Chapter Text
Lance had been on his way to an Aston Martin media event when he was taken in the paddock.
He was with a new PR assistant, Chris, and due to back-to-back events had been instructed to get his ass to the other event, already almost late.
They were jogging together for fucks sake, with people all around them.
How he had managed to vanish into thin air no one knew.
He never saw it coming.
One moment he was turning behind a building to cut through to the event, laughing with the man. The next he was thrown onto a random building and a damp cloth was forced over his mouth.
It must have been soaked in something because before he could attempt to fight back it pulled him under.
...
Fernando had been annoyed 10 minutes in when Lance hadn't shown up. He could understand being a few minutes late, these days it sometimes felt like a never-ending cycle of media and activities for the drivers. What he didn't understand was being later than that, especially without notifying the team.
He could tell they hadn't been notified because his PR assistant, Mary, was checking her phone and tapping her foot impatiently.
But Fernando soldiered on for those 10 minutes. Smiling and speaking to the interviewer. After another 5 he could feel a deep ache in his gut telling him something was wrong.
He politely interrupted the interviewer before she could ask her next question, they weren't live and his taking a minute to ask his assistant where Lance was would guarantee he was at least semi-focused for the rest of the interview.
He just needed to make sure Lance was ok. Maybe he was sick or maybe he was just caught up in other duties. Whatever the case was, he needed to know.
He felt a little embarrassed at his urgency, he would never have done shit like this 10 years ago when it came to his teammate but he was different now. Lance was sweet, sarcastic and aggressive, and Fernando couldn't help but be enraptured by his younger teammate.
He had gotten used to Lance being by his side. It always made the media more enjoyable. They both weren't great at it, but that only made them grow closer.
His questioning was futile, as Mary only shook her head looking stressed when Fernando asked where Lance was.
"Is he not with his PR assistant?" Fernando asked tensely, begging for some clarity.
"Both he and Lance left their last event 20 minutes ago, they should be here." Her voice was laced with frustration.
Fernando growled lowly. Not at the Beta but at the situation.
"Return to the interview, I'll let you know when we have more information."
Fernando nodded, jaw tensed. Finishing the interview was the last thing he wanted, but it's not like Lance had been gone long. He was sure there was a reasonable answer. Lance could take care of himself.
The interview finished 15 minutes later, and Fernando jumped out of his chair not bothering to thank or say goodbye to the interviewer.
He marched over to Mary.
"What is happening?"
"We're not sure, we can't get a hold of either of them. We notified the FIA, and they sent some security officers to look," Mary said uneasily.
"Where was he coming from?"
"From Media Section B-"
Fernando left before she could finish. He knew something was wrong. He needed to find Lance.
...
He opened his eyes, finally able to pull himself out of the drug-induced haze.
His heart couldn't help but beat faster at the realization that all he saw was black. His eyelashes were hitting fabric.
He was blindfolded.
The situation got shittier when he noted that his wrists were tightly cuffed together, the metal cold and digging into his wrists.
He could feel the dull aches of bruises forming under the biting metal, he could feel his skin beginning to wear and tear.
The wailing pit of despair that had opened in his stomach grew deeper.
The worst part was he had no idea what to do. No crazy F1 or Omega training that told him how to get out of the situation. Because these situations were ones from the past.
On most avenues, society had progressed with second genders and stereotypes. Omegas weren't supposed to have to deal with this thing.
Of course shit like this happened, but not to Omegas like him. Rich Omegas who were tall and fit and under almost constant protection. He didn't even get the protection because he was an Omega, but rather because he was a famous F1 driver. All of the other drivers, Alphas included, had constant tabs on them.
Maybe he would have known what to do if this had been some crazy fan, but it fucking wasn't. It was a new team member. A team member that he had mistaken for being safe because how else would he have gotten the position if he wasn't?
Yeah, maybe his stomach had twinged when the guy squeezed his hand for just a few seconds too long, just a little bit too tight. But, he had chalked it up to nerves and maybe some Alpha need to seem powerful and cool in front of his new boss.
God, he hated being the image of an Omega in distress but that's what he fucking was at the moment. He needed someone to save him.
He wished he had Fernando. Fernando wouldn't have let this happen.
The Alpha wasn't cruel or domineering, but he knew how to command a room. Knew how to mix his barks and bites.
He was always aware of Lance. Always stepping in to shield him if some random got too close or threw something on stage. Always giving him a shoulder if Lance was tired. Never let anyone pull Lance around or make him feel bad or weak over being an Omega.
He was a class act. A perfect Alpha.
He froze as he heard heavy steps inching towards him.
"You awake Lancey?" Chris asked. His voice was deep and sing-songy. It made Lance's skin crawl, made droplets of sweat break out across his body.
