Champagne Problems

Champagne Problems

CS x Reader x DR

A/N Hello friends! I apparently go on long hiatus' and then drop fics out of nowhere. Please enjoy the first part of what will be a series! Huge thank you to my muse and brainstorm buddy, @haterpenny. Any messages are hugely appreciated!

Warnings: Smut, fwb situation, some light swearing, some questionable decision making, drinking.

Word count: 5K

It never failed to blow your mind how a race felt like it lasted forever, but it was over in the blink of an eye. All you knew was how desperate you were to win.

For the first twenty laps, you and Lewis were neck and neck, with him about a second or so behind. You’d gotten away well at the start and did everything in your power to keep that lead. Unfortunately for Mercedes, a pit stop error plus your “perfect” (Christian’s words, not yours) performance led you to the race win.

You crossed the finish line feeling elated, shouting into the radio, likely blowing out the eardrum of your strategist in the process.

You pulled into the spot reserved for the race winner, feeling as though your heart may burst from your chest. One more race completed, the championship still within your reach.

You composed yourself enough to stand upon the car’s halo, your arms thrust over your head in celebration. The roars of your team and the massive smiles made you swell with pride, and you did everything you could to soak up such a perfect moment.

After leaping into your team’s arms and receiving several slaps to your helmet you were being rushed towards the podium. You climbed atop the highest perch, just past Lewis and- oh hell, was that Daniel in third? You had not yet had the opportunity to share the podium with your closest mate on the grid, and you were equal parts thrilled and disgusted at the shoey that was surely coming your way.

You stood as your National anthem played, bobbing slightly on your heels, finding it difficult to be still for even a moment with all of the excitement bubbling in your veins.

And then, those speakers began blaring Bizet’s beautiful Carmen and you were shaking that champagne as vigorously as your tired arms would allow. You coated Lewis with a generous spray, and shared a nice half-hug, exchanging words of respect and congratulations at one another’s result. Then your eyes caught Daniel’s, sparkling with mischief as he knelt down and removed his boot, his finger pointing at you and beckoning you towards him with a devilish grin across his lips.

You tried to look annoyed, but it was nearly impossible; he was glowing, that successful post-race mix of champagne and sweat making his curls lay flat, his cheeks flushed and pink from exertion. He filled his shoe to the brim, some overflow sloshing as he raised the boot to his lips before taking a long, generous gulp.

You wrinkled your nose in slight disgust, as you realized you were next. Soon he was standing before you, his hand outstretched in offering. He had that huge, gleaming smile that nearly blinded you, and then you were drinking out of the man’s shoe. One gulp, then two, then three, earning a delighted eye raise from Daniel and a laugh that made his Adam’s apple bob ridiculously. If you were going to do it, you were going to do it right. Lewis politely declined the offered shoey, an uncomfortable smile on his cheeks- this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Then Dan was slipping an arm around your waist, his trophy in one hand, to pose for the mass of photographers and fans standing below. After a moment he set his trophy down and playfully hoisted you up, earning a surprised laugh from you.

Your friendship with Daniel was well known among fans and other drivers alike, and this was your first shared podium after three years in the sport together. What they didn’t know was just how close you and Daniel were. The look he was giving you on that podium- you’d know that devilish expression anywhere. It gave you a glimpse into his plans for the evening ahead, plans that promised hours with his head trapped between your thighs.

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself,” He whispered as he eased you back down to your feet, topping it off with a cheeky wink. You hadn’t expected him to be quite so forward in front of so many people, but his boldness just made you even more excited for the celebrations that the evening had in store.

After stepping off the podium and speaking to the many news outlets, you were sticky from the champagne and wanted nothing more than to take a shower. You decided to throw your hair up in a messy bun and opted to wait for the much nicer shower in your hotel room rather than the cramped, lukewarm water that your private room at the track offered.

In the car back to the hotel you were busy reliving the afternoon’s events, the pure elation you felt as you passed the finish line and the absolute glee that seemed to burst out of you as you stood upon the highest pedestal. And to top it off, Daniel was standing right beside you, just as he always had.

You hopped out of the car and checked your phone as you stood in the lobby, waiting for the elevator. Almost as if on cue, a light vibration alerted you to a text.

Big Dick Ricc: Is now a good time to celebrate? 😈”

His text read, simultaneously making you roll your eyes and smirk. That was what he had chosen to name himself in your phone, but it never failed to make you laugh.

Y/N: Room 315.

You replied simply, wandering down the hall and swiping your key card.

