ali 💙🧡

Lando Norris

Nice guys finish second

Come over

Give In

Carlos Sainz

Oceans Apart pt.1

Oceans Apart pt.2

Max Verstappen

Busy man

Lewis Hamilton

Open Up To Me

Charles Leclerc

Ambrosia- Vampire!Charles

Oscar Piastri

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

The conference room clock ticked past 11:47 PM. The lights of the city twinkled below the large floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the conference room, but the energy inside was anything except serene.

The air was heavy with tension, thicker than the stack of quarterly reports Lando had thrown across the sleek glass table in a fit of rage. Everyone sat still, half-slouched and avoiding eye-contact in leather chairs that had once felt powerful but had turned into cold interrogation seats under the weight of Lando Norris’s silence.

He stood at the head of the table, hands braced on the edge, his jaw as sharp as his stare under the harsh overhead lighting. His tie was loose, shirt wrinkled around his waist, and his usual blasé, charming CEO mask had been ripped off hours ago. All that was left was a man on the edge- exhausted, angry, and dangerously close to snapping.

You sat next to him, arms folded, eyes locked on the open folder in front of you as you worked up the courage to defend yourself against his tirade. You could feel the heat of his stare- it had shifted onto you, and you felt as though your skin was burning.

“This-” Lando's voice cut through the room like a knife, low and laced with venomous rage, “-isn’t just incompetence. This is insubordination. Or stupidity. I’m honestly not sure which one’s worse.”

A few of the executives shifted uncomfortably. No one dared speak. Not after the way he’d slammed the report down when he entered, berating and criticising them one by one until they looked as though they were on the verge of snapping.

And now, it was your turn. He pushed his glasses up his face and folded his arms, exhaling a deep sigh before addressing you.

“One and a half million over budget,” he said, voice quieter now, more dangerous. “Delayed shipments, missed targets, and what? All you can give me is shitty excuses and childish finger-pointing? What the fuck makes you think that’s acceptable? Hm?”

His gaze was sharp- his tone left no room for argument or self-defence, as if he was daring you to respond.

However since no one else did, his anger striking fear into every other person in the room, you decided you wouldn’t let yourself be bullied.

“We’re only over budget because the allocations you insist on having make zero sense. If you’d actually listen to me for once, maybe you’d actually be a competent CEO instead of keeping us all here at an ungodly hour just to have a bitch fit.” You shot out, attempting to put up a fight to him.

Lando didn’t speak. He just kept staring fiercely at you. His jaw was set tight whilst he deliberated what he wanted to say next. The anger was palpable, his seething rage emanating off him in waves.

“I don’t know how you fucking dare.” His voice was almost a whisper, low and deadly. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, nobody dared to even breathe.

“Everyone out. Go home.” he addressed the rest of the room, his exasperation clear in his strong voice. Then he turned to you- “Except you.”- he added, instantly bringing an icy rush of fear through you.

Everyone rushed to grab their things, scarpering out of the room with mumbled apologies before Lando changed his mind. Your cheeks were burning up, dread overtaking you. Now that it was just you and Lando, there was nobody to save you, and nobody to hear you scream. 

Neither of you moved. He stood, hands in his pockets, waiting for everyone to leave. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you until the door clicked shut.

“Remind me, whose company is this?” He was calm, too calm. It was unnerving. His gaze was ice cold as he turned back to face you.

“Yours.” You felt as though the walls were closing in on you, it was impossible to guess his next move.

“Look at me when you say it.” He demanded, voice still quiet and controlled.

You turned to look at him, his cold eyes sending a shiver through you. 

“Yours, Lando.” You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him anymore, the control he was exuding was intoxicating you. 

“Lando?” he cocked an eyebrow at you, “Is that how you address me? how you address your superior?”  He was challenging you, and it left you temporarily lost for words.

“No, sir.”  you whispered, choking back your nerves. “Sorry, sir.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smirk but was holding back. 

“So. If it’s my company, what gives you the right to have this attitude, hm? To speak to me like that, as though you have any authority over me?”

You didn’t know what to say for yourself, his harshness was piercing you and rendering you dumbfounded.

“I- I’m just trying to do my job, sir.”

There was no confidence behind your words, you knew there was nothing you could say that would get Lando off your back.

You expected some other retort about your incompetence or your poor behaviour, so when Lando said “That’s cute.” , his voice dripping with condescension, it threw you off.

“You think you can just bat your eyes at me and say you’re ’just trying to do your job’ and that’ll make me forgive you?” His eyes were dark, he was embarking on a tirade you knew would make you regret ever speaking in the first place.

“You think you can control everything, control me, but you’re wrong. Maybe it’s about time someone controlled you, finally fucked that little attitude out of you.” his voice lowered and dangerous.

You felt your skin burning, a mixture of embarrassment and desire flushing your cheeks.

“You wanna know what I think? I think you fucking want it. I think you ache for me. Is that right?”

You knew he was right, you knew you’d been longing for Lando for months now, but it was clear he knew that too.

You didn’t know how to respond, unsure if you could even form words right now, but you still found yourself saying “Yes sir”

This response evidently satisfied him, eyes shining behind the lenses of his glasses and a smirk forming on lips. But it was gone as fast as it appeared, quickly replaced with the sternness from before.

“Stand up.”

His tone carried no space for hesitation, he had you right where he wanted you as you succumbed to his leadership.

You did as he said, the chair sliding back softly beneath you. The office immediately felt smaller, the air heavier, your gaze centred upon him. The space between you had turned into something charged, and you both knew you were about to take things across a line you could never come back from.

Lando didn’t move right away. He watched you instead, studying your expression and your demeanour whilst admiring your body and your beauty. It was intimidating, and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes yet.

He didn’t move closer, instead his gaze stayed on you, steady and unblinking.

“Look at me,” he said quietly.

Instantly, you obeyed

A faint exhale left him, approval of your submission without wanting to show it, but his expression tightened, deliberate and serious.

“Is this what you want?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself.

His jaw flexed slightly.

“That’s not an answer.”

He took a half-step closer, stopping just inside your space without getting too close, still in control of the boundaries.

“I need your words” he said, soft but intense.

His eyes narrowed slightly, searching your face for hesitation, refusing to accept anything less than certainty.

“Yes.” you replied, your voice surprisingly confident and assured.

Lando’s expression dissolved back into pure lust.

“Good.”

You had no time to process his response, as he was on you in a second, spinning you around and then crowding you forward until your hips met the cool glass table. He planted a hand firmly on your upper back and shoved you down, kicking your legs apart and stepping between them.

You groaned at the rough treatment, which seemed to please Lando.

"Here's how this is going to work." His voice was dripping with desire as kept one of his massive hand on your back, pinning you down while his other hand was busy slowly unzipping your skirt and pushing it down your hips along with your underwear. He then slid his hand between your legs almost agonisingly slowly, the cool metal of his ring against your hot skin sending shivers down your spine. "You're going to take what I give you, do as you're told, and you're not gonna be a fucking brat. Understood?"

“Oh!” you gasped as his broad fingers pushed between your folds. He stroked over your soaked pussy before slowly circling your clit. The sensation was perfection, Lando’s skill evident, but it was quickly taken away.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, snapping you out of the trance he had you in.

“I said do you understand?” the authority in his voice making you clench.

"Yes, sir" you whispered.

Lando didn't respond, instead he brought two fingers up to your entrance. He took his time, sliding them inside you smooth and slow, aided by your wetness.

“Oh,” You gasped, your legs spreading apart further at the feeling of his fingers inside you. He groaned at your reaction, sending vibrations through your body. “Yeah. Just like that.” He urged you, pleased at how easily you took both of them.

He then began increasing the pace, his fingers curling and stroking all the right places inside you. Lando was ravenous, all of the pent-up feelings of frustration with work and his long desire for you being channelled into this act.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the familiar sensation of your muscles tingling, toes curling, and vision beginning to become unfocused. “Right there.” You told him, pleading and moaning.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me baby?" He leaned over your body, bringing his free hand to wrap around your neck and hold you, the metal of his rings digging into your neck slightly. "Beg for it."

Against your better judgement, you found yourself saying "You wish."

He slid his fingers out of you, but before you could whine in protest, he tugged you up and turned you around. His blue eyes were narrowed, and there was something downright dangerous in the way he was looking.

He loosened his tie and undid his top two buttons, exposing the silver chain that hung around his neck.

He pulled you off the table and grabbed your wrists, wrapping his tie around them and securing them, before pushing you to your knees in front of him. “You’re just begging for a lesson, aren’t you?” he said, undoing his trousers and pulling out his cock.

You licked your lips, staring at his member. It was flushed and gorgeous, so thick you wondered if your fingers would even touch when you gripped it. “What kind of lesson?” you asked.

“How to put your dirty mouth to more… polite uses.” He nudged forward, and the crown of his dick brushed your lips.

You opened your mouth and licked the tip of his dick, collecting a bead of salty pre-cum. He hissed and threaded his fingers through your hair again, tightening just enough to imply he was the one in control.

You opened your mouth around him, taking his length in deeper and deeper in your throat, gagging slightly but relaxing when you were able to get used to it. Then, you continued your motions of up and down on him, adjusting to the feeling of it. Lando groaned loudly at that, feeling how much of him you were taking.

