maylee❕

after an extremely long day of cameras in their faces and answering questions they’ve answered a million times, for nylon, megan and dani made it back to their shared hotel room, the other members in theirs as well.

megan was silent the whole ride back home and dani noticed quickly. they both sat on opposite sides of the one bed that they had to share. daniela slowly took off her boots and tights, the silence and tension loud. she could hear the shuffling of megan undressing herself as well, sighing as she forced herself to continue facing the wall in front of her.

after a minute, daniela spoke up, “you’re so quiet.” she could practically hear megan’s breathing come to a halt, making her head turn. megan was still facing away from her, clearing her throat as if she were going to say something, but not a sound. dani turned around and crawled toward megan on all fours, now just in the blouse and tie she had on for the photo shoot.

daniela had an idea of what had gotten mei so quiet. “what’s up, mei? talk to me, puppy. please?” she spoke, her voice gently as megan tilted her head down to look directly at dani, her lips parting. she sucked in a breath once daniela started kissing her hand, making sure no finger went untouched. “you make me too nervous.” megan uttered, making dani smile. “yeah? since when were you shy with me?” she teased, on her knees as she sat behind megan, moving the girls hair. dani admired it again before kissing up and down megans neck slowly, one of her hands intertwining with megans.

she squirmed, almost trying to slip away before daniela pulled her back. “i asked you a question, mama.” she mumbled, pushing megans blouse down her arm, kissing her shoulder. “dani, please…” daniela looked up at her with a grin before moving them in a more comfier position so she could straddle mei. “answer my question.”

megans eyes fluttered shut for a moment, gripping the comforter beneath her to stop herself from grabbing dani and shutting her up. “you looked so good today, mommy. so sexy, and i’ve been wet all day because of it.” megan gave her a pout and furrowed eyebrows, daniela seeming to be satisfied. “that’s my girl. so much easier to get your way when you listen.” megan didn’t get the chance to respond before danielas lips were on hers, the girls hands exploring her body slowly.

“you can touch me, baby. touch me.” dani panted, grabbing megans wrists to place her hands on her waist. mei whimpered, her nails digging into danis skin as the kiss grows hungrier. they were both half naked, their blouses, ties, and panties the only thing on them. daniela kisses down megans neck and between her tits, pushing the tie aside but not trying to take it off, finding it way too sexy.

“tell me what you were thinking about at the shoot, mei.” she said in between kisses, megans chest heaving. “i… mmph. those pouty lips of yours baby, just like your begging for me to ride that pretty mouth.” she was calming down, remembering who she was with.

she pushed dani’s hair out of her face, biting back a grin which made dani whimper. dani kept moving her kisses down before making it to megans clothed pussy. she gave the girl a smile before moving her panties to the side instead of just taking them off. dani sucks in a breath once she sees how wet megan already is, megans face going almost completely red from embarrassment.

“have you been wet this whole time, princess?” she didn’t wait for a response before sucking on her clit, looking up at her with lustful eyes. megans back arched the moment she felt danis warm and familiar mouth on her pussy. “dani-“ she only got to utter her name before daniela cut her off, “oh cmon baby, what’s my name?” she grinned, licking up the girls slit teasingly. “mommy… mommy!” she whined, throwing her head back as she pushed danielas head further between her thighs.

megan couldn’t think as the girl used her mouth on her, any words she tried to say escaping before she got the chance. she whined when daniela suddenly stopped, giving her a pout. “aw, mama, look at those pretty lips.” dani whispered, running her thumb across megans bottom lip before kissing her. once she pulled away from the kiss, she suddenly slid two fingers inside of mei, earning a gasp.

“fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” daniela whimpered, burying her face in megans neck as she repeatedly curled her fingers. mei let out a soft moan, her eyebrows slightly furrowing. she could tell dani was getting needy, making her smile. “don’t go weak on me yet, baby.”

that made dani whine, her fingers moving faster. megan cried out, her hands gripping danielas pink hair and tugging. “fuck, that’s it, mei. show me how good i make you feel. only i can make you feel this good.” she whispered in the girls ear before pulling back to watch her face as she rode her fingers.

she let her free hand slide up megans torso, stopping at her hardened nipples to pinch them. she began moving up again before stopping at the girls neck, gripping it gently. “mm, too bare for me. let’s mark you up until you’re cumming all over my hand, hm?” megan nodded quickly, her breathing heavy.

was megan stupid for doing this? possibly. but then again, she sometimes made stupid decisions. but this wasn't stupid! she was just going to visit daniela. at her job. even though she was told not to, she was going to anyway. because what’s the worst that could happen, right? 

it’s around midnight when megan walks inside the club. the music is booming but also quiet, the occasional clinking of glasses with bartenders making drinks. she glances around, trying to spot daniela. she can’t seem to find her anywhere out here, but that wasn’t much of a problem in megan’s eyes. she heads over to the bar, and the bartender smiles at her. 

“have you seen dani tonight?” megan asks. 

“yeah.” the bartender nods, cleaning a glass. “she went in one of the back rooms with a guy.” 

megan’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, but she nods anyway. “thanks.” she turns and looks over in the hallway where the back private rooms were held. she takes a short breath before quickly walking through. thankfully, each dancer had their own designated room, so she knew which one was daniela’s. but she still wasn’t really prepared for what she might walk into. 

megan reaches the room, and she stops in front of it. should she even go in? isn’t this a bad idea? doesn’t she look weird showing up like this to daniela’s workplace? while she’s working? megan’s head swims with all kinds of thoughts, but she is knocked out when she hears past the thin door. 

“hey! don’t touch me!” 

without thinking, megan pushes open the door and steps inside. she sees daniela, and a man with one hand on her waist and the other reaching down lower. daniela looks over the second she hears the door, but the man is too preoccupied to notice megan storming towards him. the man finally looks over when megan is one step away from him, and she grabs him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him out of the room. she doesn’t think before she swings her right fist into his face; she just watches him stumble back from the hit and scurry off out of the area. 

after a minute, megan closes the door and turns around. daniela is staring with wide eyes, standing in the same spot she was in from the beginning. she opens her mouth to speak, but megan beats her to it. 

