radio check
for the love circuit series
—ignored by his driver academy, driving a shit car, and a dnf before turn one. zak has enough to deal with and you are the perfect outlet.
zak o'sullivan (f2) x fem!race engineer reader
warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex, semi-clothed sex, workplace romance, creampie, hair pulling, slight biting
a/n: starting a series when i have another ongoing? more likely than you think
"Zak, wait—"
The driver brushes past you as you attempt to stop him, wanting to have a brief word with him before he goes back to the F2 paddock. An exasperated huff escapes you as his figure quickly saunters down the pitlane, ignoring you.
You try your best to understand. His race was over before he even got past the first turn.
"Zak! At least tell me what happened." You try once more, catching up to him. You glance back at the pit wall where Victor's race engineer and Sébastien are looking on worriedly. You flash them a thumbs up and make a mental note to shoot them a text that you'll keep Zak in line long enough for him to at least toughen out the debrief.
"Shouldn't you already know what happened? You're the engineer," Zak deadpans, avoiding your eyes and weaving through the people in the pitlane.
You draw in a long breath and grasp at his arm, making sure to dig your perfectly manicured nails into his skin through his suit. Just to prove a point. Mustering all your might, you maneuver him off the actual pit straight and toward the back of the garages.
No words are uttered as the two of you walk further and further away from the track, both of you aware that there is much to be said, about each other, to each other, to the team.
You drop his arm and try to shuffle ahead, wanting nothing more than to get to the truck quickly so no one has to see the daggers you're staring at each other.
You yank the truck door open as you walk up to it. You step aside, turning to Zak who's giving you a less-than-pleased expression.
"Get in," you practically bark. Zak makes no protest and steps in, you following close behind.
The door closes and Zak lets out a frustrated sigh. He sinks into the small couch, hunched over and head hanging low.
"What's going on?" You ask, standing over him like a mother admonishing a child. He doesn't say anything and makes no move to look at you.
You let out your own breath and rip the headset off from around your neck, dropping it onto the small coffee table situated in front of the couch. You study your initials etched on the headset for a moment, reminding you that you are his engineer, you are his guidance. You start to think if maybe you've failed tremendously at just that.
"Zak," you begin, cautious in your approach. "Did you know you jumped the start? You've never made these mistakes this year. What changed?"
For the first time since you got to the truck, Zak raises his head and looks straight at you, expression stony.
"You're really going to ask me that?" Zak returns almost petulantly.
A scoff escapes you. "I'm asking because I want to help you."
Zak suddenly stands, startling you as he crowds into your space. He's so much taller and he practically looms over you. You can feel the anger simmering off him.
"Tell me. Where's Franco right now?" Zak asks plainly.
It clicks in your head faster than you can anticipate. Of course. It's about that.
"Zak, that's out of your control." You attempt to take on an appeasing tone. "If Williams wants to rush your fellow rookie up into Formula 1, that's their choice."
"I was one of those choices, _______," Zak insists, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
You give him a long, hard stare. There's a crease between his eyebrows, his lips drawn together tightly. He's breathing hard and a vein pulses in his neck. Normally, you'd allow yourself to admire just how handsome he is right before or after a race. You're not blind and you're not going to deny yourself the simple pleasure of admitting that, yes, Zak is attractive. And he's kind, oh so kind, thanking the team, thanking you even when his race weekends don't always turn out the best.
But right now, with everything that went down in the sprint, it hardly seems appropriate to daydream of such things.
"I don't want to burden you with advice and solutions when you clearly need something else right now," you begin. "Why don't you just take a minute and we'll talk later."
Zak doesn't seem pleased with this. He lets out a sound of disbelief, turning his back to you and pacing around the cramped space.
You get it. He wants to fight. He wants to prove a point.
"Zak," you say a litle more sternly. "You can't let yourself make these mistakes just because you're mad at your driver academy."
"I know that!" Zak bellows. You flinch, taking a step back. He's never raised his voice at you, or at all, in the time that you've known him.
He curses under his breath, pressing his fingers into his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know what's happening to me,"
A pinch of sympathy blooms in your chest and you approach him, arm outstretched. You lay a reassuring hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Zak exhales, dropping his hand from his face to look at you.