He gently pushed you down farther on his shaft, enjoying the noises you made as you tried to adjust how far down your throat that he was. "Oh good girl, fucking choke on it." He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. You moaned at the praise, his power over you exhilarating. You started bobbing your head up and down on him again, setting a slow rhythm.

"I'm gonna cum, princess. You want me to fill your dirty mouth up? Wanna swallow it all for me?" He asked you, practically whining with how good this felt.

You moaned around him again, a muffled "mhm" could be made out, you wanted that more than anything right now.

Lando cussed under his breath at that, his eyebrows furrowing together as he felt his building orgasm begin to reach its peak. He thrust his hips upward, forcing himself even deeper as he came, emptying himself all the way down your throat with a loud groan.

He pulled out slowly, but grabbed your chin to keep your mouth open for him.

Then, locking eyes with you, Lando spit in your mouth. You widened your eyes in surprise and he pushed your mouth closed for you. "Yeah, fuck, swallow it, baby. You love this, don't you? Being mine. Letting me own you." A smug smirk on his face.

"Yes sir" your voice was quiet, still catching your breath, but you smiled, overwhelmed but happy.

Surprisingly, Lando's hand came to your face as he helped you up, caressing your cheek with a soft smile. "My good girl" he whsipered.

He picked you up, placing you back on the table facing him, standing between your legs.

"You want me to fuck you?" the lust was back in his voice, his control washing over you again.

"Yes... god yes" you were desperate to be full of him again, still hanging on the edge from his fingers.

He held his cock in his hand, notching the tip in your entrance.

You expected him to thrust inside immediately, but he stayed like that, with the tip of his dick barely inside. You whined and shifted your hips, and he grinned at her. "You know," he said. "If you're so desperate for my cock, all you've gotta do is ask." He was annoyingly smug, knowing the last thing you’d want to do is beg for him.

Still, your frustration made you give in, words stumbling out of your mouth. "Please, Lando. Please fuck me, do it right now, please… I need you."

"Good girl," he breathed. Then he was pushing in, stretching you impossibly wide. You clutched onto his shoulders as you took him… and took him… and took him.

When he was finally seated all the way inside you, you let out a shaky breath, never having been stuffed this full in your life. “Holy shit." you whispered.

“Tell me,” he ordered, bringing a thumb down to rub your clit. He wasn’t moving yet, leaving you plenty of time to adjust to his size. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Full” was all you could bring yourself to say, breathless.

His grin was feral. “Good.” He pulled out halfway, then pushed back in, and you groaned, feeling almost impossibly full. “I want to fucking ruin you.”

You dug your fingers into his shoulders, hard enough to bruise. “I'd like to see you try,” you taunted, even though you knew exactly what was happening here. Lando Norris was ruining any future sex you'll have with any other man.

His nostrils flared. “Challenge accepted.”

Then he was moving, pumping in and out with long, slow strokes. You wrapped your legs around him and braced your hands behind you on the table. 

It was a threat and a promise, one he made good on as he fucked you with firm, even strokes. He seemed completely in control as he worked your body until you were soaked and quivering.

"You want more? Want me faster" he breathed.

"Please! Yes!" you could've screamed from desperation.

He instantly increased his pace, wrapping a hand around your neck again as he slammed into you. His other hand dropped to your clit, rubbing tight circles again at the pace he knew you loved.

You grabbed the chain around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you brought your hands to his back and buried your face in his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as a loud moan escaped your throat.

The thumb on your clit never let up, and you soon felt heat bloom in your lower belly. “I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” he said, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. “Fucking come for me. Give it to me.”

The tension broke, and you orgasmed with a sound that was very close to a scream. Your pussy tightened and released in rhythmic contractions that went on and on, and he fucked your through them with single-minded determination.

It felt so good that your eyes welled up. “Yes,” you sobbed, digging your heels into his backside. “Lando!”

“That’s right,” he said, slamming into you harder. “That’s who’s doing this to you. Me. You’re fucking mine. Say thank you baby, where are your manners?” 

You reached for him blindly, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your head in his shoulder. After that orgasm, you’d give him whatever he wanted.

“Thank you, sir” you were panting, trying to catch your breath after the intensity.

His rhythm sped up, thrusts brutal and relentless until he shouted and shuddered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” He twitched as you squeezed your inner muscles around him, wanting to milk him for every last drop. “Jesus, baby”

He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight. Both of you were breathing heavily, struggling to process exactly what just happened.

However, you both knew one thing.

"We need to do this again sometime" he laughed breathlessly.

"Absolutely" you agreed.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

A/N: sorry this took a whole ear to write lmao. I dedicate this fic to the reader who said they'd been refreshing my page daily waiitng for it. This one's for you !!! also i forgot how difficult writing is so if this is ass pls be nice

You didn’t know what to say for yourself, his harshness was piercing you and rendering you dumbfounded.

“I- I’m just trying to do my job, sir.”

There was no confidence behind your words, you knew there was nothing you could say that would get Lando off your back.

You expected some other retort about your incompetence or your poor behaviour, so when Lando said “That’s cute.” , his voice dripping with condescension, it threw you off.

“You think you can just bat your eyes at me and say you’re ’just trying to do your job’ and that’ll make me forgive you?” His eyes were dark, he was embarking on a tirade you knew would make you regret ever speaking in the first place.

“You think you can control everything, control me, but you’re wrong. Maybe it’s about time someone controlled you, finally fucked that little attitude out of you.” his voice lowered and dangerous. You felt your skin burning, a mixture of embarrassment and desire flushing your cheeks.

“You wanna know what I think? I think you fucking want it. I think you ache for me. Is that right?” You knew he was right, you knew you’d been longing for Lando for months now, but it was clear he knew that too.

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long!! if the story doesn’t make sense or is messy it’s because i wrote this in short bursts over a long bit of time. the fanfic writer curse got me and i’ve had a hectic few weeks 😔

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

The setup was clear. 

When your father had told you he’d accepted an invitation to spend the later months of the year in Monaco with the Leclerc family, you saw right through it. He could pass it off as ‘visiting an old family friend’ as much as he liked, but you knew it was all arranged for you to meet the only Leclerc heir, Charles, who just so happened to be a similar age to you. 

The Leclercs were an old family, ruling over the principality since time began, and your father really had been a close friend to Charles’ father back when they were students- studying together in Paris. You petitioned for your father to go and visit on his own, you had no interest in marriage yet, but it seemed fate wasn’t on your side.

When news of the elder Leclerc’s sudden passing reached your family, your father had gone pale. “Poor Charles,” he’d murmured, and there was something unreadable in his voice. Nevertheless, he was insistent that you join him, that you help bring some joy back into Charles’ life. 

Charles had inherited the vast estate, the sprawling chateau high above the town below, and the fortune. Despite this, the household staff had dwindled to a skeletal few. Rumors- some whispered by servants, others half-drowned in candlelit gossip at dinner parties- told of Charles being a young man who lived as a ghost within his own halls, rarely seen by day, always pale, always quiet. It was said he walked the castle gardens only after midnight, and the local vendors that supplied food to the chateau had been cut off. Most eerily, even before his father’s untimely passing, Charles was rumoured to be living alone- his parents residing somewhere in Nice.

Still, weeks passed, and your bags were packed. Your carriage was readied. You were going, whether you wished it or not. Even if every instinct in your body said something was amiss, you couldn’t say no. Not to your father and not to the twists of fate that seemed to be pushing you towards him.

At the very least, you would not be bored. Monaco in the cooler months was abuzz with activity. Summer’s heat was too oppressive for such lavish events, so autumn was the season of masked balls, moonlit dinners, and expensive parties.. And you, ever so conveniently, would arrive just in time for the most prestigious party of all: the Annual Leclerc Ball, held every year on Charles’ birthday.

____

The journey took days, a winding path taking you through the mountains and along the rocky coastal roads. By the time the carriage creaked up the gravel path to the Chateau, dusk had already deepened into full night. The moon hung high, pale and glowing, and the heat of summer still lingered in the air.

The chateau rose before you like something out of a forgotten century, flags billowing from its turrets and decorations for the upcoming party draping from the high, pointed roof. Ivy coated the stone walls, curling like veins. Though most of the windows were dark, a faint amber light glowed in the grand entrance hall, and before you could even think to knock, the doors opened.

And there he was. Charles Leclerc.

He stood in the doorway like a painting come to life: tall, elegant, dressed in a deep red coat with golden embroidery at the collar. His hair was dark and slightly curled, framing a face whose beauty all but knocked the air out of your lungs. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes that sparkled in the moonlight. You couldn’t quite tell their colour- At one glance, they seemed a dazzling green. At another, golden.

“My lady,” he said, bowing his head briefly. “Welcome to my home. I am honored to host such dear friends of my late father.”

Your father stepped forward to greet him first, offering his hand to Charles to shake- a smile holding remorse and comfort on his face. But you noticed it twist into a slight grimace as Charles gripped his hand and shook it firmly- trying to mask the pain.

“Gosh!” your father chuckled, “Mighty strong grip you have there.” 

Charles simply smiled thinly in response, an unspoken apology mixed with… regret? You couldn’t dwell on the interaction for too long as his gaze turned back to you.

“And you,” he said quietly. “Have traveled a long way, I imagine. I hope the journey was kind to you.”

His voice was low, a faint French accent mixed in with his words. There was something about it though, like velvet soaked in wine, like everything about him was designed to be perfect. You should have answered at once, but instead, you hesitated.