“are you okay?” 

daniela nods slowly. “yeah.” 

megan flexes her hand, trying to get rid of the pain as she walks over to daniela, who is still wide-eyed. “i didn’t like him touching you,” she says. 

daniela raises an eyebrow at megan’s tone, not empathy, but not cold either. “you think i did?” she retorts. “i said from the get-go not to touch me.” 

megan shakes her head. “i know. i believe you,” she replies. “but i didn’t like it still.” 

“it’s part of my job, megan,” daniela tells her. “you’re the one who told me you were fine with me still doing it.” 

“i am.” megan nods. “but that doesn’t mean–” 

“doesn’t mean what?’ daniela cuts her off. “you didn’t even tell me you were coming. i wouldn’t have done it otherwise,” she scoffs. 

“i just wanted to surprise you and say hi,” megan replies. 

“hi, megan.” 

megan’s hand twitches, and before she can decide whether this was a smart decision or not, she grabs daniela’s hand and pulls her over to the glass table in front of the couch. she pushes her down front first against the table, and the dancer lets out a surprised yelp. 

“megan, what the fu–”

“shut up,” megan snaps. “i was just trying to be nice and come see you while you were working. don’t try and act like that now.” 

megan has one hand pressing down on daniela’s back so she’s pressed against the table directly, and the other grabs her thong and tugs it down her thighs. she hastily unbuttons and pulls down her jeans, not wearing any boxers underneath. she’s hard already, it was easy to get her that way. precum leaking from her tip and dribbling down the underside of it along the vein. 

“god forbid i try to see you while you’re working, y’know,” megan mumbles, not to daniela specifically. “you gonna let me fuck you right here, baby?” 

daniela doesn’t respond, still in a little shock of megan’s suddenly different personality. 

megan scoffs, grabbing daniela’s hair and pulling on it, making her arch her back. “answer me.” 

a shudder goes down daniela’s spine at the tone in megan’s voice. sure, the girl had been dominant at times, but nothing like this. and she knows megan knows the effect it has on her, slick trickling down her thighs thinking about what megan will do. 

“yes,” daniela whispers. “please.” 

megan smiles. “good,” she says. 

without saying another word, megan holds the base of her cock and pushes inside all in one harsh thrust, making daniela yelp loudly in surprise, her whole body jerking with the force. 

“f-fuck,” daniela lets out, her head dropping. 

megan’s hand moves to daniela’s hip, her thumb drawing small circles, while the other still holds onto her hair. megan sits still for a moment, letting the latina adjust to her, nestled deep inside her, throbbing. 

“y-you can move now,” daniela tells megan. 

megan doesn’t say anything in response. she slowly pulls out halfway, and slams back in all the way. daniela gasps sharply, her hands grabbing the edges of the glass table, preparing for the manhandling she was about to go through. 

megan lets out a low laugh, amused at the sight of her girlfriend like this. she starts to build a rhythm, pulling out and slamming all the way back in each time, starting rough and fast. 

“oh my god!” daniela practically screams, the music not doing much to cover it. 

megan leans over the latina, her front pressing against her back as she whispers in her ear. “shh, don’t want anyone to hear, do we?”

daniela struggles to shake her head but manages close enough. “n-no.” 

“then keep quiet, yeah?” megan replies. 

daniela barely can nod, words interrupted by moans and gasps leaving her mouth. her whole body is being pushed forwards more against the table with the force of megan’s thrusts, and for once, she thinks she’ll have bruises afterwards. megan was usually so gentle, so tame with her that the only marks she would leave are bites and hickeys along her chest and thighs. but, the way megan was handling her now? it was like it was a completely different person. 

“fuck, baby you’re so tight around me,” megan hisses through her teeth. 

her hips stutter for a moment feeling daniela clench around her tighter, a breathy moan falling from her lips, her facade faltering for just a second. but she’s quick to go back to her previous pace, hips snapping against daniela’s. 

daniela is only getting louder, whines and moans leaving her lips without any care, forgetting where they were and how they definitely shouldn’t be doing this. tears well up in her eyes from the pleasure mixed with megan’s nails digging into her skin, surely leaving marks. her grip on the table falters, hands aimlessly landing on the glass palms flat. she can barely hold herself up, the only real thing keeping her from falling forward is megan’s grip on her hair pulling her back every time she thrusts back in. 

megan’s hand moves from daniela’s hip, crescent marks indented in the dancer’s skin, and she brings her hand to her mouth. she originally goes to clamp it over daniela’s mouth to quiet her at least a little bit, knowing they only had a little bit of time before someone would come looking for the latina. but, to megan’s surprise, daniela opens her mouth and takes two of megan’s fingers in her mouth. 

“fuck, baby,” megan breathes out, pushing her fingers further into her mouth. “you look like such a slut right now, i should film this.” she releases her grip on daniela’s hair, grabbing her by the front of her neck instead. she squeezes a little bit, and daniela’s eyes roll back, walls clenching around megan as little moans come past her mouth. they both know megan would never actually film them during the act, but the thought and seriousness in her words has daniela tinkering on the edge of release. 

daniela tries to speak, but her speech only comes out gurgled around megan’s fingers, drool dribbling down her lips and coating megan’s fingers. 

“mm? what’s that, princess?” megan taunts, laughing a little. she angles her hips more and manages to go deeper, making daniela whine around her fingers. 

“gon…cum,” daniela barely manages to get out. 

megan smiles. “yeah? you gonna cum all over my cock, baby?” 

daniela nods quickly, subconsciously pushing back against her meeting every thrust, clenching around her tightly. 

“go on, then,” megan tells her. 

megan pulls her fingers out of daniela’s mouth, moving back to land a harsh slap on her ass, making the dancer let out a sharp gasp. daniela lets out a long moan, her whole body shaking in megan’s arms as megan’s hand tightens around her throat, making dots form in her vision as she cums. 