You and Daniel had been casually hooking up on and off for the last year or so. It was spontaneous, fun and no strings attached. The adrenaline of race weekend was something you both understood, not to mention the fact that it was nearly impossible to maintain relationships with people outside of the sport. It had started with too much champagne in Monaco, and your familiarity began to drift into lingering touches and lustful looks exchanged until he invited you back to his room. Initially, you were worried about complicating your relationship but surprisingly, things remained rather simple. You had agreed that you weren’t interested in a relationship, rather the opportunity to blow off some steam with someone you trusted and truly loved. You had also agreed that it was best that your escapades remain a secret. You didn’t want the other drivers- or anyone else for that matter- judging you. You were the only woman on the grid and with that role came garnering more harsh judgment.

You started the shower and allowed the steam to fill the room as you undressed, your still-damp coveralls tossed carelessly into your sink to dry. Just moments later you heard the sound of a knock at your door and you wrapped yourself in a towel to answer it. You tugged it open, expecting to see Daniel, but instead stood Carlos Sainz. Your initial reaction was confusion, followed by embarrassment at your state of undress. Carlos smiled, his eyes sneaking a quick glance at your form before pretending he didn’t notice. Carlos was back in his regular clothes, a dark green t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and say congratulations.” He said honestly, his red lips pulled into a grin.

“Oh, thanks. I uh, was just about to get in the shower. I’m sticky from champagne.” You explained, laughing slightly before realizing maybe just how suggestive that sounded. You swore his cheeks flushed lightly just from the picture your words had painted for him.

“Of course. I just thought I’d let you know, we’re going out tonight. If you want to come.” You were touched at the invitation and smiled warmly in response.

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll text you later.” You told him, leaning against the doorframe and looking up at him with big eyes. He paused for a moment and looked as though he wanted to speak, but instead opted for a smile and a nod before saying his goodbyes and turning on his heel. You mentally breathed a sigh of relief that Daniel had not managed to arrive during that short period of time. That would open you up to questions you didn’t wish to answer.

And then there was your relationship with Carlos. He had been putting in a bit of effort to speak with you and spend more time with you. He’d even asked you out for a meal or two. But whether he was looking for romance or pleasant friendship was unclear.

The hotel room was big and elegant, the walls painted a dark blue color with gold accents littered about. One thing you loved about this sport- your accommodations were always top-notch.

You went back in to check on the shower when finally you heard a weirdly elaborate knock that was surely Daniel. You tugged the door open and there he stood, arms already outstretched and waiting for you, a big goofy grin on his face. You grabbed him by his t-shirt and pulled him through the door, dropping your towel in the process. His hands felt so big and greedy against you, and you’d been craving his touch all day. He kissed you eagerly, his one hand splayed over your hip while the other came up to caress your cheek.

“You looked so fucking sexy up there,” Daniel said hotly, pulling back for a moment to take you in in all of your glory.

“Winning beside you makes it so much better,” You sighed, desperately reaching for his lips once more. You led him to the bathroom and started grabbing at the hem of his shirt, and he quickly obliged, tossing it aside carelessly while you worked on unbuttoning his pants.

“You still taste like champagne,” He told you before taking a long, slow lick from your collar to right below your ear pulling a moan out of you.

“Oh fuck, Danny. I need you.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tattoos splayed across his bicep as he kicked his pants and underwear aside. The shower was a large walk-in, perfect for the amorous activities you had planned.

Daniel loved to put his hands on you. He had no problem letting you be in charge, but there was something indescribable about the way your body responded to his ministrations. He pressed you back against the wall, the chill of the tile bringing goosebumps to your skin.

“You know you’ve got me, you’ve always got me, doll,” He said as he dropped to his knees, edging your thighs apart with his palms. God, you’d never get sick of seeing him worship you the way he did. You watched as the water slipped through his hair, dampening his curls and sticking them back on his forehead. His lips were parted as he looked up at you, his chest heaving slightly as if holding back from you were an effort in and of itself.

You reached down and fondly ran your knuckles over his cheek before tracing his bottom lip with your thumb.

You used your hand to pull him closer to you, earning a slight chuckle at your impatience from him before he put his mouth where you wanted it most. You loved when Daniel went down on you. He was relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, licking and sucking lightly on your clit. Your legs felt like jelly already, and he’d barely just begun. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and held you in place as you wriggled against him, bucking your hips against him, desperate for friction. You nestled your hand in his hair, tugging slightly in encouragement and guidance, although he certainly didn’t need it. He knew your body and made you feel better than anyone else ever had. One of his palms snaked up to your ass, which he grabbed a greedy handful of eliciting a surprised groan from you. Once he was sure you could handle it he pushed one finger into you, and then a second. You could feel yourself flutter around him, and knew that you were already dangerously close to your orgasm.

