Chapter Text
Debt. Esteban knows this word too well; it shaped all his life. He saw enough in a tender age to know that good things are not free even if they don’t come with a price tag; some things may not be materialistic, but they carry their own price with them anyway. Debt is exactly that thing and in Esteban’s opinion, the price they’re paying for it is too high. He watches his father leave their compound and not for the first time wonders if they made a right decision many, many years back. These thoughts always occupy his mind amidst certain crises that happen on his father’s job – Esteban often gets nostalgic of the different times of his life spent in France. His mind conjures up memories of days when he never had to wonder if his father will come back home alive or not, memories in which anything illegal has nothing to do with his family, when word of law actually meant something for him and his father.
‘Este, mon ange. Are you in the kitchen?’
He sees his mother and his world tilts back to its place, reminding him why they are here and for what everything’s been done – for this. To have his mother next to him, to have her healthy and full of life. Esteban smiles at her when she enters the kitchen and when her arms wrap around his middle, he releases the breath he’s been holding. This. This is the price of the debt he has.
‘Is Lance coming? I want to make his favorite pie.’
Esteban’s heart swells in his chest. Yes, his mother and Lance. He thinks for them both, he can handle what his life turned into since his father introduced him to the reality of his business. ‘He is coming, yes. But you don’t have to, mama. He won’t stay for long.’
‘Well make him stay for long then,’ his mother huffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I haven’t seen him for quite a long time, I miss our boy. I’ll start cooking then.’
Our boy. Esteban feels so warm from knowing how his family loves Lance; that’s why it’s even harder to be involved in all of this. By ‘this’ Esteban means the reason of his father’s sudden departure for ‘work things’ as he said. He knows about failed shipment, knows about shooting, knows about men lost. Esteban tries so hard to act like what he’s doing is a simple logistics job and nothing else, but at times like this he gets reminded of what does being involved in actual mafia means. Swallowing, Esteban kisses his mother’s head and goes to his room, checking several times that their housekeeping staff is nowhere near. Taking his phone out and finding Fernando Alonso’s contact there, Esteban locks his room, sighing. He knows that technically he’s doing the right thing. Well, maybe secretly taking his father’s phone for Fernando’s number is not the right thing exactly, but it’s for a good purpose. Or so he hopes, at least. That doesn’t mean guilt is not eating him up alive. He presses ‘dial’ before he can chicken out of this and holds his breath. The second rings stop, he quickly lets out: ‘It’s Esteban, Esteban Ocon.’
There’s a pause on the other side of the phone and then Fernando Alonso’s smooth baritone greets him: ‘What is it, Ocon?’
Esteban doesn’t know Fernando at all, but he doubts that his call was expected but Fernando doesn’t sound surprised at all. Esteban briefly wonders are there any things that can strike him off balance but then realizes that what he’s about to say might be it. ‘I wanted to call and talk to you about Lance.’ Esteban controls his voice, but he is sure that Fernando can tell that he’s nervous anyway. ‘I- I got your number from my father.’
‘Last part is obvious, yes.’ Fernando sounds bored but Esteban knows that it’s all fake. He’s seen the way that man looks at Lance. ‘So? What is it?’
There are several ways of giving this information and Esteban chooses the most straightforward one: ‘Lance was with Checo yesterday.’
A sharp intake of breath from the other side makes him pause. Esteban waits and feels guilt churning inside his stomach, making him want to throw up. He copes with lying to Lance about his family, but doing this? He’s not sure he’ll be able to look his friend in the eyes when he arrives. ‘Go on.’ Fernando orders, voice taut with tension.
‘Not like- it’s a project kinda thing? Checo is helping him learn more about business, Lawrence asked for it and everything. Lance told me about it yesterday.’
Fernando hums. ‘And you’re telling me this because?’
Esteban swallows. He hopes, prays, that he’s not wrong about this one. ‘Because Checo is the one who fucked up the shipment.’
