maja

​This history makes him hyper-aware of every minuscule shift in your emotional temperature. The moment your energy dips even a fraction, his mind jumps to the worst possible conclusion. You let out a soft, subconscious sigh after a long day? His face falters immediately. You answer a question with a voice two tones quieter than normal? His gaze drops to the floor. You tell him you need an hour to yourself? His entire body turns rigid. In his internal language, your request for space translates directly into a declaration of abandonment. He genuinely hears I don't want you anymore or I am mad at you.

​At first, you find his reactions thoroughly confusing. You mistake his sudden stillness for guilt, or perhaps a strange form of moodiness. You wonder why a simple sentence can make a young man who drives at three hundred kilometers per hour look so remarkably small. It takes time, observation, and soft conversations for you to uncover the root of it all. You realize that he is simply waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting you to revoke your love the way his mother used to.

​Once you understand the blueprint of his fear, you begin to handle him with deliberate, reassuring care. You stop letting silences stretch into question marks. When you feel drained and need a moment to gather your thoughts, you look him straight in the eyes. You reach out, slide your fingers over his hands, and speak with complete clarity.

​“I’m not angry,” you tell him, keeping your tone steady and warm. “I love you. I just need some quiet, okay?”

​You watch the magic of those spoken facts wash over him. The tension lingering in his jaw dissolves. His shoulders immediately drop an inch lower, releasing a breath he seems to have been holding for hours. The simple explicit confirmation acts like a soft safety net beneath his thoughts.

​While your small shifts in mood make him cautious, your departures spark his absolute deepest trigger. Leaving the house without setting a clear timeline sends his anxiety into high gear. It does not matter if you are running a complex errand or simply stepping out to grab a carton of milk from the local grocery store. The sound of keychains rattling makes his head snap up in an instant.

​So, you adapt. You transform your exit into a ritual of pure certainty.

​The next time you grab your keys, you do not let him ask the question first. You walk straight up to him, wrap one arm around his waist, and lean in to press a firm, lingering kiss against his cheek. You look right into his anxious eyes and give him an exact anchor point in time.

​“I’ll be back at seven,” you say softly, holding his gaze. “I promise.”

​Seven becomes a sacred number between the two of you. Seven means safety. Seven means that the door will open again, and the person he loves will walk back through it with the exact same affection she carried when she left.

​Every single time you leave, you keep that promise without fail. If you say seven, you walk through the doorway at six fifty-nine. You watch him sitting on the sofa, tracking the clock on his phone, watching the numbers tick forward. When the lock turns right on time, the relief that floods his face is like watching a heavy storm cloud pass. You are systematically rewriting the script his childhood gave him. You are showing him day by day, hour by hour, that love can be steady, predictable, and entirely safe.

—

The front door shuts with a heavy, final sound, and a few seconds later, footsteps drag slowly down the hallway. Kimi is home from another long, brutal race weekend. The outcome on the track was disappointing, filled with bad luck and missed opportunities, and you can tell from the heavy rhythm of his steps that he is entirely drained. He has already stripped off his shirt, seeking physical comfort to match the emotional weight sitting on his chest.

​You are lying comfortably across the bed, scrolling idly through your phone, when the mattress sinks deeply under his weight. He climbs straight over you, collapsing half his body directly on top of yours, buries his face flush against your chest, resting his cheek flush against your left breast like a weary traveller coming home to a familiar pillow.

​Kimi has always held a deep, grounding obsession with your body, particularly with your breasts. To him, they are a sanctuary, a physical anchor point that instantly resets his racing heart whenever the world outside becomes too loud or overwhelming. The weight of his head against your flesh feels heavy and warm, a deliberate surrender after hours spent fighting a steering wheel at extreme speeds.

​He lets out a long, shuddering sigh, the warm exhale bleeding straight through the thin fabric of your top. His fingers, calloused and strong from gripping carbon fiber, find their way beneath the hem of your shirt. His hand slides upward against your bare skin, smooth and cool, journeying until his palm cups your other breast. His grip is deliberate, finding immediate comfort in the soft, yielding shape. He begins to gently squeeze, massage, and play with your skin, kneading the full curve with a rhythmic, instinctual cadence.

​“Rough Sunday?” you ask softly, setting your phone face down on the nightstand. Your free hand rises automatically, running your fingers through his soft hair, tangling in the curls near the nape of his neck.

​“Everything went wrong,” Kimi murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. His breath warms your collarbone as he speaks, each syllable vibrating directly against your ribcage. “The balance was completely off, the strategy fell apart, and I just couldn't make the car do what I wanted. I feel exhausted.”

​You continue to stroke his hair, applying steady, comforting pressure along his scalp. You know exactly what he needs in moments like this—no sharp critiques, no lectures about lap times or tire management, just pure, unconditional presence.

​“You drove hard, Kimi,” you tell him softly, keeping your voice low and soothing. “Some weekends are just cruel like that. You gave everything you had in the cockpit.”

​He leans deeper into your left breast, shifting his face slightly to nuzzle his nose into your skin. His fingers on your other side continue their steady, rhythmic kneading, his palm shaping and rolling over the soft mound, finding solace in the contrast between your softness and his hardened, exhausted muscles. The physical touch acts like a quiet medicine, untying the knot of tension coiled tight in his spine.

​“I kept thinking about getting back here,” he confesses, his voice dropping into a quiet rumble. His hand presses a little firmer into your right breast, thumbs lightly rubbing over the sensitive skin as he grounds himself in your reality. “When things were falling apart on track, I just kept telling myself that I would be back in this bed, holding you, as soon as the day was over.”

​“I know,” you say, smiling softly as you bend your head down to press a gentle kiss into his hair. “I was waiting for you the whole time.”

​His breathing slowly begins to change, shifting from the ragged, stressed rhythm of a defeated athlete to a slow, steady pulse. He moves his head slightly on your breast, adjusting his angle until his cheek rests perfectly against your heart, listening to the quiet, rhythmic thumping beneath your skin. The constant beat acts as a gentle metronome, guiding his scattered thoughts back into alignment.

​His hand beneath your shirt continues its restless exploration, softly massaging the shape of your breast, his fingers tracing small circles over the skin. It is an instinctual seeking of comfort, a physical need to feel whole after a day spent feeling broken. You adjust your position slightly to give him better access, cradling his shoulders with your arms and pulling him closer into your frame.

​“Does this help?” you ask gently, feeling his body gradually lose its rigid edge.

​“It helps more than anything else in the world,” Kimi answers quietly, his grip softening into a slow, loving hold. “You make it all go away.”

​You stay just like that, allowing the silence between you to grow full and rich with comfort. You let his weight press down on you, carrying his disappointment together until his mind settles entirely into the warmth of your skin.

His hand beneath your top grows more active, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths over the warm curve of your breast, pressing and rolling the soft skin between his fingertips with a persistent, magnetic need. His breathing, though calmer now, carries a deep, hummed vibration that reverberates right into your chest.

​He shifts his weight slightly, lifting his head just enough to look down at the fabric separating his lips from your skin. The thin material of your nightgown suddenly feels like an unnecessary barrier to him, a wall keeping him away from the pure sanctuary he seeks. His fingers leave your bare skin for a brief second, sliding down to grab the lower hem of your nightgown.

​"Take it off," Kimi whispers, his voice thick with a quiet, raspy urgency. His dark eyes look up into yours, filled with a raw, vulnerable hunger for warmth. "Please. I need to feel you properly."

​You smile softly, reaching down to help him ease the soft fabric up over your torso. You slip your arms out of the sleeves, allowing him to pull the garment entirely over your head and toss it aside. The cool air hits your bare upper body for a single second before Kimi immediately covers you again, his warm chest pressing down against yours, skin against skin.

​A long, satisfied hum escapes his throat as his bare chest meets yours. The physical contact is immediate and intoxicating for him. His hands instantly find their places, reaching out to cup both of your breasts at once. His large palms fit perfectly over the mounds, fingers spreading wide to hold every bit of your softness. He begins to knead them again, massaging the tender flesh with a renewed, slow intensity that sends small shivers down your spine.

​He tilts his head down, bringing his lips directly to your left breast. He presses a warm, slow kiss against the top curve, feeling the soft rise and fall of your breathing. Then, with a deep, deliberate inhalation, he opens his mouth and takes your nipple into his warmth.

​A sharp gasp slips past your lips as his tongue immediately swoops in, swirling around the sensitive tip with a rhythmic, suckling motion. You wrap your fingers tight through his soft curls, holding his head close to your body, letting him take as much of you as he needs. He drinks from you like a man who has been wandering through a dry, exhausting desert for days, seeking every drop of comfort your body offers.

​"Kimi," you breathe out softly, your hips making a small, subconscious lift toward him.

​He pulls back for a split second, the slick surface of your skin glistening in the faint light, before his mouth eagerly attaches itself right back onto you. He draws you deeper into his warmth, his jaw working in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. His tongue flicks over the peak, teasing the hardening bud while his hand on your other breast continues its firm, steady massaging, rolling the smooth flesh gently between his palm and fingers.

​The sound of his quiet, rhythmic suckling fills the space between you, a sound of absolute surrender and devotion. He uses his lips and tongue to explore every millimeter of your breast, pulling the soft mound deeper into his mouth, tasting the smooth heat of your skin. His hands move down to your waist for a moment, gripping your hips tight to pull your body firmly against his, aligning your lower halves while his mouth remains entirely focused on your chest.

​After a long, intense minute of devouring your left breast, Kimi slowly shifts his head across your chest. His lips trail a path of wet, warm kisses over your sternum, leaving a glistening trail of moisture in his wake. He hovers over your right breast, his hot breath fanning across the sensitive tip, causing a sudden goosebump to spread over your skin.

​"So soft," he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled by the fullness of your breast as his lips close around the second peak. "You taste like home."

​He takes the right nipple deep into his mouth, drawing it in with a steady, firm pressure that makes your core ache with a quiet, rising heat. You arch your back slightly, offering yourself to him completely, allowing him to lose himself entirely in the sensation. His hands slide back up, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other remains firmly cupping your left breast, squeezing the soft mound in perfect rhythm with the movements of his mouth.

​He suckles with a greedy, instinctual rhythm, his tongue swirling continuously around the tight peak, pulling and relaxing in a hypnotic dance. Every move of his jaw sends warm waves of pleasure straight through your lower abdomen. You run your fingernails gently along the smooth skin of his back, tracing the long muscles of his spine, reassuring him with every touch that you are right here, completely open and available to him.

​Kimi continues to feast on you, swapping between slow, gentle pulls and deeper, more demanding suctions. He loses himself completely in the physical reality of your body, letting the lingering disappointment of his race weekend melt away into the heat of your skin. His mind, usually moving at chaotic, high-speed intervals, slows down until the only thing that exists in his universe is the soft weight of your breast in his hand and the sweet, warm taste of you on his tongue. You hold him tightly against you, letting him take every ounce of comfort he desires, feeling his entire body go pliable and relaxed in your arms.

The steady rhythm of his mouth suddenly shifts, taking on a far more urgent, intense quality. The soft, gentle pulls transform into deep, heavy suctions that make your heart hammer violently against your ribs. His hands, previously slow and soothing, tighten their hold on your breasts. He grips the soft flesh with a fierce, demanding pressure, his fingers sinking deep into the mounds, molding and lifting them higher toward his waiting mouth.

​He draws almost the entire globe of your left breast into his heat, his lips stretching wide to accommodate your full curve. His tongue moves with a wild, hungry rhythm, lashing across your hardened peak before flattening out to apply a crushing, pleasurable friction against the sensitive bud. His cheeks hollow out as he pulls on you deeply, drinking you in with an insatiable, desperate appetite.

​A sharp, breathless moan breaks past your lips, your head tilting back into the mattress as heat radiates through your veins. You try to catch your breath, your hands gripping his broad shoulders, but Kimi gives you no reprieve. His right hand squeezes your other breast with a firm, relentless rhythm, his thumb and index finger finding your erect nipple and rolling the hardened bud between his calloused pads, pinching gently, teasing the sensitive nerve endings until stars flash behind your eyes.

​He breaks his seal on your skin for a fraction of a second, his mouth slick and gleaming, his heavy breath hot against your flushed chest. His dark eyes look up at you, filled with a wild, frantic need for complete emotional validation.

​"Please," Kimi rasps out, his voice a low, gravelly demand that vibrates through your core. "Tell me you're staying right here, please."

​You swallow hard, struggling to gather enough air in your lungs to speak. The intense, aggressive friction of his hands on your mounds makes your mind feel thick and hazy, the words sticking in your throat as he immediately dives back down, latching his lips over your right peak with a sudden, greedy latch. He sucks deeply, his jaw working hard, pulling the hardened tip past his teeth while his hands continue to massage, shape, and aggressively knead your soft flesh.

​"You're... you're mine, Kimi," you gasp out, your voice trembling, broken by the overwhelming physical sensations coursing through your body. Your fingers tangle tightly into his dark curls, pulling his face even deeper into your softness. "I'm right here. I'm... I'm never going anywhere."

​He lets out a low, guttural growl deep in his chest, clearly intoxicated by your words. The reassurance acts like gasoline on a fire, fueling his hunger rather than quenching it. He becomes even more aggressive with his affection, his mouth engulfing your breast, pulling you in with a frantic, desperate suction that leaves your whole chest throbbing with warmth. His fingers press deeper into your ribs, holding your body firmly pinned beneath his solid weight, ensuring that every inch of your upper torso remains completely accessible to his mouth.

​His head snaps back over to your left side, his mouth opening wide to devour the hardened peak that he had briefly abandoned. He takes almost all of it into his oral cavity, his tongue swirling in fierce, rapid circles around the entire circle of your areola before gathering the tight bud right at the center and suckling with an intense, unyielding force.

​"Say it again, please." Kimi demands, his speech muffled against your skin, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive base of your breast before his tongue immediately soothes the spot with heavy, wet licks. His hand on your opposite breast works without pause, rolling, pressing, and flicking your hardened nipple with a precise, heavy-handed rhythm that drives you near the edge of sanity.

​"I love you, Kimi," you manage to cry out softly, your body arching up into his touch, offering him every single piece of yourself. "You're safe with me. I'm yours... completely yours."

​He absorbs your words like a starving man, his entire body shuddering against yours. The lingering ghost of his failure on the track, the deep-seated fears of abandonment rooted in his past, all of it gets crushed beneath the overwhelming reality of your presence and your explicit promises. He uses his mouth and hands to anchor himself to you, taking complete possession of your breasts, treating them as his ultimate refuge.

​He continues to feast on your body with a relentless, passionate fever, switching back and forth between your breasts, taking as much of your soft flesh into his mouth as he physically can. He rolls your hardened buds against the roof of his mouth, his tongue working in relentless, rhythmic sweeps that make you writhe beneath him. Every heavy squeeze of his large hands, every deep pull of his lips, and every breathless sentence you force out through your gasps reinforces the unshakeable truth that he is loved, held, and forever safe in your arms.

The frantic intensity in his mouth slowly settles into a deep, rhythmic rhythm. Kimi lifts his head from your slick, flushed breasts, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an overwhelming, tender gaze. He slides his body upward along yours, bringing his face level with yours while his hands remain firmly planted on your chest. His palms cupped around your mounds continue to gently massage and knead your soft skin, his thumbs sweeping across your hardened, sensitive peaks with a slow, hypnotic friction.

​He leans down and presses his lips to yours, initiating a soft, agonizingly tender kiss. The contrast between his earlier aggression and this newfound sweetness makes your chest ache with affection. His mouth tastes like you, warm and slick, his tongue sliding gently past your lips to meld with yours in a quiet, unhurried cadence. You kiss him back deeply, your fingers tracing the back of his neck, feeling the heavy, steady thrum of his pulse beneath his warm skin.

​As his mouth slowly explores yours, your body responds to the magnetic weight of his hips resting against yours. The intense stimulation from his hands continuously working your breasts sends a searing wave of heat straight down to your core. Your hips subconsciously buck upward, rising off the mattress to seek the firm, grounding friction of his lower body. You rub your aching center against the solid ridge of his hips, desperately craving closer contact to soothe the mounting pressure inside you.

​Kimi lets out a low, muffled groan into your mouth as he feels your hips lift to meet him. He breaks the kiss slowly, pulling his lips back just a fraction of an inch to press a series of soft, wet kisses along your cheek. His hot breath fans across your skin, sending tiny shivers cascading down your spine. His hands on your breasts never cease their work; he continues to shape, press, and roll your soft flesh, keeping your senses entirely elevated.

​“You feel so warm,” Kimi murmurs softly against your skin, his voice dropping to a low, raspy hum.

​He trails his lips down from your cheek to the delicate line of your jaw. He presses a firm, lingering kiss right beneath your earlobe, his tongue darting out to lick the sensitive skin there. A small, helpless gasp escapes your lips, and your hands move down to grip his biceps, feeling the hard, strained muscle under your fingertips.

​He moves his mouth higher, taking your earlobe between his lips and gently nipping it, sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight down to your lower abdomen. His hands tighten their hold on your chest, his thumbs flicking over your erect buds in perfect sync with the flicks of his tongue against your ear.

