amwritessx

Lando had never been anyone to do anything even remotely halfway; you knew that, but you didn’t think that he’d go to this extent.

You had been expecting him to take you to go and get food or take you out to do something but you hadn’t expected anything this… personalised. 

The glass panels surrounding the roof-top restaurant are lined with sparkling fairy lights that shine softly. They reflect off of the glass panels, creating a pretty art-like picture and you know that when you turn around, they’ll be catching in Lando’s eyes as well. 

The table is set with fancy silver cutlery that looks like they were hand-carved, beige napkins with your initials engraved into everyone on the side of the intricate swans they’ve been carved into and the plates look like they’re straight out of a movie set. 

The music hums at a perfect volume through the speakers, feeling the air with a peaceful and steady feeling. It’s a perfect contrast to the chaotic, bustling streets of the city down below; a whole world carrying on even though it feels as though time has paused in yours. 

Your hand flies up to cover your mouth as you stand starstruck in the entrance, awe taking over your features. Lando lets out a gentle laugh, hands landing on your hips to steady you as if you might faint from shock.

“Lan…” You whisper but it comes out muffled against your hand yet you can’t bring yourself to look at him, your eyes glued on the beautiful set up in front of you; there’s a tiny square box the plate in the middle seat, presumably yours. 

“Do you like it?” Lando asks, fingers tapping against your hips as he spins you around to face him. He’s smiling so wide that if you saw him out in public you would have assumed that he’d won the lottery. 

“Like? I-I…” The words flow into each other and you begin to feel the tears swelling in your eyes. Lando’s thumb reaches up instinctively. “I love it, Lan, you didn’t have to do all of this for me.” You whisper, pressing your face into your chest and standing on your tippy toes, arms wrapping around his neck. 

A blanket of his cologne wraps around you, coating you like he never wants to let you go. You never want him to let you go either. 

He dips his head down and his lips brush your ear. “You deserve all of this,” You see his hand gesturing to the display around you. “And so much more.” He plants a kiss on your temple before pulling away. “Come on, go open your gift before everyone else gets here.” 

Your eyes dart to the pale pink box. “Everybody else?” You question, raising your eyebrows at him in confusion. 

“Well even though I know that I am amazing company, I thought that you’d want to celebrate your birthday with some of your friends as well.” He tells you, spinning you around so quickly that your dress swirls around your thighs and his hand finds your lower back, guiding you towards your seat. 

“Go on,” Lando prompts, pulling the chair out for you like some old-fashioned gentleman, practically buzzing with excitement as you settle yourself into the chair, fingers wrapping around the delicate pink box. “Whilst it’s just me and you.” 

Your fingers tremble just slightly as you lift the lid. Inside, nestled in velvet, is a gold locket – flower-like engravings sprawled all along the outsides and a shiver runs down your spine as the pads of your fingers brush over them. It’s not that you don’t like it, no you love it but this is something that only someone who paid attention to the little things would be able to design.

You click it open cautiously, not wanting to break it within seconds of removing it from its packaging; there’s a small photo, you and Lando. One you don’t even remember taking, or ever even seeing before. 

Your head is thrown back against Lando’s chest, smile wide as you giggle at something Lando has said and Lando’s looking down at you, unruly curls framing his face like his a piece of artwork but he’s staring at you like you own the whole of space. He’s never said it before but in this photo it looks like he really and truly loves you.

Your eyes flicker to the text next to it, scrawly handwriting feels your vision and it is unmistakably Lando’s.

 I love you, to the moon and back. 

You tilt your head back to where he’s standing behind you and he slowly pries the necklace out of your hands, moving your hair out of the way before clasping it around your neck.

“Thank you, Lan. I love it.” You whisper.

His hand cups the side of your face, his fingers brushing your jaw and Lando soaks in every one of your features; the curve of your nose, the light lift of your lip on the left hand side and the cheeky glint that’s always somewhere in your eye. He takes in every single little thing about you before he speaks.

“I love you.” He whispers back and with that his lips connect with yours – it’s not rough, it’s not rushed but it’s sweet, loving and you kiss him back. That being your way of saying I love you too until you have the breath to say it back in words.

love and hate

It’s day seventeen without blood. It’s day seventeen of cleansing yourself of the one thing you need most because as much as you hated to admit it; you love Charles. You want to be better for him. It was an odd emotion to experience because you had never wanted to be better for anyone, you enjoyed being feared; you enjoyed watching Max subconsciously stiffen around you, you enjoyed watching Oscar stop talking as soon as you entered a room and most of all you enjoyed how Lando apologised for pretty much everything in regards to you which includes that one time he had apologised for breathing the same air as you. Yet Charles wasn’t like that, he wasn’t afraid to talk to you and he didn't need to be compelled when he found out that you’re a vampire, he just saw you in the same way that he always had.

Charles’ unwavering opinion of you is probably how you’ve ended up here with his fingers threaded through your curly hair as you lay against his chest, your breathing shallow and a thick layer of sweat coating your shaking body. You can hardly focus on whatever he was talking about because the desire for blood is clouding your other senses. It feels like your body is being torn apart vein by vein and being tossed into a raging fire that’s having gasoline poured into it consistently. He must notice this because he stops talking and looks down at you with those eyes that definitely shouldn’t be filled with love.