Esteban knows that despite everything, his father tries to keep him guarded from most of the stuff that’s happening. He is told only the most basic things, never given any illegal or shady tasks – Esteban is one of the few people whose work is absolutely transparent and has no double meaning. But Esteban is not an idiot, and he hears whispers and rumors, he can easily put two and two together. And when it comes down to it – he trusts Fernando Alonso more than he trusts Sergio Perez. Power of debt, he guesses. His father told him that one should only voice out things he’s hundred percent sure in. Esteban usually agrees with this statement, but he breaks it right now: ‘I think he might be using Lance? I don’t know. I just-‘ Esteban sighs, gearing up his thoughts. He loves Lance so much and he’ll die first before he lets his friend get hurt. ‘I don’t know him. He is good to Lance, Lance told me that himself. But what if he has ulterior motives?’
Esteban knows he fucked up when Fernando’s voice turns suspiciously higher: ‘Lance told you that he’s good to him?’
‘I- he-‘ Esteban pauses, not knowing what to say. Alarms start ringing in his head. ‘Uh- not like that. I mean-‘
‘Why are you telling me this, Esteban?’ Fernando interrupts. ‘Why did you secretly find my number from your father’s phone? For what?’
Esteban exhales. It’s time to go all out. ‘Because I protect Lance,’ he says, tone stoic and full of conviction. ‘And you told me that you protect him too and-‘ Esteban lets emotion slip in: ‘I need you to do exactly that. Protect him. That’s why I called.’
Silence on the other side is deafening. Esteban can’t read it, doesn’t know if he did the right thing or not, but when Fernando speaks, his voice is much warmer than Esteban ever heard: ‘Lance is coming to you today, si? Enjoy.’
‘Um. Okay.’ Esteban has never felt so unsure in his life. What even is this conversation? ‘I’ll go, then. Um. Thank you for liste-‘
‘You are a good friend, Esteban.’ Fernando interrupts, voice smooth and full of approval. ‘And you did good. Very good.’
Esteban barely has time to react before Fernando cancels the call. He stares in shock at the dim screen for a few moments, comprehending what happened. Fernando’s praise settles upon him like a warm weighted blanket, easing his worries by a considerable amount. Esteban doesn’t know Fernando, but he knows enough to be sure that Lance will be safe with him. And maybe then Fernando will consider their debt paid.
= =
Lance loves Fernando’s apartment. It’s huge for one person and while Fernando doesn’t have many personal items that can tell you anything about him around the space, it still feels homey and well-lived or maybe Lance is just biased because he couldn’t possibly hate anything that meant something for Fernando Alonso. He usually rushes to the balcony of the living room, which offers the most stunning view on harbor, but this time he barely steps a foot into the apartment before he’s whisked into pair of strong arms. Lance’s heart does a double – no, triple – somersault at familiar cologne and warm hands around his waist.
‘Mi vida,’ Fernando breathes out somewhere into his neck.
It should be embarrassing how quickly Lance folds to this. He is someone with no small amount of pride and ego but hearing these two words from Fernando always renders him speechless. He doesn’t want to be called anything else, can survive solely on this; Lance thinks that he might be god’s weakest soldier because no one should be this affected by another human being. But he is and Lance finds that when it’s Fernando, he doesn’t mind being weak. He is strong enough for both of them. ‘Nando,’ Lance lets out, leaning in for a kiss, which he doesn’t get. Lance’s eyes immediately fly open, and he stares at Fernando, incredulous. ‘What-‘
Fernando grabs his chin and pinches it between his two fingers, making Lance look at him. There’s something in his gaze that makes Lance freeze. Usually, two chocolate orbs stare up at him with infinite love and adoration, affection pouring out of them in waves so big that they can crush anyone (not Lance though). But right now there’s underlying tension in them, something dark and twisted, something which Lance can’t name. It’s new, it sends shivers down his spine because he realizes that Fernando is assessing him with his calculated gaze. Lance doesn’t dare to break the moment and stays still, waiting for Fernando’s move. When fingers on his chin move lower to clasp his neck, Lance’s breath hitches.
‘I’m good to you, si?’ Fernando asks, somehow managing to sound smooth and threatening at the same time. Lance blinks at the question, not getting it. Fernando smirks at his confused expression, caressing his skin with his thumb. ‘I’m asking if I’m good to you, mi amor. Am I not?’