​“Kimi,” you breathe out, your voice thick with desire, your head rolling back against the pillow as he continues his thorough exploration of your upper body.

His mouth travels down the side of your neck, leaving a damp, glistening trail of warm kisses in its wake. He nips lightly at the sensitive tendon where your neck meets your shoulder, suckling the skin until you let out a breathless, shuddering sigh. He moves back to the front of your throat, pressing his lips against the soft hollow above your collarbone, feeling your rapid pulse hammering against his mouth.

​Every move of his lips is accompanied by the relentless, loving attention of his hands. His large palms press your breasts together, creating a soft valley that he rubs his cheek against, before his hands separate to resume kneading the soft, yielding curves. He plays with your hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers, gently pulling on them to keep your hips constantly searching for his touch.

​Unable to endure the agonizing space between your lower bodies any longer, you shift your weight on the mattress. You spread your knees wide and lift your legs, wrapping them tightly around his broad hips. You lock your ankles behind his lower back, using the leverage to pull his heavy frame down hard against your soaked, aching heat.

​The immediate, heavy pressure of his body crushing against your core brings a loud, involuntary moan from your throat. Your wet center presses directly against him through the thin layers of clothing, finding the exact friction you have been starving for. You lift your hips again, grinding yourself upward into his solid weight, sliding your body against his with a rhythmic, desperate movement.

​Kimi buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing heavy and ragged against your skin, as he feels the slick, intense heat of your core pressing so firmly against him. He shifts his lower body, responding to your pull, grinding his hips back down into yours with a deliberate, heavy counter-pressure that hits every single one of your sensitive spots at once.

​“Yes, that’s it,” Kimi pants into your neck, his grip on your breasts tightening to a firm, commanding hold as he rides the rhythm of your bucking hips. “Wrap your legs around me. Pull me as close as you want.”

​You tighten the grip of your thighs around his waist, pulling him down even further, refusing to leave a single millimeter of space between your bodies. Your hips continue to roll and buck up into his, riding the incredible friction created by his heavy, grinding movements. The sensation of his strong hands aggressively working your breasts, combined with his wet, hot kisses along your neck and the relentless pressure against your wet heat, sends your mind spinning into a complete blur of sensory overload.

​You cling to his shoulders, your fingernails digging into his skin, completely lost in the rhythm of his body moving over yours, letting him take you deeper and deeper into the overwhelming warmth of the moment.

The friction between your lower bodies creates an intolerable heat, a desperate hunger that makes every layer of fabric feel like an agonizing obstacle. You reach your hands down between your tangled torsos, your fingers catching the soft waistband of his sweatpants. You tug at the material with frantic, impatient energy, trying to pull the heavy fabric down over his hips to liberate his skin.

​Kimi understands your silent demand instantly. He lifts his weight slightly, propping himself up on one forearm while his free hand reaches down to assist you. He grabs the waistband himself and shoves the sweatpants down his legs in one smooth, aggressive motion, kicking them entirely off his feet along with his underwear. The sudden, bare contact of his heavy, fully erect length against your slick inner thighs makes a soft, ragged gasp slip from your lips.

​While he frees himself, your own hands move swiftly to your waist. You hook your thumbs into the thin straps of your lace underwear, sliding the delicate fabric down your hips, over your thighs, and stepping out of them completely. You cast the lace aside, leaving yourself completely bare and exposed to his dark, intense gaze.

​Kimi lowers himself back down over you, his heavy, bare frame crushing you into the mattress. The feeling of skin meeting skin across every inch of your torsos causes a violent shudder to ripple through his shoulders. He positions his broad tip directly against your soaking opening, the scorching heat of your slickness guiding him effortlessly to your entrance. He pauses there for a single, agonizing breath, his dark eyes locking onto yours, filled with a deep, vulnerable reverence.

​Slowly, deliberately, Kimi aligns his hips and pushes forward. His broad head parts your sensitive folds, sliding smoothly into your tight, wet heat. A loud, involuntary moan breaks from your throat as he fills you inch by slow inch, stretching your sensitive walls to accommodate his heavy length. He takes his time, pushing deeper into your depths with an agonizingly smooth, steady momentum until his pelvis rests flat against yours, sinking completely inside you.

​"Fuck," you sob out softly, your hands flying to his back, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as the feeling of complete fullness settles deep within your core.

​He stays completely still inside you for a moment, allowing your tight walls to adjust to his impressive size. His chest heaves against yours, his breathing ragged and uneven. His hands instantly return to their favorite sanctuaries, cupping your bare breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft mounds to squeeze and lift them toward his face.

​He slowly pulls his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out of your wet warmth until only his tip remains anchored within your entrance, before smoothly plunging all the way back inside you. The movement is agonizingly slow, incredibly deep, and dripping with raw passion. He establishes a slow, rhythmic cadence, his hips rolling forward in deep, heavy thrusts that stretch your sensitive inner walls with exquisite precision.

​With every slow, deep drive of his hips, his upper body leans down over your chest. His mouth opens wide, engulfing your left breast once again, taking the soft, warm mound deep into his mouth with an aggressive, hungry latch. His jaw works rhythmically, his tongue lashing furiously against your hardened, sensitive peak, suckling with a fierce, demanding force that sends blinding waves of pleasure straight down to where your bodies are joined.

​The combination of his heavy length stretching your inner depths and his mouth aggressively devouring your chest drives your mind into a complete haze. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist once more, locking your ankles to pull his hips even deeper into yours with every agonizingly slow push.

​As he continues his passionate, unhurried rhythm, sliding in and out of your slick heat with a wet, heavy sound, a sudden wave of raw insecurity washes over his expression. The deep, heavy rhythm of his body slows down just a fraction, his hips continuing to stretch you out, but his gaze rises to meet yours, his dark eyes shimmering with an intense, desperate need for comfort.

​"Tell me something," Kimi pleads, his voice trembling slightly, broken and raspy as he pushes his length all the way into your core, holding his heavy weight deep inside you for a lingering second. "Will you stay... will you stay with me even if I lose?"

​You struggle to form words, your lungs burning for air as the stretching sensation in your lower belly takes your breath away entirely. You squeeze your inner muscles tightly around his deep intrusion, feeling the hard pulse of his length inside you.

​"Yes," you gasp out, your voice trembling as you reach up to frame his jaw with your hands. "I... I'll always stay, Kimi."

​He pulls out slowly, the agonizing slide making you whimper, before he drives back in with a slightly harder, deeper thrust that hits your highest point, stretching your inner walls to their absolute limit. He bends down, his mouth aggressively pulling your right nipple into his heat, suckling hard while his hands squeeze both of your breasts simultaneously, massaging the soft flesh as if trying to merge your body with his.

​"What if I never become a world champion?" Kimi rasps out against your damp skin, his voice muffled by the fullness of your breast, his hips continuing their slow, punishingly deep rhythm. "What if I never win... what if I disappoint everyone?"

​You arch your back up off the bed, meeting the slow, heavy push of his hips, your fingernails biting into his back as another wave of intense, stretching pleasure ripples through your nervous system. You try desperately to steady your breathing, your chest heaving rapidly beneath his hands.

​"I don't care... about trophies, Kimi," you manage to choke out through your gasps, your heart breaking and mending all at once at the depth of his fear. "I love you... for you. Not... not for the racing."

​He lets out a shaky, emotional sigh against your collarbone, his body shuddering over yours. He pulls his hips back again, the slow, thick friction of his length exiting your body making your toes curl, before he buries himself back inside you with a deep, passionate tilt that makes your vision blur with pleasure.

​"What if I crash?" he asks softly, his dark eyes searching yours with a raw, terrifying vulnerability as his hips maintain their relentless, agonizingly deep rhythm, stretching your tight core over and over. "What if I make mistakes on the track... what if I ruin everything?"

​You wrap your arms firmly around his neck, pulling his face down until his lips are inches from yours, refusing to let a single shred of doubt remain in his mind. The feeling of him filling you so completely, stretching you out with every slow, deliberate thrust, makes it nearly impossible to speak, but you force the truth past your lips with absolute conviction.

​"I will still be here," you tell him, your voice broken by breathless gasps as his hips drive deep into yours once more. "When you crash... when you win... when you lose... I am staying right here. You are... you are my home, Kimi."

​His emotional defenses crumble completely at your words. He leans down and captures your mouth in a deep, desperate, possessive kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with the same heavy, slow passion as his hips sliding into your body. He fucks you with an unhurried, overwhelming depth, his hands aggressively kneading and molding your breasts, his fingers rolling your hardened nipples as he takes you deeper and deeper into the rhythm of his love.

​Every slow, deep stretch of your wet walls, every aggressive pull of his hands on your mounds, and every breathless reassurance you whisper into his mouth anchors him completely to you, washing away every fear, every failure, and every ghost of his past in the overwhelming heat of your shared pleasure.

The slow, deliberate pace of his hips gradually shifts as the emotional storm inside him settles into a warm, consuming fire. Kimi pauses his movement deep within your core, his hands sliding down from your breasts to rest firmly on your waist. He pulls his length slowly out of your wet, aching heat, the smooth retreat making you let out a soft, protestation moan.

​Before you can miss his touch for even a second, Kimi shifts his broad frame, sitting up against the headboard and resting his back firmly against the cushioned support. He extends his long, muscular legs out in front of him, creating a wide, solid base. His dark eyes, hazy with desire and heavy-lidded passion, fixate on you with a quiet, commanding invitation.

​"Come here," Kimi murmurs, his voice a low, raspy velvet that sends a shiver straight down your spine. "Get on top of me. Take control."

​You move without a second thought, shifting your knees on either side of his lap and straddling his broad thighs. Positioned directly over him, the view of his flushed chest and heavy breathing makes your heart hammer against your ribs. You reach down, guiding his thick, slick length to your wet entrance, alignment effortless against your hyper-sensitive folds.

​Slowly, deliberately, you sink your hips downward. You swallow his entire length in one smooth, continuous drop, feeling your inner walls stretch wide to accommodate his full depth. A loud, breathless gasp breaks past your lips as your pelvis settles flat against his thighs, the profound feeling of total fullness sending tiny lightning bolts of pleasure radiating through your lower abdomen.

​Kimi lets out a low, guttural groan deep in his throat, his head tilting back against the bedrest for a brief moment as your heat envelops him completely. His hands immediately fly to your hips, his calloused fingers gripping your skin with a firm, steadying hold that offers both support and absolute surrender.

​Now sitting fully upright, your chest is level with his face, placing your breasts directly in his line of sight and within effortless reach. His eyes lock onto your soft mounds, dark with an insatiable hunger that has only grown stronger.

​You take a deep breath and begin to move. You set the pace, lifting your hips high until only his broad tip remains anchored inside you, then plunging back down hard and deep onto his thick length. The sudden change in speed and angle hits your deepest, most sensitive points, driving a sharp, ecstatic whimper from your throat.

​You pick up the tempo quickly, turning the slow glide into a fast, rhythmic dance. You ride him hard and deep, rising and falling in a relentless, punishing cadence. The slick sound of your bodies joining echoes through the quiet as you slide up and down his length, your thighs working relentlessly to chase the mounting peak of pleasure building within your core. You tilt your pelvis slightly, grinding your drenched center against the base of his shaft with every downward drop, seeking every drop of intense friction his body can provide.

​Kimi watches you, utterly hypnotized by the sight of your body moving over his. The vertical angle grants his hands and mouth completely unrestricted access to your breasts. His hands reach up, large palms completely cupping the soft curves, lifting and molding your flesh as you bounce above him.

​"You look so beautiful like this," Kimi pants, his voice thick with unadulterated devotion. "So strong... taking everything you want."

​He leans his head forward, diving face-first into your chest. He buries his entire face directly between your breasts, trapping his features in the warm, deep valley created by your soft flesh. He brings his hands together, squeezing your breasts tightly against the sides of his face, pinning his cheek, nose, and mouth beneath your skin.

​With his face entirely enveloped in your softness, Kimi takes a long, deep, desperate inhalation. He breathes you in like a man filling his lungs with pure oxygen after being submerged underwater for hours, drinking in the natural, sweet scent of your warm skin. He turns his head frantically from side to side, shaking his face back and forth against your breasts, nuzzling deeply into your flesh, rubbing his nose and lips against your sensitive skin with wild, unrestrained adoration.

​The intense sensation of his face shaking frantically between your breasts, combined with the fast, relentless pounding of your hips against his lap, sends your mind spinning completely out of control. You throw your head back, your hands resting flat against his broad shoulders for leverage as you ride him even faster, driving yourself up and down on his length with frantic, unstoppable momentum.

​"Kimi... oh god, Kimi," you cry out, your voice trembling and fragmented, struggling to hold on as the fast, deep sliding inside you pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

​Kimi breaks his face out from between your breasts for a single second, his lips slick and his cheeks flushed red. He opens his mouth wide and latches aggressively onto your left nipple once more, taking almost the entire mound into his oral cavity. He suckles with a hard, hungry, rhythmic pull, his tongue lashing frantically over the hardened peak while his hands continue to squeeze, shape, and aggressively massage your flesh to match the fast, violent rhythm of your bucking hips.

​Every time you slam your hips down onto his lap, his mouth pulls deeper on your breast. The double point of intense stimulation—the fast, deep stretching of your wet core below and the aggressive devouring of your breasts above—creates an overwhelming storm of sensory pleasure. You grind your hips down extra hard, rolling your pelvis against him at the bottom of every drop, friction searing through your nerve endings.

​"Fast," Kimi grunts out against your skin, his hands gripping your waist to help drive you down even harder onto his length. "Ride me faster..."

​You obey his low command, increasing your speed until your entire frame shakes with the effort. You lift high and drive down hard, over and over, sliding along his rigid heat without a single moment of rest. The room seems to dissolve around you, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing, the wet, heavy impact of your hips against his thighs, and the unshakeable truth of his hands holding you tight against his body.

​His head moves to your right breast, his mouth engulfing the entire mound once again, his teeth lightly grazing the base before his tongue licks over the sensitive skin with heavy, wet sweeps. He continues to shake his head side to side, rubbing his face vigorously against your soft flesh, completely losing himself in the physical reality of your presence, anchoring every part of his soul to the feeling of your body riding his.

The unrelenting rhythm of your hips driving up and down over his solid length begins to build a fierce, blinding pressure deep inside your lower belly. Every single downward drop onto his lap sends a wave of electrical heat shooting straight up your spine, coiling your nerves tighter and tighter with every passing second. You shift your angle slightly, leaning forward to press your chest flush against his face while your hips continue their fast, punishing pace, grinding your hyper-sensitive center directly against the heavy base of his shaft.

​Kimi feels the sudden, intense change in your body's temperature and tightens his grip on your hips, his large hands anchoring you firmly to his lap. His dark eyes flare with a wild, dark brilliance as he senses how close you are to the edge. He lifts his head, his mouth eagerly seeking yours, capturing your lips in a fast, frantic kiss that tastes like sweet sweat and shared breath. His tongue slides deep into your mouth, mimicking the relentless, deep plunging of your lower half, creating a hypnotic double rhythm that drives your mind even further into a state of pure delirium.

​His hands slide up from your waist, returning to their sacred homes on your bare chest. His fingers dig deep into your soft mounds, lifting, shaping, and squeezing the warm flesh with a possessive, heavy pressure. He rolls your hardened, erect nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, flicking the sensitive tips in perfect harmony with the fast, wet impact of your hips slamming down onto his thighs.

​"Oh god," you sob out directly into his mouth, breaking the kiss to gasp for precious air, your head falling back as your inner muscles begin to flutter and pulse tightly around his thick length. "I'm so close... I'm about to come."

​A deep, guttural growl erupts from his chest, vibrating straight through your torso. Hearing your breathless confession sparks an immediate, explosive reaction within him. His hips lift off the bedrest, meeting your downward drops with powerful, upward drives that force his broad tip to hit your deepest, most exquisite spot over and over again with precision force.

​"Come for me," Kimi demands, his voice a low, raspy velvet that commands every fiber of your being. "Let me feel you squeeze around me."

​You ride him even harder, your thighs burning with the effort, lifting yourself high and plunging all the way down until your pelvis slaps hard against his. The intense, deep friction of his length stretching your drenched, tight walls becomes completely overwhelming. The pressure inside you swells like a rising wave, expanding until it fills every single corner of your consciousness.

​"Come with me, Kimi," you cry out, your voice breaking into a high, sweet whimper as you look down into his dark, intoxicated eyes. "Please... come with me…”

​Your desperate plea shatters whatever remaining restraint he is holding onto. Kimi opens his mouth wide and buries his face back into your chest, taking your right breast deep into his heat, suckling with a fierce, ravenous, frantic intensity. His teeth graze your hardened peak while his tongue licks frantically around the circle of your skin, drinking you in as if your pleasure is the very air he needs to survive.

​"Yes, fuck," Kimi groans out, his speech muffled against your soft skin, his body shuddering beneath yours as he feels his own climax rushing up his spine like a roaring fire. "I'm coming… I'm coming!"

​With a final, desperate push of your hips, the tight coil inside your lower abdomen snaps completely. A massive, violent wave of ecstasy explodes through your entire body, washing over your mind in a blinding flash of golden light. Your inner walls contract violently, pulsing and gripping his thick length in a series of intense, rhythmic spasms that milk him relentlessly. You throw your head back, a loud, long, breathless cry breaking from your throat as your entire frame shakes with the sheer power of your release.