“fuck yeah,” megan smiles, kissing her shoulder blade. she lets go of her throat and both hands grab daniela’s hips, now focusing on her own orgasm that was quickly approaching. “god, you feel so good,” she moans. “gonna let me cum inside you, baby?” 

it’s technically a question, but daniela knows megan won’t take no for an answer this time. she already had that feeling when she first saw the way megan was handling her. 

daniela nods, her body slumping over now that megan wasn’t holding her up. “please. please, fill me up, meg, please,” she cries, tears finally spilling over due to the overstimulation and megan not stopping. 

megan’s thrusts turn more erratic and out of rhythm, hips stuttering before she stills, a groan leaving her throat while she cums. “fuck…” 

the room is silent now, the music long over, and only their mixed breathing fills the otherwise quiet room. after a minute, megan slowly pulls out of daniela, still leaning over her. 

“you okay?” she asks quietly. 

daniela nods weakly. “yeah,” she replies in the same voice. “i don’t think i  can go back to work, though. i can’t feel my legs.” 

“i’ll talk to them, don’t worry,” megan says. 

a warm feeling radiates through daniela at how nonchalantly megan says it, when just a few months ago she didn’t even want to step foot inside the club again knowing she would have to face other people looking at her girlfriend.

“okay,” daniela nods again. 

“c’mon.” megan slowly stands and pulls her pants up, grabbing daniela’s hand and pulling her up with her. 

daniela leans against megan who pulls her thong back up her legs, and smiles up at her. 

“i really liked you like that,” she tells her. 

“huh?” megan looks at daniela, blinking. “oh, uh really?” 

“mhm,” daniela hums. “do it more.” 

“okay.” megan nods. “uh, noted.” 

daniela giggles and kisses her cheek. “i love you.” 

“i love you too.” 

having two girlfriends was either heaven or hell, it was simply unpredictable, especially with the schedule getting more and more hectic each month. performing so many shows and receiving so many nominations only warrants some relief and rewards, right?

oh, how much lara was starved of touch despite always around her friend group at all times. no matter what, orlando wasn’t enough for lara, and lara was so clueless as to why. she went to go to daniela’s room to ask dani for some advice, seeing that dani has a boyfriend as well. but, it turns out they both had the same problem, wanting more, more than their own partners can give.

they were so focused on riding on eachother’s thighs that they didn’t notice megan walking in, seeing them so sexually frustrated. lara saw megan at the doorway, stumbling on her words, wanting to explain to megan that ‘it’s not what she thinks they’re doing.’ it only made megan awkwardly step away, but dani thought of something, she didn’t want megan to go just yet, oh, no, dani invited her in. the two desperate girls got off of each other, sitting on dani’s bed properly as megan approached, feeling as if her chest is tight.

hearing their problems made megan think of a good idea in her greedy head, she made a small offer to them for the three of them to fuck and make out whenever they’re just pissed at their boyfriends for not doing the bare minimum. surprisingly, the two agreed. megan was going to have the best time of her life.

lara was clingy, she always has been, but megan would never think she would be this needy, always trying to grind herself on megan’s lap, always trying to get megan’s attention by doing something megan loved (or hated if lara wanted more of megan) seeing her do, and always needing megan like a drug she can’t quit. megan wouldn’t know what to do in that situation, her sweaty hands ends up gripping lara’s hips, signaling that they need to take care of this issue privately.

lara loves to take megan into the closest bathroom (or storage closet if the bathroom seemed too risky), sometimes lara needs it so bad that they fuck right after locking the door, lara pinned against the door as megan is already rushing to get lara’s pesty sliver shorts off, almost ripping it off from how pissed megan is by the reminder of jonah existing, but it was too expensive anyways, lara paid for that shit, and megan wasn’t having it.

it depended on what lara wanted, but megan wouldn’t wasted time, slowly building her tongue’s pace. megan’s tongue moving to please lara, to please lara’s aching and throbbing clit. if lara doesn’t cum from her tongue because of how pent up she was, then megan would use her fingers as lara struggled to stay quiet, letting small whines and megan’s name fall out of her drooling mouth. if they weren’t so busy, they’d be in there for hours.

lara loved to flirt, even when it was all bark and no bite, lara initiated flirtations first in the relationship, it was always her trying to get under their skin, to see how long they’d crack. megan would always succumb to it while daniela would have a flirt-off with lara. sometimes megan would flirt back, but mostly fails to land. lara thinks it’s cute, and it only fuels the fire in lara.

daniela and lara’s competition was no joke. whenever megan was busy doing something else or just wasn’t in the mood, it was up to them to please each other, but they refused to be a bottom at first, tossing and turning on their bed as they rocked their hips against each other, their wetness slid on each other’s skin as they fought for dominance. usually, lara would win, pinning daniela’s hands to the pillow, humping on her body, making her take what lara was giving, and daniela was too tired after their extra dance practice, so she’ll deal with it for now.

daniela was needy as well, but she doesn’t show it like lara, instead she suppresses it until its’ bottle leaks of exhaustion from holding herself back from grinding everywhere. she ends up in megan’s room, her excuse she used was to ‘catch up like old buddies’, but megan could tell by the tone of her voice, how dani’s throat bobbed from swallowing her ever growing saliva on her tongue, and especially when dani plays with her curly hair.

how could megan resist her sweet girl? after all, megan was plotting on her so bad and hated her selfish boyfriend, jonah, megan never wants to see dani with him ever again, the temptation to call up jonah while megan’s hand is knuckles deep inside dani’s pussy was strong, but megan didn’t want to ruin her ‘perfect’ and ‘stable’ relationship (it would be stable if his girlfriend didn’t always go to be fucked by her girl best friend).

daniela would eat out megan if she wasn’t sexually frustrated, just frustrated frustrated with the way jonah acts nowadays, only wanting her to promote his brand, but dani would rather bury her face in megan’s cunt than wear his brand again, but alas, she contradicts herself more often than she should. it makes megan so upset, looking over at dani’s suitcase with jonah’s bitchy brand plastered on it. it makes megan want to fuck her more often to prove a point, to prove that megan’s better than he is and will forever be.