You were on edge. Something was off.

You weren’t supposed to read the books you did, really, but you had your father wrapped around your finger. With it just being the two of you since your mother passed away in childbirth, your father attended to your whims- even if tales of folklore and the macabre weren’t what he deemed to be ‘ladylike’. He always warned you that such dark and frightening reading materials would only be a detriment to your nerves, would have you frightened out of your wits at the faintest bump in the night. Maybe that’s what this was, maybe you were just in an unfamiliar place in the nighttime, but your books had conditioned you to be afraid. You were okay.

Charles' skin was pale, nearly luminous under the glow of the moon and the torches that lined the path to the chateau entrance. He wore gloves despite the warmth of the night, and you could have sworn there was something unnatural in the way he moved- too graceful, too quiet. As if his footsteps didn’t quite touch the ground.

Still, when he extended a gloved hand toward you, you took it. His fingers closed around yours, and even through the gloves they were cool to the touch. His eyes met yours again, and something in them stirred a flicker of curiosity in you. You couldn’t call it hunger, exactly, but it was something close.

“I trust you’ll find the chateau… accommodating,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in what might have been amusement. “It has been too long since we’ve had a guest.”

You swallowed. Your heart had begun to beat a little faster, and not just from nerves. Charles Leclerc was beautiful- undeniably so. But he was also something else. Something you couldn’t name yet.

Though your father smiled and the servants came to take your coats and trunks, you felt it in your bones: something about this place was wrong, and you’d find out what.

____

The chateau smelled faintly of old wood and something subtly floral- like dried roses pressed between the pages of an old book. The entrance hall was vast, the polished wooden floors and the copious amount of candles encasing it in warmth and homeliness, but still the place felt dim, like the light never quite reached the corners.

Charles insisted on giving you and your father a tour, though the hour was already late. He moved through the softly lit halls with pride, his voice confident and measured as he spoke of the history of the place. You barely spoke, too occupied with keeping up with the influx of information and stealing quick glances at him. You noticed he never seemed out of breath, never paused, never tired. And with every new room he showed you, his eyes were on you- watching for your reaction as though it mattered more than the house itself.

When you reached the west wing, he paused in front of an arched wooden door, turning to you.

“I thought you might appreciate this,” he said, looking at you with that same strange glint in his eyes. “I hope you approve of my collection.”

He opened the door and stepped aside to let you in, and you were taken aback by the sight. The library was exquisite: tall shelves reaching to the ceiling, a narrow staircase spiraling up to a balcony lined with even more books, plush armchairs and sofas dotted around the room. A small fire crackled in the hearth. It was warm here, intimate, the only place in the building that seemed... real.

You turned to look at him. “How did you know?”

He gave a soft, almost smug smile. “I make it a point to know my guests.” He said, as though it was obvious.

The tour concluded, the house darkening as the hours wore on. You were shown to your chambers first: a beautiful and cosy room in the north corridor, with deep green drapes, an intricately carved four-poster bed, and a private balcony that overlooked the town below.

“I presumed such an avid reader would appreciate a bedroom next to the library. I too enjoy the pastime, my personal bedroom is the next door down there.” Charles added this information casually, and you saw your father glance up- clearly trying to hide his surprise, but he said nothing. Perhaps he thought it would benefit his plans, perhaps he didn’t want to cause a fuss in the household. Either way, he made no protest when he was led back to a room on the opposite side of the chateau, well out of the way.

By the time the trunks were delivered and the unpacking had begun, you had already noticed how quiet everything was. No sounds from outside. No ticking clock. Not even the footsteps of staff moving around the place. All you could hear was your own racing pulse.

____

A late dinner was served in a grand dining hall, long enough to seat twenty though there were only three of you at the table. Charles sat at the head-powerful and stoic. His hands remained folded loosely in front of him as servants brought out a beautiful spread- roast duck, glazed vegetables and red wine decanted into crystal.

You ate politely, your father even more so, making light conversation about local politics and the latest sea trade ventures. Charles responded graciously, his voice smooth and surprisingly wise and insightful for a man so young.

But he never touched his plate. Not once. The food in front of him remained untouched. The wine in his glass remained full. You tried not to get ahead of yourself, maybe he’d eaten earlier or he wasn’t feeling well.

You couldn’t help but remember a passage from a book you once read- ‘They dine for appearance, not appetite. To keep up the illusion of life.’- You shook the thought from your head. It was absurd. You were tired and letting your imagination get the better of you.

Still, when your eyes met Charles’ again across the table, you found him already watching you. Not like a man watches a woman, like you were a rabbit and he was a wolf, like he was watching and circling his prey.

____

The meal concluded and you all retreated to your rooms for the night. You expected to find comfort in being alone at last- safe behind a locked door- but the night was oppressive in its silence, and your thoughts were oppressive in their volume.

You eventually managed to fall asleep, but your peace didn’t last long. Your mind threw you into a vivid dream that had felt almost alarmingly real...

You stood in the library again, the fire crackling in the hearth and the shelves of books loomed above you, casting dark shadows across the floor. The scent of old paper and dust lingered in your nostrils. But something was wrong. There was a weight in the air, a coldness that didn’t belong in such a warm, inviting room.

And then, you saw him.

Charles emerged from between the bookshelves. He was wearing less clothes than you’d seen him in before- down to his crisp white dress shirt and black trousers. His shoulders were broad and he stood tall and strong as he made his way over to you. His eyes were dark- far from the soft green you’d seen earlier today. The faint amber light of the fire was sparkling in his hungry gaze. His lips were drawn back in a slow, predatory smile that stirred up something dangerous in your stomach.

You tried to speak, but your voice was caught in your throat.

He stopped in front of you. His hands were no longer hidden by gloves, his fingers long and thick. He reached out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch icy cold against the blush of your cheeks. Your gaze was locked onto each other, and despite the shiver of fear that crawled up your spine you couldn’t ignore the overwhelming heat overtaking you. Lust.

You wanted to turn and run, but your legs were frozen, his heavy stare pinning you in place. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

Then, his voice- low and seductive- washed over you.

“You think you know what I am.” your breath hitched at the danger in his words . “But you think about it wrong. Think about what I can give you. I know what you need” 

The words echoed through you, wrapping around your lungs and stealing your breath. Was it danger, or was it desire? You didn’t want to feel this way about him, but something inside you told you this wasn’t just a dream.

And then, without warning, his lips were ghosting over yours. Too close. You could feel the chill of his presence, the absence of warmth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. He was seductive, sultry and he was winning.

“Be mine,” he said, the command soft but unmistakable. “I can give you the world. You just have to be mine.”

Your lips collided. His kiss delightfully sinful as his tongue invaded your mouth and his hands wrapped around your waist. He was walking the two of you backwards, a detail you only noticed when your back hit the large wooden door. A soft moan escaped your throat, overwhelmed by Charles ensnaring all of your senses. His lips moved lower, ghosting over your jaw before landing on your neck. You whined, tipping your head to the side to allow him easier access to your pulse.

His pace slowed, like he was savouring every inch of skin- inhaling your perfume, your essence. His hand tangled into your hair, ensuring you kept your neck open to him. His soft lips found your pulse point, placing a lingering kiss there. You exhaled in pleasure, letting yourself give in to the feeling of him all over you.

You felt his lips curl up into a smirk against your skin.

The pain was overwhelming, sharp fangs puncturing your neck, draining you for all you were worth. Your mouth fell open- trying to scream- but no sound escaped. The white hot sting of his teeth in your skin was burning. He was gulping down every drop you gave him, his lips still brushing your skin as groans of satisfaction tore from his throat.

You were helpless, you were his.

The world around you shattered. You were back in your bed, gasping for breath, heart pounding against your ribs, your sheets soaked with sweat.

You had bolted upright, your hands trembling as you tried to steady yourself. The room was dark as the fire had burnt low, and the silence was suffocating you once again. You glanced at the window. The moonlight shone through the glass, casting silver beams across the room. But it was too quiet, too still. You couldn’t bear it any longer.

With a quiet sigh, you threw the covers off and got out of your bed. It was impossible to go back to sleep- the dream had rattled you to the bone. It was too real. You needed air. You needed to think. 

You ached for some comfort, something to ground you and ease your mind. The library was the one place that hadn’t felt wrong to you. You wrapped a shawl around your shoulders and stepped out into the hallway. It seemed even quieter than before, and with each step your sense of dread only increased. 

A faint golden glow leaked from beneath the doorframe, the warmth reassuring you slightly, luring you into a sense of security.

You pushed open the door with a soft creak, only to freeze at the sight before you.

The library was just as you had left it earlier- calm and still, the fire burning low. But Charles was there, sitting in one of the large armchairs, a book in hand. His gaze lifted as you entered- as hungry and as dark as ever, but there was something about it now—an awareness, a smug satisfaction as though he saw right through you, he knew what you were thinking and had been waiting for you to turn up.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” His voice was low, smooth, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, the remnants of the dream still hanging in the back of your mind. “No,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I had a… a strange dream.”

He turned then, just slightly, his head tilting toward you. The look on his face struck you as though he was only asking so as to not make you suspicious. As though he already knew the answer to every question he asked.

“I see,” he said, his gaze never wavering. “Please, take a seat.” His lips curled just slightly. “Perhaps talking about what you saw would make you feel better.”