“Chérie, this is getting ridiculous, you need blood.” He says, and you look into his eyes that are pure from compulsion, reminding yourself that you’re doing this because for the first time you really love someone. You love him.

“I want to be better. For you.” You reply, the response becoming an instinct now whenever he brings it up, as you try to fight your body against an urge that it was so used to you giving in to. “I’m doing this for you.”

“But I don't want you to torture yourself into being better for me. I want you the way you are. Blood-sucking vampire traits and all.” He tells you, brushing beads of sweat off of you’re greying skin like you're a precious porcelain doll. Everybody else walks on eggshells around you, trying to avoid angering you but no one handles you with as much care as Charles does, no one experiences your soft side like Charles does.

“I can’t. I want to be better for you. I’m sure the pain will subside soon enough.” You try to reassure him but the lack of blood is making you slightly delirious, causing you to stumble over your words.

Charles takes one of his arms from around your waist and holds his wrists to your lips. “You’ve been saying that since day eleven, chérie, but you’ve only gotten worse.” He says, sighing as you shake your head. “Come on, a little bit, just to help you regain some strength.

He’s right about the pain and in all honesty you didn’t know how long it would take for the pain to subside, yet you still push his arm away. “I don’t want to hurt you.” You murmur, your eyelids fluttering shut and Charles sighs once again, not enjoying you writhing away right before his eyes.

“You won’t hurt me, I promise. Please, it hurts me to see you in such agony due to the way you think I perceive you.” He begs, bringing his wrist back up to your lips. Your fingers wrap around it, trying to push it away but he holds his ground. “Please. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

Your fingers go slack at his words, sliding off his wrist as you cave, the mixture of exhaustion and begging fogging your senses. “Are you sure?” You question weakly and he has his wrist brush your lips lightly.

“Of course, mon chéri.” He says and with that you let the urges take over. You sink your teeth into his vein, he doesn’t even flinch as you begin drawing blood, he simply cradles your head and talks you through it. “There you go, I’m okay, take as much as you need. Go on.” He whispers gently into your hair, placing a small kiss of encouragement.

You pull back, breathing heavily and a tear rolls down your cheek from guilt; Charles really knew how to pull every emotion out of you. “Oh my– I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I-I don’t know why I did that, I’m so sorry.” You apologise, panicking, your eyes flying open in shame at realisation of what you’ve just done to the one person you love most on the earth.

“Hey, shush shush. I’m okay, okay? I’m completely fine, I let you feed off of me, I just wanted you to be healthy again.” He reassures you, wiping away your tears. “You did so well for me, chérie, I know it was hard and I know that you didn’t want to but you did so well.” He praises, understanding that was not only emotionally overwhelming with the flood of guilt but also physically demanding as you regained some strength. He pulls the duvet over you and you allow your eyes to fall shut again with fatigue.

“Charles… I’m sorry.” You whisper before letting sleep pull you under but he doesn’t reply, knowing that this apology wasn’t for drinking his blood, rather you apologising for what you are.

love and hate

lando

Liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 987,261 others

lando what a weekend! a mclaren one-two, some extraordinary moments with fans and, of course, my favourite little sister.

yourusername i’m your only sister lando

-> lando oops

user I WAS ONE OF THOSE FANS!!!

user what a day it was

mclaren our papaya boys 🧡 -> liked by oscarpiastri and author

yourusername i quite enjoyed that. can you do it again next time? -> liked by mclaren

-> lando i don’t know can we? oscarpiastri

-> oscarpiastri i’ll have to think about it

user not oscar saying he’ll have to think about getting another podium

user she looks so pretty!! —> liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

-> user well hello oscar???

-> user is lando just going to ignore this?

-> user SHE LIKED!!

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, alexandrasaintmleux and 325,961 others

yourusername when the team does well so you get to go out for dinner! (also who new that oscarpiastri knew how to take photos?)

alexandrasaintmleux the prettiest girl -> liked by author

user not lando not being in the likes because there’s sushi -> liked by lando

lando i still can’t believe that you chose SUSHI out of everything on that menu

-> yourusername i wanted sushi so i got sushi? i don’t see the problem?

-> lando you could’ve killed me!

-> user lando is so over dramatic, it’s hilarious

user is everyone just going to ignore the fact that she pretty much just said that oscar took the first photo for her???

oscarpiastri i really enjoyed my salmon, how was your sushi? -> liked by author

-> yourusername it was AMAZING

-> lando my two favourite people trying to kill me 💔

-> oscarpiastri you’re so dramatic

-> user wait do we think they planned this as a joke on lando??? -> liked by author and oscarpiastri

-> user YES! YES WE DO!!

mclaren glad you enjoyed it -> liked by author

f1tea

Liked by user, f1 and 1,684,074 others

f1tea racing hotshot, oscar piastri, was spotted out and about with a mystery woman late yesterday evening! a girlfriend or just a friend? the media only got little glimpses of her but many are speculating that oscar has opened a new chapter in his book!

user OH?