Lance wants to ask where this is coming from, but instead he gulps. Of course Fernando is good to him. No one is as good to him as he is, in fact. And Lance is pretty sure that Fernando knows it. ‘Yes,’ Lance says, trying to keep tremor out of his voice. ‘You are.’
‘Mhm.’ Fernando’s hand tightens just a fraction around his neck and Lance tenses up. ‘I am. And you are too, Lancito. So good to me, right?’
Lance’s head swims with all the questions. There’s something underneath all of this, but he can’t understand what exactly. It feels like he’s walking on eggshells, desperately trying to grasp the full picture and not say something that will ruin everything. At last, Lance nods. He is good to Fernando. He doubts there will ever be some other man for who Lance will be this good and feel what he feels towards Spaniard right now.
‘Then be good to me.’
Lance crumbles under the pressure on his neck. Arousal shoots straight into his brain and his knees weaken, when Fernando pushes him down. He goes easily, maybe way too easily but there’s no one here to pretend to be strong for. Fernando doesn’t often goes into mood like this and Lance has no idea what triggered it, but he is ready to take everything what’s being given. And maybe that is why they work so good together. Lance is so greedy; he wants to take take take take until there’s nothing left. Greed in him roars like a monster at the knowledge of there being something more that he can take. It’s both different and the same with Fernando – same because Lance is greedy, even more than usual with that man and different, because it’s the first time when Lance wants to give back. He is ready to take everything from his lover and he is also willing to give all he has. Lance is a bit delirious with want when it comes to Fernando; he doesn’t think he can control his urges. And those urges are so simple, so basic – take and own. Lance’s fingers dig too harshly to the meat of Fernando’s thighs as he deepthroats him – mine. He is drunk from this, from feeling Fernando’s heavy shaft in his mouth, its salty taste and musky scent pull him into a space of its own – mine. Urge to please buzzes inside his skin and he opens his mouth wider, so wide that it hurts, wanting to be good – give. His brain short circuits for a second like a buffer and then shuts down completely, when strong fingers grasp his hair and pull him closer, making him choke – take. Lance gags, cries and bruises Fernando’s thighs with his grip, but stays there, breathes through his nose – good boy. It’s messy: Lance’s spit is everywhere and there’s so much of it that little bubbles form at the base and he laps them up along with precum, makes loud slurping noises and moans unabashedly when Fernando grabs him by the back of his head and presses in. Lance is careful with his teeth, but it’s hard to pay attention to that when he’s barely breathing, when he feels so full and not full enough at the same time. It fucks with his head in all the right proportions and when Fernando lets him go, lets him breathe, he whines so loud that it surprises even him.
‘Open up.’ Fernando commands, lightly smacking his shaft on Lance’s right cheek. He pushes his two fingers inside and Lance circles them with his tongue, looking up at his boyfriend with teary eyes and sticky eyelashes. He knows he’s a sight from the way Fernando’s abs contract and how he groans like he’s the one in pain. ‘Shit. Look at you, amor. Precioso.’
It's never just intimacy or just sex with Fernando. It’s always something that leaves Lance grasping for the last threads of reality, has him shaking from overstimulation, evokes a tornado of feelings within. It’s insane, that’s what it is. Lance will never have it any other way. He diligently opens his mouth wider and Fernando’s dick fits snugly inside, just the head of it; Lance reaches out to palm himself in the jeans. He’s hard, painfully so and even just pressing on the erection gives him some semblance of relief.
‘Go on,’ Fernando suddenly says, slowly pushing himself further in Lance’s mouth. ‘Make yourself come.’
Lance blinks in shock. This is new too – what happened tonight with his boyfriend? He tries to speak but his mouth is full, and he ends up moaning around the shaft, making Fernando groan in appreciation. Lance tries to transmit his question with his face and receives only a nod in response and Fernando’s foot, nudging his thighs apart. It’s a bit uncoordinated and not very comfortable, but Lance never had a good stamina, and he comes embarrassingly quickly all over himself, almost choking on Fernando’s dick in the process. He coughs, wiping his mouth with a sleeve of his hoodie before looking up at his boyfriend. Fernando’s dick stands proud, almost glaringly red and with veins popping – Lance wants it back in his mouth immediately. He looks up and licks his lips slowly under a hawk-like gaze from Spaniard – Fernando looks like he’s ready to pounce.