​Sensations overwhelm you entirely as your climax ripples through your core, and Kimi follows you straight into the abyss a split second later. He lets out a loud, raw roar against your breast, his hips bucking upward with a final, deep, violent thrust that buries him as far inside you as physically possible. He holds himself pinned deep within your pulsing heat as his body succumbs to his own intense release, pouring his warmth deep into your core in heavy, rhythmic surges.

​He grips your hips with a white-knuckle hold, holding you pressed tight against him so he can feel every single pulse of your clenching walls squeezing around his throbbing length. His face remains buried in your left breast, his warm breath fanning over your slick skin as he breathes heavily, his entire body shuddering with the long, lingering aftershocks of his climax.

​You collapse forward, completely spent, resting your chest heavily on top of his while your body continues to tremble with residual waves of pleasure. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribcage. Kimi wraps his strong arms around your back and waist, holding you firmly against his chest, refusing to let a single fraction of space exist between your bodies.

​He turns his head, pressing a soft, slow, lingering kiss directly into the valley between your breasts, inhaling your scent deeply as his breathing gradually begins to slow down. His hands soften their grip on your skin, shifting into slow, soothing strokes up and down your bare back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine with tender devotion.

​"I love you," Kimi whispers softly against your chest, his voice full of a deep, quiet peace that replaces all the tension and anxiety he carried into the room hours ago. "I love you so much."

yourusername

liked by kimi.antonelli, lilygao1, and 102K others

yourusername whatever life throws at me i guess?

residentevilfan PLS WHEN DOES REQUIEM RELEASE??

⤷ yourusername next week!

user1 sometimes i forget they’re dating like wdym an f1 driver and a model (FOR RESIDENT EVIL??) are dating.

⤷ user2 real but they’re so cute tg

mercedesmclarenarethebest best wag ever

kimi.antonelli that photo of me y/n 😭 Liked by creator

user3 beyond excited for whenever the new game releases wdym the main character is gonna be as pretty as y/n

user6 REQUIEM OUT IN 7 DAYS LETS GOOO

view all comments ..

kimi.antonelli posted a story

liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1, and 529K others

kimi.antonelli lmk pls @ yourusername

adawonglover bros casually dating a real life video game character ♥️124K

⤷ user4 LMAOOO

⤷ user5 this is so funny

yourusername i love you Liked by creator

⤷ kimi.antonelli i love you too

⤷ yourusername i was answering your question 🥲 but ilyt kimi

user6 IM SO EXCITED TO SEE HER AS GRACE

view all comments ..

comments:

user7 PLAYING IT AS WE SPEAK

user8 I LOVE GRACE’S CHARACTER ALREADY

greenherb so excited

kimi.antonelli not to brag but i’ve already watched my gf play this game sooo

user9 is it crazy that i’ve been playing for 6 hours straight?

videogamenerd istg yall don’t even care about this random until she started dating the f1 driver. can we just focus on the game

⤷ user10 this post is literally about the game dumbass nobody even mentioned kimi

kimi.antonelli

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and 782K others

kimi.antonelli go play resident evil my beautiful gf is the main character 😍

mercedesamgf1 will do!

user11 why is he advertising her game for her 😶

ilyleon y/n l/n and her wag ♥️131K

⤷ yourusername HAHAHAHA

user12 i don’t understand the hype of this game

⤷ user13 no it’s actually really good i just finished it

yourusername KIMI we have to play the alternate ending still 😛 Liked by creator

view all comments ..

“HE’S DEAD?” kimi exclaimed, jaw dropped open and staring at the screen.

you held the controller in your hands, letting out a small laugh.

“that’s what we get for destroying elpis.”

kimi shook his head, stuffing popcorn into his mouth like the whole thing was unbelievable.

“i don’t like this ending at all.” he said, “i mean you’re alive- but leon!”

“you wanna play the good ending again?” you asked, clicking out of the game.

he nodded.

you held the controller out to him. “okay. you play.”

his brows raised and he gently pushed the controller back. “i don’t think so.”

“oh, come on! why are you so scared? you’ve seen me do that boss fight like twice already. there’s no jumpscares.”

the hesitation in his eyes almost made you stop and just play it once more, but then he held his hand out.

“fine. i’ll play.”

yourusername posted a story

liked by kimi.antonelli, carmenmmundt, and 68.2K others

yourusername can’t take him anywhere

user14 LMAO?

landoscarlove bros not scared of driving almost 400kph but is scared of video games

olliebearman ABJSJSBAJAJSKTRSDBPLS

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f1gossipofficial

liked by user5781, leonkennedyisthegoat, and 623.5K others

f1gossipofficial BREAKING NEWS! championship leader kimi antonelli arrives to monaco with his girlfriend, @ yourusername

tudududu33 SHES GORGEOUS WHO IS SHE??

⤷ user16 y/n l/n! she’s a model. you might have seen her before from the newest resident evil game

user17 Y/N AND HER WAG

banana1leclerc AWWW THEYRE SO CUTE

user18 there goes my chances

user19 THEY LOOK SO GOOD TG

view all comments ..

you didn’t expect the paddock to actually be welcoming, but that fateful saturday was full of surprises. as you walked in, people took photos and some begged kimi for autographs just like you expected. but what you didn’t expect was a lot of them to already know you.

“kimi!” one teenage fan exclaimed, “can we take a picture please?” 

he nodded politely and posed for the young boy, who’s eyes then drifted towards you.

“hey, i know you! i just finished playing resident evil 9. can we take a picture too?”

you were caught off guard, but smiled anyways.

later, kimi was introducing you to the garage. george, toto, bono, other engineers, and fred vesti, a reserve driver.

“fred! meet my girlfriend, y/n.”

he looked up and smiled at both of you, offering a polite hand shake. “nice to meet you. i’m actually kind of a fan.”

“no way.” you laughed at the absurdity.

he nodded. “i actually started requiem a couple weeks ago.”

and it didn’t even end there. hundreds of people came up to you that day, just to tell you how awesome the game was, how pretty you were, or how much they loved you and kimi together.

mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, f1, and 905K others

mercedesamgf1 POLE IN MONACO! 🇲🇨

user20 let’s go kimi!

yourusername THATS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT! Liked by creator

user21 oh it is a good morning

rus.ant.hamfan come on mercedes wcc 2026

frederickvestiofficial 👏👏👏

view all comments ..

“and kimi antonelli gets pole position in monaco!”

the mercedes garage immediately blew up. high fives, cheering, chanting in foreign languages, and toto patted you gently on the shoulder.

as kimi pulled into the number one spot, he flew out of his car, eyes landing on you faster than you could even register. then, he ran over and pulled you into the tightest hug he’d ever given.

“kimi!” you hugged back tighter.

when he pulled away slightly, he let you take his helmet off, and then pulled his balaclava off, kissing you a millisecond later.

“i’m so proud of you.” you said after.

“i’m so happy you came.” he mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder.

-

after the celebrations, you and kimi walked around, slowly making your way out. it had calmed down finally, most fans had cleared out and went home for the day.

you’d signed a few more autographs and took a bunch of pictures with resident evil and kimi antonelli fans alike, and now you just enjoyed the walk back to the car, holding kimis hand. 

“i can’t believe my girlfriend is a video game character. and everyone knows her.”

you actually snorted, then spoke sarcastically. “well aren’t you lucky.” 

“i am.” he answered, squeezing your hand tighter. “i’m the luckiest man alive, amore.”

somehow, the best part of the day ended up being the walk back to kimi’s car. no fans, no engines blaring, just you and your favourite person.

and while walking out of the paddock that day, people not only shouted for kimi, but for you too.

⨳ 　 ʾ 　 masterlist 　 . 　 ♡

ynupdates

liked by ynbff and 892,742 others

ynupdates Y/n has posted a few stories discussing edits of her F1 boyfriend, Oscar Piastri, causing the internet to descend into madness. Is it giving unconditional love or unhinged? 👀

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user2 she's so funny i can't

user4 her manager is prob having a heart attack rn 💀

-> user12 lmfaoo imagine oscar's manager, everyone's teams are in the trenches rn

-> user10 she's been reposting too i would quit immediately there's no coming back from that 😭

user8 i hope they never media train her

-> yn.ln u get the vision!

-> user8 @/yn.ln i love u so much keep doing u!!!

-> user9 she's the most iconic wag idc

user3 guys looks at her tiktok she's literally a repost warrior

user7 this gotta be unconditional love honestly if my girl isn't like this i don't want it

-> user9 no fr it might look crazy but she clearly loves & supports him ahah

oscarpiastri 🥸

-> user1 don't act nonchalant we have seen the workout videos...

-> user4 shit im a guy and i watch edits of you too gang

-> user9 i want ur gf she's hilarious

yn.ln

liked by oscarpiastri and 562,289 others

yn.ln just some things i do when i'm not liking oscar edits 🙃

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lilymhe pretty sure i saw you open an edit or two at the table..

-> yn.ln silence.

-> user6 i love y/n but she's also the least nonchalant ever

-> user18 @/yn.ln it's okay girl live your truth we love oscar edits here

landonorris So u do have a life

-> yn.ln gonna start liking lando hate

-> ynupdates Stop or I will have to make a post about this bullying smh

oscarpiastri You're gorgeous and I'm flattered you like edits of me.

-> yn.ln ily but why does that comment make it seem like you've never met me

-> oscarpiastri @/yn.ln Well I'm not sure if I truly know the feral Y/n that's been liking them

-> yn.ln @/oscarpiastri one more edit of ur thighs and u will get to know the feral y/n.

-> user9 couple goals ??? (do we need to save oscar)

-> user2 i can't breathe what is ts

user4 just a crazy & beautiful & aesthetic girl

user8 this is why you're my fav ever

user9 NEVER let them take your whimsy.

user5 i think she needs media training

-> yn.ln no amount of media training can stop me from expressing my love for oscar's muscles. i exercise my right to free speech.

-> user7 why can i imagine her lawyering up to be able to continue liking thirst traps of osc lmfao

ynupdates

liked by yn.ln & 672,911 others

ynupdates When Y/n goes feral, so do we.

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user5 admin are u ok 😭😭😭

ynbff PLEASEEEEE

oscarpiastri Are my eyes deceiving me rn

-> user9 IM PEEING even oscar is confused

-> user2 your own gf did this i cant

-> yn.ln you have always known i love ur thighs 🥱🙄

yn.ln hi so i love you. those hamsters are so me.

-> user3 thats literally how i imagine u

-> user9 your digital footprint has to be crazy lol iconic

-> user4 @/user9 she can never get another job ahahah

user10 all of this because a man had thighs

-> user12 not just a man. THE oscar piastri.

-> user1 looks like someone needs to watch an edit or two...

-> user2 don't let y/n see this comment, she'll start dropping links

lilymhe this is the only way i want to be updated from now on

user3 I HAVE NO ONE TO TALK TO ABOUT THIS

PRIVATE MESSAGES

TWITTER

PRIVATE MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

liked by yn.ln & 629,899 others

oscarpiastri A few pics of my legs since someone likes them

view all comments

user7 COUPLE GOALS LOL

ynupdates As he should

-> user2 IKTR!!! this is brilliant

-> user9 oscar once again being the best bf

landonorris Mate you're whipped

-> user6 😭😭 have u seen y/n this is so valid

-> user3 someone's jealous

-> user0 we all know u want oscar bro pack it up

yn.ln quick someone make an edit!!!! (i love you, but mostly your thighs)

-> oscarpiastri I love you too weird thigh lady

-> user5 WEIRD THIGH LADY

-> user3 im crying they go so well together

-> user8 hope this isn't the end of the edit liking, i was too entertained

user7 i can't cope 😭😭

user3 this is strangely wholesome?

user1 sigh i love ynoscar

SILVERSTONE, UK, 2026

Another rainy day in the UK, as it always is. Silverstone was a charming track; one you knew well. Having joined Mercedes 2 years before Kimi, everyone expected you to school him on the ways of F1.

It was embarrassing to admit that he was the one producing the results and not you.

The clouds seemed to hang over you as the garage packed up. The mechanics were working to move the world’s most expensive circus. That’s at least what you felt like. A clown, really.

A 19-year-old, who was still getting familiar with an F1 car, was out here winning races like he’d been racing for years. It felt like pure humiliation. It was expected that you would be the mentor, the guide, but the only thing you could feel when racing the car was pure anger towards him.

Your engineer’s voice echoed as you walked through the paddock, the people racing past as it began to rain.

“Let him through.” He says calmly, instructing you like this wasn’t the race that was going to put you P1 in the Driver’s Championship. Kimi is in your rearview mirrors; he’s swerving all over the place trying to get past you on the straight.

You deliberately block him as you turn into Stowe by parking your car deliberately in the middle of the straight. You hear his car click down a couple revs as he tries to dash down towards you on the inside, but it’s too small of a gap. The mess of silver and teal blends into your vision behind you as you just focus on getting through Vale without causing a collision.

As much as you fucking despised this nineteen-year-old having this insane advantage over you, you had one thing he didn’t: experience. You knew exactly how to make that car as wide as the track was, so he couldn’t get past.

“The car behind has significant pace.” You hear your engineer over the radio. You don’t reply. You go slightly wide into Club, making it easy to pull directly into the middle of the start/finish straight. You couldn’t push that pedal harder and send the numbers up. 200km/h. 300km/h. 350km/h.

The smell of petrol only drives your brain to go faster, to brake later. You imagine the taste of victory, how it could all be yours if you just focused on making Kimi number 2. You could taste the Moët’s bubbles burst on your tongue as you sprayed the podium full of champagne, the confetti falling all around you as you celebrated the win. If only he could have a taste of what you had every single weekend.

Every Sunday you were eating shit.

Every Sunday it was him getting pit stops, him getting priority. He always gets the strategy that puts him in P1. You felt like this team only cared about him, and only him.

On his side, he feels like you’re being a complete arse by not letting him through. He’s clearly faster; he’s clearly more capable of leading. Hamilton only gets closer as you slow him down. Nobody wants to have a battle with Hamilton in Silverstone. Nobody.

You see Kimi desperately pushing the Overtake button on his steering wheel as you go side-to-side into the first corner. You send the steering wheel right as your car turns into the corner with force, slamming the door shut in Kimi’s face.

You can hear the crowds hold their breath as you both barrel for track position. He doesn’t get position for free. That’s your trophy waiting for you on the top step, and Kimi is not allowed to take it just because he’s faster and younger. He needs to earn it.

The world watches as you touch wheels. The hit has your head slamming against the body of your car, and your body reacts faster than your mind as you push the pedals again. He’s on the outside; you’re on the inside. He wants to take you into the second corner.

“Ok, swap positions.” You hear your engineer getting more aggressive over the radio. You just ignore him; you have your hands full trying to keep your own teammate under wraps. You’re fueled by the fact that this win would mean you overtake Kimi in the championship. The taste of sweet, golden victory was shining as the bright orange sun blasted into your eyes.

You use your boost button to gain a bit of time on Kimi; he would’ve used it all on the straight, and therefore he couldn’t catch you into the next corner. You get a slight gap of about +0.4 seconds.

Turning into Chapel, you glide onto the straight, and you realise your fatal mistake. You used every single bit of battery you had left, creating that bit of breathing room between you, and Kimi had been charging his battery for 10 seconds by now. The last time he would’ve used it was on the Start/Finish straight.

He passes you with ease, almost as if he was pulling into a parking space. You watch as his car glides past you and pulls squarely into P1 as your car has absolutely no battery left. The taste of sweet, sweet victory was meant for the Italian boy today.

Kimi was P1, and you sat in P2 as he pulled out a 10-second gap on you. You’re separated by 11 points leaving Silverstone.

When you’d gotten to Parc Fermé and parked next to his Mercedes, you ran up to your team in celebration; they were both bouncing the two of you around. It was a one-two. That’s something you should be proud of, right? Teams like Haas could only dream of a P3, let alone both cars first and second.

When he takes off his helmet, he pats you on the shoulder. “You made me work for that one.” He says with a small grin on his face before walking onto the scale for the mandatory weight check.

You just bite your lip and walk behind him to be weighed. You sure hope he had to work for that one. Hope he broke a little sweat just thinking about you overtaking him in the championship.

You’re sucked back into the real world as someone walks up to you. “Good effort today.” One of the people from the pit crew pats you on the shoulder. Smiling felt painful. “Thanks.” You mutter before going to the motorhome to get something to eat.

The rain falls onto your shoulders as you walk into the building. It’s busy, as always. Everybody is packing up. You feel like you’re late even though the Grand Prix only ended 2 hours ago. Your car is already inside the truck, ready to be transported to Spa, and later, you will be flying with Kimi, Bono, Toto and the rest to Belgium.

Sitting at a table, your engineer slides into the seat opposite you. The food you were eating tasted bland. It was merely fuel for your body rather than anything else. “You ready to look at telemetry?” He asks nicely; you feel so damn annoyed, but you know it’s not his fault you had to listen to team orders. “Yeah.” You say between bites, as the rain falls onto the ground. You see it making little puddles in the paddock from the window.

