#estebance

[fishadows]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My Strollonsocon Long Fic is ready to be posted bit by bit over the next few weeks :)

It's a fake dating AU where Esteban never got to be a racing driver, he meets Lance who has the spontaneous idea to date him for a while and in return pay off his debt. Chaotic feelings ensue~

[goldenlie]

Do you think I had forgotten, about you?

I have not picked up a clip editing app since iMovie but I’ve been craving to make an edit surrounding formula 1 for months. Seeing Esteban pull Lance into conversation after noticing him standing alone was my tipping point.

This is undoubtedly late to seven trends but it’s made with love of the game and that’s timeless.

[rocketinthesky]

Helloo thank you to @lunarxoko for the prompt. I love lesteban and tried to whip smth up real quick. This was supposed to be smut but ended up being like this weird emotional relationship study of them instead lmao still hope you like it!

Lesteban, explicit 🔞🔞, canon comp, blowjobs, one-shot.

read on ao3

No Words Needed

Lance is on his knees, holding Esteban’s thighs and looking up at him with hooded eyes. Esteban sees through the seduction and confidence easily. They’ve done this song and dance too many times now, and they’ve been best friends even longer.

Esteban knows how Lance gets after a bad race, and with the state of his team, there are rarely any races that are anything but that. So, Esteban wasn’t surprised to see Lance standing at the other side of the door to his driver’s room. He’s long since given up trying to comprehend the ease with which Lance gets around in his motorhome, even though Haas is a new place even for him, but Lance has no problem weaving through the crowd of red and white in his emerald green.

Lance doesn’t say anything, and he only gets like this when he’s upset and exhausted and frustrated. Silent, a fury quietly burning in his eyes and trying not to snap the tightness in his jaws. Esteban doesn’t say anything either, allows Lance to walk him backwards till he’s leaning against the wall, watches as Lance drops to his knees in one smooth motion.

He’s already starting to tent, half hard by the time Lance pulls his freshly worn jeans down and lets it pool at his ankles. Lance grips Esteban’s thighs, his hands hot against Esteban’s skin. Esteban typically runs cold.

Lance eyes Esteban’s bare cock with some inscrutable emotion in his eyes, face carefully blank. It does nothing to deter Esteban, however, being studied like he’s being watched under a microscope.

Lance finally breaks the stalemate, leaning in to lave his tongue along Esteban’s shaft, one broad swipe of his tongue that’s too dry and rough and sends electricity zipping down Esteban’s spine. Esteban’s hands fly out to Lance’s head, slipping into his hair and gripping lightly as a way to ground himself.

Lance gives an approving hum as he gets to work, tongue wetter with each lick and working Esteban to full hardness. The walls are far too thin, and Esteban is highly conscious of it as he stifles as much of his noises by biting down on his bottom lip as he can.

Lance finally takes Esteban’s cock fully into his mouth in one obscenely smooth motion, almost down to the fucking hilt. Esteban’s not a cocky man, but he’s certainly not small, but Lance takes it like a fucking professional and Esteban throws his head back with a muffled groan, the sting in his skull from hitting the wall overshadowed by the slick sound of his cock in Lance’s sinful mouth and the pleasure building rapidly down south.

Esteban forces himself to keep his eyes open despite his body resisting the motion. He looks down, chest heaving, at Lance—his face flushed a pretty red, lips stretched obscenely around Esteban’s cock, fingers digging into Esteban’s thighs.

Lance isn’t loud in bed, his pleasure evident in the way he picks up his pace, bobbing his head faster, saliva pooling in his mouth and his movements getting sloppier.

Esteban’s the opposite; he struggles to keep quiet, fear of the paper thin walls of his driver’s room completely forgotten as a mismatch of French and English curses and praises fall out his lips, fingers tightening in Lance’s hair, tugging in time with Lance’s movements.

He comes to the sight of Lance looking up at him, eyes glazed over and pupils blown wide, cheeks ruddy red and a thin trail of drool sliding down to his chin from the corner of his lips.

Lance drinks it all in with a quiet groan, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes fall shut.

Later, when Esteban has tucked himself back into his pants and helped Lance stand up, they share a quiet kiss, close-lipped and far too chaste for what they had just done.

But Lance smiles afterward, a gentle curve of his lips that lets Esteban know that he’s alright. That this will pass and they’ll be back to talking as they usually do, and that nothing has changed.

Hope you liked it! Ty for the prompt, and to anyone who reads this feel free to send me a ship + prompt too.

[jusst-you-race]

read the prompt list you've been doing and i need number 8 with estebance... "take my seat" the devastation

thank you for the prompt and i'm sorry it took so long to get around to it (also sorry it's so short)... i had grand ideas about making this one really angsty and then i started writing and well... it became this... prompt list

“Take my seat.”

Lance shuffles into the room, eyes scanning for somewhere to sit. There doesn’t seem to be a free chair, but his gaze snags on Esteban and he wanders over slowly. He’s not sure what his face is doing, but it must be something weird to have Esteban looking at him like that. He scrunches his nose at the sympathy.

“How was media?” Esteban asks quietly, as Lance arrives beside him. Lance shrugs. 

“Same as always.” His voice is flat, and he knows it won’t do anything to mollify Esteban, but he just can’t muster the energy to be positive right now. He smiles halfheartedly, hoping that’ll soothe, but by the way Esteban’s eyebrows only furrow more he reckons it comes out more like a grimace. He sighs and slumps back against the wall behind him. Esteban’s concern rolls off him in waves.

“Here.” Lance looks down at Esteban, who’s in the process of standing up. “Take my seat.” 

There’s a beat where they both pause, and then Esteban’s eyes go wide. Lance can’t help it. It’s been a long day, media was shit, he’s feeling sensitive… he flinches. 

“Lance I—” Esteban stutters. “I didn’t mean like… Sorry.”

Lance scrubs a hand over his eyes, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, Este. I know you didn’t. Sorry.” When Lance looks back at him, Esteban is chewing his lip. Lance sits on the chair in an attempt to calm him. Esteban’s shoulder relax fractionally and Lance takes it as a win. He lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. Sometimes he really wishes he didn’t have to do media. 

He feels Esteban move away from his side and tries not to be bitter about it. He knows he’s not good company right now. He never is when he’s in one of these moods. But Esteban is supposed to be there for him. He’s supposed to stick with him through thick and thin. 

Lance can’t really blame him for leaving though. He squeezes his eyes closed even harder. A feeble attempt to block out the rest of the world. 

He hears the scrape of a chair beside him and pries an eye open. Esteban shuffles the chair he’s found into place, pressed against Lance’s. 

Lance lets his eye fall closed again, but it’s no longer a tight scrunch. Just gently closed, enjoying a moment of peace. 

Fingers worm their way into the space between his chest and where his arms are folded across it. They snake along his forearm until they can slip between his own fingers. Lance squeezes Esteban’s hand.

Slowly, he feels Esteban curl his larger frame into Lance’s side, head softly pillowed on Lance’s shoulder. The tension starts to drain from Lance. He’s so lucky to have Esteban in his life. 

He squeezes Esteban’s hand again, and a smile starts to tug at his mouth when he feels a gentle kiss pressed to his shoulder.