-> user THIS WAS MY EXACT REACTION

user is that f1 i see in the likes?? -> liked by f1

user f1 admin are having a field day with this one

user guys what are we thinking? girlfriend?

-> user definitely!

-> user it could just be a friend

-> user GIRLFRIEND!!!!

user it’s literally none of our business

user i’ve not seen him show this much emotion — let alone happiness — in like… forever

user something about the coat gave me yourusername vibes -> liked by author

-> f1tea we’re listening

-> user i think you might be onto something…

user not my dreams of marrying him slowly slipping through my fingers -> liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri

Liked by yourusername, f1tea, lando and 747,181 others

oscarpiastri a quick break before we get back on track

user not yourusername being first in the likes

user i wonder who he’s taking a photo of in the third pic

-> lando me obviously

-> oscarpiastri we aren’t even in the same country

-> user clocked

yourusername i like your hoodie —> liked by author

-> user what a random thing to say…

-> user whats going on here then?

-> user i feel like user in f1tea’s post was onto something

-> user i lowkey agree

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri, tatemcrae, lando and 2,748,107 others

yourusername hoodie dump <3

f1tea WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

f1tea ARE YOU GUYS SEEING WHAT IM SEEING RN?

-> user WHAT ARE YOU SEEING??

-> f1tea yourusername IN oscarpiastri’s HOODIE

-> user OH MY GOD

-> user HAVE WE BEEN WITNESSING A SOFT LAUNCH IN REAL TIME????

-> user I THINK WE HAVE!

lando sister.

-> yourusername yes?

-> lando whose hoodie is that?

-> yourusername … -> liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri 🤍 -> liked by author

-> yourusername 🤍

-> lando …

-> lando oscar reply to my messages.

-> user lando is NOT happy

-> user my jaw dropped lower than my grades

tatemcrae i have the perfect song for this

-> yourusername do not sing a word

f1tea

Liked by user, f1, mclaren, tatemcrae, alexandrasaintmleux and 5,685,702 others

f1tea just a couple of hours ago, racing legend oscar piastri was spotted leading his alleged girlfriend — his teammates younger sister, ___ norris — into a very fancy restaurant.

user the whole thing screamed date to me

user the secrets out, both mclaren and f1 admin liked the post -> liked by author

user i told you all so in the very moment i saw the coat in the first post you made about them

-> user you were right

-> user i know. -> liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri and yourusername

Liked by tatemcrae, charles_leclerc, lando and 7,429,619 others

oscarpiastri the cat may be out of the bag but i still refuse to share you with the world 🤍

comments on this posts are limited to close friends

yourusername i love you <3 -> liked by author

-> oscarpiastri i love you more <3

tatemcrae can i release sports car now?

-> yourusername yes, yes you can

charles_leclerc finally, watching you soft launch was slowly killing me -> liked by author

lando WAS I REALLY THE LAST PERSON TO FIND OUT?!??

-> yourusername oops?

alexandrasaintmleux so happy for you baby

-> yourusername 🤍

mclaren do we now have to share you with the rest of the paddock? -> liked by author

-> f1 yes you do

-> lando F1 AND MCLAREN ADMIN KNEW BEFORE ME?

love and hate

“Easy there, love.” Lando chuckles as you run up to him, throwing yourself into his arms, eager to see him after what felt like a lifelong race weekend that you didn’t attend. He catches you effortlessly, his muscular arms wrapping around your waist to support you as you bury your neck into his neck, reveling in the familiarity of his scent as he kisses you on the forehead. “Miss me much?”

“More than you will ever know.” You mumble into him as he shuts the door to your shared apartment–in Monte Carlo, Monaco– with a soft click. He carries you further into the open space yet ignores the kitchen, dining and living room entirely, instead making his way towards the shut door on the right hand side; your bedroom.

“Lando?” You say as he pushes open the door and enters, being careful so that no part of your body collides with the door frame.

His eyes snap down to you as soon as he hears you speak and he acknowledges you immediately. “Yes, love?”

“Could we just… could we just take tonight a bit slower, please?” You ask quietly, your body aching from pushing yourself too hard over the weekend as he places you down onto the bed, and you know that you wouldn’t be able to handle anything intimate tonight.

He doesn’t reply for a minute as he takes off his McLaren tee, leaving him shirtless and in nothing but black joggers that are sitting so low on his hips that you can see his v-line and the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers. You worry that you’ve upset him and instantly wish that you could redact your question and pretend that you had never asked it.

He proceeds to lay down next to you in silence and just as you go to say something like ‘nevermind’ or ‘forget I said anything’, he speaks. “Like a movie?” He asks gently.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” You reply, letting out a deep breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding in.

Lando leans over to the bedside table, grabbing the TV remote from the top draw and flicks the TV on before passing the remote to you. “Of course I don’t mind. Go on, you can pick, love.”

You begin to search for a film, flicking from genre to genre and then app to app. Lando pulls you in closer so that your head is resting right above his heart and you allow his steady heartbeats to ground you. He wraps his arms around you tightly, providing a layer of warmth to your currently constantly cold skin.