You hesitated, your feet rooted to the floor as the pulse in your neck quickened. You were attracted to him. There was no denying it. The magnetic pull he had over you was impossible to ignore, despite the creeping sense of danger. Yet, you also knew what he was. Or, at least, what you suspected he was. A vampire. A creature of the night, something beyond human. The realization made your breath hitch in your chest.

"I… I don’t want to intrude," you managed to say, unsure if you wanted to be in such close company with him. Not to mention there was absolutely no way you could tell him what you dreamt of.

Charles laughed, his lips stretching just enough to reveal the hint of something sharp beneath. But it was subtle- just a glimmer. Nothing more.

"You aren’t intruding," he said softly, placing his book on a nearby table as he stood. "This is your home too, for as long as you stay. What’s mine is yours, after all." he added, slowly walking over to where you stood, frozen.

His words lingered in the air, too heavy to be mere politeness. But you didn’t know if it was the weight of his presence or the weight of the suspicion gnawing at you that made them feel so thick.

"I wasn’t sure where else to go," you confessed, your gaze flitting nervously toward the crackling fire. “I thought maybe some time with the books would help calm my thoughts."

He nodded, stepping closer, almost soundless on the wooden floors. "Books often provide the answer to many of life’s questions, I find." he said, his tone far too knowing, too intimate.

He was standing in front of you now. An ungloved hand came to your face, brushing some of your hair out of your face. His hand grazed your flushed cheek, the icy coldness of his skin making you shiver. This was too familiar. Your pulse raced as visions from your dream came flooding back. 

“You look so afraid, cherie.” he whispered, his face almost too close to yours. “ Please. Sit with me. Tell me what is bothering you so greatly.” he seemed genuine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to trust him. It was too hot in here, your heart was racing. 

“I- I couldn’t. It’s late, I should be going back to bed. Thank you, Charles. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He looked as though he was going to say something, but bit his tongue at the last minute. Instead, he nodded politely, and said “Of course. I hope sleep comes easier to you now.”

It didn’t, which didn’t surprise you. 

Every time your eyes closed your brain played you some sordid scene of Charles’ lips on your body while he had his way with you. His long fingers delicately brushing your skin, his soft lips on yours as he pushed your dress off your shoulders. 

Before these visions had the chance to become anything truly scandalous, they'd shift into a cruel scene of fangs shining in the pale moonlight creeping through the sheer curtains. Of your blood being drained, Charles’ tongue lapping up every last drop with a deep groan of satisfaction. As though you were ambrosia to him.

It felt as though he was infecting your mind, twisting your brain so every second of every day was spent thinking of him. This turned out to be a cruel turn of fate when Charles was nowhere to be found when you eventually emerged from your bedroom in the late morning.

You don’t know why you were disappointed, surely this only proved your theory more, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him as you went about your day. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still around, watching you from dark corners. 

The servants gave no explanation. When you politely enquired, one of them only said, “Monsieur Leclerc left early, mademoiselle. Attending to business in town.” You didn’t miss the way she hesitated before saying it, like it had been rehearsed. Like she’d said it too many times before.

Your silly fantasy was getting harder to ignore.

Charles was a vampire, surely?

You should have been afraid. You should have packed your trunks and begged your father to leave with you at once, but you knew that was a useless thought. Even if you told him of your theory, if you presented him with the evidence, he’d laugh it off as hysteria, some consequence of your “unladylike reading habits.”

No. You were stuck here. Stuck with him. But more horrifying than anything else, more terrifying than fangs and cold skin and the echo of his voice in your dreams was the ache. The ache that filled your chest when you realized he wasn’t here, and the ache that filled your stomach when his eyes met yours.

You shook yourself free of that thought as you stood at the long mirror in your room, where your ball gown awaited you draped over the chair beside your dressing table.

Tonight was the Leclerc Ball. 

“Pull yourself together,” you whispered harshly, fingers tightening around the back of the chair. “You’re being a silly little girl. Vampires aren’t real. You’re a guest of honour and you need to be grateful.”

If only you believed your own words.

Your fingers drifted to the tender spot on your neck. There was no mark, no wound and no blood, but you couldn’t deny the heat that burned there- remnants of a kiss.

You sat down at your dressing table and stared at your reflection. You looked like someone else. There was something restless in your eyes now, something half-lost to desire and dread. Whatever Charles had stirred in you, it wasn’t going away.

You needed a distraction. Tonight, you would give it to yourself.

The gown you had been given for the ball shimmered, a deep navy velvet with golden embroidery at the hem and bodice, the neckline just daring enough to catch attention but modest enough to pass as propriety. It bared your shoulders, leaving your throat exposed- a detail that sent an involuntary shiver racing down your spine.

You took your time bathing and dressing for the evening ahead. The silence in your room was broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional clink of silver as each jewelled hairpin was fixed in place. You let the maids tie your corset tighter than usual, maybe because you were hoping to feel something besides the ghost of Charles’ touch still echoing through you, or maybe a deep part of you wanted to impress him.

It was over much too fast for your liking however, and when your father softly knocked on your door to escort you down to the ballroom, there was a pit of dread forming in your stomach. Charles would be there, and you would have to dance with him. 

____

The ballroom was a vision- dimly lit by opulent chandeliers, silk curtains cascading from the high ceilings and towers of champagne glasses sparkling under the warm glow. Esteemed guests chattered and laughed whilst mozart played faintly in the background, some opting to take to the dancefloor. The room seemed to be alive- the heat, the noise- it was palpable, almost too much for the senses. 

You arrived late enough to be noticed but early enough to catch the first murmurs: that Charles Leclerc had yet to arrive. That the host himself  was… nowhere to be found. Still, when you stepped into the room, every head turned, only to meet you with looks of disappointment before returning to their conversations.

You smiled politely,  and agreed to a dance with a viscount from Marseille, only to find he only spoke of trade ships and cigars. You took a glass of champagne from a nearby table and downed it, trying to bury your disappointment that Charles was nowhere to be found. You smiled again, this time thinner. It was all a mask. You were playing the part perfectly.

You decided to mingle, chatting politely with guests…until the air in the room changed.

You didn’t see him at first. You only felt it- the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Your heart stuttered, breath catching.

You turned, and your eyes widened at the sight of him.

He was dressed in a deep black suit, save for a bright white shirt and a blood red cravat at his throat. The crowd parted for him as he entered. He radiated masculinity and magnificence, his beauty too inhuman to be ignored.

And his eyes, they spear directly into you. His lip curls up at the corner as he makes his way to you, his eyes seem to flash golden and sparkling. It had to be a trick of the mind, surely. 

His gaze was as it always was, as though he saw more than just your appearance. It felt as though he saw right through you, his eyes piercing your skin and seeing your very soul. It made your cheeks flush, your body betraying you as you felt heat slither down your spine. Desire, a burning ache in your bones. 

You wanted to run, but you stood your ground, spine straight, heart hammering.

God help you, some deep part of you wanted him to catch you. You were falling under his spell.

Charles moved through the crowd, parting noblemen and duchesses with the same effortlessness as a knife through butter. He barely registered the half-hearted bows and curtsies that greeted him. Everyone looked. Everyone stared. But he only looked at you.

He stood before you, seeming impossibly tall and broad- imposing on your space and knocking the breath out of you. You curtsied, attempting to be graceful and composed in front of the hundreds of eyes on you.

He offered his hand, his broad palm engulfing your silk-covered fingers as his cold lips pressed against the back of your hand. His eyes never left yours, Charles wasn’t a shy man and he certainly wasn’t about to start, despite the amount of people that were watching him.

“Please Cherie, may I have this dance.” his deep voice sunk to the core of you, frying your brain.

Your cheeks burned as you struggled to form a response, the audience surrounding you both not helping matters. You managed a small “Of course.” in response, making Charles smile.

This time, you were sure your mind couldn’t be playing a trick on you.

It was quick, but unmistakable. Fangs. Glistening under the candlelight. It was your final straw, and it was broken. He was cold, he didn’t eat, he was nowhere to be found in the daylight, and now he had fangs. And the dreams, the thoughts that had plagued your mind since you arrived. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Not knowing what else to do, you fled. You picked up the skirts of your dress and ran as fast as your legs could carry you, leaving Charles and everyone else in that godforsaken ballroom stood in shock.

You found yourself heading towards the only place in this chateau that gave you a sense of comfort, the library. You slammed the heavy wooden door behind you and leant against it, catching your breath, before walking across the room to the windows, opening the small pane and letting the cool night air hit your face.

In your haste, you forgot to lock the door behind you, meaning any privacy you had was soon disturbed. The door flung open, and in walked Charles. The very person you wanted to see least of all. He closed the door softly behind him as you turned to face him, flicking the lock closed behind him.

“Cherie, why did you-“ his voice was soft and innocent, fake. You cut him off.

“Oh don’t ‘Cherie’ me Charles! As if I’m stupid. As if I don’t know what you are!” You shrieked, your voice shrill with rage.

Charles paused, then smirked. “Of course you know. I told you.” His blasé tone only perpetuating your anger. “And I also told you what I can give you, how I can make you feel, Cherie.” His voice dipped, low with danger and implication. “So, why did you run?” 

“Because I still have a soul,” you hissed. “And you… you gave yours away a long time ago.”

He laughed, not cruelly, but with soft pity. He took a slow step forward and, on instinct, you stepped back.