‘Help me up?’ Lance asks, cringing at the sight of his jeans and front of his hoodie.
Warm hand encloses his and Fernando pulls him up easily, instantly smashing their mouths together. He kisses deliberately, with an intent to leave Lance a panting and moaning mess and he succeeds; Lance whines at the loss when he pulls back, so aroused that his body is taut like an arrow. ‘Take it off,’ Fernando gestures to his clothes and watches as Lance hastily obeys, leaving only boxers on. ‘Couch, amor. On all fours.’
Lance trembles. He moves on unsteady legs, feeling tense and excited at the same time. Something is wrong with Fernando, he can feel it, but his mind is too far gone to pinpoint what it is for sure. The atmosphere feels too heavy and he tries not to overthink it, doesn’t want to think that he is somehow to blame in this; he knows he did nothing wrong. But thrill of having sex with Fernando never wears off and it’s fairly easy to shut off his thoughts about anything else but his boyfriend’s hands when he settles on the couch as requested. Nando’s big hands caress his spine gently, reverently and Lance relaxes – this is familiar. This gentleness in the touch, this reverence – this is all familiar. He basks in this for a few moments until Fernando doesn’t pull his underwear down to his knees.
‘Lancito,’ he calls, voice hushed. ‘This is all for me, hm?’ His finger teasingly dips into the valley between Lance’s arsecheeks. ‘Only me?’ Lance gulps.
His heart constricts with a feeling that he is scared to admit, the one which is too big for his chest, the one that starts with ‘L’. Of course it’s all for you, he wants to scream. You own me, you claimed me. I don’t think any part of me can ever belong to anyone else because of you. You ruined me for everyone else. But out loud he only says: ‘Yeah, Nando. For you.’
Fernando grips his buttocks tightly, pushing them apart. ‘Only for me?’
God, Lance has no fucking idea what triggered this but his primal part of the brain, the animal part of it, is enjoying this way too much. ‘Yes, fucking yes! Why are you even asking?’
Fernando hums and Lance groans, when he spits right at his hole. ‘Just making sure, princesa.’
The way this nickname makes Lance feel should be studied. He preens under it just as much as he hates it or hates to admit how much he loves it. Anyone else calling him that would sound demeaning, but Fernando adds so much affection and adoration into it that Lance can’t be mad, can’t –
‘Fuck!’ He squeaks, when Fernando’s tongue closes around his puckered hole. ‘Fernando-‘
‘Be a good boy,’ Fernando commands in a gentle bur firm tone and slaps his thighs. ‘Wider.’
Lance complies. He arches his back and bites his lower lip at the burn of beard on his sensitive skin, at the wet tongue opening him up, at big hands holding him at place. It’s too much and it’s not enough – Lance pushes his ass further, needing more and blushing at the growl of approval he gets in response. It’s downright dirty and he doesn’t mind it, will take anything Fernando is willing to give, will beg for any scraps in an instance. And that should be concerning, but Lance is not the only one who is completely gone out of two of them, so he figures all is fair. He whines and bubbles something incoherent, because Fernando is persistent and doesn’t give up until Lance’s hands are trembling from holding himself up.
‘Always sound so pretty, amor,’ Fernando muses and scarlet blooms on Lance’s cheeks.
When one finger eases in, Lance wails; it’s not overly tight but it’s a bit too dry and he groans at the spit that trickles down his ass. Suddenly there’s weight on his back, Fernando’s comforting figure is all around him and Lance instantly relaxes. His boyfriend whispers sweet nothings and turns Lance’s face around so he can kiss him. Fucking finally. Lance melts, relaxes enough for Fernando to push the first finger further. Hard and heavy, Fernando’s dick is pressed upon Lance’s thigh and he wiggles a little, trying to give it much needed friction only to be stopped by his lover. ‘Want you to come again,’ Fernando whispers with raw hunger written across his face. ‘You can do it, Lancito.’