Eventually, you end up on Disney+, hovering over one of your favourite Disney films–Princess and the frog– as Lando runs his fingers up and down your arm lazily. “This one?” You ask him and he nods, signalling at you to press play nonchalantly like he doesn’t get so invested in whatever you put on to the point where he starts guessing the star signs of the characters.

The movie plays for a while; Lando’s fingers run up and down your arm so consistently to the point where you don’t even think he realises that he’s doing it anymore, your body aches with that same thudding pain and Lando’s stomach growls a couple of times. At first he just ignores it, attempting to focus on the movie, joking about how one of the fireflies is definitely a scorpio like him. Yet at one point his stomach growls extremely loudly, and he decides that he can’t take it anymore.

“For fucks sake, I’m ordering us food.” He murmurs, sliding his hand into his pocket and slipping out his phone, tapping away for a couple of seconds before it starts to ring.

You zone out whilst he places the order; your stomach churning and your thoughts whirling. You had been doing so well at restricting the past weekend, you even didn’t go to the race so that you wouldn’t be tempted to try all of the foreign food, so why did Lando now have to order in?

He speaks on the phone for a while, being picky about the order but all you can think about is the overwhelming sense of dread that washes over you. You feel your heart rate pick up and you fight the urge to let the tears that are welling up in your eyes slide down your cheeks. You were doing so well and now all of your progress was going to be ruined. You feel a small pang of shame; you had promised Lando that you wouldn’t go back to this, that you’d talk to him, but it’s just not that easy.

Lando throws his phone down onto the bed somewhere after ending the phone call and plants a kiss on your forehead; one of his favourite forms of physical affection. “They said that pizza would be here in a bit, okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak without bursting into tears as you inhale a shaky breath.

The next few minutes go by in a blur; Lando absent-mindedly stroking your hair and you nodding along to his silly jokes, his contagious laughter not spreading to you like it normally does. He squeezes you again, one his silent ‘I love yous’ but the action pushes you over the edge and you scramble off the bed hurriedly, making your way over to your ensuite bathroom. The last thing you wanted was for Lando to see you crying over something so immature.

“Love?” He calls out to you, sitting up as his eyes follow you across the room but you ignore him, locking yourself in the bathroom.

A tear rolls down your cheek and a choked sob escapes your lips. Why couldn’t you just be a normal person and eat normal food? You thought, furiously wiping away the waterfall of tears that are flooding down your face.

On the other side of the door, Lando is quick to get up, making his way over to the door instantly and trying to talk to you. “Love? What’s wrong? Come out and talk to me, please, did I do something?” His voice cracks on the ‘please’ due to how much he hates seeing you in any level of pain. It hurts him. Even if he doesn’t know why you’re upset.

“I’m fine. Go away.” You snap and immediately feel guilty, wanting to take it back but you just can’t. You don’t hear him move away from the door so you call out again. “Leave me alone, Lando!” You shout as you stare at yourself in the mirror, disgusted by what stares back at you in the reflection.

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s clear you’re upset. Just open the door. Please, baby.” You don’t respond but he can hear the muffled sound of your crying through the door. “Come on, baby, just open the door, let me help you. Please.” He begs, distraught by the fact you're so upset but won’t tell him what’s wrong so that he can try to fix it.

“Leave me alone.” You whisper, sliding down the bathroom cupboards until you hit the floor. You curl your knees up to your chest and continue to sob. Why, just why, did you have to undereat and restrict just to feel semi-pretty? You wanted to feel pretty, happy, loved, and not just when you were with Lando but all the time. You wanted to love yourself all the time.

Lando tries to get to you the only way he knows how, knowing that you don’t love yourself in the way that he loves you. “I love you so fucking much, you know that right? I’d throw away everything, everything, if it meant that I could love you for love you for the rest of my life and everybody knows it. Everybody knows that I’d drop everything in a heartbeat for you, because the love that I feel for you? It’s undeniable. My love for anything else; Formula One, McLaren, racing, nothing, none of it, could even come close to competing with my love for you because you’d win. Every fucking time, love.”

You let his words sink in. Lando loves you, like actually loves you, in a way that no one ever has before and you love Lando, more than you love yourself. Maybe, just this once you think, you could let Lando love you like he so desperately wants to.

“I’ve been doing it again.” You admit, wanting to stop talking so badly but you can’t, he needs to hear this. You need to say it. “I’ve been skipping meals again. I didn’t mean to, I was meant to come to you, I was meant to ask for help but I just… couldn’t. It felt so euphoric and so depleting at the same time and I don’t think I want to stop but I can’t keep living like this, Lando. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Then let me in. Let me help you. Let me love you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let him in; both physically and metaphorically.

love and hate

It had started off harmless.

His finger brushing across your waist here, a slight grip on your hip there but nothing that properly registered in your brain.

Until that one night.

The two of you had been heading through the streets of London on a late night walk after he had taken you out for dinner; a beautiful place that had fairy lights hidden around and a subtle calming tune playing in the background.