“I never gave it away. I’ve been saving it for someone worthy. For someone like you.” Your rage softened, he was charming, and it was hard to deny your attraction to him no matter how evil you thought him to be.

Your throat tightened. He was closer now, and though every instinct screamed at you to flee, your feet refused. The scent of him, his presence, his voice, it all clouded your thoughts.

“Do not come any closer,” you warned, your voice shaking.

“I know you wish you never met me, you deny your attraction to me.” he said, and when he smiled this time, there was sorrow in it. “But I also know you want me. You dream of me every night. I know, because I’ve been in your dreams. You let me in.”

“That had nothing to do with me! That was you, forcing your way inside my head.”

“That was you. It was your soul calling out to me” he said gently, “I see your pain. I see how you long for a better life. I can give you the world.” His sincerity was tempting you, confusing you. You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. 

“I don’t want a life with someone that hurts people, Charles. I can’t.” Your voice was quiet now, tinged with sorrow. In that moment, Charles looked more heartbreakingly human than ever. “I don’t want to be this close to a killer.”

His eyes were downcast in shame. “No,” he said, almost to himself. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his dark hair and turned away from you, just for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“I haven’t fed on a human in decades.” A pause. “I feed on animals, and I have a deal with the coroner- I’ll drink from the dead in the mortuary sometimes. It’s... not elegant, or the most moral thing to do I know, but it keeps me from becoming something I cannot live with… and keeps me from being with someone I can’t live without.” His voice caught slightly at the end, clearly he hadn’t been this honest with someone in a long time.

He raised a hand, slow and cautious, and brushed a strand of hair from your cheek. His skin was cool, but not lifeless.

“I often hate what I am, I never asked for this, of course. But there’s something about you, something that makes me forget. Now I find myself wishing to be yours, and for you to be mine. The way I have acted in the past may betray my words now; however, I ask you to trust me when I say I wouldn’t hurt you.”

You gulped, confused and conflicted. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” you whispered. “I should be terrified, I was, but now I confess I feel something quite the opposite.” There was a faint smile emerging on your face, not quite believing your own words to be real. 

“Please, Cherie, can I kiss you?” Charles asked softly, almost afraid.

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to cross the line, to make a choice that’s irreversible, but for once you decided to follow your heart instead of your mind. 

When his lips met yours, they were cooler than you expected, but the fire behind them, the hunger for love was real. Realer than anything you’d felt in years.

When he pulled away, he looked at you with awe and an unexpected compassion.

“You don’t have to be mine,” he said. “But if you do, I will never lie to you. I will give you the life you deserve, and I will never stop choosing you. Whatever heart I have left, it is yours if you should want it.” He was solemn from honesty, but his eyes met yours with a love that was true.

“Then let us be together.” You decided, your voice firm. “I’ll be yours if you will be mine.”

“Then I will be yours completely,” he said. “In the only way I know how. Total devotion.” 

You smiled, blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“In fact…” he whispered, mischief in his voice. “I could prove my devotion right now if you would like?”

Your cheeks were burning now, his ungentlemanly insinuation sending shivers of anticipation through your spine. All you could do was nod, but that was enough for Charles.

His lips crashed onto yours, his chilled fingers tangling in your hair.

There was obvious passion behind his kiss, a sense of relief at finally getting what he has pined for all this time. 

His kiss didn’t let up, still soaked in passion and desperation as he lifted you into his arms and carried you over to the nearest sofa. He delicately placed you onto the plush fabric, and sank to his knees before you. His dark eyes locked onto your face instead of his hands as they moved up your legs, pushing the soft fabric of your dress up with him. Your breaths were growing heavier, trying to predict his next move. 

He removed your underwear, tossing it aside so he was facing your bare cunt. “You’re so beautiful cherie,” he murmured, his eyes flicking up to you, “let me show you how much I’ll love you every day, every day until I die.” His voice was low, laced with desire. 

His hands stopped at your waist, holding your dress up high as he placed a lingering kiss to your inner thigh. “Will you allow me, mon cour?” he looked desperate, you could feel his ache to please you emanating from him. 

“Please, Charles.” You didn’t intend for your voice to come out so weak and whimpery, but Charles seemed to cloud your senses. You could only feel your desire for him.

Another kiss on your inner thigh made you arch your back and a soft sort-of moan fell from your lips. You didn’t understand why, but the need to be touched by him was becoming urgent.

“So perfect, Cherie.” he said, chuckling softly, exhaling his cold breath on your slit. 

When Charles’s lips connected to your core, the sound that ripped from your throat was a noise you didn’t know you were capable of making, but no part of you was aware enough to begin to feel embarrassment, not when Charles felt like that.  His tongue had just the right amount of pressure as he licked to you, expert precision showcased through his perfect rhythm.

Your hands flew to Charles’ soft hair, gripping tightly and pulling as he pressed his tongue into your core harder, moaning softly. His strong hands wrapped around you grounded you perfectly as your hips arched into his face.

Charles was akin to a man starved, his tongue lapping and stroking through you, leaving you clenching around nothing and whining for more.  He left you panting and staring into his now golden eyes, Charles was so attuned to your needs it felt as though you were made for each other. One of your hands left his hair, coming to grip his fingers that rested on your stomach. There was a thin shine of sweat glowing on your skin as Charles intertwined your fingers, looking up at you as his tongue pressed firmly against your bundle of nerves.

“Oh, God. Charles, please!” you choked out as you felt your stomach tighten with every movement of his tongue.

He hummed against your core, sending a small shockwave through you as he understood what you needed. His hand that wasn’t gripping yours came down to your soaked cunt, and he slid two thick fingers inside of you.

Your mouth dropped open, a silent scream falling out at the sensation. Your hips rose into his face, only pushing yourself further into his hand and his tongue. His fingers worked with perfect harmony, sliding inside of you and curling to hit the perfect spot as he wrapped his lips around your clit. Your eyes were tightly shut, fully immersed in what Charles was making you feel.  

Charles paid close attention to your every whine, every hitch of your breath and the way your hand gripped his tighter and tighter.  When you opened your eyes again and saw Charles looking straight at you, his fingers deep inside you and his tongue working your clit perfectly, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your moans were almost yells as the relief of your orgasm crashed over you.

Charles watched you with a desperate love, placing soft kisses to your thighs as he whispered “That’s it, cherie.” and  “So perfect.” to you.

His compliments fell on deaf ears, but when you’d eventually come down from your high, Charles was there. He sat next to you on the soft fabric of the sofa and held you in his arms.

“I intend to make sure you feel that ecstatic every day you’re with me, Cherie. And there’s so much more I wish to show you.” his voice was deep and still covered in lust. “Just as soon as you’re my wife.”

Charles gently moved your hair aside and placed a soft, lingering kiss to your neck.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

You stood in the library again, the fire crackling in the hearth and the shelves of books loomed above you, casting dark shadows across the floor. The scent of old paper and dust lingered in your nostrils. But something was wrong. There was a weight in the air, a coldness that didn't belong in such a warm, inviting room.

And then, you saw him.

Charles emerged from between the bookshelves.

He was wearing less clothes than you'd seen him in before- down to his crisp white dress shirt and black trousers. His shoulders were broad and he stood tall and strong as he made his way over to you. His eyes were dark- far from the soft green you'd seen earlier today. The faint amber light of the fire was sparkling in his hungry gaze. His lips were drawn back in a slow, predatory smile that stirred up something dangerous in your stomach.

You tried to speak, but your voice was caught in your throat.

He stopped in front of you. His hands were no longer hidden by gloves, his fingers long and thick.

He reached out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch icy cold against the blush of your cheeks. Your gaze was locked onto each other, and despite the shiver of fear that crawled up your spine you couldn't ignore the overwhelming heat overtaking you. Lust.

You wanted to turn and run, but your legs were frozen, his heavy stare pinning you in place. You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe.

Then, his voice- low and seductive- washed over you.

"You think you know what I am." your breath hitched at the danger in his words. "But you think about it wrong. Think about what I can give you. I know what you need"

And then, without warning, his lips were ghosting over yours. Too close. You could feel the chill of his presence, the absence of warmth, but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. He was seductive, sultry and he was winning.

"Be mine," he said, the command soft but unmistakable. "I can give you the world. You just have to be mine."

Your lips collided. His kiss delightfully sinful as his tongue invaded your mouth and his hands wrapped around your waist. He was walking the two of you backwards, a detail you only noticed when your back hit the large wooden door. A soft moan escaped your throat, overwhelmed by Charles ensnaring all of your senses. His lips moved lower, ghosting over your jaw before landing on your neck. You whined, tipping your head to the side to allow him easier access to your pulse.

His pace slowed, like he was savouring every inch of skin- inhaling your perfume, your essence. His hand tangled into your hair, ensuring you kept your neck open to him. His soft lips found your pulse point, placing a lingering kiss there. You exhaled in pleasure, letting yourself give in to the feeling of him all over you.

You felt his lips curl up into a smirk against your skin.

The pain was overwhelming, sharp fangs puncturing your neck, draining you for all you were worth. Your mouth fell open- trying to scream- but no sound escaped. The white hot sting of his teeth in your skin was burning. He was gulping down every drop you gave him, his lips still brushing your skin as groans of satisfaction tore from his throat.

You were helpless, you were his.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

The first time you saw Lewis Hamilton in person, he was standing across the room at a charity gala, laughing at a joke. His features were soft and gentle, a genuine smile inviting people in. You knew who he was- how could you not- but despite his fame and glory he was the most down to earth guy in the room, listening intently to everything you said- caring about you.