Lance didn't know how to respond. Should he go the angry upset route or should he go the submissive and naive route? He almost wished he knew the man more because one week of barely interacting had given him hardly any clues on how to act.
He decided to go the naive route. See if he could get more of a feel for the situation.
"What's going on Chris?" Lance asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice unwavering.
He felt sick, the pit was eating him, consuming him like the snow did to buildings in Canada on cold winter nights.
Lance flinched as a cold laugh ripped through the air, much closer than before.
Lance moved so that he was sitting cross-legged facing the noise. He really had no idea how to position himself but thought this was better than being on his knees. He had no desire to submit to the clearly insane man.
His mouth felt dry, and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. How long had he been out?
He yelped as he was pulled up onto his knees and his arms were violently lifted above his head and hooked on something. His blindfold was ripped off his face.
It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dully lit room. It looked like some storage space.
The walls and floor were concrete. It dug into his ripped pants, making his knees ache.
Lance looked up at his captor, trying his best to look stony.
But when he made eye contact with Chris, he could feel himself whimper, feel the anxiety pour out of every pore of his body. Bile rose in his throat.
The man looked crazed. His eyes were wide, and the grin he wore stretched his lips tight and made his teeth look sharp and dangerous.
Lance reckoned Chris could tear his throat out in seconds if he so wished.
"What a good Omega you are, on your knees for me. Like a perfect little bitch."
Lance felt his skin crawl. What was this? The ‘60s?
"Trust me, I wouldn't be on my knees for you if I had a choice," Lance responded bitterly.
The Alpha growled at that and lunged towards him, striking him across the face before Lance could dodge.
The blow was so fierce that it swung him, sending shooting pains throughout his shoulder sockets and wrists.
His face felt red hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins.
Lance could tell the blow had split his lip, his mouth was filling with blood and he weakly spit it out, trying not to choke.
He definitely needed to go the submissive route.
It almost made him chuckle. Most were shocked when they learned Lance was an Omega. He was tall, and strong, and loud, and didn't take shit. Definitely not the stereotypical submissive type.
He liked to think he was helping to break all the lingering stupid stereotypes surrounding Omegas. This moment sure as hell was knocking him down a peg.
He shifted on his knees with a grunt.
"How long have I been out, Chris?"
He was hoping using the man's name would help the Alpha feel like he was in control.
"I got you good," Chris said laughing. He glanced down at his watch. "Just under an hour."
Lance felt an ounce of relief spread through him. Surely his absence was noticed.
He just needed to hold on. He was sure his dad would find him. Sure Fernando would.
...
Fernando had run throughout the paddock searching every corner and building he could where Lance was last seen. Scouring the buildings for a clue like some Sherlock Holmes. He had been at it for 30 minutes when he got a call. Lawrence.
"Lawrence, any news?" he asked panting.
"Come to Aston Martin, the guards found something."
"I'm on my way."
Lawrence had been brisk on the phone, but Fernando could tell from his voice that the man was about to fall apart. There was no denying the fact that he adored his son.
Fernando ran to the team's motor home, legs pumping and chest heaving.
There were a few guards posted outside, but they let him through without question.
Upon entering a team member led him to one of the conference rooms, it was crowded with team and FIA members.
They were chattering loudly together, but as soon as Fernando growled, the noise stopped. Fernando had no use for niceties. Not when Lance was missing.
"Who the fuck was he with last?" Fernando asked straight to the point. He needed answers.
"A new PR Assistant, Chris. He's an Alpha," a crew member answered.
"Why the fuck was an unmated Alpha with Lance?" Fernando asked, teeth gnashing.
"It was an oversight on our part. They were running late, and it was such a short distance," the team members said shrewdly.
"This is helpful though, it helps us search through our security footage. We'll hopefully have something soon," an FIA delegate said.
Fernando knew he should feel relief. A clue. A breakthrough. But he felt no such thing. It felt like his heart was being squeezed, it felt like his lungs would never get enough air again.
The world was cruel. Fernando knew that. But when cruelty claimed the innocent it was hard to accept.
...
"I could tell you were an Omega the first time I laid eyes on you," Chris said matter-of-factly. "Your small waist. Your perfect lips and mouth. So fuckable. Begging to have a cock."
Lance shivered feeling sick.
"I waited and watched from afar. Dreaming of when I could get you on your knees."
The man was circling Lance like a hunter did to prey. Him the wolf and Lance the lamb.
He sprang suddenly and cut Lance's polo shirt off. The cuts were harsh and aggressive and knicked Lance's skin.
Lance struggled against his handcuffs desperate to avoid the cruel slashes.
"Get the fuck away," he bellowed.
Chris smirked and then undid his belt.
"Oh baby, I'm not going anywhere. Not until we have some fun."