megan liked to go to daniela’s a bunch, it would be like her second room. megan would be there to hang out, but getting reminded of how pretty daniela was would really drag megan back to reality. megan ends up in between daniela’s legs, all teary eyed as she wanted to please daniela, a pillow under megan’s legs for megan to rub her wet spot on as she looked up at dani who was endlessly praising her in a mumbled mix of english and spanish.

megan was a huge freak, into almost everything that was legal. megan would not stop staring at lara and daniela’s abs at rehearsal, the way sweat moving along their curves, how their muscles would tense and relax while they do literally anything. megan blamed herself for not controlling herself better, but all she can think about it riding their sculptured abs intol megan couldn’t anymore, until megan’s legs would cramp from how long they would be in the same place.

megan definitely touches herself when she feels like she’s too shy to ask for help down there, her door is always unlocked for them to walk in on megan using her fingers instead of calling out to one of her girlfriends to deal with it. sometimes she’d text and call them, hoping her phone would pick up on her small moans and wet noises her pussy already had from hearing them talk. of course, they’d notice how naughty megan is. lara would give her a small punishment, which is only simple! edging megan for hours, watching her legs shake and tense up, begging to cum, but lara doesn’t, not until megan understands that it’s okay to reach out.

lara was relentless with the dick despite being the one that bottoms the most, grip always tight on their hips as she tried to release every bit of her anger, interlocking her hands whenever they’d grip on the sheets. lara loved seeing them shake under her, love seeing how she was the one making them feel so cared for and fulfilled. in rare moments or if they asked, lara would go slow, most of the time when she can, lara would play one of her sex playlist based on the mood. lara definitely spanks their ass or clit. she’d be rough to blow off some steam, and then give the most aftercare ever, ordering anything they want, making anything they want, and cuddling as much as they want. lara doesn’t care what position as long as it both benefits them, and she does hope they don’t get mad at her when she marks every part of their body.

megan would go slow, wanting to give the receiving end pleasure first before hers, even if she’s already whispered from going inside their warmth. megan gets so ecstatic to be so intimate with her significant other. megan would chase her high after, moving quick, wanting to feel everything, moaning in their ear and saying how good they felt and how good they were doing. megan would cuddle with them afterwards, feeling a little limp, usually the other had to take care of megan, but it’s not like they mind even when megan felt bad for it. megan does pay for the favour, so it’s not all bad!

daniela was a perfect mix of megan and lara. dani liked doing missionary, this was her first time doing anything like this, a mere beginner she was, can you blame her? daniela kisses them slowly, she was taking her precious time with them. dani was careful not to leave any evidence of their lovemaking. megan loved when dani was on top, but never told anyone, of course, why megan do that? it would only fuel a war between dani and lara... megan plans to on break, so they can fight over her as much as they wanted!

when lara was too desperate for release, daniela and megan would take extra measures... lara isn’t surprised or disgusted when megan is is on her mouth while daniela played with lara’s dripping pussy, in fact, she loved it. lara would let everything out, it doesn’t matter since it gets muffled because of megan. lara gives her all, sucking and swirling her tongue, her noises vibrating on megan’s skin.

the williams motorhome sits wedged between the barrier and the pit lane wall like it always does in monaco.

smaller than it looks on television, louder than anywhere else you've ever been, smelling permanently of tire rubber and industrial cleaner and whatever the caterers are burning two floors up.

thursday. practice day. the harbor shimmers behind the wall if you look up from the right angle, which nobody does, because looking up in the paddock is what tourists do.

and you're not a tourist.

you've been racing here since you were twenty.

all three seasons in this same garage, two podiums on this specific stretch of asphalt, and a reputation for going deeper into the hairpin than anyone has any business going. williams likes you for it. sponsors love you for it.

carlos sainz, your teammate, thinks you're slightly unhinged for it and he is probably right.

he finds you in the garage, leaning against your car's nose cone with your arms crossed, watching the mechanics work on the floor. you're in the team’s kit, navy williams polo, sleeves straining at your biceps, which is either a sizing issue or the gym has gotten out of hand. you stopped caring which one is it a long time ago.

"hey," he says. comes to stand next to you. "my sister's coming to the paddock today."

you don't look up from the floor.

"okay." you nod once, direct. almost disinterested.

"she's a model and probably won't care about any of this." he gestures at the garage, the car, the controlled chaos of two dozen mechanics doing their jobs.

you glance at him. "why are you telling me this?"

he gives you that look. the one that says you know exactly why.

you do know why. you have a reputation in the paddock that has nothing to do with your lap times.

"i'll behave," you say.

he doesn't look convinced. you return your attention to the mechanic on the floor.

you forget about what you said twenty minute after.

there's a technical briefing, then a debrief from the engineers, then a half hour where you're supposed to be eating something before the afternoon session but instead you're standing outside the motorhome with your phone, squinting into the thursday sun.

monaco during may has this specific quality of light; gold and almost aggressive, bouncing off every reflective surface in the paddock until the whole place feels overexposed. like everything's been turned up slightly past what it was meant to be.

you're reading something that isn't important when you hear carlos's voice from the paddock walkway.

and then you look up and see his sister.

she's taller than you expected.

not tall like you because you've got five or six inches on her easily but the model thing makes sense immediately. you observe the way she moves through the paddock like the space is slightly smaller than it should be for her.

she's wearing wide-leg white linen trousers and a dark fitted tank, thin straps, nothing complicated. a pair of oversized sunglasses pushed up into her brown, wavy, thick hair. simple silver earrings.

she looks like she got dressed without thinking about it.

her face, from where you're standing, is a lot. jaw, nose, the geometry of it. sharp in the right places.

she's looking around the paddock with an expression that isn't bored; boredom is lazy, and her face isn't lazy but something cooler. observational. taking inventory of everything around her.

you watch her do it.

carlos is talking to her. she nods. smiles at something he says, and the smile is warm, quick, real and reserved for him specifically, not for the paddock.

she hasn't seen you yet. and you can’t wait to make your presence known.

carlos spots you and waves you over. "this is my sister, daniela."

she turns and looks at you.

and there it is. that observational look, up then down, settling at your face with the sunglasses still in her hair and her chin lifted by half an inch. the adjustment is quick and she doesn't make it obvious, but you catch it. you're used to catching it.

