Chapter Text
"I need you. I need you in me! Fuck me! Harder!"
Nikola rolled over in his tiny bed, covering his ears with the last vestiges of his pillow (paper thin after months of pummeling and looking thoroughly un-pillow like). Every bounce encouraged an agonised groan from the springs, the slats uncomfortably present beneath the stupidly thin mattress. The vocal springs were almost in tandem with the porn his neighbour Greg insisted on watching on max at two am.
Nikola had to be awake in five hours. He was not looking forward to that in the slightest.
Counting backwards from ten in Serbian did nothing. The fake intimacy filtered through and he was stuck listening to the (faux) breathy moans of whoever, praying this would not be a marathon wank fest like The Night He Dared Not Mention.
"Yes! Fuck my ass. So hard!"
The feminine giggling groan mutated to more panting. A masculine grunt joined in. Flopping onto his back, Nikola stared up at the ceiling. Banging on the wall did nothing (Greg didn't care who could hear his nightly entertainment). He couldn't complain to the landlord (Greg being his slum landlord), and he couldn't swap rooms with his roommate - Nigel knew exactly what Greg was like at two in the morning.
Stalking out of bed, and into the living room, he wasn't surprised to see Nigel there on the couch, eating and watching Formula 1 highlights.
"Greg?" he muttered around a mouthful of cereal.
Nikola nodded, but said nothing. Whilst Greg Addison wanking (or possibly just falling asleep) to porn was weird, seeing Nigel in a pair of holey, greying underpants and nothing else was more than his eyes could bear.
Nigel nodded back. Without a word he moved across the couch, leaving more than enough room for Nikola. "Ricciardo's in pole," he added, munching down on his Froot Loops.
"Nice," Nikola replied, collapsing next to Nigel. "Couldn't sleep?"
Nigel shook his head. "Call coming from Australia in half an hour."
Nikola didn't hear him. In the blessed monotony of fast cars around some track in Texas, he'd drifted off.
Shaking his head, Nigel grabbed a blanket from the broken armchair (now a shelf) and chucked it on Nikola. He barely stirred. Chuckling, Nigel went back to his cereal and F1, forgetting his Australian call was booked as a Zoom meeting.