Chris didn't seem unsure. Didn't seem worried. No, he seemed to be in perfect control. It made Lance question how long he had spent planning it. Had spent obsessing over the minute details like how to get Lance alone.
That's where he lost the last bit of hope he clung to. Lance felt his stomach roil and bent to the side vomiting violently. The acid scorched his throat. His eyes burned. The hope had slipped through his lips with his vomit. Leaving Lance a pile of skin and bones. A lamb plump for the taking
Chris cackled in response.
"Most people thought you were an Alpha, but I knew better." Chris paused moving closer. "I will say your temper does you no favors in the misconception. That's alright though, it's what I like about you."
He reached out gripping Lance's hair tightly, making him cry out in pain.
"You don't know me," Lance spit out. What a fucking creep. He had no right to him. He wasn't his Alpha nor would he ever be.
Chris lashed out with his belt, repeatedly striking him across his back. The hits rang out and Lance cried. Tears trickled down his ashen face.
He didn't get to take this from him. Lance wouldn't let him. He couldn't. He thrashed in his bonds desperate to break them.
But they didn't budge, and all it did was leave Chris with an evil smile on his face.
He grew desperate and started up a Hebrew prayer in his head. Clinging to the idea that he could still be saved.
"Don't pretend that you're not gonna like it, Lancey."
Tremors of fear ran through him. He wanted so badly to be strong, but he knew he couldn't. He was helpless. Weak flesh for the taking.
Chris stepped up to Lance and grabbed his jaw roughly.
Lance kept his eyes closed.
The Alpha didn't like that, and squeezed his jaw, forcing Lance to snap his eyes open. He glared up at the man towering over him, hoping the disgust he felt manifested into venom in his eyes.
Lance knew he had no option but to succumb and hope it would be quick. Hope Fernando would find him. Hope anyone would find him and save him.
"Are you gonna be a good boy for me?"
"Please," Lance whispered out. What was begging when he was on his knees?
Chris just smiled cruelly at him and unbuttoned his pants.
"Don't worry, I'll only use a little of you. That's all we have time for," Chris said, swallowing eyes wide with excitement. "I reckon we have 30 minutes until they find us. But, that's plenty. I'll take what I want and then slip away."
Chris chuckled, one that reminded Lance of all the Alphas that walked the streets at night. Desperate to get a helpless Omega on their knees. That's what Lance was now.
Was Lance supposed to be relieved over him only taking a bit of his flesh? Was Lance supposed to believe that it would be a one-and-done? That he wouldn't be permanently scared.
The Alpha released his jaw and tugged his pants down, exposing himself. Lance flinched away in vain.
Chris grabbed his jaw again, pressing until Lance's mouth opened with a pop.
"Now if you bite, I promise you you'll regret it." Chris stroked Lance's cheek with his thumb as he said it. "I am a fair man Lance, and it would be a shame to maim that pretty face of yours."
Lance didn't respond. Couldn't respond.
"Understand?"
The man squeezed harder until Lance nodded.
"Perfect."
Lance willed every thought surrounding Chris to leave his mind. He willed every feeling and motion in his body away. Determined not to give Chris’s actions any power. Any weight over his life.
He was transported to Bahrain.
It had been such a mix of pain and pleasure but it had been everything for him. He had performed well, and so had Fernando, and it had felt nice to be teammates. To be on each other's side.
Because it felt like the older Alpha cared, it felt like he didn't just view him like some useless Omega who was daddy's boy.
When Fernando had called Lance "his hero" it had struck a light in him. It had made him feel giddy with joy.
That's when the infatuation started. Lance had done a good job hiding it, but every time Fernando would clap him on his back or grab his neck the fire only burned brighter.
He was in a constant state of wanting to be on his knees for the man and wanting the man to be on his knees for Lance. Now Lance couldn't imagine ever wanting to be on his knees again.
Lance stayed in that beautiful Grand Prix headspace though, clinging to Fernando.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was brought back as he was released and fell forward, shoulders protesting at the sudden weight.
He started sobbing in earnest. His chest felt hollow.
He could hear clinking, and when he looked up the man had dressed again.
Chris smirked at Lance, noticing his gaze.
"Told you that you would love it," he said, his voice smug.
Lance stared at him, incapable of forming a sentence.
"You were perfect, thanks baby," Chris said, happiness lighting up his face. "Let's do it again."
He moved over to Lance and squatted down before roughly kissing him. Forcing his tongue into his mouth and down his throat. Lance broke away struggling.
Chris slipped his blindfold back onto him.
"Let's see how long it takes for them to find you."
He had stroked Lance's cheek with his thumb as he said it. As if it was gentle. As if what they had done was sacred.
And then he was gone with a cruel chuckle and Lance was left shaking and sobbing in his bonds.