The computer screen lights up in a spaghetti of lines and numbers. A picture of a track sits in the corner, and you stare at the Wellington straight. If only you hadn’t fucked up there. He drills on about going wide and where you needed to improve, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the position swap. It just seemed like a “fuck you.” Why couldn’t you win? Why didn’t they want you to win?

It’s not that this was for 7th and 8th; it was for a win. One that was costing you in this championship fight. When had the powers become so imbalanced? Was there an opportunity for you to win again, fair and square? Does Bono know why?

These questions swirled in your mind as you “mhm” and “yeah” at your engineer.

“And for the record, I don’t think Toto is very happy you wouldn’t give up position to Kimi.” He says, almost off the hand. “Well, it’s our championship to fight. If I had won, I could’ve been first in the championship today, but you were screaming in my ears, “let him through, let him through!” and you’re not thinking about what I want?” You almost shout at him, your voice getting louder.

“I get it, but Kimi was the faster guy on track today.” He mutters, knowing it’s falling on deaf ears. “I don’t care, at least let me fight for my own damn championship!” You hiss, noticing that everyone in the motorhome has now gone quiet from your outburst.

“It’s not like I’m here because I want to be the number 2 driver; I also want to win, and it’s so frustrating every Sunday having this entire team stopping me!” You’re so mad, you’re positively buzzing with rage. You couldn’t see anything other than your own selfish greed for victory.

You wanted to taste that champagne on a hot Sunday in Abu Dhabi with the fireworks exploding around you as the team screamed at the bottom for the new World Champion. You wanted to throw that trophy into the air and see the entire world celebrate you. The victory you’d dreamed of since a little kid. You were the champion.

“Sorry.” You say quietly, looking down and feeling embarrassed. You were a professional, remember? Didn’t you do this thing called ‘stay calm’?

The hours blended as the sun set; you walked with Toto and Bono to the jet waiting for you at the airport. Kimi was a couple of steps in front of you, his backpack hanging off one shoulder as he was texting someone.

“Try to get some sleep this time, will you?” Toto asks, and you smile. The last time you were on the jet, it was your third time winning. You just stared and touched your own trophy. It felt so precious; you almost felt maternal to it. The pretty embellishments and your own name being written on it, the gold reflecting in your eyes as you stared down at it, you couldn’t help but feel the childish joy enter you, thinking of another win.

“Yeah, yeah.” You laugh a little as you step onto the plane; it will be about an hour and a half before you arrive in Belgium for the most incredible race of the year, Spa-Francorchamps.

SPA, BELGIUM, 2026

“And they fight for track position going up Eau Rouge!” Crofty shouts as Kimi pulls up alongside you. The elevation change going up this corner has your adrenaline pumping unlike any other. It’s lap 7. You’re on old tyres; he’s on old tyres.

Those poor Pirellis are begging for a break as you both look at each other going 350km/h up this hill. The colours of red and yellow flash past you as the barriers become nothing more than a blur.

The pit wall is sweating just watching the two of you scramble once again for track position. You’re side by side going through the fastest corner on any track. There’s only space for one.

Kimi knows you’re a cocky bastard and would never give up P1 even if it means crashing. You’re thirsty for retribution after he overtook you in Silverstone. You’re practically buzzing for a win even though there’s still more than 30 laps left.

Your car is not even blurry in his vision. He can make out the sponsors on your helmet; that’s how close you are. The tyres are less than a millimetre away from touching; they’re softly brushing one another as Kimi is the one to give up first and pull back behind you.

However, he has a slipstream behind you onto the long straight. He knows you’re trigger-happy when it comes to pressing the boost buttons on your steering wheel. You’ll do it even just for +0.2 seconds of speed, without thinking of the consequences.

You’d seemed to have learned now when to push them. As Kimi pushes his, he feels almost joyous seeing you slowly fall behind him in his vision, but then you’re keeping up.

You’re not falling behind. You’re maybe even starting to inch in front of him. The trees ahead on the mountains surrounding Spa become ever closer as he can still see you in his vision. He looks next to himself at least twice every second. You just look straight ahead.

That corner only gets closer, and nobody’s cleanly ahead. You had Eau Rouge? He was going to have Turn 5. He slams the door shut on you going in. You’re left scrambling behind him as you break from his sudden movement.

Fine. If he wanted Turn 5, let Kimi have Turn 5. You’ll get him within the next 10 corners.

The climb up Eau Rouge started having you in a bit of a panic as your battle continued. For over 5 laps you both scraped up the hill. You knew F1 meant risk. You obviously knew that, but fighting so brazenly while your pedal was flat on the floor was starting to become unnerving. Between you and Kimi, someone had to give out.

However, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the back of his car; then you’d overtake him, then he’d overtake you on the last corner, and you’d catch back up on the straight, and take him again up Eau Rouge.

It was feeling a bit more like an uncoordinated dance rather than racing. You were slowly losing time to the cars behind you. The Ferrari of Hamilton slowly came closer in your rearview mirrors. He was still seconds behind; it wasn’t too bad.

The climb up Eau Rouge came again; it’s a silly adrenaline rush with Kimi right next to you, starting to become unnerving. It was fun for a couple laps, but now something had to give. Kimi’s tyres are struggling; you can see his car slip and slide. Your own car feels fine; sure, the tyres are old, and they’ve served their course, but a couple more laps are possible.

You’re about to overtake Kimi on the last corner when he dives into the pits.

“Push, push, push!” You hear your engineer shout into the radio. You’re giving it your all; now the hill wasn’t so bad that the looming threat of clipping and crashing at 350km/h is gone.

You enjoy the sight of having nobody in front of you for about 4 laps. The wind rushing past you is fresh and doesn’t smell of old rubber and petrol. It’s so fresh you can stare at the grandstands as you zone out and enjoy this welcome reprieve.

For Kimi, it’s not so easy. He had undercut Hamilton and was currently between him and Verstappen. Verstappen was 2 seconds behind him, and he was 1.5 seconds behind Hamilton. Eventually, he was going to fight Hamilton, or he’d defend against Verstappen.

What a predicament to find himself in. He’d have to really prove himself. It was all fun and games scrapping with you since he knew your stripes like the back of his hand, since karting days, but the two world champions? The same ones he watched on TV in 2021?

You couldn’t push the car any more than you could. And then Hamilton, who was not that far behind before, was now within a second of you.

His car threatens to zip past you multiple times up the straight, and you try your hardest to defend, but your tyres are so old and tired that Hamilton just passes you. The overtake boost helps him along, but you couldn’t do anything.

“Box this lap.” Your engineer says. You’d have to eat shit; your tyres were finished. You hit your marks as you come into the box. The Mercedes crew was always reliable, and you had an average 2.6-second stop. Just as you had practised before.

You come out just 1 second behind Kimi, and now the fight was back on. Now Verstappen was behind you and catching. You had to decide: defend Verstappen or fight Kimi?

Fighting Kimi would mean Verstappen would catch you anyway, and defending against Verstappen means Kimi slips away. Flying up Eau Rouge again, you get Kimi’s slipstream and begin to get closer to him. Verstappen keeps up, but you will fight that battle when you get there.

Your engines hum together in the song to your uncoordinated dance. Every time the two of you dive into corners, Toto is sitting in the back of the garage hoping you do not rip a tyre or front wing off. You were both in such good positions for a podium.

Kimi was right next to you by the time you had gone onto the start/finish straight. You’re focused on diving into turn one to take Kimi. He defends excellently before you begin the race up the hill.

Your cars begin making the music to your uncoordinated symphony, the sounds of F1 engines being pushed to their limit. For the first time, you look into your mirrors.

Max Verstappen.

Max Verstappen is following you up the hill, in your slipstream, as you’re following Kimi, and you’re now barreling down the straight with the wind gushing past you; it smells like rubber and dirty air off another car, and then you’re three-wide going into turn 5.

Verstappen had caught up, and now you were in a sandwich. Kimi begins turning in on you, and your wheels touch, and your heart momentarily leaves your chest as you feel the car slip out of your control. The car goes sliding as Kimi’s car wiggles all over the corner.

“And Verstappen says, ‘Thank you very much’ as the two Mercedes touch!” Crofty commentates as Verstappen slips between your sliding cars and drives off into the distance. His car becomes nothing but a blur as you spin around, ending your dance with Kimi.

-

“This whole rivalry must stop, the two of you. You’re being hotheaded and reckless. Hamilton got through due to your old tyres, but you two were so busy fighting each other up Eau Rouge every lap that even Verstappen caught the both of you napping.” Toto scalds the both of you. You sit like little children being shouted at by their parent.

“You two have the fastest cars on this grid, and instead of racing Verstappen, you two were busy wiggling those cars through the corner while he passed you?” Toto crossed his arms; not even Bono looked him in the eyes. Everyone is too scared to look him in the eyes.

Toto always had that aura of a ‘strict but kind’ person. You normally never saw Toto’s strict side. The mere thought of it existing had both you and Kimi toeing the line, and Kimi was a little troublemaker.

However, today you brought out the strict side of Toto Wolff.

“You both were about to crash into one another every 5 seconds. Especially up Eau Rouge. You are two of the most talented drivers on this planet, and you are trying to send yourself to death’s door?” He mocks, moving towards the two of you with narrowed eyes.

There’s a moment of silence before he begins again.

“Instead of racing Verstappen, what were the two of you doing?” He directs it at you and Kimi sitting next to one another; you both stare at one another before looking at Toto.

“Racing,” Kimi says smugly, giving Toto a little attitude. He quickly discovers why nobody dares speak right now. “Racing who? Your teammate.” Toto replies for him. He sucks in a long breath as everybody sits in pure silence.

“You raced her for twenty laps, let not just Verstappen but Hamilton through, Ferrari have overtaken us in the Constructors’, and you have the gall to tell me you were ‘racing’, Kimi?” Toto’s words were cold, but his tone was calm. It had a couple of engineers twitching in their seats.

“I don’t care if you want the win,” He points at you, “Or if you want the win.” He points at Kimi, “We are here to win, and I care that just one of you stands on the top step of the podium.”

“In Monza, I’m expecting two racing drivers, not two dense idiots.” He gives a piercing stare to the two of you and then at the room of engineers, closing the door behind him.

-

“Are the relations between you and Kimi breaking down?” One of the journalists asks as you stand in the media pen. You nearly rolled your eyes.

“No, we are just focused on racing and fighting for the title; there is no bad blood between us personally.” You lie, because things were certainly breaking down between the two of you.

Kimi seemed to be getting more sponsor deals than you. That was infuriating. Then there were the shared sponsors with Adidas or Petronas that flash in the back of your mind.

Posing. Standing for hours while Kimi mindlessly quips at everything and everyone. It was funny at first, but now it’s just fucking annoying. You want to almost push him the next time he says, “Why do we keep having to do the pictures again? Because you’re not smiling.”

You turned towards him quickly, almost offended. “Because I’m not smiling? If you just stayed quiet, we could be done already!”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today…” He says quietly before looking down in embarrassment. He’s experienced your wrath before, and it was not pretty.

In Miami, when you two clipped and ripped off your entire front wing, you nearly wanted to dismantle his car by taking out every individual screw before you arrived in Canada. He was only saved by Toto telling you to calm that temper “or else.”

You’re sucked back into the real world when the journalist asks you another question. “You said there’s no bad blood between you and Kimi, so why has Toto needed to speak to the two of you after the last two races?”

“We’re both competitive drivers.” You respond, watching as another journalist steps in; the camera watches your every move. You know lots of people are watching you, making sure not to miss how your hands were sweating around the microphone so as not to let it become obvious how much you despised him.

“Competitive enough to lose a win?” He follows up, and you look at the camera briefly, pondering what to say.

“That’s your interpretation.” You respond calmly, watching as the second journalist begins speaking. “Has Mercedes chosen a number one driver?”

You just bite your tongue because you know it’s true. Kimi was their little golden boy. He could do no wrong. He was the one to always get the pit stop; he was always the one to be defended by Toto; he always got the brand deals and the girls, and God knows what else, maybe some free gifts from...like skincare brands. That’s right. Yeah.

And maybe some free trainers.

You blink. What the actual fuck is going on in your mind right now?

You look down at the free watch IWC had sent you. Huh. Free. The deals Kimi also gets; you get. Maybe that was incorrect. Maybe you’re just being a facetious prat right now.

You suck in a breath as you’re now walking back from the tense media pen. It’s like being blood in the pool of sharks. The second you put a toe slightly out of line, they’re all over you. The tabloids full of, “Hamilton and Rosberg Part 2?” or “Rivalry at Mercedes?”

“What’d they ask?” He falls into step alongside you, seemingly trying to make small talk, as if that was going to fix a season full of switcheroos and front wings falling off.

“The usual.” You drawl, feeling like you didn’t have the energy to talk about it all again. It was exhausting balancing this fine line, where you started feeling pure hatred for this 19-year-old boy, and then acting like it’s just racing and that’s that.

Cause deep in your heart, it was hate. He was destroying the dream one race at a time. He would taste the Moët under the Abu Dhabi sun, and he would be the one the team screams for at the bottom, celebrating their new World Champion.

He was the crack in your fantasy. It was there, sore and ugly and heartbreaking.

“They asked if you hate me.” He mentions offhand, like he’s hoping you wouldn’t acknowledge it and just brush it under the rug. Your eyebrows raise as you hear it, and you turn towards him.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain; it itches to know what he said. “What did you tell them?”

“Oh, that you don’t.” He says, almost too quickly as well. You bite your bottom lip thinking of it. They must know something to ask him that kind of question. “You lied.” You hiss, staring at him. Your anger momentarily overtakes you, thinking about how you were leading the championship in Miami before he ripped the entire front wing off.

“You are too.”

He then walks off. You can almost hear the steps he’s making, and you stand in the middle of the paddock, lost. Was he going to tell Toto? Had you just admitted you hated him? Kimi knows now. The whole team is going to know now.

There’s a ping from your phone. The Mercedes group. “Dinner in Monza, Thursday, 19:00. “

MONZA, ITALY, 2026

The temple of speed. Your two-week break didn’t go as bad as envisioned. There were no articles talking about your hatred for Kimi. He still messaged you about professional things, and Toto hasn’t ripped your head off yet. So, nobody knows you hate him. He must’ve kept quiet.

Before you knew it, you were inside the circuit surrounded by Ferrari fans, getting ready for your media day and the dinner at 19:00.

“Do you remember what to say to the media? ‘We are competitive, we are just racing, there is nothing between us.’” Your trainer says as you’re doing resistance training on your neck. You’re trying to listen to him, but you’re just thinking about sitting in a hot, cramped room with just other drivers, journalists and Kimi.

You haven’t spoken to Kimi properly since Spa. Professional messages don’t cut it. You used to speak about everything and anything. Cars, relationships, music, other sports, books, you name it. You were unironically good friends before F1.

Tensions are lower in F2. The pressure to perform is much less than in Formula 1. You mess up in F2? Well, bad weekend. You mess up in F1? Grounds for a hearing, intense training and strategy adjustments, and you’re forced to answer to the media.

F1 was slowly becoming a hot, daunting pressure cooker. It was slowly boiling you inside. You’re trapped in the moving circus, and you need to perform to impress.

Then you had Kimi, who seemed like everything was sunshine and rainbows. Smiling, happy, joyful. He was still childish and fun and everything you weren’t. The less he tried, the better he did. You just couldn’t fathom this kind of backwards logic.

Sure, everyone in F1 works hard to get there, but he skips through it, win after win after win, and you’re left with second place and a shitty strategy.

By the time you’d tried to flush all these thoughts out in a steaming hot shower on Wednesday night, your trainer had long since left; it was 1 a.m., and you’d practically be running on fumes through the weekend.

The creeping doubt sets in at this time, as you lay, staring dumbly at the ceiling, not even dreaming anymore. You can’t even see the champagne in your head anymore; you can’t feel the hot desert boiling your skin anymore. The dream was slowly cracking again.

By the time you had fallen asleep, it had been hours. The night sky glittered through your window, and all you could think about was the damn dinner, Kimi and the fact that your dream was slowly slipping through your fingers.

-

Dinner had arrived. You wore a formal black dress with some silver jewellery. It was a designer you had never heard of, but it seemed expensive by the way the satin felt and how it was stitched. It was possibly even handmade.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Heels, dress, purse, hair…Well, you’re going to be late if you delay this any longer, so you walk out of the bathroom and towards the door of the hotel room. Italy, as you knew, was famous for food.

Kimi would never shut up about this one tiramisu he ate somewhere in Reggio Emilia. He said it when you were kids already that he would one day take you there to eat it. You know out of all the desserts, his favourite was still stracciatella flavoured gelato, but you’re quite sure tiramisu places a close second.

Every time you’ve ever gone to dinner with Kimi, he’s ordered a tiramisu. He almost licks the bowl clean every time he eats it. He knows that a good tiramisu has some rum- or wine-infused cake, with espresso and a solid dusting of cocoa on the top. You’re already kind of craving it just thinking about it.

Sitting at the table, you see Kimi already scoping out the dessert menu. “Are you going to order some tiramisu?” You ask him in a sweet tone; he just gives you a half smile before shrugging. “I’ll see.” He closes the menu, looks up and down at your dress, frowns, and looks at Toto instead.