"hi," she says.

"hi, i’m y/n y/l/n" you put your hand out. she takes it. her grip is firm, which you note, and her hand is cool from the water bottle she's been holding at her side.

"carlos didn't mention you were—" she seems to reconsider the sentence.

"what," you question, finding it amusing.

a small smile. "nothing." she drops your hand.

you feel immediately that she is going to be a problem.

"first time in monaco?" you ask.

"second. i came four years ago." she's looking at the pit lane, the cars, the controlled mess of it all. "it's smaller than i remembered."

"most things are, when you come back." you smile.

"most things," she repeats. not agreement. more like she's filing the sentence somewhere, turning it over.

"have you been to milan?" you ask. "for work perhaps?"

"milan, paris, new york. depends on the season." she looks back at you. the sun is doing something specific to her face, catching the angle of her jaw, the line of her nose and you are registering all of it simultaneously with the part of your brain that catalogs and the separate part that should probably mind its own business.

"do you always ask questions like a someone from the press, or is this specifically for me?" she questions, not bothered but amused.

you smile. slow, deliberate. "specifically for you."

she doesn't smile back. but something shifts in her expression. a small recalculation. like you've changed the math and she's running it again quietly.

carlos comes back from wherever he wandered. the moment closes. you let her slip away.

the afternoon session runs long.

by the time you're out of the car and through the debrief it's past six, the light is gone, the paddock beginning to thin. you shower in the motorhome and change into a clean dark shirt, nothing promotional, the kind of thing you wear when you're not being a brand.

and you're not thinking about carlos's sister when you head down to the hospitality level.

except you totally are.

the williams hospitality suite at monaco has glass panels along the back wall that look out over the harbor. the water in the evening is a different color than in the afternoon, it’s deeper, less gold, more indigo, the kind of blue that only exists in this specific city at this specific hour. the catering team has done a little more than usual with the tables tonight. it's monaco week. everyone performs slightly harder.

daniela is already there.

she's changed. a dark dress, some draped fabric that sits off one shoulder in a way that looks unplanned and a thin gold chain that catches the light when she moves. low black heels. her hair down and settled, the kind of looseness that takes effort to achieve.

the latina is standing with two of the williams comms team, holding a glass of white wine, and she's smiling at something one of them said, a real smile, warm and quick, the one she doesn't hand out to everyone.

you get a drink. you sit with your engineer and go over the next day setup in your head while you eat, because that is your job and the job doesn't pause for dinners.

you don't look at her more than necessary.

which means you look at her approximately fourteen times in an hour.

you notice, each time, that she doesn't look back.

you have spent your career in rooms full of people who don't look at you and it has never once registered as a thing worth noting.

the comms team drifts away. carlos gets pulled into something with the team principal at the far end of the room. daniela settles alone at the table with her phone face-down, wine glass in hand, and looks out through the glass panels.

you have no logical reason to do what you do next.

you pick up your drink and cross the room towards her.

she looks up when you sit down. doesn't say anything. she sets her phone down and waits. there's something in how she waits — like she knew you were coming, like she's already further along in this conversation than you are.

"how's the wine?" you ask.

"it’s fine." she folds one leg over the other. "how's the dinner?"

"also fine" you take a sip of your drink.

outside, the harbor is lit, the boats still on dark water, the buildings stacked and pale and illuminated behind them, monaco doing its particular thing at night where everything looks slightly fake because nothing that expensive is supposed to actually exist.

"what does it feel like," she says suddenly. "the car."

you weren't expecting that.

"depends on the day," you say.

"what about today?"

you think about the afternoon session. the heat rising off the asphalt in the tunnel. the way sound becomes physical in there. the car getting loose into the chicane and then catching, the exact sensation of the rear stepping out and coming back. three seconds of controlled falling. then the wall, then the instinct to hold the line.

"like something that's always about to become something else," you say. "you're right on the edge of the next thing the whole time. and then it happens, and there's half a second where you know you made it. and then you have to turn on the next corner."

she's looking at you. there's something behind her eyes and you don't know her well enough to name it. you are generally good at reading rooms. she isn't offering you any translation.

"i know what that feels like," she says and it doesn't sound like flattery. it sounds like a fact she's decided to share.

"i bet you do," you say. quiet.

you're closer than you realized, your elbows on the table, both of you leaning in without deciding to and the overhead light is low enough that you're inside it together. her chain catching at her sternum. her face is a few degrees of angle from yours.

she doesn't look away.

under the table, you feel her foot against yours. barely. the kind of contact that could be an accident.

it isn't an accident.

you don't move. neither does she.

carlos comes back to the table with something to say about the team and the room opens back up around you. you finish your drink. the evening moves. but her foot stays exactly where it is for the next forty minutes.

you are both perfectly aware of it without saying anything about it at all.

you find her again later.

it's near ten when the dinner starts breaking up and you slip out the side door of the hospitality suite onto the service terrace. it's a narrow strip of space behind the motorhome with two white chairs, a railing, the paddock below and the harbor beyond it.

the night doing that monaco thing where the darkness isn't quite dark because everything is lit from the lights of the city.

you've been up here before. when the rooms get loud, when the sponsor conversations go an hour past useful, when you need to be somewhere without walls or people for five minutes.

you're standing at the railing with your third drink of the night when you hear the door.

she doesn't look surprised to find you here.

"carlos is looking for you," daniela says casually. she comes to stand at the railing beside you, a few inches of air between your arms.

"carlos knows where i go."

she's close enough that you can see the city lights reflected in her earrings. she looks out at the boats, her forearms resting on the railing. the chain falls forward when she leans.

you let the quiet sit.

"what's your boat called?" she asks interested while looking at the harbor.

"princesa." you whisper.

she turns her head to look at you. something shifts in her expression.

"princesa," she repeats it a perfect spanish accent. looking at you like she's deciding what to do with that information.

"it’s quite a story," you say. "bought her three years ago. she's there." you point along the port to where the princesa sits; sixty feet, white hull, lit at the stern. not the biggest boat in there and not trying to be.

daniela looks at her for a long moment.