Nothing was out of the ordinary, the occasional person walked on by but no one got too close.

Apart from one.

And as if it was instinct Charles’ hands found your waist, pulling you into his chest and resting his head on top of yours until the stranger had passed on by.

That had been the turning point.

Then it was happening all of the time.

Charity parties where he’d hold you into him while talking with business partners about the most recent race, brushing his finger over your hip bone like a subtle reminder to himself that you’re still there.

Media days where he refused to let you leave his side. Where his hands wouldn’t leave your waist for hours and hours on end.

And after finally convincing him to let you go because you had people to catch up with, his lips brush past your ear, murmuring a barely audible “you’re mine, mon cherie.”

love and hate

It had been an accident, really. You, Oscar, and some of the other driver's hadn't meant to end up back in your hotel room, but a long night paired with far too many drinks with a side of a game of truth or strip had occurred. Although the game was short lived, one thing led to another and Oscar was leaving your room– shirtless– in the early hours of the morning.

Yet those were the events of last night which had absolutely no relevance right now because you’re focused on trying to look your absolute best for your annual pre-season dinner with your favourite drivers. You have Lana Del Rey’s ‘young and beautiful’ playing loudly through your speakers and you’re leaning in close to the mirror, trying to vanish any imperfections.

“And all the ways I got to know your pretty face and electric soul. Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful…” You sing along to the song, becoming fully immersed in the tune and singing your heart out to your favourite artist. After all this was your Lana Del Rey only playlist.

You lean in closer to your bathroom mirror, guiding your hand so that your mascara wand can glide over your lashes flawlessly, elongating them in a way that only your Charlotte Tilbury pillow talk mascara can. You smile in content as you do it, your lashes and your mascara refusing to let you down once again.

You catch a peek of tonight's dress hanging on the edge of the shower in the reflection of the mirror; a short, black dress that came to just above the middle of your thighs, one that was covered all over in glittery sequins that caught perfectly in the bathroom light. Paired with matching heels that tied at your ankles; the ones that Oscar got you last year for your birthday, the ones that made you wonder how he’d managed to find a pair of shoes that were so perfect.

Young and beautiful ends and the next Lana del rey song comes on; Brooklyn baby, one of your personal favourites. “They say I’m too young to love you. I don’t know what I’d need. They think I don’t understand the freedom land of the seventies. I think I'm too cool to know ya. You say I'm like the ice, I freeze.” You sing along, picking up your hairbrush and singing into it, losing yourself to the music.

You get so lost in your mini concert that you don’t hear Oscar knock on your hotel room door, call out your name repeatedly or even enter. You’d known that you’d forgotten to do something important when you got back from lunch with a couple of your girl friends. 

Oscar must have heard you singing from the entrance to the room because he makes his way over to the bathroom door and leans on the doorframe, watching you pour your soul out into your baby pink hairbrush with a tiny smile. Yet even as he stands there watching you, you don’t notice him. Instead you continue singing, giving a couple of twirls as you really get into it. 

“Well, my boyfriend's in a band. He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed. I've got feathers in my hair. I get down to Beat poetry. And my jazz–” You finally stop spinning and land facing the doorway; exactly where Oscar is standing. “Fuck! Oscar–” You scream but on instinct you’d already thrown your hairbrush at the intruder in an attempt to disarm the poor aussie. 

He catches it effortlessly, almost as if he knew you were going to throw something at him before he even entered the room. He pushes himself off the doorframe and closes the gap between you with a few small steps, your breathing is heavy with shock as you try to recollect yourself after that embarrassing moment. 

“I believe you threw this at me.” He jokes, cracking a smile as you take the hairbrush from his outstretched hand, blushing uncontrollably. You try to avoid eye contact with him as you do it, which isn’t hard because he’s quite a bit taller than you.

“Thank you, and uh– sorry about that. I didn’t realise it was you immediately.” You try and joke but you can only feel yourself go even more red. 

“It’s fine, better safe than sorry y’know?” He replies and you look up at him, instantly regretting it because something about the way he’s looking down at you makes you feel an odd sense of warmth. 

There’s an awkward silence that stretches over a couple of seconds before you find the courage to speak again, fighting the urge to take a step back. “Did you need something or…” You start to ask but trail off at the end, unsure on how to finish your sentence.

“Well as much as I loved your cover of Lana Del Rey, I’d wanted to know if you’d seen my top, but it looks like you already found it.” He tilts his head in a motion towards your top, the one you’d found on the edge of your bed an hour or two ago and had thrown on to wear whilst you got ready.

You look down. Shit. This was Oscar’s top. Memories of him wearing it from last night come back to you; the small, orange ‘op81’ on the left hand side on the front stands out against the dark fabric but that was the smallest of the attention grabbers. On the back, big bold and also in bright orange was his first name along with his number. How had you not noticed this when you put it on?

“Shit– uh–” You go to remove it but then remember that you have nothing but a lacy set of burgundy lingerie that covers very little underneath. 

“I can come back when you're done if y’like? Unless you like getting ready in little to nothing with my name and number all over you?” Oscar teases and it sends another rush of heat to your core. Is he oblivious to what he’s doing to you or is he enjoying it? The little smirk on his face suggests that it’s the latter.