So, it was going to be one of those nights.

The first ten minutes of this exchange, well, it was rather awkward. The restaurant on the outside looked a little dingy, and you could hear the music from the outside already. You assumed this place would be a total dive until you got inside.

The second you stepped inside, your eyes were greeted with an extensive bar, filled with all sorts of alcohol. Aperol, whiskey, champagne, the works. There’s a separate room just housing all the wine they have.

There are two people immaculately dressed behind the bar as well, and a giant bottle of Vodka sitting on the black countertops. The red on the backsplash is a stark contrast from the browns and whites of the tables in front of the open kitchen.

Toto rambles on at a couple of engineers, and Kimi’s poking at some bread placed in front of you.

Your eyes wander up to him. Big mistake. He just looks so undeniably good tonight. You feel compelled to ogle him like a complete idiot before you look down. Perhaps it was a bit too quickly that you looked down, noticing as he looked at you due to your quick head movement.

You eat in silence, taking an awkward bite of the bread, and then he finally begins a conversation with you that was not about wine, tiramisu, Toto, or the car. You smile at him, hoping to dissipate some of the awful tension between the two of you since you accidentally told him you (secretly) hated him.

“So, what were you doing over the break?” He asked quietly.

“Well, working out. As usual. Eating healthy and going for long runs.” You shrug, putting the bread down. You try to hide the flush on your cheeks at how flustered this atmosphere was making you.

The candles reflected golden off him.

Golden like the trophies he’s been lifting since he was a kid. Since you began karting together. Gold like the trophy you can see him lifting into the sky as the Moët rains down on him in Abu Dhabi.

You can’t seriously be feeling so pulled towards Kimi. Kimi, who you were going to rip into pieces 2 weeks ago up Eau Rouge.

Just merely thinking about that brings the adrenaline back between you. The way you’re thirsting, salivating even, to get a one-up on him this weekend. Your eyes narrow at the racing driver across from you, the one who’s staring at you with wide eyes and pursed lips. Why were you gazing at him like that?

It almost began making him nervous. Did he say something wrong? No, no. You said something last. He just hummed and nodded at whatever the hell you said you did during the break. He knew you; you’re like a little chatterbox, you love talking, why are you all quiet now? What was going on? And your gaze is still narrowed at him.

The way his silver arrows would be flying down the straight with you on Sunday in Monza. It was scorching inside the cockpit. You were P2, fighting Kimi for the win. You can hear Crofty speaking again in the back of your head as you dive down turn 1.

You pull out, going on the outside around him. The engine purrs as you push down your foot on the throttle, overtaking him into P1 and…

“Sorry, sorry. Is everything okay? Are you like, listening?” Kimi appears back in front of you, in the expensive restaurant, with the waiters coming past with champagne bottles and your food. You zoned out, shaking your head.

“Excuse me, I- uh…got lost in thought.” You ramble quietly; you see Kimi roll his eyes before digging into his pasta. You take an embarrassed sip of champagne, hoping the alcohol rolling down your palate could soften the blow of staring at him like that. Like a lovesick fool!

He doesn’t look up at you for the rest of the night. You don’t speak to anyone besides you; you’re just repeating the same nonsense in your head repeatedly.

You’re slowly becoming a broken record. P2 was breaking you.

-

“And she dives down into turn 1! After 8 gruelling laps, Kimi Antonelli had to give up that position!” Crofty shouts into the microphone. You’re biting your lip inside your helmet. It’s hot. There’s barely any oxygen left in you.

It’s stuffy. It was difficult to overtake him. You came up right behind him every lap for 8 laps, and Kimi had messed up for the first time ever this season. He went slightly wide. It left a wonderful gap for you to take.

The broken waltz between the two of you seems to continue.

However, just because you’re past doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. He’s hungry for retribution just as you’re thirsty for vengeance. Thirsty for champagne on the top step and a medal around your neck.

You got about 3 laps of breathing room. 3 laps to admit to yourself there was still time. There was always time. So much time in fact that you slowly began zoning out. Gears 1…2-3-4- 5 -4-3-2-1, throttle. Break.

Apex.

Throttle.

The gears shift up on your screen. You hear the engine’s cry behind you. The sound of engineering and technology driving you forward. Lap 9. Lap 10. Lap 11.

Lap 12.

Kimi’s on your tail again, doing exactly what you did. Mount pressure. Slowly but surely. Making sure you know that in the back of your head, if you messed up, he’d say, “thank you, Miss!” and take your position.

Now the controls don’t feel so arbitrary. That overtake button feels like a lifeline you’re slowly becoming too scared to use at the wrong time. You’re holding Kimi up. You’re holding him up, like, a lot.

Lap 13.

“Swap positions.” Your engineer says over the radio. You groan inside of your helmet. You take in an ugly breath of balmy air as Kimi’s car is right behind your right tyre. His wing is so close that if you just brake, he’d hit it.

You’re not swapping positions for the world. It was your turn to experience victory. You will win. You won’t let Kimi take this win again. Remember, what did they say? You’d be teaching Kimi this season. Looks like you’re the one learning right now.

Left.

Right.

Left.

“And Kimi is last on the brakes- who is going to come out? We’ve seen this battle before. She refuses to give up position, and he refuses to back down!” Crofty shouts. Toto is watching this battle from the back of the garage with disgust. Not again. You two race professionally, but you can’t admit that you’re a team.

But Toto doesn’t know that you only get to taste a World Championship once if you’re lucky. Toto doesn’t know that you’ve been dreaming of this since you were 5 years old, and maybe Kimi has been dreaming the same, but you’re willing to be selfish for once and deal with the consequences.

Maybe Toto shouts at you after the race. He shouts at you for everything and anything nowadays anyway. What’s the difference? It’s always that you’re doing something wrong. It’s always that it’s you in the way. You always get shafted.

“Into the Parabolica they go! They are side-to-side; whoever’s in front is going to get a massive slipstream down the straight and- Oh!”

You clip.

Kimi hits your back right tyre.

It sends you both flying into the barriers at 350km/h. You try to brake, but it’s fruitless as the car violently slows into the padded barriers. It takes the little oxygen you had in your lungs. Your car almost slows down in your head as the gravel explodes around you into a sea of dust. It consumes you as the barriers slow you from 350 to 0.

Your head bangs against the side of the sidepod, and the car crumples around you. The boiling heat of the Italian summer wasn’t cooking you anymore. You felt coldness enter your veins, and a strange sinking feeling that it was all falling apart.

It was all ending. That champagne you were so thirsty for? It wasn’t for you. Those points you both wanted? Now you both get 0.

Was it worth not letting him past?

-

You both were sent to the hospital after your over 50G crashes. It was uncertain whether you’d both race in Azerbaijan. You both experienced mild concussions that had your heads feeling about the size of a boat.

Kimi’s bed was next to yours as you tossed and turned. Every time you opened your eyes, you were greeted with the ugly white floors and the fluorescent bright lights. Every part of you felt like a sore bruise, and the only talking the two of you did was about what was going to happen in the meantime if you couldn’t race.

For Kimi, he watched when you slept, with IVs in your hands and your eyes looking soulless and empty. He’d never thought he’d seen a more heartbreaking scene in his life. You were always filled with something, whether it be anger, determination, happiness, excitement. Seeing you with nothing, well, it was odd.

Your skin looked pale. Very pale. You looked, well, sick, and tired, and like a million things were bothering you, but he couldn’t tell what because you didn’t want to speak to him.

How were you going to race after such a shock, mentally? It had been 2 days, and its effects ring sorely between the two of you. The impact. The way your world was spinning after you’d gotten out. The way you could barely look Kimi in the eyes as he lay across you in a bad condition as well.

The championship no longer stuck in your mind. Kimi’s face no longer featured in your picture of the championship. You imagined nothing about the championship. You wished you could lie on a beach in Reggio Emilia in the 36-degree heat reading a shitty book with some Aperol Spritz, and maybe some tiramisu. The closest you got was a long WhatsApp message from Toto and some water with some electrolytes in it.

You turned over to see Kimi, who was also hooked up to a couple of machines, messing around on his laptop. His hair was a mess from not having brushed it in days, and his eyes looked sore as he was under the lights. Was he really this villain you’d created in your mind?

He just looked like you, sore, tired and broken – he wasn’t just a rival, he was your teammate, your karting buddy, your childhood friend; for the most part. There were still rocky parts of your friendship tainted by racing, by karting and Junior Formula rivalry, or him deliberately flaunting girls in your face, but that was what it was. Childish. Innocent.

In some ways, you were both so young – so full of life that seeing it drained out of both of you had to have been quite jarring. It felt jarring from both your side and Kimi’s side. Just being lethargic and weak had been a strange dream for you. You wondered how much training you’d both missed out on. How healthy the hospital’s meals were. How the damn scratchy “robe” you were wearing made you feel exposed and humiliated.

You were luckily discharged the following morning, Kimi following suit as you both sat in the back of the car, feeling sick and weak. Your bones were so lazy. Your entire body felt like it needed a deep, soothing massage all over it. The blood from the needle permeated through the cotton wad that was taped to your hand.

You stare at it dumbly as you both just sit in the most broken silence you’ve ever experienced.

BAKU, AZERBAIJAN, 2026

The next time you went out onto the track for Free Practice 1, both you and Kimi put in abysmal times. The media were all over you as you both walked in together.

The stories of your crash dominated global news. The rivalry was never so intense before. Admittedly, you began to realise Kimi was just a boy, and you were just a girl. You both hated each other’s guts, but you saw him lying in the hospital, and you just silently pressed your lips together at the image.

Driving, you were extra careful, which unfortunately meant you had to settle for a bad P6 and P8. Toto was not mad about it, though. Since it was “medical”, he would give you a pass.

Your car felt like a hostile environment, thinking every time you pushed down the throttle of the impact from your crash. You thought of the way you hit the sidepod, the headache slowly burning as you weakly pulled yourself out of the car.

Kimi was the first to your car when he got out. The colours of red, white and green all blurred in your vision as you saw him run over to you. You couldn’t hear him properly through the padding of your helmet, but he was there, pulling you out of the car as you both leant on one another to the side of the track, where the Safety Car picked you up.

When you looked back to your cars, there were bits of carbon fibre everywhere. A stray Mercedes logo lay buried in the gravel, as the engines of your cars were ripped open for the world to see. They saw both of you in your greedy glory as you desperately scrapped for position.

Toto would call this a lack of perspective. You kind of need to agree with him on that one. Instead of a one-two, you’re bringing home DNF and DNF to Baku. Kimi got a DNF in his home Grand Prix, because of what?

You watch as the old castle quietly zooms by you in your newly rebuilt car. They practically had to replace everything. Even the screws. Even the little pieces holding your entire car together. It was a complete write-off.

Kimi bought all his mechanics something nice in Baku for rebuilding the car. Now you just felt like a complete dickhead because look at how kind, and funny and damn generous he was. What about your mechanics? They worked just as hard. You should’ve bought them something. You really should’ve.

“You’re slow in the middle sector. Pick up the pace a bit.” Your engineer says calmly over the radio. You try to stop those thoughts of crashing into the wall. Those moments of thinking the worst. Thinking of tyres flying everywhere, thinking of carbon fibre lying on the streets of Baku, just trying to keep it clean.

Kimi’s car appears in front of you; you’re both on out-laps. You stare at the back of his car. Seeing how he turns into the corners, how he exits. It was a crucial part of your strategy during the race, seeing how he approaches and exits. If he’s aggressive into the corners, then if you were in front of him, deliberately being extremely slow and taking a middle line pisses him off.

You learned that back in your karting days already. He just wants to go, and if you manage to park your car in front of him, he’s stuck behind you for an eternity before he manages to overtake.

Toto and the others keep telling you to stop doing it, but just because you crashed doesn’t mean you forgot about winning. Every practice was a chance to refine skills, to, well, practice. Feel the car again. Get into the rhythm.

“Traffic ahead.” You hear your engineer say over the radio. His voice is slightly static as you push the throttle down, pull force down the last corner and onto the endlessly long straight. It goes on forever. You pass a couple cars. That must’ve been the traffic ahead.

You push that steering wheel to the left quickly, feeling the entire car jerk to the left. Oof, those new upgrades were intense. You slip coming out of the corner, your wheels catching some spin as you go down the short straight.

Kimi is still ahead of you, darting down the turn, and you can hear his car hum in front of you. You inch closer, getting a nice tow behind him due to his slipstream. Sector 1 flashes purple on your display. Small wins. Small wins…

Your car squirms through the next couple corners, but it is nothing you can’t refine over the weekend. Sure, your confidence got knocked down a couple pegs due to the crash, but you’d get it back.

Nothing was going to break your confidence from here.

You’re now following Kimi into the castle; he’s right in front of you. This was where you were losing time.

The car just seems to slow from here. It’s almost like you can’t get past the mental block of a super narrow and tight racetrack. This is where you were losing time; you knew it. You didn’t need telemetry or data to tell you this.

As you exit the castle section, Kimi seems to be pulling away. How he manages to find time and grip everywhere where you can’t be is fascinating. Even copying what he does doesn’t work for you.

He goes slightly wider; you do too. You bang your back wheel on the exit. He brakes later; you attempt to do the same. You don’t seem to be as quick. He’s pulling away even more.

Sector 2, +0,4 seconds.

You slide through the rest of the corners quickly, beginning to catch up with him. You’re now barreling towards the final corner.

Kimi slows in front of you, kind of dramatically as he did when you were karting. He used to do it when defending. He has absolutely no reason to now – it’s just practice. You wanted to lift off the throttle. Almost.

However, you intentionally don’t. You decide to pile on the pressure and only go faster towards him; he just goes slower. There you’re stuck between a concrete wall, going at 280km/h and there are two silver arrows into the last corner. Only space for one.

Your front wings brush softly against each other in some weird ballet move between the two of you, delicate and humiliating. Kimi’s car speeds off in front of you, and you waste no time following down the 2,2km straight to the finish line.

Sector 3, -0,2.

Final time: 1 minute 44.223. Faster than Kimi.

Despite the brush, the tow he gave you put you as P1 for FP2.

“What the hell was that?” You speak over the radio, your tone clearly annoyed; your engineer replies calmly. “Box, we have some damage.”

Once you climb out of the car as you pull into the garage, your hands are shaking from the adrenaline. Your mind is curling. You were leading. You had pace for once. Pace to beat him. He nearly took it away again. Just like every single win this season.

Kimi gets out of the car, walking to the back of the garage. You see him take off his helmet and you waste absolutely no time going over to him.

“What the fuck was that? I was right behind you, and you brake like a complete idiot!?” You shout; he acts like he’s not hearing you.

“I’m not trying to do anything! It’s your own fault you’re following me like a damn fly!” He shouts down the hallway. The garage has gone quiet, watching your heated exchange. “Are you trying to kill us? Because you’re getting close!” He doesn’t look at you; he’s breathing heavily as he walks down the hallway. You’re also gasping for air as your gaze narrows at him.

“Don’t act stupid here. You knew I was there.” Your tone turns from desperate to cunning; you can’t help but maybe get a couple stabs in. Maybe finally give him a taste of what you’ve been dealing with for weeks.

He spins around quickly, and you nearly walk into him. Everyone is quiet; they’re still watching. Every mechanic is staring; every engineer watches in curious horror. Toto? Hopefully not nearby.

“You always want a tow, you want to be right in my slipstream, you are on my gearbox every second of practice or qualifying. Then you are surprised when I defend!” He shouts back, and your heart is contracting meanly.

“Defend? You call that defending? Were you seriously trying to put me in the wall again – “

“I didn’t touch you!”

“Yes, you did! Just like Monza!” You yell, almost at the top of your voice. He goes quiet. He’s still breathing hard; you can hear it in the silence, which only grew by the second. He’s staring at you with rage. It’s burning; it’s somehow stealing the oxygen right out of your own lungs, and something ugly flashes across his face.

His tone gets colder, his voice calmer. “Don’t you dare blame Monza on me. You refused to give position. You were the one who refused.”

“Because I refuse to be number two!” You yell at him again, “Every damn time I have to move because golden boy needs a clear track- “

“Golden boy?” He lets out a short, humourless laugh. “Is this what it’s about? Your little desire for wins? For a title? You think I get those for free?” He scoffs.

“The entire team absolutely does, yes. They will fall to your feet if something goes wrong. I must just, I don’t know, ‘figure it out’” You huff, your chest rising and falling rapidly at how angry you’re getting.

He only gets closer. The gap between the two of you decreases between the tyre racks. His eyes are dark, and he’s got that ugly look on his face again.

“You crashed. You put me out of my home race. We lay in hospital for two entire days, because what, you didn’t want to give up position? Because you’re a little greedy fool who wants everything for herself?”

“I didn’t get us into hospital all by myself- “

“You clipped me!” He shouts. “You saw me going around the outside; you did that on purpose!”

“You wouldn’t fucking move! I gave you space!” His skin is flushing red now, and he just hisses at you.

The silence that follows is thick. Nobody speaks. You can see the scars on his hands from drips and IVs that are still healing. They’re scabby and bloody. You both blink at each other like idiots in the silence, unsure of what to say next.