Daniel always ate you out like it was the last chance he’d ever get, zeroing in on the spots that drove you wild until your legs were shaking and all you were capable of doing was moaning his name. He settled into a rhythm and lapped at your core until you were seeing stars and his name was falling from your lips like it had from the crowd of fans just that afternoon. He helped you ride out your orgasm, his fingers thrusting in and out of you at a more gentle pace, his tongue licking long, languid stripes over your clit until you settled back into yourself.

He steadily got back to his feet, one hand finding its way back to your hip (he loved your hips) while the other brushed some of your damp hair out of your face.

“You earned that, sweetheart.” He said before pressing a deep kiss to your already swollen lips. Still, you could barely process what he was saying, you felt tingly all over like he had electrocuted you somehow.

“Do you want me?” He asked, his forehead nearly touching yours, his eyes searching for your response.

“Yes, Daniel, please.” You finally found the words you were looking for and wrapped your arms around him in an effort to better support yourself. He lifted your leg and secured it around his hip while your other kept you steady in the slippery shower. Daniel took the space he needed between your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in, allowing you just a moment or so to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in again. Soon he was moving faster and you felt like a mere ragdoll in his arms, so blissed out from your high that he could do whatever the hell else he wanted for you and you’d happily take it.

You had had Daniel so many times before, in so many different positions, but there was something about this position and the access it offered that you found so incredibly satisfying. His wet, strong chest pressed against yours, the tight grip of his hand supporting your thigh while he buried himself in you in a way that made you eagerly await his next “You up?” text.

He let out a low groan that you were all too familiar with, one that meant he was about to finish. You ran a free hand down his chest and captured his moans with a kiss as his hips stuttered and he came inside of you. He stayed with you frozen in that closeness for a moment. While you weren’t exclusive, everything between you and Daniel was full of love and tenderness because above all else, he was your best friend.

“That is the best way to celebrate a podium,” He said after a moment, chuckling deeply in a way that usually made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. You grabbed the washcloth that hung on the spigot and held it out to Daniel and looked up at him with big, pleading eyes.

“Wash me?”

“Since you won today? Fine.” He replied, accepting it and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before returning to his knees once more. Dan lathered the washcloth with some body wash and ran it up and down the length of your leg, and over the curve of your ass- an area that he liked to give special attention to.

“I mean, I feel like you made the mess. The least you can do is clean it up.” You quipped, a playful smirk pulling at your features as you watched him work.

“Oh, you mean the mess you begged me to make? This mess?” He asked, reaching up and cupping your sex, making you jump slightly and giggle. You swatted his hand away and allowed him to get back to his task, adding a bit more soap before continuing up towards your back.

“I forgot to tell you, Carlos invited me to a thing tonight. Do you want to go? I think Lando and Charles and the other guys will be there too.”

“Yeah, we’ve still got celebrating to do.” He agreed, popping the lid on the hotel’s shampoo and pouring it into his hands before running his fingers through your hair. You groaned at the feeling- you loved when Daniel washed your hair. It was the ultimate luxury as far as you were concerned- and certainly, one you deserved after such a triumphant day.

Once you were done enjoying your shower, you stepped out and began to get ready. You rifled through your drawers for something fun and sexy, hoping to feel confident and enjoy the wealth of attention you were sure to get.

No one on the grid knew about you and Daniel’s little arrangement, and you preferred to keep it that way. You’d known Daniel for far longer than the other drivers and your relationship had always come with a simple wordless understanding that you knew one another better than anyone else could. Still, you were the only woman on the grid and you wanted your competitors to respect you. You weren’t in Formula 1 to fuck around, you were there to win. Daniel understood. You didn’t have to explain yourself to him, you could let your guard down and say or do whatever you wanted, and you knew he’d never look at you any differently. But if you were bed-hopping on the grid you’d look like a joke. You refused to let that be the narrative that surrounded you. Instead, you’d be the first woman to win the World Drivers’ Championship.

Finally, you settled on a pink dress, one short enough to show your legs off, and low cut enough to draw eyes. Nothing made you feel quite as sexy as holding a trophy above your competitor‘s heads while people chanted your name, but a hot outfit for a club wouldn't hurt.