“No, no. It’s fine, I just need to put my dress on and then it’s all yours.” You say, trying to save yourself from this tense moment that is doing nothing to help the moisture pooling in your panties. Oscar steps out effectively, without you having to ask, giving you some privacy so that you can change.

You slide your hands down to the hem of the top and allow your fingers to latch around it, taking comfort in the cozy material; no wonder he was constantly wearing this top. It also had a faint smell, you couldn’t quite place it but it was something distinctly Oscar.

You begin peeling the top off of your body but as soon as you get to your hair the top latches onto the first clip it finds and makes itself comfortable, refusing to budge. You fiddle with the t-shirt and the clip, trying to get it unstuck for what feels like forever, not wanting to have to call Oscar in to help but inevitably you just end up making it worse. Leaving you no choice but to face the music and call for Oscar.

“Oscar?” You call out quietly, partially hoping that he just wouldn't hear you but of course that isn't the case.

“Yeah?” He calls back.

“Could you come here for a sec please?” You ask and you hear the bedsheets crease, most likely from him getting up to come help you. 

He enters the bathroom with full confidence, as he does any room but he falters when he sees you, stopping in his tracks and inhaling a sharp breath. His eyes lock onto your bare legs and slowly inch upwards towards the middle of your thighs. Your thighs clench involuntarily under his gaze, begging for some friction. You can tell he’s noticed but he swallows and forces himself to look up.

“Your tops stuck on my clip, I tried to get it out but I couldn’t otherwise I wouldn’t have called you in here but…” You trail off to stop yourself rambling and Oscar simply nods, almost like he doesn’t trust himself to speak in such a situation. He walks into the bathroom properly and makes his way so that he’s standing behind you. 

You remove your hands from the piece of clothing, allowing him space to help you but that doesn’t change the fact that you are still extremely close to one another. He begins to work through your hair and you can feel the warmth of his body due to your proximity, you can even smell his signature scent more now than you could on his top.

Oscar works the top out of the clip slowly, being careful not to cause you any discomfort but all you can think about is what it would feel like if he were to yank you by your hair and have his way with you. The thought soaks your panties more, if that’s even possible and it takes everything in you to not let out a whimper. Once it's out he slides the top back down your back, seemingly forgetting that you were meant to be taking it off to give back to him and his touch is feather-light against your skin as you fight the urge to lean back into it.

His touch hoovers for a couple of seconds at the small of your back, right above the waistband to your lingerie. He pulls away after far too many seconds for you to just brush it off as nothing. You turn almost straight away, letting out a small gasp of air because you’re basically touching. 

You force yourself to make eye contact with him which you immediately deem as a stupid decision because the intensity of his gaze keeps you there and an equally intense heat spreads throughout your body, pulsating at your core.

“Thank you.” You manage to whisper without stumbling over the two simple words but instead of responding like a normal person he reaches up with his hand and cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You look at each other for a second, properly drinking each other in and for that second everything is happening in slow motion but the next? His lips are crashing down on yours as though he physically couldn't wait a moment longer.

You kiss him back passionately, a single kiss saying everything you’ve wanted to do with him for a lot longer than just today. You bite back a moan as his hands feel the curve of your breasts as they make their way down to your waist. Once his hands are at your waist he uses your hips to assist him in pushing you back against the bathroom wall whilst simultaneously making out with you.

Your back hits the wall and you wrap your hands around his neck as he takes his attention away from your lips and begins to work along your jawline, cherishing you like he has never held something so valuable: which is ironic because he’s a multi-millionaire who has probably seen prettier things than you, but to him? You’re the prettiest thing he will ever see.

You tilt your head back in pleasure and he takes that as an invitation to move down to your neck. He concentrates on a couple of areas, trying to see what will make you snap and he finds it quickly causing your body to jolt with the unexpected pleasure.

“Oscar…” You moan, threading your fingers through his soft hair and tugging at it slightly as he nips and sucks at the sensitive part of your neck.

He pushes you against the wall harder, his thumb rubbing teasing circles just below the waistband of your panties. You get an overwhelming whiff of his intoxicating cologne and it makes you dizzy in the best way possible. 

Oscar comes back up to your lips again and latches onto them, making sure to tug slightly at your bottom lip to make the experience even more enjoyable for you. He brings a singular hand up to your breast and begins fondling it over his shirt, squeezing it as if it owes him something. You arch your back in an attempt to generate more of his touch and you feel his hard cock press in between your thighs making your needy cunt clench around nothing.

He uses that hand that was circling your hip to rub your ass underneath your underwear and you moan into the kiss at how good it all feels, but you can’t help but need more.

You pull back from the kiss and he looks at you, breathing heavily, like he physically needs more. “Please, Osc, no more teasing.” You beg, fighting the strong urge that’s telling you to slide your hand in between your thighs.

He smirks. An evil, cocky smirk. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” He brushes a finger over your slit but pulls the touch away almost immediately, leaving you desperate for more. “Do you want me to pull down these soaking panties and have you come all over my face?” He uses his hand to guide your hand to the large bulge in his shorts. “Or should I force you down onto your knees and have you take all of my cock like a good little whore?”

