Chapter Text
"I just say, if you're going to claim you saw God at the side of the track, the least you can do is to levitate on the podium or have stigmatas. Otherwise it's just wasted breath."
Alain makes an honest effort to give Nelson a chastising look, but still he laughs, a bit guiltily, tilting his head so his face is obscured from Ayrton's view.
At this distance, Ayrton shouldn't be able to hear them talk, even less so with Nelson leaning down to whisper into Alain's ear, his lips brushing skin and his fingers skidding over Alain's spine, pressing gently.
It's not really the case that Ayrton has unnaturally good hearing, not physically, bound to flesh as he is; but all the same he can feel all the points of contact between them, the weight of Nelson's hand where it had finally come to rest on the nape of Alain's neck and the warmth of his breath on the side of Alain's face as he shares his merriment.
It closes on him as goosebumps, as the light discomfort of too humid weather on heavy clothes, filling him with a sense of wrongness, making him clench his fists least he closes the distance and pulls the demon away from his...
His.
Nelson maneuvers Alain so all Ayrton can see is his back, and smirks at Ayrton over Alain's shoulder, his eyes brieftly turning an unnatural glowing blue.
-----
"Eu sei quem voce eis." Ayrton says, grabbing Nelson's arm as he passes him by, Alain in tow.
Alain just keeps walking without looking back, Nelson's stare on him long enough before he turns to Ayrton to make obvious his indifference is the demon's doing.
"Eu sei quem voce eis tambem." Nelson says, smiling widely.
"Then you should stay away from my charge, if you know what's good for you."
Nelson's smile only grows more radiant. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I say I know who you are? I know who you were, I meant to say. Before you, what, deserted on him and all the others you were supposed to look after?" He makes a mock disapprobing sound. "Finders keepers, and all that."
"He's not yours" Ayrton says, and his voice almost reverberates with thunder, with righteousness, which would have made a lesser demon as this one cower and bend to his orders, banish from sight.
Almost, but not quite.
Nelson doesn't lose the smile, but his eyes narrow. "Oh, I know that. Not yet. But free will is a marvelous thing, even you will have to agree." He looks pass Ayrton, to where Alain has stopped to wait for him, and pulls his arm free from Ayrton's grip. "You'll see." He looks at Ayrton with sudden interest. "Maybe you'll even like it."
-----
Objetively, Ayrton knows he's dreaming.
He's standing in the corner of a room, and Alain is there.
He kisses the palm of Nelson's hand, before starting to undress, his lips stained red.
Ayrton wants to look away, to will himself awake, too, but he can do neither; instead he watches as Nelson stands behind Alain, his bleeding palm covering his mouth again, as he presses his mouth on the nape on Alain's neck and bites gently.
Ayrton blinks, and Alain is settling between Nelson's legs, his back to the demon, tilting his head so he can nibble at his throat as he arches and takes him inside.
Alain whines and moans for him, gripping his knee, and Ayrton can't tear his eyes away, forgets everything except for Alain in front of him, moving and whispering, and he can almost feel his weight pressing him down, how he would fit perfectly on his arms as he is now...
Nelson fits his chin exactly over Alain's shoulder, licking the sweat gathering there, and then looks straight at Ayrton's eye.
"But envy is also a sin," he says and at the same time doesn't, his lips not parting from Alain's skin, and Ayrton jerks back and wakes up.
He goes to the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face.
Objetively, he knows he was dreaming, but he also knows that if he were to leave his room and wait outside Alain's, he would eventually see Nelson leaving.
"Envy is a sin," he whispers, looking down as his hands under the stream of water at the sink. He looks at his reflection on the mirror. "He's not yours," he also repeats, and he's not truly sure who he's talking to.
-----
Nelson is also only flesh, of that Ayrton is certain. He's not enterely sure if he's born as Ayrton has, or if his vessel is borrowed, but it's real enough that Ayrton can't hope for him to go away on threats alone.
Nelson sits next to him on the next meeting before the race, smile in place.
"What, no holy water? You disappoint me. Just a little."
"No holy water. Just wondering, how would you manage to smile while buried inside charred metal."
Nelson gives him an amused look. "Thinking about murder already? I took you for a guardian angel, not a vengeful one. But by all means, do try. I'm sure that would benefit Alain greatly, watching yet another of his friends crash in front of him. I'm sure he will love you, after that."
Ayrton clenches his jaw. "A small price to pay, for freeing him from you. And he detests me already."
Nelson almost claps at this. "Yes, he does! Which gets me thinking, how sorry would he be if you were to end between charred metal." He pats Ayrton on the shoulder as he stands to change seats. "I'd say quit while you're ahead, but in your case, I don't think that's the right expression at all."
Ayrton grabs his wrist.
He doesn't have unnatural strenght either, but his regular, human one is enough to grind the bones painfully together, to make Nelson wince.
"How did you bound him to you? What did you gave him, what did you promise?"
Nelson puts his own hand over Ayrton's, and squeezes. As luck would have it, he does have unnatural strenght.
His eyes gleam like that day on the track.
"Why, I was asked. Now let go before I make sure you never drive again."
Ayrton lets go only when the other drivers stop whispering amongst themselves, not noticing anything amiss thanks to Nelson's influence but signaling the meeting is starting.
Alain sits next to him, in the chair Nelson left, and watches him with mild concern as he asesses the damage on his fingers.
"Is there something the matter with your hand?" he asks, reaching out to take it, pressumably to give it a closer look.
Ayrton lets him, for a second. He has not touched Alain since that first time, when he rested his hand on the other driver's shoulder and had all come rushing back to him; certainly not since the vision last race.
He feels it again; the possesive compulsion of wrapping his arms around him and covering him with the light he no longer claims as his.
"It's nothing," he snaps, pulling back.
Alain shrugs; it pains Ayrton mildly to see he expects nothing better from him.
He can hear Nelson laughing at him behind his back, even if no one else can.