handle it : pedro/aleix; pedro/aleix/maverick - 1.9k words (pt. 1) [sequel to magenta]
They’re organising Aleix’s liquor haul in the kitchen when Pedro asks. Aleix watches him roll a bottle of tequila between his hands, eyes unfocused on the neck of it, cheeks pinkening up to his ears.
“When you said, ah, back in the hotel,” he starts, and Aleix perks right up. He’d said a lot of shit in the hotel. All of it filthy. All of it promising. Pedro swallows down his nerves, throat bobbing. “About, like, sharing.” Oh. Aleix lights up, heat unspooling like rope in his chest.
“Really?”
Pedro jerks his head to the side, eyes fluttering every which way — nervy, teeth chewing the inside of his cheek. It’s adorable. Aleix wants to eat him.
“Why, are you crushing on someone?” he asks, sly, teasing. Pedro goes even redder. He coughs, fingers drifting to pick at the bottle label.
“No, ha, I was just wondering if you were, like, being serious.”
Aleix grins.
“I said if you ask nicely, right?”
“Yeah,” Pedro mutters, eyes slanting to the side. Aleix’s cheeky retort dies on his tongue at the doorbell ringing and the sudden eruption of jubilant laughter from his entryway.
An opportunity to bring it up again becomes increasingly unlikely, as his house starts to fill with riders and team members. The volume skyrockets immediately, and it doesn’t take long for Pedro to skulk off to rub shoulders with some Moto2 friends.
Just because they can’t talk about it doesn’t mean Aleix isn’t twisting the idea over in his head all night, turning it inside out and upside down. He watches every interaction Pedro has — gauges the look on his face, the heavy flutter of his eyelashes, how he orients himself around whoever he’s talking to. Pedro notices him staring, of course, because Aleix isn’t subtle. Goes red every time they make eye contact, ducking his head at the sharp split of Aleix’s smile. The night can’t end fast enough.
After a few rounds of drinks, he ends up sat on the carpet beside Jorge, legs stretched out before him. Pedro’s across from them, sunk into an armchair with a sweating beer clasped between his hands. He keeps sending shifty little glances towards the Pramac rider. Aleix catches every single one of them, mind tuning out of Jorge’s monologue and into the gauzy web of jealousy sliding over Pedro’s face.
He reclines a little, till he and Jorge are pressed together from shoulder to elbow. Pedro catches it like a shark to blood, and his face goes sour, cheek indenting with the bite of his teeth. Fascinating. It’s not — there’s nothing nice about the look. Nothing that speaks to lust or desire. Just jealousy — a possessive little beast raising its head in Pedro’s chest. Aleix chews down his grin.
He shifts forward a couple centimetres, close enough to stretch his foot out, swiping the edge of a socked toe over Pedro’s bare ankle. Pedro jolts, attention flicking to the point of contact, to Jorge, and then back to Aleix. Aleix cocks his head, and Pedro relaxes — minutely, but Aleix can see it: the loosening of a knot across his shoulders. Cute.
So not Jorge, then.
There’s a couple others he eyes through the night. Marc, who doesn’t really stay for long enough to make an impression; Rinsy, who Pedro has a three second interaction with that doesn’t exactly warrant any speculation; and Maverick, who Pedro is slowly but surely drifting towards.
Aleix leans back against the counter, the cool rim of his can leant against his bottom lip. Pedro backs out of a conversation with Fabio, distracted and not watching where he’s going — and it’s like someone’s purposefully orchestrated it, the way Mav steps up just in time to knock into Pedro, how Pedro spins and stumbles, and the easy movement of Mav’s hands over his waist to catch him. Pedro’s arms jerk up, fingers curling around Mav’s wrists in surprise, and Aleix catches it. Catches the dark blow of his pupils, the drop of his bottom lip, wet and shiny in the lowlight.
Mav steadies him, gaze darting to the soft shape of his mouth. His hands flex on Pedro’s waist before he lets go, and something hot and pulling opens in Aleix’s chest. He watches Pedro stutter out an apology and disappear into the crowd, watches Maverick follow the silhouette of him leaving — and then they lock eyes. Aleix tips his head, knowing, allows a suggestive smile to creep onto his face. Mav just stares for a moment, until recognition dawns and his eyebrows leap up.
There’s a whole conversation in five seconds of expression — Are you? Yeah. With him? Mhm. Are you saying that I could? Yeah. With you both? Yes. It’s not articulate, but it gets the message across, and Aleix passes by him after, grinning.
“Just hang around once things wrap up, yeah?”
Maverick laughs. He seems pleasantly surprised.
Aleix accosts Pedro in an upstairs bathroom half an hour later. It's all starting to wind down, but they’re still a little while off ending and if this is going to happen, then it needs to be cemented by more than Aleix just reading into a charged moment.
Pedro’s washing his hands when Aleix slips through the door and locks it behind him.
“Fuck,” Pedro breathes, flinching and showering the mirror with water. Aleix smirks, watching Pedro eye him suspiciously. When he doesn’t say anything, Pedro dries his hands and leans back against the opposite wall. “You’ve been staring a lot tonight,” he adds, arms crossed tight over his chest. Aleix shrugs.
“Been watching.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What for?”
“Trying to figure out which one of our coworkers you want to fuck.”