You never expected him to remember your name, let alone ask for your number.

It’s been four months now. Four months of early morning texts, late-night talks, and weekends that feel like something out of a dream.

He’s older than anyone you’ve ever dated- wiser, quieter and more composed in a way that makes your past relationships pale in comparison. Every day he managed to surpass the bar you had, surprising you and loving you in ways you didn’t think possible. 

At first, you were waiting for him to realise he could do better than you, that he deserved someone as put-together and as uncomplicated as he is. Instead, he listened. He heard your worries and your doubts, comforted you as you confided in him about how your exes made you feel as though you weren’t good enough. He saw your insecurities and he made it his mission to help you love yourself as much as he loved you. 

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me, love.” he once told you as you told him what was on your mind, “I love you as you are. You’re perfect as you are.” he whispered, kissing you softly.

Emotionally healing was easy when he was by your side, but there was something more… sexual you hadn’t quite managed to get over your nervousness for yet.

-

-

At first, Lewis intimidated you. Not from his world titles, the private jets, the sharp suits and worldwide recognition. It was the way he carried it all- the quiet confidence. He could walk into a room and make it feel like everyone else faded into a blur. He never demanded attention, but his air commanded it all the same.

You’d never dated someone like him. Older. Settled. So sure of himself. He was the pure definition of a gentleman. Lewis made eye contact and didn’t look away. He asked questions and waited for the real answers. That was new. Unnerving. Nobody had ever tried to truly get to know you before.

However, this meant he saw right through you- the way you’d pull him back up to kiss you when his kisses wandered too far down your body, how you’d take him into your mouth but not let him repay the favour, how you’d change the subject when he tried to ask you about it.

You shied away from letting him taste you- your insecurities always got the best of you. Sure, you enjoyed the thought of being taken care of like that, but it would have to stay there. In your imagination, where you can’t be disappointed again.

Lewis respected this, he didn’t ever want to push your boundaries too far. Besides, you were both more than happy with your sex life.

Tonight, it was late. Rain drizzled down the windows of his penthouse, city lights casting soft shadows across the hardwood floor. The door closed behind you, the sound muffled by your laughter as Lewis lifted you into his arms. The two of you had been to a rather boring gala that Lewis was forced to attend, so you passed the time in the most fun way possible. Flirting.

His hand on your thigh, stolen glances and light kisses: he knew how to drive you crazy. Whisperings of how beautiful you look and how he can’t wait to take you home were going straight to your core. The way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, like he wanted to devour you was setting your nerves on edge, building you up to now.

He carried the both of you into his bedroom, depositing you on the bed. Placing a quick kiss to your forehead, he turned to stand in front of the mirror, taking his blazer off and pulling his tie from around his neck. You followed suit, kicking off your heels and pulling your hair out of its updo. 

“Babe can you unzip me?” you went to where he stood, hands snaking up to his broad shoulders to push his shirt off.

He smirked, his large hands turning you so your back was to him. You couldn’t help but stare at Lewis through the mirror, watching his concentrated eyes as he pulled the zip of your dress down agonisingly slowly- his fingertips light as they grazed your skin.

He caught your stare and smiled- gentle, loving.

“You okay?” he asked, voice smooth and deep, like he already knew you weren’t.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?” he smirked, enjoying teasing you.

“You.” your voice was small, the tension shift clouding your senses.

“Yeah? I’ve been thinking about you too, baby. About tasting you.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes shifting from lust to anxiety. You didn’t know how to respond to his boldness. 

Lewis turned to stand in front of you, his hand warm as it slid along your hips- his thumb moving in gentle, absent circles.

“You go quiet when you start doubting,” he murmured, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Don’t hide from me. Tell me what’s holding you back… please.”

You sighed, considering your next words carefully. “I just… I think about it, I think I want it but then it’s like the past comes back to me, you know? Nobody has ever wanted to before, I’m scared I’ll disappoint you, or you’ll think I’m gross or-”

“Baby.” He interrupted your stream of anxiety, his hand coming to brush against your cheek as he met your eyes with affection. “You know I could never think that about you. You will never disappoint me.” he said simply, leaning in- his lips almost touching yours. “And I need you. I love you.”

His mouth met yours before you could answer, and everything else melted away. His kiss was patient, like he had nowhere else to be, like you were all that mattered in the world.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to his. 

He smiled, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. “Do you trust me?”

You laughed lightly. “You know I do!” You hid your face in his chest, the honesty and the eye contact overwhelming. “I’m just scared! And you’re scary. You’re so experienced and so confident, it makes me nervous.” you pouted as a joke, trying to brush off your nerves with humour.

He laughed, gently pulling your face off his chest so you were looking at him again. 

“None of that matters. All that matters to me is you. If you’re not ready then that’s okay, baby, but you know…” the smirk returned to his face, his thumb brushing your cheek, “the best way to get over fear is to face it.” he offered, an air of mischief evident in his voice.

His lips met yours, soft and reassuring. With Lewis, the world felt quieter. Softer, and stress free. He always knew the best way to care for you, to dissipate every one of your worries. 

His breath was warm against your jaw as he kissed just beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of you. You were lifted into his arms again- his lips not leaving yours as he laid you on the bed, climbing on top of you.

"Still thinking?" he asked, voice low and teasing- his lips ghosting above yours.

“No.” you said quietly, holding back a grin but barely managing a breath. "Not anymore."

Lewis's hands moved down, tracing the soft curve of your hips before pulling your underwear down and off of you. His fingers grazed the insides of your thighs, the combination of the cool air hitting your cunt and Lewis’ teasing making you gasp. He always touched you like he was learning you for the first time, even after all these nights. Like no matter how well he knew your body, he wanted to know more- what made you gasp, what made you melt, what made you lose the ability to think.

His lips met yours, more passion behind it than before. His fingers left your thigh, the tip of one running through your folds to gather your wetness, his tongue slipping inside your mouth as you moaned at the feeling. 

He began to circle your clit with the pressure and the speed he knew drove you crazy, making you moan into his mouth. He chuckled, moving to kiss your neck as his finger slipped into you. You expected him to do what he usually did, fuck you with his fingers until your legs were shaking. Instead, he brought his finger to his mouth, his eyes locking onto yours as he sucked your wetness from it.

You were shocked, your eyes going wide and your breath hitching in anticipation for his reaction. Your rising fear was cut off by a low groan emerging from Lewis’ throat- his eyes closing in pleasure. 

“I knew you’d taste good, baby, but fuck… you’re divine.” 

His reaction left you speechless, you could think of nothing more to do than pull him into a searing kiss, your hips bucking against him- desperate for some friction. You could feel his smirk against your lip, satisfied by your need for him. He finally plunged two fingers into you, slipping them in easily from your wetness. He began to stroke your g spot- his kisses travelling down to your neck again- but this time, they didn’t stop there. 

His pace sped up, your back arching as his lips touched your collarbone before travelling down to your breast. His kisses were soft, featherlight. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing it. Your skin was on fire, buzzing with anticipation. His lips moved lower, ghosting over your stomach, stopping just before he reached your cunt.

His hands wrapped around your leg, lifting your thigh gently as he settled between them.

"You're so tense, love." he whispered, kissing the soft skin. "Nothing has to happen until you’re ready. Just relax."

He kissed your thigh again, higher up this time, his lips soft and gentle. His eyes met yours from between your legs, but instead of shrinking under his gaze, something in you unfurled. The way Lewis looked at you- it held no judgement or superiority, just pure adoration and care.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, lips brushing over your lower stomach now.

There was no pressure from him, nothing that induced anxiety in you like the men you’d been with before did. 

“Are you sure about this, love?” his eyes held an air of concern, not wanting to coerce you into something you were uncomfortable with. “We can stop whenever you want.”

You were breathless, lust clouding your mind. Lewis had broken down your walls so easily, with such gentleness and care, that it left you desperate for him, for whatever he could give you. 

“Lewis…” you breathed, “I need it…please.”

His lips returned to your thighs, dangerously close to where you needed him. 

“Of course, baby.” he smiled.

His hands moved to grip your thighs, caressing the soft skin as he positioned them over his shoulders- spreading you wider for him.

He placed a slow, lingering kiss at your lower stomach- moving lower and lower until..

Finally, his tongue ran up your opening- tentative and gentle but sending shivers down your spine.

His eyes met yours as he watched for your reaction. He saw your head tipped back in bliss, eyes squeezed shut as your back arched. A long groan of pleasure left your throat, almost sounding like relief as his tongue circled your clit.

Your hips ground onto his face as Lewis increased the pressure of his tongue, his pace speeding up bringing a whine from your throat.

He chuckled, the vibrations going through your core.

“Yeah? You like this, baby?” he had a faint smirk on his face, but pure love in his eyes.

Your hands shot to his head, holding it as your raised your hips again.

“Lewis! Please don’t stop! Please.” you begged, desperation making your voice break.

He smirked again, placing a quick kiss to your clit. “Of course.” He lifted his hand to hold one of yours, resting your interlocked fingers on your stomach. “Whatever you want, love” he whispered, before diving back in, instantly matching the pace he had before.

As he wrapped his lips around your clit and began sucking, his other hand snuck between your legs, a finger slipping inside of you.