You've seen this look before. And you're not going to lie and say you haven't looked at Zak. As in really looked, eyes wandering where a race engineer's shouldn't, especially not towards their assigned driver. Perhaps a large factor in this is that you're close in age, something you never really see in these situations, with most engineers having a full decade on their drivers or at least a few years.
It's not ideal and it's not allowed.
"You will get there. Properly. In your own time," you say. "I'm sorry if I can't get you out of whatever you're feeling right now."
Zak steps closer and you already know what it is he's asking. You wind your arms around his torso, letting him engulf you in a hug, his face burying itself in your shoulder.
You haven't hugged like this since Monaco but even that was different. That was a happy hug, a shared victory. This just feels like you trying to keep him together, holding literal pieces of him in your hands so he doesn't implode on himself.
"Can you...can you stay here for a bit?" Zak asks against your shirt and your resolve is immediately softened. You run a hand up and down his back as if to soothe him.
"Sure," you agree, pulling away. You hold Zak at arm's length, observing him.
He avoids your eyes still and you can see his jaw clench.
So he's still upset.
"Zak."
His eyes meet yours and the air shifts. You're still holding onto his arms, anchoring him to you. Zak glances down at your lips and a small gasp escapes you.
Surely, he isn't thinking of that...?
"What do you need?" You ask.
It's an innocent question. Zak is in pain, though not physically, but you know he must be seeking comfort somehow. But there's a hidden hope underneath your offer. That maybe he'd say he needs you, more than a driver needs their race engineer. It's a stupid kind of hope, bordering on delusion, but you hold on to it the same.
"I don't know," Zak says. This perplexes you for a moment but then you realize that he must not know or at least doesn't want to voice out what he really means.
You can feel it in the way his hands hover awkwardly at your sides.
You reach up and take hold of one side of his face. Zak's eyes immediately close and he inhales. His jaw ticks yet again.
"Let me," you whisper, letting your other hand settle on his neck, just above his race suit collar.
There's a flash of confusion in Zak's eyes as he opens them and you think that maybe you've read it wrong, Maybe you're crossing a line that's not worth it at all.
But Zak's own hands settle on your waist and before you can second guess yourself even more, you lean up, nearly on your toes as you meet Zak's lips with your own.
The spark is instant; Zak pulls you flush against him and immediately licks into your mouth, groaning when you so easily let him. Your fingers fumble at the zip of his suit, yanking it down as you attempt to unclothe him as fast as you can.
"Bathroom," you urge, pushing him off before tugging him further into the back of the truck.
It's barely wide enough to fit you both but you figure that doing it in the open, where all the team members gather, would be too much. You're not that shameless.
The bathroom door slams shut behind Zak and he wastes no time pressing you against the sink, the counter digging against your tailbone. All discomfort is forgotten, however, when Zak pushes a knee between your legs.
"You really know...how to...make me feel better," Zak manages between heavy breaths and wet kisses against your neck. You suppress a moan, unwilling to let him know just how much this is affecting you.
"Of course," you breathe out. "I know you."
Zak returns to your lips, hands slipping beneath your ART uniform, fingers expertly unhooking your bra from behind. You whimper when you feel it come undone, Zak already groping you beneath the fabric.
"How far?" Zak asks, voice quiet, hands stopping their movements.
"What?" You ask in a daze, the question not quite registering.
"How far will you let me...," Zak trails off. His eyes seem clearer now, as if it's dawned on him what the situation is.
He's about to fuck his race engineer.
"All the way, if you want," comes your immediate reply. And you mean it. You want it.
Zak's eyes zero in on yours. "Yeah?"
You nod. "Yeah."
There is no hesitation in the way he discards his race suit and bottom fireproofs, elbows banging against the door and the wall as he tries to rid himself of all the barriers between you and him. You're pressed up against him as you undo your own pants, shimmying out of it and your underwear at record speed.
A startled cry escapes you as you feel yourself lift off the ground but you're immediately appeased when you feel Zak's firm arms beneath your thighs, gently letting you down on the sink countertop. You laugh in disbelief and for the first time this weekend, you see Zak crack a genuine smile before he leans in to retake your lips in his.
You shift around uncomfortably as the cold tile presses against your bare skin but you halt all movements and thoughts when you feel Zak press two fingers against your aching core.
He rubs at your wetness slowly, almost lazy in the way he swipes between your folds. You shiver under his touch, forehead resting against the side of his neck.