You don’t answer with words, instead you remove your hand off of his cock and try to rub your swollen clit because the ache is becoming unbearable. Yet he catches your hand just above your most sensitive area, preventing you from doing anything about your heat.

“Fucking whore.” He murmurs, sinking down onto his knees at a frustratingly slow pace before looking up at you. “You tell me to stop and I will, okay?” He asks and you nod but for him that’s not enough. “I need words, pretty girl, even if it’s you telling me that you want to stop.” 

“Yes, Oscar, I want this.” You reply breathlessly.

He slides his hands up the backs of your thighs and yanks your underwear down, leaving your soaking cunt bare for him. He slips them off past your feet and shoves them into his pocket, as though he’s saving them for later. He nudges your legs open and braces himself with one hand against your thigh.

Oscar doesn’t hesitate. He lowers his head and begins kissing and sucking your thighs, catching you by surprise with the warmth of his tongue whilst he moves higher and higher, towards your heat. 

He gets there pretty quickly, his impatience getting the better of him and he does one long, slow lick along your slit, deliberately avoiding your clit to tease you but once he’s had a taste? He goes fucking feral.

“Fucking hell, I’ve hardly even touched you and you’re soaked.” He says, diving back in to taste you for a second time and your body jerks forward at the action, begging for more but he holds you still with the hand that was bracing himself on your thigh.

His tongue moves in and out of you like it was made for this. Like its soul purpose in life is to pump in and out of you like its life depends on it. He alternates between maddingly slow licks and torturous sucks on your throbbing bud, both of which make your knees buckle.

“Osc–more please–it feels so fucking good.” You whimper, begging him to keep doing what he’s doing because it feels unbelievably good. 

He groans into your cunt at your words of praise and the vibrations ripple through your body and nearly send you over the edge, the sensation making you cry out in pleasure and you can practically feel him smirking at how loud you’re being.

“You taste like fucking heaven.” He murmurs and the sight of him in between your legs with his lips slick with your juices makes you want him to never stop.

Oscar’s fingers slide into your cunt with practiced ease, curling in all the right places to make you whimper and scream and he sucks on your clit like a man starved. The combination of actions builds a tight pressure in your stomach and you know you're coming close.

“Oscar! Please, I need more.” You tell him, trying to chase your release by grinding on his face but he holds you still, preventing you from doing so. 

“Look at you – fucking losing it,” he teases, his breath warm on your thighs as he looks up at you to see your reaction. “But I control when you come, if you want to dance and sing along to your songs like a little slut, with my name and number on your back then I decide when as well as how I unravel you.” He increases his pace as well as the amount of fingers that he’s pumping into you with and you cry out whilst tugging at his hair, hard.

He presses down on your clit with his thumb, holding eye contact with you the whole time.

“Oscar…” You whimper, needing release desperately. “I need to come.”

“Beg for it, whore.” He demands and you hesitate for a hot second. He must notice because he completely stops moving, he doesn’t remove his fingers but he just stops, leaving you to clench around his stationary fingers.

“Please, Osc, please. I need this so badly, please make me come, Oscar.” You beg, hoping that’s enough for him.

“Whose name and number are you wearing?”

“Yours, Oscar, yours!” You cry out, your legs shaking uncontrollably and Oscar being the only thing stopping your knees from buckling.

“Go on then, pretty girl,” he breathes, beginning to pump into you again with relentless speed, watching your face, your chest rising and falling at an intense pace. “Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

His words flip a switch inside of you and release crashes into you, almost knocking you off of your feet and for a moment you forget that you're in your hotel room bathroom because all that matters is you, Oscar, and this. He uses his tongue to finish you off, using it to lap up the juices on your most sensitive parts and you shudder, feeling goosebumps pepper your body. You cry out softly, voice trembling, overwhelmed by the intensity, your world narrowing down to the warmth and wetness surrounding the pleasure he’s given you.

Your mind goes hazy with the force of your orgasm, and all that escapes your lips are broken moans and scattered words that don’t make any sense. He comes back up to your level, holding you upright with an arm around your waist. “Y’okay?” He asks, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You did so fucking well for me and you tasted so fucking good, I can’t wait to ruin you all over again in a second.”

Your breathing is still shallow and sucking in air feels like a chore, your bodies trembling with the aftershocks of the orgasm he just gave you. His arms cradle you with such care, his hands rubbing your breasts so gently over his top but it does nothing to slow down your cunt from getting soaked again.

“You did so fucking well for me,” he murmurs again, lips brushing your jaw. “But don’t tell me you’re too tired to return the favour, pretty girl, not after I let you come all over my face — with my name and number stretched across your back.”

You don’t say anything but his grip on your waist loosens and you sink down onto your knees, the cold material of the bathroom floor contrasting with the heat that's spreading throughout your body as you become more and more eager to please him. 

“Fuck. Look at you–so fucking eager to take me. I bet your cunt is dripping all over the floor right now, you’re such a slut for me.” He  threads a hand through your hair gently — at first.