"she's beautiful," she says. quiet, and she means it.

"i know." you smile at her. memories of the day you bought it and named in honor of one of the most important person in your life, came rushing into your mind.

you're both quiet again. below, the building is thinning out, the lighting on the garages dimming to maintenance level. the music from the port reaches up here.

"how long have you been doing this," she asks. "formula one."

"since i was seventeen. karting before that." you put your drink down on the ledge. "my whole life has been this. every decision. every morning, afternoon and nights of my life"

"does that bother you? " she tilts her head.

you think about it. the real answer, not the interview answer.

"no," you say. "i chose it every time. everyday even when i didn't have to, i still chose it." you pause. "i don't know how to want something halfway."

she's looking at you now. not the same look from earlier in the paddock but softer, like she's adding something new to what she already has.

"no," she says, finally. "you don't look like you do."

the air between you is different than it was inside. smaller. the whole terrace is three meters wide and you are occupying it together and the distinction between the space that is yours and the space that is hers has gotten very unclear.

"tell me more about you," you say. "about your travels, about what you do there."

she's quiet for a moment. considering, you think, how much to give you.

"there's a studio in paris near the marais i've been going to for five years," she says. "the photographer there, an older woman, she's been working since the seventies and she's the only person i've ever worked with who shoots without telling you what to do. she just waits." daniela pauses. "most people can't work like that. they need direction, need to be told where to put their face. but she waits until you do something real, and then she takes it."

"and you can do that," you say. "the real thing."

"it took me a long time," she says. "to stop performing and just… be there." daniela pauses. "now it's the only way i know how to work."

you look at her profile. the line of her jaw in monaco’s lights.

"so right now," you say. "are you performing?"

you both pause.

"no," she says. she doesn't look at you when she says it. "i stopped about three hours ago."

something moves in your chest. you don't do anything with it.

you reach out and put two fingers under her chin. gently. turn her face toward you.

daniela lets you.

up close, her eyes are very dark and steady, and she's looking at you the way a photographer waits, like she's already somewhere past the pretense, already at the thing underneath.

"i have a bottle of something good on the princesa," you say. "and it's ten o'clock on a thursday in monaco."

she holds your gaze. the calculation happens fast; you see it, the decision assembling.

"how far is it from here," daniela says.

"eight minutes"

she looks at you for one more second.

"then let's go," she says.

the dock is quiet.

you go through the paddock exit badge-first, the security guard not looking up, then out through the rue de la piscine and down toward the port, the two of you walking close but not touching or at least not yet, that's a choice you're both making, letting the anticipation stay a little longer.

monaco at eleven smells like money and salt water and something floral from the hotels above the port. her heels on the dock boards are the loudest thing.

the princesa sits lit at her stern, fenders out, the water beneath her black and still. you step aboard first and offer her a hand down.

she takes your hand, and steps down into the cockpit light.

she looks around mesmerized by her surroundings.

the princesa has an interior that someone very good spent a long time on. it’s decorated with warm-toned wood, low lighting. there are books in the salon. an actual rug. a painting on the forward bulkhead that you bought at a small gallery in lisbon two seasons ago because it reminded you of something you couldn't quite name.

daniela takes it in with that observational expression. but something in her face is warm.

"i didn't know what to expect," she says.

"what did you expect?” you ask with curiosity.

"more mirrors," she says. "more things to look at yourself in."

"i spend enough time looking at myself on tv."

she laughs at that, real laugh, quick and unguarded, different from the ones she gave carlos at dinner. you grin at that.

you go below and open the wine, a white burgundy, the good one, the kind you keep on the boat for nights that earn it and when you come back up she's standing at the stern rail looking at the lights of the other boats and the buildings above the port, the whole lit-up dreamlike version of monaco at night.

you hand her a glass. she doesn't move from the rail.

"it's different from here," she says. "the city."

"always is, on the water." you stand beside her. you're close. the terrace back at the motorhome was three meters wide. this deck is narrower.

"do you sleep here?" she asks.

"when i can. not on race weekend, it’s too close to the paddock, team has opinions about my sleep schedule." you look out at the water. "but the weeks before and after. i'd live here if i could."

daniela is quiet. she takes a sip of wine and you watch her throat when she swallows, the chain catching.

"why princesa," she asks, with interest.

"my grandmother called my mother that. she called me that too, when i was small." you don't usually tell people that. it comes out uncalculated.

"my mother died when i was fifteen. the year i started taking the karting seriously." you pause. "it felt like the right name. something carried forward."

she turns and looks at you.

"i'm sorry, y/n" she says and means it; you can tell the difference by now, the weight of a real one versus a polite one.

"i know," you say. "it's fine. she'd have hated all this." you gesture at the boat, the port, the whole thing. "she thought racing was stupid and dangerous."

"it really is stupid and dangerous." her shoulders drop.

"yes, you’re right" you say shrugging it off "but here we are."

she sets her wine glass down on the ledge. she turns to face you fully now, closer.

"here we are," she whispers.

you put your free hand at her waist. just the palm of it, fingers at the curve, testing. she doesn't move back. she looks up at you with her lifted chin, her hand finds the front of your shirt.

you set your drink down next to hers.

and then you pull her in.

her mouth is delicate; you savor the sweet gloss on her plump lips.

she kisses you the way she moved through the paddock, like she's already past the opening question, already decided this is fine, already somewhere ahead of you.

her hands are in your shirt, fingers curled against your chest, and you have one hand at her jaw and one at the small of her back

you pull back. look at her.

"want to go below?" you say.

she looks up at you with hooded eyes and nods.

the princesa's master cabin is in the bow; a proper bed. white linen. a small porthole above the waterline that shows the black water and the lights of the port upside-down. a lamp on the forward bulkhead that puts out warm gold light.

she looks around the cabin with that same taking-in expression. then she looks at you.

you reach out and trace the chain with one finger, from the clasp at the back of her neck, over her collarbone, down to where it settles against her sternum.

she watches you do it.

"you've been looking at this all night," daniela says.

"it’s beautiful, it suits you."