"You don't have to be so careful," you quip, smiling as you tangle your fingers into his hair. Zak's laugh rumbles through and you pull back just enough to look at him.
"But I need my race engineer," Zak teases back with a grin. "I don't wanna hurt her too much."
You burst out laughing, circling your arms around his neck. A few seconds pass by with the two of you just staring, taking a quiet moment to let it all sink in.
"You won't," comes your reassurance. "I can take it."
Zak's bottom lip slips between his teeth and his eyes darken at your encouragement. Your heart pounds as he pries your legs apart, reaching down to angle himself with your entrance.
You grip the counter below you as you lean back against the mirror, mewling, Zak's length pushing into you. You catch Zak glance down at where you're joined and he quickly curses, averting his eyes, as if the mere sight of his cock sheathed inside you would push him to the brink.
"Please," is all it takes from you for Zak to slam his hips against yours. Over and over, he pulls out and pushes back in, the sounds obscene in the cramped space of the bathroom.
He braces himself against the same mirror, which you now notice has fogged up. Your legs lock around Zak's waist, caging him in against you. It's effortless, how he holds you in place, pinning you down with his weight, his other hand gripping at your hip. Your eyes roll back into your head as Zak loses all inhibition, fucking you as if it's his last time doing so.
Zak glances at the mirror and trains his eyes on your face right after. He takes hold of your jaw, imploring you to look at him.
"Stand up," Zak commands, already pulling out. The abrupt stop jars you but you obey nonetheless, shakily sliding off the counter.
You gasp as Zak quickly turns you, pressing your front into the sink. He reaches over and wipes the condensation gathered on the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, Zak's broad figure a contrast from behind.
Almost instinctively, you bend over, watching the mirror in fascination, as if mesmerized at the image playing out.
"Good girl," Zak praises, slipping back inside without any resistance. Your mouth falls open as he continues, both his hands now keeping you in place by the waist.
You practically collapse against the sink with how hard Zak is going, your knuckles turning white as you hold on to the edges of the countertop.
Zak doesn't seem pleased with this and you're abruptly yanked back, the sting in your scalp eliciting a moan from you. He twists his hand even more in your hair, forcing your head back.
"Zak!" You cry out, body nearly going limp as you're overwhelmed from all sides. He's still slamming into you, his arm now circling your torso to keep you still, his other hand pulling at your hair.
"Needed this," Zak mutters straight into your ear. "Needed you."
You whimper, forcing yourself to look in the mirror, meeting Zak's eyes through the foggy reflection.
"You have me. You can have me. Always."
Zak grunts, your words seemingly spurring him on as he loses all control now, the rhythm he set up gone as he chases his release.
"How do I get you there? Tell me what you need," Zak urges through gritted teeth. You guide his hand down to your core and he understands.
Both of you forget to suppress your noises, using each other to reach the edge. Zak's fingertips toy with your clit and your walls clench down tighter and tighter around his cock. You can vaguely hear Zak repeating your name over and over through the blood rushing in your ears and you're pretty sure your mouth is moving of its own accord, cursing and begging.
And all at once, Zak stills with a groan, teeth digging into the fabric of your shirt, almost painful as he finishes inside you. You grind against his hand, determined to get there too, and eventually your vision whites out and you cum all over Zak's length.
It takes a full minute for both of you to recover, you slumping over the sink, your whole body aching and stinging in different places. Zak rests his head on your shoulder from behind, his arms cradling you almost reverently.
You straighten up as best as you can, peering over your shoulder. Zak pulls out and quickly reaches over to yank a few sheets of tissue off the roll next to the sink. He hands them to you and you accept it with a giggle, wiping yourself clean.
You discard the soiled tissues before turning to face Zak fully. His hair is stuck up in different directions and his eyes are watery but so much brighter than an hour ago. He grins, leaning in.
He kisses you, all soft and bashful. You pull away, cradling his face in your hands.
"Better?" You ask, running your thumb over his cheekbone. Zak smiles, holding your hand in place as he leans into your palm. He kisses the inside of your wrist and you feel your heart come to a stop.
"Thank you," Zak whispers. You nod, offering another smile.
"Maybe we can debrief on our own over dinner later?" Zak hurriedly adds, eyebrows raised and tone hopeful.
"Sure," you answer before you can even really think it through.