Your heart is contracting meanly in your chest, as if it has grown about 5 times since this argument started. Your back aches from the tall posture you’ve been holding in pure anger, the way your muscles have been painfully contracting the entire time.

Kimi’s voice is scratchy as he says it, “You said you hated me.”

Your stomach drops. You’d forgotten all about it. It was weeks ago now, but clearly, it had a bigger impact on him than you would’ve assumed. “I- “

“In the paddock. After the media. You said I was lying, after I told them that you weren’t.” His nostrils flare. “So, what is it? Do you hate me? Do you hate that I am faster, maybe better than you?”

His question digs into your heart like a sore knife. Your eyes want to well with tears at it. Your throat is so tight you can barely speak.

He waits a couple more seconds before stepping back.

“Figure it out.”

-

You were both feeling raw going into qualifying. Toto had caught wind of your rather passionate fight in the garage and gave you both a stern warning about letting it happen again. When you left the room on Friday night, you had dreams of champagne and Kimi with a DNF in Abu Dhabi.

You couldn’t hate him anymore than you could now. You were shaking in your own bed thinking about his words. The way you’d never, ever seen him so angry.

The team kept the two of you apart during qualifying and sent you out one-by-one as you set times. You’d come in the pits, and he’d go out. You’d both qualified well, now having forgotten all about your fear of smashing into the wall, and now you’re determined to just park your car ahead of his.

There were articles everywhere about your rivalry. On Sunday morning, you were swarmed with press leaving your hotel about what was going on between you and Kimi. You hid behind some sunglasses to hide your teary eyes.

At the track, you sat in your chair at the back of the garage and listened to some music. Hopefully it would calm your racing heart as you watched the mechanics do some final adjustments on the car. Nobody dared mention the argument on Friday. Not even yourself. The last person to say anything was Toto, and that was that.

You sat on the grid for a while; you just wished you could get more sleep, and the heat to die down a little. It was about 29 degrees, and you already felt like you were sweating in the car. You hadn’t slept properly since the argument on Friday. Some champagne would be well deserved right now.

-

“Box, box.” Your engineer quips over the radio. “Copy.” You had responded before you could even process what you were agreeing to. Today, strategy was what was going to separate the two of you. You were on the undercut, as discussed, as you’d demonstrated stellar pace all weekend and you were ahead of Kimi by far.

You hit your marks, and the pit crew once again did a perfect job, just as they practised. The one thing you can depend on with Mercedes is obsessive perfection. Everything is obsessively perfect from the management to the telemetry to the pit crew. They were a team of reliable people.

You enjoy fresh air for a long time. The majority of the Grand Prix. The scrap on Friday with Kimi was miles away in your mind. The only thing you thought of was finally winning. Finally tasting champagne on the top step today.

Lap 43.

“Gap to Kimi, 4 seconds.”

You sigh internally. You know what this means. You have 51 laps in total, and you were so sure that you’d win this one. Kimi has 8 laps to catch and overtake you. You know he wants to. He wants to rub in what he said.

“Do you hate that I am faster, that I am better than you?” His words echo in your head. You shake your head, going down the straight.

You wanted to rub it in yourself. A win would just rub salt into his wound. You think of Toto telling you to keep your head afloat. You’re drowning in the sea of insecurity. Scratch that, you’re suffocating in it.

Kimi’s words ripped your heart apart. It almost felt like a small, coordinated attack he’d thought of on the spot. How he managed all the time to be calm and collected, having the World Championship fight on his shoulders, was confusing. Must he feel the pressure somewhere? There’s no way this didn’t matter to him.

There’s no way it didn’t matter more to him than it did to you – you desperately wanted a World Championship, just like he did. He spoke about being a World Champion when you were kids already, let alone now when he can practically taste the victory on his tongue.

That car every Sunday sings a symphony to the World Championship fight. It rings in your mind as you begin dreaming about overtaking Kimi into the hairpin at Yas Marina, the world watching you as you come around the final corner and make this whole journey worth it. The gruelling, sore, heartbreaking journey.

Your shoulders ache, your neck is barely supporting the weight of your head. Your muscles scream in tiredness as you yank the car left, right, left, right.

“ANT, +2.5 seconds.” You read the screen on your steering wheel as it flashes to garner your attention. He’s coming. You can’t stop this. You cannot stop him.

You couldn’t stop him before, but maybe, just maybe, you can try to now. You wouldn’t let this go without a scrap. If you lose, what does it say about your skills as an F1 driver? A kid, 3 years younger than you, driving the same car, has been beating your ass for an entire season. You’ve been hearing everyone’s negative monologue for hours. From Toto to Bono, to Kimi himself, to even yourself.

There’s just that little bit of hope that speaks quietly in your mind, small, broken and quiet, that tells you that you can do this. That you’re not driving this car because Toto didn’t see talent in you. He saw millions, and millions in you. He saw every near miss you always seem to pull off; he sees how, even reluctantly, you’re mostly a team player, and you’re always trying so hard, even when the rivalry is corroding you from the inside.

That’s what makes that little voice so powerful. Believing, just for once, you’d be better than him. Into the first corner, you lead. Lap 45. Your car slips coming out of the corner; you correct it quickly. Your eyes dart down to the screen, ANT +1.9.

You check your mirrors going into the second corner. He is, in fact, in your mirrors now. The track between you narrows in every single corner. Every single breath you take, his car only lurches closer to yours. The mess of silver and teal is slowly coming up to you.

Lap 49. Two laps. Kimi wants to take this home. Extend his lead from 11 points to about 20 in Monza. You’ve been neck-and-neck the entire season. The gap has only narrowed; you’ve been chipping off slowly, and he could breathe easy knowing that you both lay like complete idiots in Italy getting no points.

You didn’t get closer. But now, you’re again narrowing points. You get closer, closer, closer every single Grand Prix, and that’s what he hates about you. You’ve always been consistent. You’ve had 3 DNFs over your entire career. You never finish out of the top 10.

He’s only feeling more nervous seeing your car pull out in front of him, the gap slowly becoming larger. He brakes later; his car slides. You’re escaping his grasp.

You go wide on the last corner, and there he is.

He’s within a second for the overtake boost. He presses it like a trigger-happy child. He can’t wait to glide past you, seeing your visor through the halo of his own car and looking at it. His front wing is behind your rear wing going down the straight.

Unfortunately, you always somehow had the upper hand on him during these moments. Your car is practically as wide as the entire straight. You’re smack bang in the middle. He has no space behind you, and for the first time ever, he thinks he has to brake on a straight.

Through the narrow corners of Baku, he tries again. He tries to clip you, deliberately. He’s getting dirty, and he doesn’t like it. “I like her because she always manages to keep it clean.” Toto’s words from when Kimi was in F2 ring in his ears. It was your first meeting with Toto and Bono, and he’d praised your driving ability. Naturally, Kimi was the first to know about how much Toto liked your driving style.

Well, Kimi finds out through the Castle section why you’re so good. He just can’t overtake you. But he’s right there behind you, charging up his battery for the longest straight on the calendar.

You both take the final corner within +0.4 seconds of one another. It was a given that he would overtake you within the final lap for the win. However, you’d since learned from your mistakes in Silverstone, and you get a magnificent boost after Kimi has used all his. You activated it slightly later, so you still had boost down the straight to stop him.

You both bang wheels in many corners. Your head bobbles around as the only thing you can think about is giving your exhausted body a rest when you are done. You momentarily close your eyes on a short straight to reward your body with some oxygen and to calm your racing heart.

“If you could keep him under wraps until the finish line, you will win.” That voice reminds you, and right now, the win doesn’t seem so far away. You smile quietly through the castle section, admiring it at 150km/h for the last time this season, before racing off into the city again.

Kimi’s weaving behind you; he’s aggressive. You’d already banged one another twice on this lap alone, and you just assume he’s doing it to damage your confidence. But something has changed – you’re not nervous, you’re not scared. You’re just racing now. Who cares if he’s busy swearing at you in his car? You’re ahead, and you have the upper hand.

You’re in Kimi’s position. Feeling exactly what Kimi feels in P1 and being on top of the world.

You exit the final corner and execute your strategy again, but this time, Kimi comes alongside you, and then your stomach drops.

The chequered flag looks like a blur of black and white as you both come over the line, looking at each other’s visor. There’s no clear winner.

“And they’ve crossed the line at the same time!” Crofty’s voice echoes through the stadium. Thousands of fans hold their breath for the FIA’s decision.

“We’re checking, we’re checking. Hold tight.” The radio goes silent after that. You drive slowly around Baku, waiting for any sign of who won. Time stretches. It takes forever. You’re nearly around the entire track when your engineer comes over the radio.

“P1. Confirmed, you won by four thousandths.”

You laugh nervously into the radio; you feel pure relief wash over you. Your heart finally stops beating so quickly.

You finally beat him.

In Parc Fermé, you stare at the scoring board. +000.4. It was close. You smile at it as you see Kimi walk out of the car and take off his helmet. “Four thousandths. You are lucky.” He raises his eyebrow at you before walking off to drink water. You frown at him before getting weighed.

On the top step of the podium, you drink that bottle of Moët that has been waiting for you. The crisp flavours of alcohol and bubbles curl on your tongue under the autumn sun, as Kimi and Hamilton spray each other with champagne.

LAS VEGAS, USA, 2026

You walk through the lavish hotel lobby. It is decked out with gold trimmings, marble floors, red carpets, the works. You knew Vegas was extra, but this is next level. You admire the sparkling lights of the other hotels on the strip as you get checked in. The staff had already taken your luggage, and you’re standing with Kimi, looking around.

“Looks, eh…better than where we stayed in Baku.” You say sarcastically; he laughs before running his hands through his curly hair. “Eh, yeah. I’d say so.” He walks off, cutting off your small talk.

It’s yet again Wednesday night. You had vigorous training with your trainer this morning, and you’d flown into Vegas straight after. Safe to say, you’re exhausted. The time here is 11 hours behind, and you’re feeling jet-lagged. Your eyes want to close, but it’s not even 5 pm yet.

You try to stay awake by reviewing paperwork and turning on all the lights in the room, but you end up face-first into the desk, getting a crappy night’s sleep anyway.

By Thursday evening, you were running on caffeine and dreams of winning this weekend.

“Another one?!” You groan as you read the text message on the Mercedes group. Yet another dinner on a Thursday night. You’re luckily just downstairs in the casino of the Wynn this time. Some fancy celebrity chef restaurant…

The next message you get is from Kimi, about 30 seconds later. “Meet me downstairs for an Aperol? Toto wants to talk with you.”

You groan again. Of course, Toto wants to talk to you.

You scratch through your bag to find something to wear. You land on a ruffled baby blue dress. Well, looks like this is what you’re going to go out in.

“Are you guys already there?” You message back.

He responds when you’re busy throwing your hair around a curling iron and putting on some makeup.

“Yep, don’t rush. We’re just going to hang here until dinner starts.” His text lights up your screen; you don’t even read it before continuing to get ready.

You’re practically running out the door, having put on any random pair of sandals. You press the button on the elevator to go down, sucking in a breath. What was Toto going to scald you about now?

When you heard the elevator ding, you let the doors open into the lobby again. There was this slow jazz playing, but that wasn’t doing anything to calm your experience. Your phone vibrates in your hand as you’re walking through the lobby trying to find the bar they are in.

You eventually find them sitting at a table outside. You try your best to put on a nice smile for Kimi and Toto, but the best you can manage is a tired acknowledgement.

“Sorry. Couldn’t find you guys.” You begin pulling out your own chair before Kimi tsk-tsks at you.

“Not that difficult. Right by the door. I sent you a message.”

When you look down at your phone, he’s right. The next message after telling you not to rush was where they were. Aren’t you working like a robot today?

“Didn’t see it.” You sit down; Toto gives you a sharp gaze before both drink their Aperol Spritz. There’s this awkward silence that overcomes the table, seeing the two of them look at each other, almost asking the silent question of ‘Should we tell her?’

“What?” You ask.

“Nothing, nothing.” Kimi takes another swig of the bright orange coloured liquid. You’re sitting between the two of them, tension rising, with no idea what’s going on.

“So, we need to talk,” Toto says. Your stomach already drops. You know what this is about. It was going to be about your rivalry. About the fact you said you hated him. About crashing into him. About how you’ve been running like a robot for the last 2 months.

“I’m not going to repeat myself about the crashing. You know the deal. You both nearly ended each other’s careers right then and there. The public fighting? It stops. Immediately. We do not need to entertain the media further.”

He looks between the two of you.

“For the rest of the season,” His voice is calm but firm, “There will no longer be team orders. Whoever’s fastest wins. No preferential strategy. You race one another. ”

Your shoulders drop as you finally feel the relief of Kimi being chosen over you being destroyed in a matter of seconds. Suddenly, this was no longer a rivalry about who the team cares more about, but rather who can outscore the other.

“Serious?” You ask, almost in disbelief now that the information has set in. “Completely. The team supports the two of you equally from now on.”

“So, no more orders?” Kimi asks, with his voice lower than normal. You look at him. “No more orders.” As you both look at each other, nobody smiles, but something has just shifted.

-

The dinner table is already full of engineers and sponsors when you arrive. You’re seated next to one another again. The air between the two of you was less sharp, more careful as you both remained somewhat respectful towards one another. No icy glares or underhanded comments.

Then the champagne came out.

After about 20 minutes, you’re both livelier and chattier than normal. The effects of alcohol on an empty stomach. Both your cheeks are slightly flushed, and your pupils dilated.

“Remember when we both spun at the same time on the same corner in karting?” You begin to laugh before he even gets to the end of his question. “You seriously still remember that?” You ask within a fit of giggles as you down the rest of your champagne.

“Slow down, girl. Nobody is stealing the champagne.” He rolls his eyes dramatically before grabbing the bottle in its holder behind him and pouring you more. “You were such an idiot in your karting days.” Your condescending tone leaks through every single word.

“Well, I must’ve been on the right track.” He shrugs. You just smile at him again. Since when was he so chatty as well?

The conversation stays light. F2 days. Terrible breakfasts in hotels. When you both got food poisoning during the F2 race in Hungary. Nothing about crashes, or championships, or Mercedes. Just reminiscing on what you were before this toxic rivalry.

It leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth as you leave dinner quietly. The party was picking up, but you needed to rest before tomorrow’s practice sessions.

Your heels dig into your feet, and you’d been jumping around for hours. You weren’t exactly drunk, but the world had brighter colours and your feet moved on their own accord without your acknowledgement.

The elevator doors are closing when Kimi’s hand stops them. He steps in, with his collar undone and cheeks slightly flushed from drinking. The doors close as you watch him press the buttons on the control panel.

“Floor?” He asks.

“Same as you.”

The soft jazz music of the lobby begins fading, and it’s just the two of you inside of this metal box.

The numbers begin ticking up as you stand there, awkwardly looking at one another. You bite your lip, waiting for him to say something. “You know, you should be glad Toto saved your ass.” He whispers. It makes your insides curl at his bratty statement.

“Saved my ass? Saved our asses.” You shoot back, but there’s no real heat in it. The champagne softened all the edges.

He gazes towards you, and when you finally focus on him, his eyes are darker than usual. With a strange heat inside of them. They’re unfocused, gazing at your mouth for a second too long.

The stupid and the inevitable happened.

One second, there’s a comfortable distance between the two of you, and the next, his mouth is on yours. Exploring, warm, curious. Champagne and adrenaline linger on his tongue. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t demanding – it was messy. Messy in the way all first kisses somehow are.

Your back hits the mirrored wall with a thud, as his hand moves to block you in. His other hand cupping your jaw. You’re expecting him to do something. Realise this was stupid, realise this was wrong, but he never went away. His lips remain on yours, incessant and eager to somehow get the secrets to spill out of them.

Your hand fists his shirt, grabbing the flimsy material and pulling him closer. He accidentally makes a low sound, one almost not audible. The heat rises between you, making your head spin and hurt from the mere alleviation of all this tension.

Ding.

You both break apart like two embarrassed teenagers. You’re both panting for air as the doors open. When you look at his lips, your lipstick is smeared all over them, and his chest rises and falls violently. Nobody moves. You sit paralysed, staring at the empty floor in front of you.

“Bad idea.” His voice is quiet and wrecked.

“Terrible.”  You swallow, pulse still in your ears and throbbing in your throat. Nobody moves. You’re both just sitting in this awful silence that stretches on for eternity. What had you just done?

The doors begin to close, and you both decide to make your exit. You part ways, going down the hall to your respective rooms. You begin wiping off your smeared lipstick and the lingering taste of champagne, and regret swirls in your mouth.

-

A mere 3 points separate the two of you. The season was ending, but there was still hope for the championship. You’d fight down to the last lap, on the last corner, if you had to.

You’d lined up P1 after a stellar qualifying. You and Kimi were once again separated by thousandths. +0.007 was the difference between the two of you after qualifying. Of course, you had other people to worry about, namely Hamilton, who had also snuck up to P3 in the championship by this point, after your double DNF in Monza.

The car revs to life underneath you on the grid. It was time. Time to show the world that you can win against Kimi again. If you win, you’d be in P1 of the championship. Kimi had it all to lose today.