But nothing about that had been sacred. Had been right. Lance was left as nothing more than another violated and broken Omega.
...
Fernando felt like his head was going to explode. Anger and anxiety rippled throughout his entire body. Here he was sitting at some table while Lance was missing. Taken by some creep.
The thought of another Alpha touching Lance made him feel sick.
The team, FIA, and police were doing their best to track Lance down.
For the first time in years, decades perhaps, Fernando found himself praying. He was not a religious man. He didn't find salvation in God. He found salvation in himself. On the track.
But he swore he would start praying, would get down on his knees for God if it meant Lance was found.
Every instinct in him was telling him he needed to find Lance. To protect him. To kill the bastardo who had taken him. It had already been an hour and a half since he was last seen.
He heard pounding footsteps and suddenly the door swung open, Mary stood there panting.
"They found something."
Fernando sprung up and followed the woman.
She quickly led them to Lawrence and others.
"Well?" Fernando demanded, his voice harsh.
Lawrence grabbed him and pulled him to the TV.
"They found something on the security cameras."
They played the video. It showed Lance and his PR assistant running before turning a corner. An alley towards the back of the paddock. Somewhere they should never have been in the first place.
Fernando growls at that. The fucking bastardo. Lawrence let out a choked sob.
"We lose sight of them after that. We're assuming he exited at the other end of the alley. They're close to the edge of the parking lot."
"A unit is searching all the cars," a police officer said. "We're scouring footage from the parking lot."
Lawrence nodded, face grey.
"I will go look," Fernando said.
The officials glanced at Lawrence as if asking for permission.
Lawrence gave him a curious look and opened his mouth as if to argue but Fernando cut him off.
"He's my teammate. He was my responsibility. I will go." His voice was one of an Alphas. Commanding and decisive.
Lawrence nodded, "Okay, go."
...
Fernando ran through the circuit of buildings, looking at all the ones on the outskirts of the paddock where Lance had gone missing. His eyes settled on one of the smaller buildings. It looked old and unused.
He skidded to a halt in front of the door. He could smell Lance through it. His scent, which normally was one of sweet maple and woodsy pine, was soured. Smelling like burnt resin.
He texted Lawrence the location.
Fernando broke down the door and felt rage course through him, filling his veins with red-hot fury.
There in the back of the room was Lance. Kneeling with his arms above his head, wrists bound and clipped to the wall. Like some fallen angel.
He was sure the position was uncomfortable and painful, stressing his flexibility to the limit and putting pressure all over his upper body.
Lance was shirtless and blindfolded and Fernando felt sick. Bruises and cuts covered his body, and his lip was split.
Fernando swore if he ever saw the offender he would beat him to a pulp.
But, he needed to get Lance.
"Fernando?" Lance questioned sounding shocked as he sniffed the air.
Fernando ran to his side and removed the blindfold.
"Yes, mi amor," Fernando said desperately. "It's me. You're safe."
Lance's face crumpled, and Fernando shushed the Omega, trying in vain to soothe him as he sobbed.
Fernando held him gently, letting Lance's sobs soften.
"Let me get you out Lancito," he said as Lance took in shuddering breaths.
Lance nodded frantically, his face dirty and soaked with tears. Eyes pleading.
Fernando looked around the room, and his eyes landed on a pair of cutters.
He grabbed them and looked at Lance, asking with his eyes if he could remove the wrist cuffs.
Lance nodded rapidly, and Fernando removed them. Exposing the raw and bleeding skin beneath the metal.
Fernando growled at the sight, his rage rippling throughout the air.
Lance whimpered, one so full of fear Fernando stopped growling dead in his tracks.
Joder.
"Lance, lo siento," Fernando said desperately. "I'm sorry. I will never hurt you. I promise."
The scent of Lance was overwhelming, Fernando could smell his fear and hurt and it burned his nostrils. Fernando would rather lose a hundred races than smell it again.
"I know," Lance said, his voice shattered but firm.
"Can I pick you up?"
Fernando wanted so desperately to whisk Lance away, to hide him from the world. But he couldn’t imagine his touch was welcome. He was an Alpha after all.
But to his surprise, Lance nodded, and Fernando took off his jacket, draping it gently around Lance's shoulders.
He stood up before picking Lance up bridal style.
Lance whined, and Fernando whispered reassurances as he left the room.
Lance nuzzled into his neck, scenting him. Desperate for some sense of normalcy. He clung to Fernando like he was his lifeline.
Suddenly Lance went very still in his arms, passing out.
“Lance?” Fernando asked urgently
He knew it was most likely due to the young Omega being stressed and traumatized out of his mind, but it still made his stomach drop.
Fernando didn't know what had happened in the concrete building, but he knew it hadn't been good.