"i know." her hands come up to your chest. palms flat, feeling the breadth of you. she takes her time.

"you're very strong," she says. not a complaint. information.

"is that a problem?” you whisper, your hands secured around her waist.

"no." she tilts her head back to look at your face. "i just want to feel all of it."

you bring both hands to her face and tilt it up and kiss her again, slower, the door is now closed, the boat rocking barely under you. she grips your shoulders and you feel the exact position of her thumbs.

you reach for the zip at the side of her dress. she helps shifts her arm, finds it with you. the fabric loosens and falls. she steps out of it without looking down, keeps her eyes on you, and in the lamp light daniela is breathtaking. you take a moment to appreciate her.

"what?" she asks, aware of her naked figured.

"nothing." you put your hands at her waist. "just looking."

the latina makes a sound that isn't quite a laugh and reaches for your belt.

“you know, staring isn't exactly the politest way to show appreciation." her hands works to unfasten your belt, her movements slow, almost teasing.

"but then again," daniela adds, her tone dipping just a little, "i don’t mind the attention." the latina mumbles under her breath "in fact..." her hands leaving your belt to run up your chest, feeling the texture of your shirt, "...i might even enjoy it."

daniela hands move to the buttons of your shirt, undoing them one by one. she takes her time, her knuckles occasionally brushing against your bare skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“maybe I like knowing you can't keep your eyes off me," she murmurs. "it’s… flattering." the latina grins, undoing the last button and pushing your shirt open.

her gaze drops to your now bare chest admiring the sight of you. daniela’s delicate hands trace the lines of your chest muscles, her touch light but electrifying.

she lets out a soft sigh, her eyes flickering back to yours. "you're just so fucking sexy, you know that?" she says, stepping even closer. "it's almost unfair." she bites her lip, leaning forward to press a kiss to your collarbone.

you sigh loudly, your head dropping a little to watch her next movements.

daniela continues a path of light kisses up the side of your neck, her hands roaming across your shoulders, down your biceps, scratching your abs.

she hums softly in appreciation, feeling all your strength beneath her fingertips.

her lips reach your earlobe and she sucks gently, her breath warm against your skin. "so strong," she murmurs again, her hands drifting down to your hips, where she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your pants.

“you're too damn handsome for your own good," the brunette whispers, her voice thick with desire.

your hands work along hers as you help her remove your pants, sending the article of clothing pooling around your ankles.

daniela’s gaze drops to your lower half, her eyes taking in the sight, her cheeks flushing slightly. she lets out a soft breath, a hint of anticipation in her voice.

“what?” you smirk, your hand grabbing hold of your hard cock.

"you're so..." she starts, her words trailing off as her hand reaches out to cup your cheek. daniela’s fingers trace the edge of your jaw, her touch soft but deliberate. she steps forward, her body pressing against yours.

and then you watch daniela sink to her knees in front of you, her movements graceful and confident.

there's an air of excitement mixed with a hint of mischief in her eyes. her touch is firm, yet delicate as she wraps her hands around your length. you can practically feel the heat coming off her.

She looks up at you from under her lashes, her tongue darting out to wet her plump lips. “you know what they say—" she purrs, "bigger is better, right?"

you grin at her comment and daniela can’t help but return your same energy, her eyes sparkling with desire

then, as she takes you in her mouth, that look in her eyes turns into something a little bit devilish. as she hollows her cheeks, she looks up at you, waiting for whatever comes next.

your grip tightens around the back of her neck just enough to guide her, and daniela doesn't flinch, instead, she relaxes her throat and takes you deeper, her hands resting lightly on your thighs.

“mmh—" the sound is muffled by your cock in her mouth, like she’s laughing at you without saying a word. her fingers dig into your skin just a little, nails pressing into your muscles.

you moan her name without shame.

your thrusts grow quicker, more urgent; each push drawing a muffled gasp from daniela as she fights to keep up. her long nails dig deeper into your hips, her breaths ragged through her nose, but she doesn’t stop you.

you grab her long hair in your hand and go even deeper; the sensation of her warm mouth taking your whole length without any difficulty is driving you insane.

and just as you’re getting on the edge, she does something; flattening her tongue and humming, the vibration tearing another mown from your throat.

her eyes lock onto yours, dark with triumph. and you know she’s daring you to come.

the second your release hits her tongue, daniela's smirk grows even as she works to swallow every last drop of your cum. she pulls back slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, but her eyes never leave yours.

“you’re delicious, y/n” she grins “just as i expected”

the latina surges up onto her knees and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on her lips.

you finally push her to the bed taking off her tiny black underwear in the process.

she's warm under you and all you can think about at first, her skin against yours. she looks up at you with that dark steady gaze and her hair spread against the pillow.

daniela shivers as your lips brush across her skin, a soft gasp escaping as you shower her with kisses. her hands move to tangle in your hair, fingers clenching as she trembles beneath you. but then something in her eyes hardens and she bites her lip.

you know she wants more.

and so, you give it to her.

daniela arches beneath you, her breath hitching as your mouth moves lower, teasing. her fingers tighten in your hair, not pulling, just holding you close, like she’s afraid you’ll stop.

then you don’t tease anymore.

her hips jerk the second your tongue drags over her pussy, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat.

“fuck—" her legs tense, one heel digging into the mattress, the other hooking over your shoulder like an anchor.

every flick of your tongue, every suck has her squirming, her breath coming in ragged little pants. “y/n—" it’s half a whine, half a warning, but she doesn’t push you away. instead, her grip on your hair tightens, her thighs trembling as you work her toward the edge with precision.

you can feel that she's close, the tension wound so tight in her body. one more drag of your tongue along her folds, one more suck and a twist, and she's shaking, her breath coming in harsh gasps now.

she falls apart completely in your mouth. it’s wet, it’s warm and you swear it’s your favorite taste in the whole world.

daniela’s back bows, her fingers clenching in your hair, and the sound she makes are shameless. it’s loud, desperate, and so utterly wrecked that you can't help but feel satisfied of your performance.

her body is still trembling as she gasps for air, the aftershocks coursing through her as you continue. then you kiss her, tongue diving into her mouth, and she can taste herself on you.

she arches into the kiss, chasing it, greedy even now. her hands are everywhere, roaming over your skin, nails scraping your arms, like she's trying to mark you.