After your incident in the elevator, you wondered whether you’d started pulling on his heartstrings, but you see him plastered to your gearbox as you’re doing the formation lap. Well, no kind words were going to fix the soreness between you now.

Once you get to the grid, you sit smelling the fumes from the petrol and the rubber of your tyres. The back markers take forever to get around the final corner. You roll your eyes as Stroll takes a stroll around the final corner.

The lights come on. You push the pedal to send your car into its wonderful symphony.

1 light.

You can do this.

2 lights.

You will do this.

3 lights.

You deserve to be here.

4 lights.

It’s on.

5 lights…

“Oh! What a start from P1! Antonelli’s left scrambling with Verstappen, as he goes onto the outside, and overtakes Antonelli for P2! Hamilton and Leclerc are looking for a way past the young Italian, but he manages to keep it clean…”

Crofty’s voice rings through the strip. Under the sparkling night lights, your confidence is back. You’re stepping on those pedals, hitting the apex of every single corner; you remembered how much talent you had.

How much you deserved to drink champagne on the top step and not crash into your teammate and spend the night staring at the lights of your hotel room. The insecurity that has been infecting your blood the entirety of the season begins dissolving by the fountain of the Bellagio.

Racing past fountains, and lights, and millions of fans, you smile at the thought of it never being over. You wanted to take this moment and put it in a small glass bottle and display it on your shelf at home.

You were back.

LAP 24.

Half race distance. You’d just pitted and come out behind Kimi, who got the undercut once again to correct the mistake he made against Verstappen on the opening lap. You’re currently running P2 and P3.

“Gap is +1.4” Your engineer speaks over the radio calmly. You bite your lip, pressing the battery boost button down the straight to hopefully work through the turbulent air off Kimi’s car. Suddenly, you’re in his position. How he feels when you just want to be let through by your teammate without such a fuss.

Weren’t you being a pain in the ass the whole season? However, Kimi wasn’t going to make it easy for you, just like how you never made it easy for him.

The next time you race down the strip, you’re on +1.2 seconds. At the end, +1.0 seconds. If you keep the gap exactly like that, you’d get an overtake boost.

You begin focusing intensely on just maintaining the gap. Your tyres are newer; you now have more pace than him, it should be easy?

Rounding the final corner, you feel the car lurch you forward onto the straight. Tyres are 3 laps old. You’re already +0.4 a lap faster than Kimi, and your tyres weren’t even warm.

You’re now the hunter and not the prey.

Every part of the track feels like a prime opportunity to admire the back of Kimi’s car. You haven’t overtaken him; you’re just planning on giving him as much pressure as possible. Parking your front wing into places where it shouldn’t be and giving Kimi a mini heart attack every single time because he assumed he drove over it and got a puncture.

“Check the tyres!” He shouts over the radio.

“Tyres are a-okay, Kimi.”

“Are you sure!?”

“Yep. No punctures.” His engineer clarifies for him. He breathes out a long sigh of relief.

Every time you go side-by-side on the straight, you slowly lift off the throttle a bit so you’re both taking up space, then once you reach the corner letting him go in front.

Now you’re playing the same games he was.

“Can someone tell her to stop doing this?!” Kimi shouts over his radio. He’s getting frustrated; he’s getting worried you clip and send both of you into the concrete walls of Las Vegas. He couldn’t even stomach the thought of another double DNF, and possibly even letting Hamilton into P2 of the championship.

“Overtake him or stay behind. Don’t play games.” Your engineer scalds you over the radio.

“Shut up, I know what to do.” You send back to your engineer. You know Toto is going to be up your ass for these theatrics you’re displaying here, but you can’t help but get a bit giddy on the thought of sending the entire team spiralling. It is Vegas after all; what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

I mean, you’re not like…crashing or anything.

You laugh at the way Kimi’s car wobbles into the final corner, and you dive past him. “And she says thank you very much! She’s up into P2!” Crofty says; you can hear his voice echoing through your helmet. What speakers did they have installed in Vegas? You’d heard of Hamilton and Leclerc’s battle, a battle with Leclerc and Hadjar. You’re practically watching this Grand Prix from above.

Verstappen is forced to pit on Lap 33. His tyres are, in fact, toast. Which means your strategy worked. Now you must bring it home.

LAP 45

“And the two Mercedes are neck-and-neck, once again, fighting down the straight! We’ve seen epic battles from the two of them this season, and we’re getting another!”

Kimi’s now +0.4 seconds behind you. He caught up. He’s always been good at managing the tyres; you, not so much. They’re practically limping due to the fact you were pushing so hard to build a gap out in front. Didn’t work out too well for you.

He tries the inside, then the outside, then the inside again. You unfortunately make your car as wide as the track, and he struggles to get past.

You’re sweating at the thought of losing this win. You are provisionally P1 in the championship. You’d be leading. It was in your grasp.

That straight is now no longer a bunch of pretty lights sparkling above you; it’s become Kimi’s hunting ground to get P1.

Your hands are shaking, and inhaling the fumes of hot rubber is making you lightheaded. He’s pressed the overtake boost, and is coming alongside you when…

“Oh! Is that Hamilton into the barriers? It is!”

“Yellow flag. Yellow flag. Safety car will be out now.” Your engineer says over the radio. You feel a welcome wave of relief as Kimi slots into P2 behind you. Maybe the race finishes under safety car. You hope daftly for it. It would guarantee your win.

You drive past where Hamilton has crashed his car. There are bits of carbon fibre everywhere. 5 laps remain; you know 1 or 2 laps of racing are most likely.

That’s all you must do.

The safety car drives around in front of you for 4 laps. On lap 49/50, it goes into the pits. The field is bunched up behind you. Kimi’s warming his tyres like crazy; however, there’s someone behind Kimi that you’re becoming more worried about.

Verstappen.

He pitted when the safety car came out. His tyres have been warming for 3 laps and are newer than both yours and Kimi’s. Should you or Kimi let him through, he has a decent chance of a win.

You decide to wait until the last minute to release the brake and press the throttle.

While you take one last look at the track around you, you take a much-needed breath of air before sending it right by the finish line.

Kimi was expecting this, keeping to your side the entire time. Kimi’s right behind you and catching. You stare at the giant sphere as you throttle past it. You can hear nothing but the sound of 3 engines behind you.

Left mirror? Kimi.

Right mirror? Verstappen.

You’re sandwiched between the two of them coming to turn 11. They’re side by side when…

Your brakes freeze up. Your tyres explode into smoke. Fuck. You locked up, going wide, but then you look to your left to make sure you wouldn’t hit anyone.

“Both Mercedes have locked up! Verstappen goes through as the two of them scrabble to get back to the podium positions!”

P2. P3.

“We saw drama in this race, but it’s going to be a delight for Red Bull today, as Max Verstappen wins the Las Vegas Grand Prix!”

-

The after-party inside of an exclusive club in Vegas feels dry. The alcohol makes you feel more reckless than anything else. You’d been drinking champagne and vodka all night. It was ticking close to 3 am.

You’d spoken to about 4 guys, all of whom tried to get you to sleep with them. Toto also phoned you, but you put the phone down. By the time the alcohol had reached “it’s now tasting like water” stage, you knew you needed to stop.

You got a final drink before going up onto the rooftop balcony of the building.

You sat in silence as you stared at the track being packed up. Barriers coming down, signage being taken off, and the ominous Wynn logo hanging over the strip. You had to somehow get to the Wynn, yet you’re about 2km away, drunk and tired.

If only you could just find a way.

“I heard you might be here.” You hear a familiar voice behind you. One you know very well.

“You found me, Kimi.” You answer, turning around. He stands by the entrance to the roof and leans against the doorframe. “Yeah, you’re not exactly subtle when it took you 5 days to get up the steps.”

“They keep moving around. It’s also extremely difficult not to fall when drunk.” You roll your eyes, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. Even though you had a disappointing race, your mind was blissfully blank.

“Come on, it’s not so bad.” He laughs, walking up to you. You looked different when you were drunk. Not so convoluted. More open, you laugh at everything, your cheeks are glazed pink. You’re more friendly, sociable. It was a common side effect of getting drunk, but he wishes you just weren’t so serious all the time.

All the time you look like you’re thinking of races, and strategy, and telemetry, where you needed to improve. Your life was totally sucked in by racing. Hell, you didn’t even have a boyfriend; that’s how focused you were. He never heard of boys; he never heard of relationships.

He truly had to wonder if you’d been single your entire life?

Kimi – on the other hand, had plenty of girlfriends, both in school and within the paddock. He’d dated plenty of people, older than him, younger than him or same age as him (note to Kimi: don’t date people you’re in class with), but you?

I mean, what do you know?

“So, can I like…ask you something?” He smiles kindly, leaning against the railing next to you. You don’t really look relaxed when he does so.

“Do you remember Thursday night?” You’re left biting your lips at the thought of it. The taste of regret, the way you had grabbed him. The way you were left panting and secretly wanting more.

“Of course.” You reply without much thought; he twitches, standing next to you on the railings.

“Well, do you regret it?” His voice disappears under the noise of the Strip; it reflects his embarrassment at the fact that he’d drunkenly kissed his teammate in an elevator.

“No…” The alcohol made you more honest than you’d like to admit. “Well- I mean, you know…” You look up at him; you never really stuttered over words. “I guess I should feel a bit guilty, but not really.” He lets out a short breath against the railing, leaning his elbows against it.

“Well, good, ‘cause I don’t either.” He admits. He admits it too confidently. Too confidently for normal, sober, I-care-about-my-reputation-and-relationships Kimi. He must’ve been drinking too.

The silence isn’t very awkward, not like how it was in the elevator. It felt kind of brainless and comfortable. You’re both slightly closer than normal. You’re both looking at each other differently than normal.

He glances towards the bright lights. The people dismantling the track.

“What are you doing so far from the hotel, completely drunk?” He asks, almost mockingly.

“You are also completely drunk and far from the hotel.” You pipe back; however, his stupid comment somehow made a blush crawl up your cheeks.

“Well, you know, I could make my way back.” His voice drips with confidence, almost acting like he was more capable than you.

“I could at least get, like, an Uber.” You drink the last of your champagne, watching as he looks back over the Strip.

“The driver is downstairs, you know? He could drop us off.” He shrugs. You nod; how else were you going to get to the Wynn anyway?

-

The door hadn’t even clicked shut before you slammed Kimi against it. Everything made a loud noise, the door creaking, and he was gasping at your dominance.

His back made an ugly sound as he hit the door, but you didn’t fucking care. He deserved it. He deserved some pain. His face contorted into a strange, pleasured expression and his eyes flashed with heat.

“God, you’re a nightmare.” You whisper into his ear, slowly moving to breathe right behind his ear. Your lips brush the sensitive skin as you feel him squirm beneath you.

“Yet, you can’t resist.” He smirks, grabbing your flesh beneath him. You’re still wearing your team kit. A short-sleeved Mercedes shirt and some matching shorts.

A loud gasp exits your lungs as he flips the roles, pushing you onto the wall next to the door. You had barely any time to protest as his lips are on yours, demanding and biting. He’s not biting softly; he’s gouging you hard enough that you’re wondering if he’s part vampire.

You’re tasting copper as he angrily begins lashing his tongue at you. You could barely keep up at his desperate and angry kiss. It was all teeth and pent-up passion between the two of you.

His hands cupped your ass as he pushed you up the wall, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist as you only got closer. Bodies touching, hands wandering. Your eyes closed, tiredly as you reached up to play with his curls.

He lets go for air, and you’re both gasping. His cheeks are flushed with blotches of pink, and his hands catch the elastic of your shorts.

“You’re so fucking infuriating.” You hiss at him, still tasting blood in your mouth and feeling him drop your shorts to the floor.

He manhandles you by your hair, setting your feet on the ground and turning you around, pressing your face against the cold wall.

“You can think about that while you take it, that okay with you, honey?” He bites your neck as he speaks softly into your ear. His tone is deceiving and soft, but his words are not.

You can only focus on the dark heat pooling between your legs like sin and the way his mouth is sucking and biting your skin. He wasn’t gentle with it; he’s making sure there are marks and bites all over you. Your neck aches at the way he has it bent against the wall, and you’re all sweaty from partying all night.

You were such a mess, yet Kimi couldn’t wait to have you. You were so attractive, especially after a Grand Prix, all tired and exhausted and gorgeous, with flushed cheeks and your lungs gasping for air.

But this is pretty close too. Your cheeks flushed from drinking all night and having your mouth contorted into an ‘O’ as he bites your neck.

He pushes your shirt out of the way as you both walk hand in hand to the bed. You climb on first, before he climbs over you.

“Say you hate me again.” He murmurs, yanking you underneath him and wrapping your legs around his waist again. This time, you get enough leverage to grind against his hard length.

“H-hah, I told you- you need to- " His voice stutters; he’s already feeling the effects of how you’re teasingly moving underneath him. You pull his hair, and you hear a choked moan escape his throat.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” You push him off you, climbing on top of him underneath you. You look at how he’s flushed underneath you, biting his lips like crazy. His lips are all puffy from your kisses, and you move down to begin kissing and biting his neck.

You claw at his shoulders, digging your nails into his Mercedes shirt. You want to rip it off him, but you’re not an animal, so it bunches under your fingers instead and stretches over his chest.

His breath speeds up as you make bites all over his neck. “I hate how much this is turning me on.” He admits quietly; you just let out a deep chuckle before pulling on his hair. “Is that so?” You smile, seeing his blown-out eyes and rising and falling chest.

His lips capture yours again as you begin pulling up his shirt. His hands tangle in your hair as you pull it off. You throw it on the floor behind you as you admire his body.

You saw the small scars from all the injuries from Monza. The scratches on his arms from the crash, or the bruise still lingering on his bicep. You bite your lip, looking at the small purple mark.

“You like it?” He asks smugly, his face pulled into a grin. You roll your eyes, “Duh.” You return to the warmth of his mouth as you begin to pull and scratch at each other again.

His neck is dotted with little marks, and you let go only to add more. His hips stutter up again, earning another soft moan from him. “O-oh, you’re-“ you cut him off, kissing him again and pushing down the shorts of his team kit.

His head is spinning; he’s never had so much hate and passion blended together in his whole life. His body’s buzzing with the need to be inside of you right now; it’s practically screaming at him.

His hands push you down onto the bed, so that you’re underneath him once again. Your words die on your tongue as he wastes no time tangling your tongue with his again.

He’s fuelled by adrenaline in this moment, exactly like how he is when he’s thirsting for a win, exactly how he feels when he so desperately wants to overtake you on the track, and you keep blocking him.

Just the thought of how you drove today makes him tangle his hands in your hair and pull, pull hard and sorely. He’s flushed just hearing your dreamy sounds, the way you’re playing with his necklaces, pulling at them and clawing at his shoulders.

You bite your bottom lip, which by now was already red and dripping blood into your mouth from his biting antics earlier. You whine as he makes your neck bloom with little marks.

“You’re so fucking annoying…” he grunts between kissing your neck. His voice is low, and his eyes are glassy; they’re clouded with desire, but it seems to go deeper - it looks like lust.

They’re full of that intense, corroding desire to completely consume you whole and take your body. His blown-out pupils stare at you with want. He stares at your face, which he hated to see all season, but now he just wanted to stare at your pretty little lips and pink ears from blushing so much.

You both share a tender moment in silence, just staring at one another. It was filled with nothing but your heavy breathing and intense, lustful gazes at one another.

Something snaps in him as he ruins the perfect little moment you’d just had by diving in to kiss you again. He tastes the copper still lingering in his mouth, and it has his head spinning in pure desire.

His hands pull down your panties, making you suck in a sharp breath. You feel the air slowly swirling around your sensitive cunt, as he stares down at you.

“Ah, gorgeous.” He says sweetly, taking your hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Tell me if it is too much, ok?” He gives you a little knowing grin before diving between your legs. He plants a little kiss on the inside of your exposed thigh first. Then he looks it over his shoulder.

He starts stalling when he goes to make a little mark on the one thigh, and then the other, and to softly touch and admire the creamy skin around him. “Do something!” You whine, hands digging into his hair.

“Sorry, sorry.” He flushes pink, from his cheeks to his ears, before giving you a little kitten lick over your cunt.

You shiver at the contact; it was soft, exploring even. You look down at him; he’s paused. He’s looking intensely at your legs, between them, at your body. His eyes are half open, gazing so lovingly at you.

You’d momentarily thought of your F2 days, the way he used to look like that - soft, dreamy. Prema was so broke that year that for most of the season you and Kimi slept in the same hotel room.

You’d hear him mumbling in sleep, or when you’re pretending to be asleep to move some hair out of your face, or tell you goodnight even when you’re sleeping. It’s all swirling in your heart. That was so long ago. He must’ve really liked you.

So this kind of domestic intimacy was much missed between the two of you. It was never rivalry and hate before. It had melted you over this weekend - you had officially succumbed to Kimi Antonelli under the sparking lights of Las Vegas on a Monday morning at 4 am.

Your staring gets interrupted when he dives between your legs and captures your clit right between his lips.

“God- Oh my God, you’re-“ You whimper, pulling his hair. Your hips threaten to buck into his face at the way he’s now sucking and licking you. It only causes you to feel the darkening sensation more, the way it’s starting to spread from between your legs to into your stomach and thighs.

