/ from here . ─ . @gridlvd
as a kid, micah's chest floods with light and warmth whenever he sees james, even when they go head to head in karting. but somewhere along the way, micah realizes his admiration is something more. that warmth freezes into terror ( because how could james ever feel the same? ) so, he welcomes the arguments, the fights, the rivalry that spreads across all media. at least, james' focus is still fixed on him while micah's desires stay hidden under lock and key. —and yet, he can't stay far from james, always gravitating towards him. even his eyes seeks out the driver across the paddock, the pen, anywhere they're in the same space.
micah braces himself for rejection. his skin screams from the burn of preemptive heartbreak, on the verge of detonating the vest of C4s strapped to his chest. his eyes reveal too much vulnerability. "james, i-"
all noise in micah's mind silences once james holds his face. growing up with violence, micah's body is a stranger to this gentleness, this tenderness. but oh, how he craves, how he wants. when they kiss, there aren't any fireworks. it's a fucking supernova, iridescent light burning out all darkness. micah returns the kiss with mirrored ferocity, one hand grasping the side of james' neck just to feel that brave pulse beating against his palm. his other arm wraps around james' waist to anchor him. micah pulls him closer, hand resting on the small of his back until gliding up the elegant path of his vertebrae, fingers gripping at the back of his shirt like a lifeline.
he's breathless once the kiss breaks, then utterly wrecked when james says i want you. nobody has ever wanted him. they want what he can do as a driver, a champion. but just wanting micah? heart trembling, micah draws james closer, and rests their foreheads together.
"i want you too. damnit— i've wanted you for so fucking long." where he lacks in eloquence, micah gives raw truth, along with his heart. although he already gave that to james long ago, and still let him have it through every fight on the track, every clash outside the car.
as his palm remembers echoes of james' heartbeat, micah's ensnared by the dire need to feel it again. fingers curling in soft brown locks, micah pulls james' head back— not harshly, not painfully, but most certainly possessively. at the sight of that gorgeous bared throat, darkness swallows the last traces of blue in micah's eyes, pupils dilating with hunger. he presses his lips against the pulse buried in that jugular vein. intimacy sears like a scorching blade, embers catching fire as his teeth lightly run over tender skin.
like P1, the championship, victory— micah's yearning is a hideously insatiable thing, especially when it's for james. his other hand grips the man's waist, thumb sliding under the shirt hem to caress the arch of james' hip bone. even that part of james feels beautiful. "fuck," micah exhales under his breath, the swear smudging a burning path along james' jawline. "what if i want you too much?"