A broken moan of euphoria erupted from you. Making Lewis’ lips curl up slightly. A soft sheen of sweat coating your skin as your orgasm crept up on you, Lewis’ tongue working with expertise and precision.

Your grip on his hand tightened as he added a second finger into you, the pace of his tongue remaining powerful and steady. Your thighs tensed, your throat almost sore from the guttural moans of pure ecstasy that never stopped- signifying your orgasm was close.

White clouded your vision, your ears ringing as your legs shook around his head. He continued to lick at your clit, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm. It seemed to go on forever, soaking the soft bedsheets as you chanted his name- the pleasure he was giving you almost overwhelming.

Eventually, you crashed. You practically collapsed onto the bed, panting for breath. You’d never had an orgasm so intense before, and it left you in delirious and exhausted bliss. A huge grin on your face as your eyes drifted shut.

Lewis climbed up to you on the bed, positioning you to rest on his chest, his arms wrapped around you.

“So, you liked that?” he asked you, mirth in his voice.

“Mmm yeah, it was fine.” you joked back, your voice soft with tiredness.

“Fine?!” he exclaimed in mock surprise , “Babe, we need to change these sheets… and get you a towel.”

But, neither of you moved. The rain continued to pour outside, and the two of you laid entwined together. Lewis was your sun, and you knew he’d always be there to prove your doubts wrong. To love you for who you are.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

A/N

please be nice to me :( this was weirdly hard to write?? i wanted to capture the soft love vibes as best as i could.

You’d never dated someone like him. Older. Settled. So sure of himself. He was the pure definition of a gentleman. Lewis made eye contact and didn’t look away. He asked questions and waited for the real answers. That was new. Unnerving. Nobody had ever tried to truly get to know you before.

However, this meant he saw right through you- the way you’d pull him back up to kiss you when his kisses wandered too far down your body, how you’d take him into your mouth but not let him repay the favour, how you’d change the subject when he tried to ask you about it.

You shied away from letting him taste you- your insecurities always got the best of you. Sure, you enjoyed the thought of being taken care of like that, but it would have to stay there. In your imagination, where you can’t be disappointed again.

-

-

He smirked, his large hands turning you so your back was to him. You couldn’t help but stare at Lewis through the mirror, watching his concentrated eyes as he pulled the zip of your dress down agonisingly slowly- his fingertips light as they grazed your skin.

He caught your stare and smiled- gentle, loving.

“You okay?” he asked, voice smooth and deep, like he already knew you weren’t.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?” he smirked, enjoying teasing you.

“You.” your voice was small, the tension shift clouding your senses.

“Yeah? I’ve been thinking about you too, baby. About tasting you.”

-

-

A/N

Hiii!! this fic will be out by the end of the week deffo. it’s taking me longer than i thought bc i’m really not sure about it and there’s a lot im not happy about :(

pls let me know your thoughts on this excerpt!! your feedback is very valuable to me 😌

see you soon!!

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

Max Verstappen was the kind of man that never had to ask twice. Since day one of knowing him he looked at you like you were already his. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you that night, his power and his confident demeanour winning you over. Or maybe you just wanted a decent fuck from a good looking (and very rich) guy.

Now, it was a habit. It was an unspoken arrangement, the two of you each had your jobs. Max was the CEO of a powerful tech company and you, your job was arguably more important. Keep him calm, content and satisfied. 

You could say your relationship had no labels and no expectations but you’d be lying. You were always told of your position, you were his. You’d been doing this long enough to know that. You were expected to do as you’re told and to do it without question or argument.

It’s not like feelings had to get involved anyway. You had your instructions texted to you. It didn’t matter if it was an inconvenient time, you did whatever he wanted. You were drawn in by the magnetic pull of someone who never let you forget who is in charge.

-

-

Friday 24th November. 5:30pm 

Your phone buzzed.

Max: Come over. Be on the bed waiting for me by 6:30.

A minute passed 

Max: Wear the dark blue one.

You stared at your phone, your heart tightening in that familiar way- not romantic, not even sentimental. It was a kind of twisted excitement, the anticipation for what you knew was coming. 

He always messaged like that. Direct. Possessive. No emotion.

You never replied. You didn’t have to. He knew you’d come.

You threw your phone onto the bed as you walked into your bedroom and towards the closet. Your eyes scanned over the hangers, trying to decide which dress would go best with the lingerie he picked out. Eventually, they landed on a dress. THE dress.  

Black. Short. Silk. The first time you wore it, you didn’t even manage to get to the table at the restaurant. Just one look, and your destination changed to Max’s apartment- your body pressed up against him in the back seat, his voice low and rough in your ear.

“Don’t wear this again, unless it’s just for me.”

So you didn’t. You hadn’t worn it since. Max had this kind of power over you, he could control you so easily and he knew it. But you liked it.

You slipped it on now, the fabric clinging to your skin and hugging you in the best way. He liked it because it made you look expensive. You looked rare, like you were his- but he never said that out loud. He didn’t need to, nor did he want to. 

You left your hair down and sprayed his favourite perfume. No lipstick. He didn’t like kissing you when you had it on- too messy, he once told you. It was always his way. His pace. His rules. 

-

-

By the time you reached his penthouse it was nearly 6:15. He wasn’t there yet. He never was. That was part of it, the routine you both had. It was another way for Max to show you he controlled you and he was in charge- he fucked you when it was convenient for him. You let yourself in with the key he gave you months ago, tossed your coat over the armchair, and walked into his bedroom.

You knew how this would go. He’d arrive. There’d be barely a word exchanged. And then he’d take. Take until there was nothing left of you but breath and bruises and the vague sense that you shouldn’t be doing this anymore. That you should find a real boyfriend that’s nice and that cares about you.

But you never did. You were addicted to Max, could never get enough of what he gave you. Even though there was no feeling or warmth, his power and control was intoxicating. Being wanted by him, someone so influential and powerful, made it impossible to walk away.

You left your bag at the bottom of the bedside table, flicking on the small lamp, and you sat at the end of the bed. The sheets were cold against the back of your thighs, your skin burning with anticipation. As you waited in the warm, dim glow, eyes fixed out of the window at the view of the city below Max’s large windows offered you, you reminded yourself of the rules.

Don’t get attached.

Don’t read into the messages.

And don’t ever, ever, imagine he feels anything back.

But tonight, as the door clicked shut and you heard his footsteps across the marble floor, you couldn't help it.

You wondered if he thought about you when you weren’t there. What would happen if one day you decided you deserved better and didn’t show up when he told you to. And worse, you wondered if he’d even care.

The bedroom door opened without a knock.

Max stepped in, wearing his usual dark suit and tie. You knew him well enough by now to recognise the cold eyes and the tight frown meant he was angry. Most likely he’d just walked out of a boardroom where someone had left in tears. 

He didn’t look at you right away. He never did. He moved with quiet focus. Taking his blazer off, undoing his cuffs, every motion was deliberate, controlled and cold. He left his watch on as he always did. A man as busy as he was never took time off, just kept moving with it.

You stayed where you were on the bed. Waiting. Exactly like he told you to.

His eyes finally met yours as he stepped closer, his large hands rolling up the sleeves of his shirt- exposing his strong forearms. The air grew heavier. His stare pinned you down harder than his hands ever had.

The corner of his mouth curled up, not a smile, not quite. It was approval of your appearance. Which, from Max, was rarer than affection. 

“Are you wearing what I told you to?” he said, his voice low and smooth, with that faint Dutch edge that always made your stomach flutter. 

You replied with a short nod.

“Good.” His voice sounded huskier, imagining what you look like in it. “And you remember our safe word?” you nodded again, repeating the word back to him.

Max didn’t play into small talk or compliments. He wasn’t the type to ask how your day was. Whatever existed between the two of you- if it was anything at all- was built on rules, not warmth.

He reached a hand out and traced one finger along your bare shoulder, slow and possessive. His hands were as cold as his stare, simply admiring his property instead of appreciating you.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured.

You nodded. “You like me quiet.”

A breath escaped his nose, sharp, amused. “I do. But sometimes I wonder what you’d say if you ever spoke your mind.”

You didn’t answer that either. Because the truth was... you didn’t know what you thought anymore. Not about him. Not about this. You weren’t strong like him. You weren’t commanding or confident or in control. You floated in and out of people’s lives without leaving a mark. Let them lead. Let them decide. You had perfected the art of disappearing- of being small and agreeable, soft enough to mold.

That was probably why Max liked you. He didn’t need to ask for obedience, you offered it.

“You wore the dress.” His voice dipped, rougher now. His fingers trailed down your thigh. “You wear it to impress me?” He sounded almost condescending.

You should’ve hated that. You should’ve gotten up and left. But instead, your body responded before your mind could catch up- warmth spreading, heart climbing up your throat.

“Yes sir.” you whispered, barely audible.

He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “Good girl.”

He had to hold back a chuckle as he heard your breath hitch at those two words. He loved to tease you, mess with your mind and make you desperate for him. 

“Take it off.” The coldness in his voice returned, watching you with emotionless eyes as you stood up from the bed- facing him as you slid the dress off. Max undid his tie, never taking his eyes off you and your body.

When the dress pooled around your feet, he grabbed your wrists harshly. He expertly tied his tie around your wrists, pulling it tight with a concentrated expression, before pushing you back onto the bed- your body shuffling into a comfortable position. 