Lance knows he can. The thing is, after coming twice his refractory period won’t be that short but he keens anyway, when Fernando wraps a hand around him and starts stroking at the same time with thrusting his finger in and out. All thoughts fly out of his head and Lance falls on his elbows, trembling. He’s flying, he’s drowning, he wants more and wants this to stop – he’s leaking steadily on Fernando’s hand and his couch, burning up at the touch. He tenses up and goes all rigid before he comes again, shouting at the intrusion of the second finger in him at the same time. His elbows give out but Fernando is there to hold him up against his chest, lips right on Lance’s ears, telling him what a good boy he is, how gorgeous he is. He sounds like he’s close to the edge himself, like his self-control is fraying and dark satisfaction courses through Lance at this point; he doesn’t want to be the only one in ruins. If he goes down, he’s going to pull Fernando with him, so even in hell they’d be together, intertwined like they are now, meant for each other in every single realm. His heart is beating so rapidly, drumming out the beat of his feelings in his chest, when Fernando slowly pulls out two fingers from him.
‘Mi vida,’ he whispers, hands caressing sweaty skin with reverence. ‘My precious boy. Did so good for me, Lance. So good.’
Lance smiles dopily with eyes closed, satisfied. He wants to be good for Fernando. He wants to be everything for Fernando, to be honest. Good, bad, everything in between. He wants to become it all for Fernando, so there’ll be no need to look for someone else. It’s a big role to fill, Lance knows. But he is greedy, and he won’t settle until that role is his. Fernando moves him to the other side of the couch, the one which is not stained with Lance’s semen and gently deposits him on his back. He leans in and cradles Lance’s face between his hands so tight like he’s trying to press bruises into his bones. He kisses him long and deep, passionate strokes of the tongue that make Lance’s hips make aborted moves up, needing friction. He hisses at the stimulation of his spent dick, but doesn’t move away, craving this skin-to-skin contact. ‘Fuck me,’ he requests with eyes wide open. He’s not fully there from his second orgasm, but he knows what he wants very well. ‘Fuck me, Nando. Please. Want it, need it.’
Fernando looks at him like he never wants this moment to end, like he’ll considering never letting Lance out of his sight, like he’s burning this sight of Lance into his memory. Lance’s mouth waters – they are both intense in their own respective ways, but nothing comes close to the way Fernando makes him feel with just his gaze alone. I would kill for you, Lance thinks, holding eye contact. I would destroy the entire galaxy for you, Fernando’s eyes respond.
‘Lance,’ Fernando calls and Lance blinks up, freezing. His lover traces his face with his finger and goes lower, lower until he doesn’t press his palm against Lance’s heart. ‘You are my whole life.’
Lance burns with the warmth spreading around his body at those words. Love bubbles inside of him, overspilling, threatening to come out. It rises from somewhere deep within him, the most secluded corners of his soul that he keeps under thousands and thousands of locks. His throat feels tight with unsaid words and Lance thinks that maybe this is the time to actually say them, to be the one to-
‘Don’t ever betray me, Lance.’
The way ice chills hot blood running through his veins is instant. Lance blinks, frozen and held hostage under the implication. He knows, his mind screams. He knows, he knows, he knows-
‘This,’ Fernando’s palm taps twice on his chest right above the heart, ‘is mine. Because this,’ he takes Lance’s hand and places is on the identical place on his own chest, ‘is yours.’
Lance will not cry. He’s shaking like a leaf on the wind, but he will not cry. He holds Fernando’s gaze surely, not knowing what this man can see in the depths of his eyes. Can he tell how Lance feels about him? Does he know the whole truth? Does he know that Lance in fact is-
‘Just be mine, Lance.’ Fernando lets go of his hand and his fingers travel south until they stop at Lance’s entrance. He pushes two inside, delighting in the way Lance arches his back. ‘Look at me, Lancito. Be mine, si? I’ll give you everything, Lance. Mi vida, I promise you-‘
‘Fernando,’ Lance interrupts with a drawn-out moan. It’s hard to keep his eyes open, but he tries. ‘I- please.’