As you did your makeup, Daniel finished showering while loudly singing a song you didn’t know. Once you decided your makeup was acceptable you moved on to your hair, dying it quickly with a blow dryer before plugging in your curling iron.

“You look nice,” Daniel said, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel to dry off. Just as you were about to respond, your phone dinged on the counter.

Carlos: Here’s the address. See you soon!

You gave Carlos the thumbs up on his text and started curling a section of your hair.

“Danny, you almost ready?” You asked, glancing in his direction in the mirror. He was pulling his outfit from earlier back on, a quick nod in answer to your question.

Once you were satisfied with your looks, you headed down to the lobby together to grab a taxi. The club was only about fifteen minutes away, and you were eager to see the rest of your friends. It had been a while since you had been out with the other drivers. Everyone’s schedules were always so jam-packed, that you often didn’t have time during the season to hang out with anyone other than your teammate, who just so happened to be Checo Perez. And while he was lovely, he wasn’t exactly the biggest party-er on the grid.

After posing for a few photos and a quick check-in with the bouncer, you were ducking into the dimly lit club, immediately overwhelmed by the pulsing music and crowd of sweaty dancers. You searched the crowd until you finally caught sight of Carlos, sitting in a corner, shouting into the ear of Lando Norris.

___________________________________________________________

Carlos looked down at the text, his chest now feeling much like a swarm of butterflies, his leg anxiously bouncing below the table. Lando seemed to notice, a smirk pulling at his features to see his normally suave friend in such a state.

“Relax, man. She’ll be here.” Lando said, raising his soft drink to his lips.

“Yes, I know. It’s fine, I’m fine.” The Spaniard replied almost a bit too quickly, forcing a smile and turning his phone face down. Pierre and Charles were on the other side of the table, much oblivious to the situation, quickly speaking in French to one another. Finally, the pair paused and turned “Shots? I think we need shots.” Charles announced, reading the expression of the two former teammates that were not matching his vibe.

“No!”

“Yes!” Carlos agreed, much to Lando’s chagrin. Perhaps a bit of liquid courage would help him calm down a bit.

“Right, you can do a shot. I’ll be fine, thanks.” Charles was satisfied enough with the responses and went to the bar with Pierre to help bring their drinks back.

“Carlos, what exactly is the plan here anyway? You’re gonna have a dance, tell her you’re in love with her?” Lando questioned sarcastically, leaning awkwardly close to be sure Carlos could hear him over the extremely loud bass of a song that he couldn’t understand any of the words to.

“I’m not in love with her,” Carlos yelled back, somewhat defensively.

“Sure,” Lando replied, fully unconvinced. Carlos went back to eyeing the entrance, trying not to seem as desperate as he truly felt. Luckily for him, Charles was back and handing out Tequila shots, which proved to only distract him for the amount of time it took the liquid to pass his lips.

And then he caught sight of you, pushing through the crowd, scanning faces in search of his. He threw his hand up to catch your attention, a big smile across his face. A smile that fell as he caught sight of Daniel Ricciardo trailing behind you, holding onto your hand.

“She brought Daniel.” He said, the dejection clear in his voice. Lando pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, admittedly a bit disappointed for his friend.

Carlos stood in greeting and you pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“What are we drinking boys? Except you, Lando. I know you’re drinking Root Beer.” You only half-joked, an unamused smirk covering his features.

“Daniel, I didn’t know you were coming,” Lando said, rising to give his teammate a friendly slap on the back.

“Um, we’ve got a world championship contender to celebrate,” Daniel replied, nudging you in your side. You rolled your eyes, embarrassed about all the fuss.

“Lewis has been blowing us away and we’re finally catching up. If that’s not something to celebrate, I don’t know what is.”

“Cheers to that!” Charles yelled in agreement, raising what must have been his third shot.

“Apparently we need to catch up. I’ll be right back.” Daniel told you, nodding towards the bar. You shouted your order after him along with a thank you and turned your attention back to Carlos.

“I saw you finished P4 today, brilliant result.” You told him, poking him in the chest suggestively.

“Yeah, definitely happy.” He replied although he did not look happy in the least. In a moment, Daniel was back and pulling you from Carlos’ side. You threw back a shot. Then another. And Charles and Daniel egged you on enough that you had a third.