He kept his clothes on, he liked to do that- another way to show his power over you. He was quick to climb on top of you, grabbing your bound hands and pushing them above your head.

”Keep them there.” His voice was the same commanding tone it always was, the kind of voice that made you want to obey him without question.

His large hand groped your tits. His thumb pinching at your nipple through the blue lace he loved so much. The shock of the harsh pinch made you arch your back, a gasp of pleasure leaving your lips as your hips bucked into his- desperate for some friction. He grabbed your chin, his other hand harshly shoving your hips back down into the mattress.

“No. Keep still.” His voice was low and smooth, intoxicating and his eyes bore into yours. All you could do was nod, but that seemed to satisfy him as he leant down and began to scatter kisses across your neck and down to your breasts. His mouth closed around your nipple, sucking through the thin lace of your bra.

From instinct, your hands shot down to grab his hair, the pleasure overwhelming. You were quick, but Max was quicker. His thick fingers grasped your wrists as he shoved them back above your head.

 “Don’t. I won’t tell you again.” His voice was a low murmur now, lips ghosting above your nipple. He resumed what he was doing, the feeling of his mouth euphoric. You could feel the wetness growing between your thighs, aching with need. As if Max could sense this too, his hand grazed your core, his fingers light over the thin, soaked cotton of your panties. 

His finger slipped under the fabric, chuckling lowly at how wet you were for him. He gently ran his fingertip through your slit, pushing into your hole ever so slightly before pulling out again- just giving you a taste of what’s to come. His face had that familiar smirk on it as he gently pulled your panties off you, the dark blue fabric joining your dress on the floor.

Max pushed himself off the bed and grabbed your ankles, dragging your hips to the edge of the mattress. The sight of him kneeling in front of you was a very rare occurrence, and it sent shivers down your spine. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and slowly pressed kisses across them. Your breathing was heavy, your mouth hung open in anticipation. You were nervous, Max rarely ate you out and you didn’t want to step out of line again and make him stop. You shifted your hips, trying to push your pussy towards him, he smirked and ran his tongue up your pussy. You gasped, pushing your hips further into his face. His tongue slid against you, gathering your wetness, and you moaned loudly. Your clit was desperate for attention, and Max quickly remedied this.

"Fuck!” you let out an almost pornographic moan as Max slipped two fingers inside you. His tongue circled your clit, his lips closing around it. Your moans grew into borderline shouts as he pumped his fingers inside you before curling them up, stroking your walls. Your thighs clamped around his head, your hips arching upward causing his nose to bump against you. This only made him speed up, his tongue moving with expert precision while he stretched your dripping hole with his thick fingers. You felt electric, every nerve in your body alert as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. Your moans turned into begs, desperate for a release.

Again, your hands fell to his hair. You were desperate for something to grip as your orgasm approached, but it never did.

In an instant, his tongue left your clit and his fingers slid out of you. Your orgasm fizzled away as Max rose to his feet, a storm of anger in his eyes.

“Please! I didn’t mean to! i’m sorry, sir.” you whined, almost begging Max to forgive you and let you cum. You were desperate.

He shoved your arms back above your head, his other hand wrapping around your throat, he looked down at you, the anger in his gaze and the tightness of his grip making your blood rush.

“I said I wouldn’t tell you again. My instructions were clear. What did I tell you, hm?”

His voice was cold and condescending. You wanted to reply but you could barely speak, still coming down from the high of your almost-orgasm.

This isn’t what Max wanted, when he asked a question you were supposed to answer straight away. A sharp slap hit your cheek. The sting of it went straight down to your core, making it even harder to speak. You wouldn’t admit it but you loved this side of Max- when he could scare you. It sent a rush of euphoria and adrenaline through you.

“Answer me. Don’t be a brat.” he demanded.

“You told me not to move my hands.” your voice was breathy and broken, the way he spoke to you only making you wetter and more desperate.

“I’ll give you once more chance to prove you can follow instructions. Flip over. Ass up.”

You rush to do what Max tells you, flipping over onto your stomach, hands still bound. You arched your back and pushed your ass towards him. He offers you no praise or reassurance, the only thing breaking the silence is the sound of Max’s trousers unzipping.  

The tip of his cock nudged against your hole, you had to resist pushing your hips back and making him sink into you. 

“Be a good fucking girl and take it.” his voice was husky, daring you to challenge him. 

You expected him to shove his cock into you, but instead a sharp smack landed on your ass. 

“Fucking brat.” he spat. Your hips shot forward from the shock, Max’s hand wrapped around your legs to keep you in place. 

Another smack. “Don’t forget what you are.” His hand threaded through your hair, pulling it back so your back arched even more. 

He smacked you harder this time, your ass burning from the sting. “You’re my dirty fucking slut.”

“I own you. I own this pussy.” Again. You let out a cry of pleasure. You could tell Max was enjoying this from his voice, he loved to watch bruises form on your soft skin because of him. 

“Say it.” 

“You own me, sir.” Your voice was broken by moans of pleasure. Max was grabbing your sore asscheeks, the skin was burning under his rough touch.

A low groan tore from Max’s throat at your admission, and he slowly sank his cock into you- rewarding you. 

He instantly set a punishing pace, sweat forming on your skin as he pounded into you. His hands moved to grip your waist, pulling you into his cock- making you feel him deep in your stomach. Your body shook with bliss, your arms giving out and making you collapse into the mattress- your moans being muffled slightly by the bedsheets. His hand snuck around to rub your clit, sending shockwaves through your body and making you shout with ecstasy. Both of your orgasms were fast approaching, you could feel Max’s thrusts getting shallower and sloppier.

A noise broke you out of your reverie, a ringing filling the air. Max’s phone. 

As always, work took priority. His thrusts stopped and he slipped his cock out of you, grumbling in frustration as he climbed off the bed to dig around in his trousers pockets to find his phone. 

You collapsed down onto the bed, the sensation of being so close and having it ripped away from you again had taken all of your energy out of you. 

“Flip over.” Max demanded. His phone was still ringing. “And grab a pillow.” 

You did as you were told, and Max motioned for you to move down the bed to where he stood. He was looking at you with a severe expression. 

“Don’t make a sound. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Max nodded curtly. “Lift your hips.” 

He slid the pillow beneath you and grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders, then picked up the phone. You were confused about why he decided to do this now, but you did what he wanted, desperation for your orgasm overpowering any argument you could put forth. 

“What is it?” Max said to whoever was on the phone, he sounded perturbed to say the least. 

His palm came to rest against your lower stomach, pushing down firmly as he slowly sank back into you. You tried your best to keep quiet, your jaw hanging open in silent shock at the intense feeling, but you couldn’t help the groan of pleasure you let out when he thrusted into you harder than before. 

Max didn’t say or do anything, just kept talking on the phone as he picked up your discarded panties. His large hand grabbed your jaw, and you got the message. You opened your mouth and Max stuffed your panties in, gagging you with them. His hand remained over your mouth for a few minutes, his eyes locked onto yours with a stern expression- a warning to not do it again. 

His thrusts sped up, his voice remaining steady as he spoke but you could see the flush on his cheeks, hear how his breathing got heavier. He was close, and so were you. 

You were desperate for him to hang up, needy for his full attention while you came- but you couldn’t hold back. 

“It better be sorted by tomorrow or else we’ll have a problem, understood? Good.” Max’s voice was tense, you could tell he was trying to speak normally, hide how close to an orgasm he was. 

He threw his phone on the bed above you, his now free hand immediately going to rub tight circles on your clit. Your legs left his shoulders and wrapped around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as you finally came around his cock- your whimpers and moans of euphoric pleasure muffled by the panties still in your mouth.

Max’s thrusts deepened, slamming into your aching pussy until he also came, a low groan tearing through his throat as his cock twitched inside of you. 

Both of you were breathing heavily, Max gently pulling out of you and taking your underwear out of your mouth. He lent down, his lips crashing onto yours with a searing kiss before he collapsed on the bed next to you. 

He shuffled down to rest against the pillows, pulling you to rest against his chest. His hand caressed your hair softly, helping you come down from your high. 

“Thank You.” his voice was soft. “I missed you.” 

Emotion was rare from Max. It was times like this that made it hard to convince yourself it could never be something more…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

A/N: hiiii, I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this one hahah, let me know if you enjoyed it!!! Next fic will be with Lewis!

Taglist:

songs i used as inspo:

Jack The Ripper- Morrissey

I’m Your Man- Leonard Cohen

NFWMB- Hozier

Media used as inspo:

Carmilla- Book

Dracula- 1992 & BBC

Kiss Of The Vampire- 1963

A/N:

Thank you for all your suggestions!! i hope this fic lives up to expectations 😭 if anyone has any more suggestions they think would work well in this fic pleaseee send it my way i would love to incorporate as much as i can from you all! <3

His mouth closed around your nipple, sucking through the thin lace of your bra. From instinct, your hands shot down to grab his hair, the pleasure overwhelming. 

You were quick, but Max was quicker. His thick fingers grasped your wrists as he shoved them back above your head. 

“Don’t. I won’t tell you again.” His voice was a low murmur…

-

-

“I said I wouldn’t tell you again. My instructions were clear. What did I tell you, hm?”

His voice was cold and condescending. You wanted to reply but you could barely speak, still coming down from the high of your almost-orgasm.

This isn’t what Max wanted, when he asked a question you were supposed to answer straight away. A sharp slap hit your cheek….

-

-