Pedro blanches
“Aleix,” he hisses, eyes darting to the door like he’s worried someone could be standing against it, listening in. Aleix’s smile grows a little wider. When it’s clear nobody’s eavesdropping, Pedro huffs, red to the roots of his hair. “Who have — have you found anyone, or, like — not that I have someone in mind, I. I am just wondering.”
“Fascinating,” Aleix drawls. Pedro blinks. “Yeah, I have an idea. I won’t lie, Pedro. Really looked like he wanted to fuck you.” He traces the bob of Pedro’s Adam’s apple on a hard swallow, revels at the interest brightening in his eyes. “You remember what I said, though, right?”
Something hot and anticipatory starts to burn across Pedro’s face.
“That I,” he croaks, “that I have to ask nicely.” Aleix hums, falling back to lean casually against the bathroom door. He cocks his head, waiting. Pedro’s expression shutters, going dark and hazy. There’s a moment of hesitance, heavy like a loaded gun, and then Pedro’s swaying towards him. “Please let — please fuck me. With someone else.” His voice is hoarse, each word a strained effort. It pools heat in the pit of Aleix’s gut. Yeah, he can fucking do that.
“Sure, baby. I’ll let him have his way with you, yeah?”
Pedro’s mouth drops open a little, eyes blurring out of focus. Aleix wants to get him on the ground, in bed, where-fucking-ever. Wants to fuck that expression off him. Pedro mouths ‘please,’ and Aleix smiles sweetly.
He abandons Pedro in the bathroom with a chaste kiss pressed to his temple. If Pedro had been worried, he would’ve asked Aleix who it was — but the look on his face, the sheer want — it says trust.
Maverick hangs around like Aleix asked him to, and he finds him while Pedro’s out front saying goodbye to some friends.
“So this is, like, okay with him?” Mav starts. Aleix takes a long sip of his beer, recalling the fraught edge of Pedro’s voice in the bathroom.
“Yeah. He doesn’t know it’s you, though.”
Mav’s eyebrows twitch, concern writing itself across his features. Aleix catches the thought before it can spiral.
“You didn’t see the way he looked at you before? Desperate, tío. He’s lucky I can share, eh.”
It doesn’t take much for interest to overwrite the concern.
“How long have you guys been…?” Mav trails off, which — fair enough. Aleix doesn’t even really know what he’d call them. They should probably figure that out at some point — except. He swipes his tongue over his teeth, straightening at the sharp edge that thought casts in his mind. He doesn’t want to scare Pedro off. Doesn’t want to give this thing a name and — make it something it isn’t.
“Couple months,” he shrugs. “He’d never done anything before, you know?”
Mav’s eyes round. He lets out a winded exhale.
“No kidding.”
Aleix hms, pride curling in his chest. Mav can have this, but that had been all his. The sound of the door opening and closing echoes through the kitchen, and Mav straightens a little — almost like he wants to make a good impression. Fuck, this’ll be fun. The pair of them wait, listening as Pedro’s footsteps grow closer. He comes around the corner and draws to a stop immediately.
His eyes hit Mav first, and then Aleix, checking, and then Mav again, and he goes bright fucking red — and god, if it wasn’t so cute it’d be the funniest thing in the world.
“Hey, Pedro,” Mav says, voice low. Aleix catches the nervous twitch of Pedro’s fingers against his thighs, the subtle stack of his spine.
“Did I choose right?” Aleix calls, face splitting in a cutting smile. Pedro swallows, thrown at the question — knowing the ball’s in his court, now. He has to make the first move here. Aleix can see the way Mav is watching him out of the corner of his eye, shoulders straight, eyes heavy. Hot. That’d work on him, probably. Pedro’s attention darts between the two of them.
“Yeah,” he manages. Mav grins, and victory surges in Aleix’s chest. How fucking fun.
“Well,” Aleix starts, clapping. It startles Pedro — bad enough he flinches, eyes jumping to Aleix as he pushes away from the bench. “Are you gonna keep him waiting, Pedro?”
Pedro blinks, swallowing hard.
“I — no, I.” He takes a hesitant step forward. Aleix just wants to get his teeth into him. So desperate to please, to be good. Adorable.
“Bedroom, Aleix?” Mav asks, gaze still lasered to Pedro, who fidgets incessantly under the heat of it. Aleix clicks his teeth.
“Could’ve been fun on the floor,” he ribs, sending an absolutely filthy look Pedro’s way. Pedro looks terribly turned on, face red, eyes shiny. He follows after Mav as Aleix ushers them down the hall.
“Maybe next time,” Mav replies, slowing down so he can press a hand to the small of Pedro’s back. Aleix grins, tracing the wide span of Mav’s hand against the trim cut of Pedro’s waist. Pedro throws a look over his shoulder, catching Aleix’s eyes — searching, making sure Aleix is fine with all this.
Warmth rises in Aleix’s gut. He smiles — sweet and real, reassuring. Pedro’s face goes all soft, and the trust written in his expression knocks Aleix off balance. It’s — tender, and a lot, and — they should really define this, somehow. Before it gets too deep, before one of them commits to something that might not actually be there. A seed of bitterness breaks on his tongue. Pedro turns forward again, tipping his head obediently when Mav’s hand comes up to curl around the nape of his neck. Aleix sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.