“díos, y/n” she chases your lips, pecking and biting

you kiss her neck. “you’re gonna ruin me, dani”.

she smiles. completely satisfied with your comment, she can feel your hard shaft pressing into her cunt. you need her. she knows exactly how to drive you insane.

daniela’s hands grip she sheets as she shifts to all fours. she looks over her shoulder at you, eyes dark with desire, her lips curled in a smirk.

"what're you waiting for, papi?" she purrs. "don't keep me waiting."

you almost short-circuited right there.

daniela arches her back slightly, giving you a perfectly clear view of exactly what's on offer and exactly what she wants. It's a shameless tease, and she knows what it does to you.

she shivers as your hands close around her hips, her back arching slightly more at the contact. she feels the heat of you pressed against her, and the anticipation makes her breathless.

her voice is low, almost a whisper, when she speaks.

"don’t be gentle with me," she murmurs. "i can take it."

the latina words send a surge of heat through you, and you adjust your hold on her hips, your fingers digging in just a little bit rougher than before. she can feel the change and her breath catches.

“are you sure about that?" you ask, your voice dropping to a rough whisper.

daniela shivers at the tone in your voice. there's something about it, the low whisper, the hint of warning that makes her heart race, her breaths coming in harsher pants.

"yes." her answer is immediate, "i'm sure. don't hold back."

she looks back at you over her shoulder, her expression a mix of confidence and excitement. it’s like she wants you to show her what you're made of.

daniela gasps as you finally push into her, her fingers clenching the sheets beneath her. you stretch her so good. her pussy walls are warm and the sensation is delicious and overwhelming.

"f-fuck—" her voice is already wrecked, her body arching back against you instinctively.

she doesn’t finish the sentence, because you start moving; her moans come in ragged bursts, her hips rocking back to meet each thrust.

"y-yes— like that, just like—" she moans as you pick up the pace. your hands guiding her hips to meet your thrusts.

“you’re so sexy like this, dani” you bit your lips while moving inside her.

daniela's cries grow louder as you drive into her, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure through her body. she bites her lip hard enough to leave marks, but it doesn't stop the moans from slipping free.

her hands grab on the sheets, twisting them into fists as she pushes back against you, matching your rhythm with desperate urgency. "papi, voy a—" she moans loudly.

the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, mingling with her whimpers. her body trembles, legs shaking, she's close, you can feel she’s close, and she can't hold back anymore.

the latina’s body locks up as the climax crashes through her. a silent scream parting her lips before she finally finds her voice again in a sharp cry. her back arches impossibly deeper, pressing flush against your chest as she shakes beneath you.

you can’t hold back anymore and release all your cum inside her while still thrusting into her slowly, riding out you orgasm.

for a moment, neither of you speak. you both just stay there, catching your breath and trying to gather your thoughts. then, finally, daniela breaks the silence with a soft smile. with her head against your chest.

"...you didn’t disappoint me at all."

and she finally collapses forward, you slip out of her as she breaths heavily against the mattress, she turns her head just enough to glare at you through hazy, satisfied eyes.

“i’m glad you think so” you smile at her, your eyes locked on hers. you collapse next to her.

later she's on her back looking at the porthole.

you're on yours. your arm is around her and her head is on your shoulder and the chain is cold against your skin where it falls between you.

the boat rocks, barely. the harbor makes small sounds against the hull.

"i have an early flight," she says. casually.

"so you’re going back to paris" you knew it.

"yeah, paris." she whispers.

your heart beats a little too fast now.

"i don’t want you you to leave," you say. vulnerability is written all over your face.

daniela doesn't say anything. but she turns, settles in closer and puts her hand flat on your chest, over your sternum, the same weight as before except now you're in the bow of the princesa and the whole evening is stacked up behind the gesture.

you put your hand over hers.

you don't sleep for a while, lying there, the boat rocking under both of you.

you think about the corridor earlier. the displaced air when she passed too close. her foot under the table that she never moved. you think about her face on the deck, looking out at the harbor.

she breathes slow and even against your shoulder.

you close your eyes and let sleep consume you.

she's gone before six am.

you’re half-wake when the latina gets up. she’s careful, practiced, the movements of someone who has had early flights her whole adult life. the bathroom. the zip of her dress. the particular quiet of someone holding their breath so they don't wake you.

you let her think it's working.

you hear her pause at the cabin door. two seconds, three. four.

then the sound of her footsteps on the ladder. the dock boards. then nothing.

you look at the porthole. the sky is just starting to lighten past the port, the lights of monaco going amber in the early hours.

you sleep again. but without her in your arms.

carlos finds you in the garage at eight forty-five. coffee in hand, setup sheet in the other, a look on his face that you identify and do not acknowledge.

"had a good night?" he asks nonchalantly

"fine," you say. you take the coffee from him.

he doesn't push it. you like that about him.

you strap in at nine for the morning session and the helmet goes on and the paddock disappears, carlos disappears, the princesa disappears, the white linen sheets and the warm cabin and the chain cold against your chest disappear.

and it's just you and the car and the next corner. as always.

into the hairpin you brake later than anyone else on the grid.

you come out clean.

your phone is in your kit bag. you don't check it until after the debrief, after the shower, after the long conversation with your engineer about what you need to make the next session better.

one message.

unknown number:

you were right about the hairpin. it’s stupid.

you stare at it. you're standing in the corridor with your hair damp from the shower and your second coffee going cold as something very inconvenient is happening in your chest.

you:

you watched the whole session?

daniela:

maybe i did. tried to catch a glimpse of you.

you:

paris is one hour away from monaco by plane. six hours by car.

daniela:

are you asking me to come back or telling me you're coming to paris.

you read it twice. your heart rate increases.

you:

which do you want?

daniela:

i’m waiting for you, y/n. don’t make me wait too long.

you read it standing in the corridor in the williams motorhome with the paddock noise all around you. you put your phone in your pocket and go back to work.