Once he deemed you tipsy enough, Dan pulled you onto the dance floor. Few things made you laugh harder than Daniel dancing, and since you were a little drunk, the dancing got a little dirtier. He held your waist and planted a thigh between your legs, allowing you a little friction as you bobbed and swayed to the music. You ran your fingers through his hair and he leaned down into your neck, his hands starting to wander to your ass. Truthfully, you should have been way more composed. You didn’t want the other guys seeing you looking horny and drunk, but eh. You decided to indulge and enjoy the evening. After a few songs, Daniel pulled away, determined to get another drink into you.

Charles and Pierre were somewhere on the dance floor, also too drunk to know how stupid they looked.

Still, you couldn’t help but notice that Carlos didn’t quite seem to be himself. You decided to do something about it, locking eyes with him and pushing past people, and making your way over to where he sulked.

“Come on, come show me that Spanish passion I’ve heard so much about.” You said, shooting him a wink and reaching your hand out to him. His expression finally broke, a big, goofy smile spreading across his features. You lead him back to the dance floor, not without noticing the pleasant way in which his hand fit into yours.

“Oh, I can show you passion.” He whispered as you turned your back towards him, rubbing a little more ass across his crotch than friends usually do. You snuck your hand back behind his neck, pulling him close as you swayed, his hands firmly planted on your hips. Feeling Carlos moving behind you was new and exciting, and maybe it was just how drunk you were, but there was nothing that you wanted more than to take him back to your room. Still, you were friends, and maybe it wasn’t entirely appropriate for you to be grinding so hard against him. You swore that maybe he was thinking the same thing you were, the way his hands glided down your skin and his hips moved against yours- you were thinking some very not PG thoughts. He spun you around and pulled you into his chest, his fingers pushing some of your loose hair behind your ear, then tilting your chin up to make you meet his gaze. You were pretty sure he wasn’t looking at you like you were a friend. You found yourself thinking about his full, pink lips and how flushed his cheeks were. He looked so focused with his brow knit together, so in the moment- like there was no one else around. You loved when Carlos had a fresh shave, he looked so damn handsome and he even smelled amazing- you swore you saw Lando throw a thumbs up in your direction, but you didn’t get time to think about it before-

“OI! Get your ass over here! I’ve got another round for you!” You don’t know how Daniel’s voice was able to cut over the noise of the club, but it did. His voice pulled you back to reality, almost like a rubber band snapping. You dropped your hands away from Carlos, suddenly feeling embarrassed by how carried away you had allowed yourself to get.

You avoided his eyes for a moment before saying “How about another drink?” Carlos looked a bit dejected but followed you anyway.

After your drink, you headed back to dancing, this time with Charles and in a much more PG way. He had you laughing, and you could tell the next morning would certainly be rough for him.

Finally, at around 3 am, you were running out of steam. You were seated in the booth, trying to understand Charles’ broken English when Daniel nudged you on the shoulder.

“You ready to go, darling?” He asked. “I think you might need a chaperone.” He added cheekily, shooting a wink in your direction. You stood, and immediately you were a bit wobbly. He was right. You linked your arm in his and turned to the other men, all in various states of sobriety.

“Salut, boys. Thank you for a good time, Carlos.” You told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before focusing all of your lowered inhibitions on Dan.

He helped you into the back of a cab and you leaned against him, his arm slipping around you.

“Alright, let’s get you home. How would you feel about… keeping this party going?” Daniel asked lowly, his appetite insatiable as always. You giggled but returned his question with a kiss.

Carlos hated having to watch you leave with Dan. Holding you in his arms, getting to feel you move against him, it felt so good, so right. There was no way you could be oblivious to that. He laid in his hotel room bed, scrolling through Instagram when Daniel’s most recent post popped up. It was a picture of you, from the club last night and the caption read “Winning GPs and hearts. Here comes Trouble.” Trouble was the affectionate nickname the reporters had dubbed you upon your arrival in F1. The reason being you were a fierce competitor and always ready to cause trouble on the grid. Well, no one could argue how well it suited you. Carlos clenched his jaw in frustration, feeling so close yet so far away from you. It seemed like he could never have a moment alone with you as Daniel was never far behind. He knew you’d been good friends for many years, but your relationship seemed far more intimate than any other typical friendship. Just as he felt hopeless, his phone dinged.

Y/N: Thank you for the invitation last night and the dance. 😏

The message did not quell Carlos’ frustrations, it was just as ambiguous as every interaction he had with you. He decided to roll the dice and send back a flirtatious reply.

Carlos: I’m more than just a good dancer.

He pressed send feeling like he may explode and immediately took a screenshot and sent it to his best friend.

Carlos: I'm fucked.

Lando: I know.