's whining, he doesn't care. Isn't there some kinda undo option? "What'd you expect me to do? Throw a million dollars at you like Ducati?"
Trafalgar tosses an amused look at him over his bare shoulder. "You'd have to do better than that if you want those kinds of pictures."
"I wasn't gonna spread 'em around or anything," Kid says, scowling petulantly at the screen when the photos refuse to reappear. He probably should've seen this coming. Damn Trafalgar for getting his guard down, he couldn't forget for a moment what an ice-cold bitch the guy is. "Shit."
Once he's dressed again, he gets Trafalgar out of the garage, locks it up, and they head back to the hotel.
This part of the routine, walking back together instead of Trafalgar first and Kid following later, had only started a few weeks ago. It was awkward the first time, Kid had no idea what he could say that wouldn't spark an argument, but Trafalgar hadn't given him any trouble, only kept pace next to him and said goodnight when they parted ways in the lobby.
Now it feels almost natural. They can chat a bit during the walk, and as long as it's not related to work or whatever what's going on between them is called it's actually kind of nice.
Tonight Kid spends the time complaining about Indianapolis. The city is shit and the people are shit and why can't they move the 10th circuit somewhere farther south to a place that has better food? Trafalgar doesn't seem to have an opinion on the matter, or not one that he bothers to share anyway, and lets Kid ramble on by himself. He does make the occasional remark though, so at least Kid knows he's not just tuning him out.
The best part about going back to the hotel together is taking the elevator up their respective rooms. Trafalgar's celebrity status always gets him put up in a swanky luxury suite, while Kid is usually a dozen floors below sharing a room with one of his crew, but they still get a minute alone during the ride. It's one last chance to get in some quick kissing and cop a feel without anyone around to see, and Kid likes to take advantage of it since it'll be another two weeks before he gets his fix again.
This particular night though some random fucking prick gets in the elevator with them, and that means he's not gonna get his goodnight kisses. He already lost the fucking pictures, now this? He glares at the back of the guy's head as the elevator doors close and imagines chucking him off the roof.
They reach his floor first and he shoulders past the cockblocking son of a bitch, glancing back at Trafalgar with regret. Trafalgar arches one sleek eyebrow and gives him a little shrug.
Damn it, this sucks. He should just get right back in the elevator, follow Trafalgar to his room, and finally fuck him in a bed like he's been wanting to.
But he doesn't. He turns around and goes to his own room, flops into bed, and Killer tells him to stop sulking so loudly and go the fuck to sleep.