Your fingers fumble slightly at his waistband, and he just watches. He’s so hard it’s almost cruel, painful even and you suddenly feel increasingly grateful that he waited so long for his own pleasure. When you finally free his cock, it springs forward — flushed, leaking, twitching. Your mouth waters yet you're unsure how he wants it so you wait for him to tell you–it’s almost like when he’s commanding you you’re incapable of forming a singular thought.

“Open, whore.” He commands and you do.

You moan around him the second he slides in — not too deep yet, just enough to stretch your lips. You feel him pulse already at the warmth of your mouth. His hand tightens in your hair and your cunt clenches around thin air. 

“Eyes on me,” he growls. “Wanna see that pretty little face as you choke on my cock.” You do — watery-eyed, lips swollen, lashes fluttering. He uses his tight grip on your hair to shove his cock further down your throat.

He continues to guide your pace: slow, deep thrusts as he fucks your throat inch by inch. You struggle a little, drool leaking out the corner of your mouth, but he loves every single second of it.

You hollow your cheeks, take him deeper, use your hand to stroke what you can’t fit. He groans louder now — head tipped back, hips stuttering slightly. You moan softly again and begin shifting your thighs together, seeking friction without thinking.

“Don’t even think about touching yourself,” he warns, voice sharp, yanking your hair just enough to send a jolt down your spine. “You’re here to please me now, not grind your desperate little cunt on the floor.” He pauses, thumb brushing your tear-streaked cheek.

“If you want to come again later, you earn it.”

That makes your pussy clench. It makes your pussy clench so hard that you're filled with a whole new sense of determination. So you refocus — tighter lips, deeper strokes, hand twisting just right, tongue flat under the shaft, working in sync with his movements. You gag again and tears spill down your cheeks.

“Fucking hell—” he hisses through gritted teeth, his control slipping. “You’re making me feel so good, pretty girl, you're such a good slut for me.” His hips jerk harder now — he’s close. You can feel it. He thrusts into your throat and pulls back to look at the absolute mess he's made of you.

“Look at yourself,” he pants. “Drooling, gagging, tears running down your cheeks. My perfect girl.” You moan as he growls, tipping over the edge. “Swallow it all,” he commands.

And you do, obediently, sucking him through it, moaning around his release like it’s the only thing you’ve ever needed.

And you do, obediently, sucking him through it, moaning around his release like it’s the only thing you’ve ever needed.

When he finally pulls out, you're breathless, chest heaving, mouth still open slightly. His thumb brushes over your lips again, wiping a drop of cum off the corner of your mouth.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers. 

He leans down and pulls you up to your feet, arms winding around your waist to steady you once again. A soft kiss is pressed to your jaw.

“Y’okay, pretty girl?” He asks you but you’re too dazed to speak, so you don’t respond, feeling extremely hazy. “Pretty girl?” He questions again, leaning your head against his shoulder and you find it in yourself to nod, the daze of your mind still extremely overwhelming.

Your weight sags against him and despite how much you enjoyed it, it was very clear that it had taken its toll on you; physically and emotionally, and even if you wanted to go for another round tonight you knew that you just didn’t have it in you. Oscar seems to have noticed that, along with the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Hey, hey. We’re going to be done for today, okay, pretty girl?” He establishes and you whine but you’re unsure whether it’s from pain or desperation, either way he seems to understand. “I know, I know and you did so good for me today, so good. But you need a break now, okay? Just so that your body can recover.” 

You whimper slightly and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you again. Oscar wastes no time picking you up effortlessly, being so careful because he doesn’t want to cause you any level of discomfort, and placing you on a clutter-free area of the bathroom countertop. 

“I’m gonna clean you up now, pretty girl, is that okay? Just with a flannel and some warm water.” Oscar says, waiting for your thumbs up before moving.

“Yeah, m’kay.” You say, the words are so faint that they could just be another inhale of air, but he catches it.

He moves slowly, as though he’s trying not to startle you. He grabs a small, white flannel from the cupboard under the sink and your eyes follow him as he moves, mesmerised by the way his muscles roll whilst he carries out the different actions. He turns on the hot tap at the sink, letting it run for a couple of seconds so that it can become lukewarm before running the flannel under it.

The veins in his arms and hands protrude as he wrings it out and then he crouches down in front of you, parting your legs slightly so that he can clean the mess you’ve made.

“This may sting a little where you’re still sensitive, pretty girl, so be prepared.” He warns you and begins peppering kisses from your knee upwards to prepare you in his own way.

Once he gets high enough he lifts up his top and he drags the flannel along your thighs, his touch feather-light but you still wince slightly as he continues to clean you up. 

“There you go, pretty girl, you’re okay.” He reassures you and reaches up to wipe away a stray tear that slides down your face as he cleans your most intimate parts.

He works in silence for a couple of minutes, sensing your emotional fatigue but just as he’s finishing up you call out to him.

“Oscar?” You ask, your voice raspy.

“Yes, pretty girl?” He responds immediately, looking up to make eye contact with you.

“Thank you… thank you for this.”

love and hate