Lance is not sure what he’s asking for. He never felt this way about anyone in his life, never knew love could feel like this – could be this encompassing, maddening, absolutely breathtaking thing. He trusts Fernando. He is incredibly stupid and naïve for doing so, but he trusts him, trusts him with his heart and-
‘Mine,’ Fernando repeats, scissoring his fingers and tapping at the place that makes Lance see stars. ‘Lance, tell me-‘
He cuts himself off for pulling his fingers out, spitting on them and pushing them back into tight heat. It hurts when Fernando adds third one next to them, but it’s the kind of pain that makes Lance’s dick stir in attention and his mind go black. Fernando pushes insistently, obviously at the end of his patience and his lips on Lance’s neck are biting, punishing. Lance thinks he’s close to losing his mind with it all, his moans ring higher and higher the more Nando abuses his prostate; time stopped existing, leaving only them two in their own space. With breath shared between them, Lance lets out a heart wrenching sob, when Fernando pulls out his fingers and enters him in one go. It hurts so good, it lights up all his nerve endings, makes them burst from all of the sensations. Lance cries with no shame, hiccupping when Fernando sets up a bruising pace; his boyfriend slams into him with no finesse, his balls slap loudly at Lance’s ass and his dick carves his place inside him until it takes his shape. Fernando’s stamina is something else, he held out for so long and now he’s egoistically chasing his own pleasure and Lance is a freak for liking this, loving being used like this, needing to be used like this. He shouts when angle is particularly right and like a predator on the hunt for his prey, Fernando laser focuses on that spot, hitting it again and again until Lance’s start screaming from overstimulation.
‘Mine, yes?’ Fernando grunts, a glorious beast on top of Lance, pounding into him with all of his strength. ‘Lancito-‘
‘Yes,’ Lance keens, wrapping his hands around back of Fernando’s neck to pull him closer. His vision is blurry due to tears and their foreheads knock together but he doesn’t care, needing to be as close as possible for his next words: ‘Yours, amour, yours. Fuck, Fernando, yours, cheri- always been yours, only yours, please-‘
Fernando comes with a loud groan, fitting his teeth on Lance’s shoulder with vigor. Lance shivers with the feeling of being filled, tucks his head in Fernando’s neck and sobs quietly, whining from everything being too much. Fernando ruts his hips into him, coming in spurts and Lance never felt that he’s at the right place in his life but he feels it now. Something moved between them, something too big for Lance to put a name on, something that means too much to be said out loud. Both breathing heavily, Lance floats in the space of pleasure for a few moments until Fernando doesn’t start lapping at his bite, leaving small kisses on the skin that has bright red mark of his. He knows, Lance mind alerts, cutting through his haze. He knows, he knows, he knows. But he knows what? What piece of information? Lance moves his head, meeting Fernando’s gaze. His lover stares up at him in silence, his gaze back to his normal love and adoration, nothing else lurks in these orbs. Lance wonders if Fernando sees it all reflected right back at him in his own gaze. It should be there, because that’s what Lance feels. Love, adoration, affection and… guilt. Can Fernando see that?
‘Shower or bath?’ He asks quietly, slowly easing himself off Lance. He soothes Lance with caresses on his sides, when he pulls out, watching as his cum leaks out. ‘Or I can clean you up here, amor.’
‘Bath.’
It's a gentle order from then on. Fernando carries Lance to the bath, helps him clean up, showers him with multiple kisses and strokes Lance's half-hard dick until he comes with a pained groan. It's easy to imagine that nothing exists apart from them both, but Lance knows the truth. It settles deep in his heart, an uncomfortable weight that makes him want to cry - he doesn't want to lie. He can't stand it, but Fernando is lying too, isn't he? Doesn't that make them even? Shouldn't this make Lance feel a little bit less guilty over what he's doing? These thoughts stir in his head as they cuddle on the bed, they continue stirring during their kisses and they never stop even when Fernando falls asleep next to him. Lance fears that he is thinking so loud that Fernando won't manage to find his sleep, but his lover rests easy, like he always when Lance is near. It's dangerous, Lance knows. It also may not work. It's foolish and risky. But Lance has to try. He doesn't know how much Fernando knows or even what he knows, but he has to try. With a determination he never felt before, Lance quietly rises and instantly finds what he's been looking for. Fernando's phone feels foreign in his hands and guilt starts churning in his stomach, reminding him that what he's about to do is not good. Lance takes a look at the sleeping man on the bed and decides that some things have to be sacrified for better or for worse.