Kimi’s totally focused on your reactions, the way your hips stutter when he deliberately puts more suction or the way your hands pull his hair when something felt really good. He was solely focused on you and your reaction, despite feeling burning hate for you the entire season. The relief of it all being over; you no longer had to be a bitch to him.

He undoubtedly loved the way the tension melted between the two of you over the weekend. Sure, the championship fight was still on for the last race in Abu Dhabi, but all he cared about in this moment was hearing your moans get louder, making your eyes roll back, feeling your hands wander around his neck and hair.

You eventually bite your bottom lip to muffle the lewd sounds coming from you. Every aching moment from Kimi beneath you only turned you on more, coiling pleasure in your stomach tighter and tighter.

He poked and licked every single crevice of your pussy. From top to bottom, he couldn’t stop. He’d squeeze your thighs, which were clamped around his head by now, and his one hand softly rubbed against your entrance, feeling the way your slick fell out.

You couldn’t stop the moans bubbling up in your throat - the fact that you were only getting closer. His ring finger prodded in you first, having you clenching and shaking.

His mouth was covered in your wetness as he opened his eyes tiredly to look at you. He couldn’t see much, but you were resting on your back, with your hand covering your mouth and the other reaching down, pushing him deeper.

He could only feel himself get more turned on at the raw image, the image of you, sorely in pleasure. It was something he’d never seen before.

His hand reached up between your legs, ring finger curled up into you, brushing against a sensitive bundle of nerves. You seize up, legs definitely trapping him now. A loud moan exits your throat before you could even stop it.

His mouth was doing terrible things to your insides as his middle finger joins his ring finger inside you. A feeling so good, it hurts.

“You like that, huh?” He lets go of your clit with a lewd pop; the sound has you crinkling your eyes closed, before the tension dissipates as he deliberately curls up into your g-spot.

Your hips cause you to begin grinding against his fingers, feeling the electric spasms everywhere. Your stomach only coiled tighter as he watched your face with an odd curiosity

He was determined to see what expression you’d make when you came. He wanted to see how your eyes would be screwed shut, or the way your mouth draws blood from your hand from biting it so hard, or even just the dreamy sound you could make…

It was all making him drill his fingers into you, hearing your babbled attempts at telling him you’re close. He doesn’t need you to tell him; you’re practically dripping all over his hands anyway.

“You just think about this next time we’re racing, sweetheart.” He whispers into your ear, causing you to shiver; he’s now facing you. Your hands begin to claw at his exposed shoulders.

“Think about how this felt.” He bites the outside of your ear, feeling you clench around his fingers.

“Think about how you’ll be taking it after every Grand Prix.” You shiver at his words, legs desperately curling around anything you could find as you only inch closer, closer, the heat in your stomach only becoming stronger…

He deliberately slows down the pace of his fingers, causing your pleasurable high to begin tapering off.

“No- no…nonono-“ you babble, scratching his shoulders as he pulls his fingers out, leaving your pleasure tumbling to zero and making you all frustrated.

“What the hell?!! I was so close…” You whine, darting a hand down to continue what he’s not finished. His hand quickly grabs your wrist before it could even reach your cunt.

“Nuh-uh.” He grabs both your hands and traps them under his grip. You were starting to remember why you hated him. In this moment, you absolutely fucking remembered.

You whine in displeasure because now, your slick is running everywhere; you were about to come, and now he was being a total ass and edging you.

He uses his other hand to push down his own shorts, as you gaze at the hickeys on his neck and scratches on his shoulders.

His body was full of marks now. Whether indirectly from crashing the cars, or directly from your nails and lips, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy high, seeing your evidence all over him. It made you feel a little territorial, or possessive.

The aching waves of pleasure pounded in you. The alcohol brimming in you made you feel restless. Like you needed him to do something soon.

Your legs are clasping around him before he can even get his underwear off, you taking the initiative to begin grinding against him already.

“Oh- oh… Don’t do that, honey.” He whispers into your ear, slightly whiny as his hips threaten to keep up.

He believes you’re going to behave now, so he lets go of your hands, and you grasp onto his shoulders. The soft relief from the sexual frustration he had just caused you was already making your head spin. The only thing you could think of was Kimi taking that darn underwear off and finally giving you what you wanted.

-

“S-so good…“ He whines, your legs snaking around his waist as he pushes into you. You’re clawing his shoulders, holding onto anything to ground the waves emitting from your body.

Your breaths morph into erratic gasps, almost as if every time he pulls out, he takes out your air with him as well.

“Honey, breathe.” He says quietly. His voice is strained; you can hear the pleasure wrapping around his words. Your eyes are unfocused; the only things you’re seeing are Kimi’s necklaces dangling between you and all that glorious tanned skin.

Eventually, you calm down to a point that you’re not actively gasping for air, and he begins moving again.

You wish you could tell him anything - that it was the best feeling ever, that he was doing so good- but everything gets drowned out by the cries leaving your throat.

He just looks down at you, seeing the composed, professional, and confident driver he’s always known, getting lost in a pleasure she’d never seen before.

Your eyes are blown out, focused intensely on his neck, staring at the marks on his neck, and pulling at his necklaces. His head spins with yours - the feeling of being buried inside you just so overwhelming.

It was warm. It felt like belonging. It felt better than any high with any other girl, ever. It was you after all. The girl who’d seen everything. His worst moments fighting inside the garage to holding golden trophies as a kid in a kart.

It had his heart flooding with some unknown feeling; it wasn’t unwelcome, but he couldn’t explain why now he wanted to be careful with you, make sure you’re having a good time, not just clawing at you and being rough.

“Taking it so good…” He whispers from above you; your eyes just roll back at his sweet nothing. He watches as your hands grab his arms. They snake around his, and your skin too; it burns.

It burns like hell around him. It feels like he’s doing something terribly wrong - dabbling in something he shouldn’t- but the way you feel, the way you’re crying in pleasure, clenching around him, it’s all the sweetest temptation. The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest, right?

“K-Kimi-“ You babble, grabbing onto his shoulders and digging your nails into his shoulders. He winces at the slight pain, but it only seems to amplify his pleasure. He knows you need to finish first - he needs to be a gentleman after all.

“God- Tesoro, you’re so good f’me-“ He whimpers, now babbling into your ears. You only feel it edging you towards that pleasure you were about to have before; that putrid heat that was coiling inside you was coming. It was intense, overwhelming.

It was rubbing off onto him, the way you sounded so delicate as you moaned, or the way you thought you’d hurt him when you scratched and rubbed his shoulders after.

Something changed in that moment; it seemed he let himself go, freed himself from those mental shackles of being gentle, and kind, and soft with you. His hips stuttered hard into your own, and then he threw caution to the wind.

He was hitting spots that had your entire body shaking, your hands trembling, your eyes seeing the night sky like never before. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from his neck, dotted with bites, and his lips red from kissing you.

His pace was that of a rabid dog now - just mindlessly messing up your insides. Your mind was just as much of a mess as your body; it was buzzed with alcohol, tongue tasting like Prosecco and remnants of Kimi.

You yank his hair, watching as his eyes roll back behind his gorgeous lashes and his mouth hangs open.

That crude visual had you close. Kimi is above you, desperately trying not to finish all up inside you, but your legs are clutched around his waist and not letting him go.

“Tesoro- you-you need to- ah…” his words trail off as he grabs your legs, trying to pull them off of his waist, but you’re so close that just the mere movement of them up has you descending into pleasure.

The new angle hit a spot. Hit a very sensitive spot. Your head lulled back as your body wracked beneath him, the long-awaited relief of finally coming overtaking your body and having your vision go blurry.

Your orgasm only triggered his own, having him clawing at your delicate shoulders and hair as he emptied inside you.

“F-fuck, baby…” You hear him whimper on top of you, and then he quietly deflates. He doesn’t collapse, but rather tiredly falls on top of you, and begins to cradle you. You’re fresh off both your highs, and lying tiredly in one another’s arms.

There’s a comfortable silence that surrounds you, as you bask in the glow. The feeling of lying in his arms, enjoying the heat of him everywhere.

Kimi’s lips on your cheek, then your hair, and your nose, and your mouth, and everywhere near him that he can.

His Italian accent is even more pronounced than you’re both tired. “I’m gonna go get some tissues, just stay here, ok?” He gives you a soft kiss on the lips, wincing as he pulls out. You feel the air curl around your over-sensitive cunt once again.

He comes back, cleaning you up and grabbing some water out of the mini fridge. You see him try and find your shorts somewhere in the room, or at the very least your panties.

“By the door.” You speak quietly, voice hoarse. You see him walk off, and when he comes back, he is busy flipping them right side out.

“What were they doing all the way there?” He asks as he puts them on, over your practically dead legs. You just giggle.

“You took them off; you should know.” You smile and begin to paw at him when he walks on the side of the bed to get the water bottle.

“Uh, uh. Sit up, drink some water.” He puts the open lid by your mouth, forcing you to have to drink some water. You take a couple sips before pushing the bottle away.

Once he’s screwed on the cap, he undoes the sheets, and you both climb in; you immediately curl around him, desperate to be touching him.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” He says quietly, gently moving some hair out of your face. You hum, tiredly closing your eyes against his shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” You stutter.

Silence. This time, not as comfortable as before.

“Do you still hate me?” You turn your head to look at him, his vulnerable question having you bite your lip.

“I don’t know.” You admit, “It’s more complicated now.”

He doesn’t answer. The silence stretches for a long time as he thinks; his eyes are dark in the light from the lamp next to him.

“Yeah.” He just says after a while. Your eyes droop, Kimi’s hands softly caressing you.

Then your alarm went off.

It ripped through you, bright and early as it hit exactly 05:00.

It was Monday morning! Time to get up! Your heart feels like it catapulted out of your body as you try to reach the nightstand to turn it off, the sound grating against your ears.

“Real smooth, honey.” He rolls his eyes. You just growl at him, before wondering if now you had to get up, or if you could at least get 30 minutes of sleep.

ABU DHABI, UAE, 2026

In the mess between the Grand Prixs, you’d snuck into each other’s rooms multiple times. You’d also accidentally run late together. The team, well, you hoped they didn’t notice. Kimi, on the other hand, watched as everyone was staring at your terrible poker face and nervous energy as if you’d done something terrible.

You’d also accidentally been caught inside of another elevator in Qatar, luckily just a stranger and not a staff member. You’d sent him a message right afterwards simply saying, “Never again🫣”

Kimi knew that was a lie.

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. Everything was somehow way simpler when you hated him. He never had to worry about hiding and lying so much in his life. Hatred, well, it was clean, simple, easy. You hated him. He hated you back. Simple.

This absolutely was not.

He had to act like he was totally normal with you, after you’d snuck into his room, woke up next to him, and proceeded to act like he was a total stranger during the day. He could think about how you sounded last night and then scrap with you for ten thousandths on track.

He wanted the title as much as you did. He also wanted you not to be terribly distraught if he took it. The two desires sat staring at each other in his mind, opposing weights mocking him.

He wanted to send you something last night. He never did.

Today, he knew, would be going to war again. If he was lucky, you’d end up in the same bed together, acting like it was fine and everything was okay. But only if he was lucky.

-

3 points separate you going into Abu Dhabi. All that mattered was parking your car in front of his at the end of this 58-lap-long race. It was an eternity you dreamed of overcoming. Today, you could make history, or Kimi could. You could both be the youngest World Champion ever – surpassing Vettel.

You lined up on the starting grid P2 today – behind Hamilton. But most importantly, in front of Kimi, who was P3.

The lights flashed red, and you momentarily thought of your inner child. The girl who just wanted to win a world championship, smiling under the sun of Abu Dhabi holding her golden trophy. You’d won 6 times since your first win in Melbourne this season. You were hoping to make it a spectacular 7th.

You know it would break Kimi’s heart finishing P2, but something was telling you that you just needed to throw caution to the wind today and just do it.

“It’s lights out, and away we go for the last time this season!”

Kimi is trying up the inside on the very first corner. You shut the door on him immediately; you imagined a clip, sending you into the barriers and ending your championship right there. Your insecurity has you wobbling off the throttle, and Kimi behind you looking as desperate as ever for a quick pass on you.

However, you try and keep your mind as blissfully blank as possible. Sure – you couldn’t think of anything going into this Grand Prix, but you tried to think as little as possible, ignore as much of the stakes as you can.

Kimi’s still right behind you though, and you desperately wanted him gone. Right now – he seemed much more like an annoying fly than your teammate, or the man you’re secretly now dating.

Really. You thought about Kimi outside of his car way too much.

You’re thinking of it right now. Inside of the car. Inside of the Grand Prix that meant everything to you. You were racing the man you had an intense rivalry with for the entire year in front of 62 million people. You were counting on your speed, your craft, your talent right now to take you first over the finish line today – and what were you doing?

Daydreaming.

Zoning out.

Sure. Hamilton had now pulled a 3-second gap on you by lap 7, but it was nothing to worry about. All you had to do was get in front of Kimi. Just today. Bring your exhausted mind and body past the finish line.

Your lovesick brain wanted to just have this Grand Prix over with – and you’d never really felt that. Except, perhaps once.

It was a rainy day in Reggio Emilia. It was the karting finale. The championship once again went between you and Kimi. You lined up P2 and P3.

After a bad start, Kimi had overtaken you. Being yourself, you were totally enraged with his ability to keep calm under pressure. Before the Junior Formulas, you were described as a hothead. You saw nothing but pure fury as you raced; eventually, you did overtake him, and you won your first championship.

Judging by how it is going, you were doing better than before. You’d say that it would be a rather boring, cushy Grand Prix. There had been a couple this season where you just coasted to a finish, and you desperately wanted that.

-

“Oh! Is that Lawson into the barriers? It is!”

On Lap 36, a safety car comes out. Bunching everyone together. You were right behind Hamilton, who had older tyres than you, and in front of Kimi, who had newer tyres than you. He had a good chance to spring past you if you couldn’t spring past Hamilton.

The suffocating atmosphere from Spa and Silverstone came to mind – the way their corners haunted you. Eau Rouge, having Kimi right next to you at 350km/h, wondering if he had a death wish for driving so erratically.

You wondered yourself how you could handle it – but it was earlier in the season. You had a fresher, happier mindset, not one soiled with thoughts of the next time you could be together or messaging him at night. Not one desperate for victory, not one tiredly clinging onto a dream shattered all the way back in Monza already.

Exhausted. That’s how you felt.

Terribly, terribly tired. So tired, in fact, that you wondered when it’d be over. When you’d finally be able to just leave the circus behind.

2026 took everything out of you. The intense rivalry that spanned an entire season with your teammate, having Toto yell at you more than ever, having the entire team conspiring and making rumours, (the latest now being why you and Kimi were so close, was it that obvious?) and then in general travelling around, time zones, get lagged, living out of suitcases, not having seen your dog in forever.

Can it just be over?!

“Restart in 2 laps. You got this.” Your engineer’s excited tone carries over the radio. You bite your lip as you stare at the safety car, thinking of every way you could possibly fuck this up.

Did you say you were going to have a blank mind during this Grand Prix? No, you weren’t. You absolutely fucking weren’t.

The safety car peeled off you and into the pits. You knew now was the time. Now or never.

As soon as you passed the finish line, you floored it, feeling your car lurch you back and into your seat as the engine roared behind you. Kimi’s alongside you into turn one, running wheel-to-wheel for the last three corners before…

Turn 8.

He pulled a cheeky move down the inside, and you watched his car coast past yours. You almost felt like screaming from inside the cockpit. From Kimi’s side, he’s grinning in his car. Sure, he feels bad – he knows you wanted this as bad as he did, and there was no way in hell he could win the championship, and you’d be happy. No way.

You got lost in his dirty air as he peeled away. Your championship hopes diminished in front of your eyes. The water brimmed inside of your eyes. It was over.

Lap 52.

The final lap. You were going to fight until the last corner of the last lap if you damn near had to, and it was needed. You were +0.4 seconds behind him. Every corner you tried some sort of antic on him. Diving down the inside, where he then came back with the old switcheroo.

Going around him, but he just cleanly cut you off.

He weaved down the long straight, once, twice; he couldn’t do it anymore. You had overtake boost, and just like in Silverstone, you overtook him into the corner.

The tears brimming against your helmet began evaporating as the lights began to get colour again. The fireworks were getting ready to explode into the sky; you were ready for them. The smile was coming back to your face.

The line only inched ever closer; the happiness only bloomed inside of you. The sweet, sweet taste of victory, well, it was yours as you rounded the final corner.

P1.

The chequered flag waved as you passed the line. You were the Champion of the World. The radio exploded into noise; the entire Mercedes garage was shouting. Toto was in your headset.

You didn’t scream, not really. Just a tired, deflated sigh, a shaky voice. You thanked the team, and you couldn’t stop to think about how, just like that, it was all over.

In Parc Fermé, Kimi waited for you. Helmet lying abandoned on a table, his skin flushed. You both stood, looking at each other. The noise of the crowd began to drown out between you.

You felt like a kid again – the kid at the karting track in Reggio Emilia looking at the heartbroken boy. You felt like crying again, staring at him. Thinking of how, even after all this time, you were both still here for your love of racing, for your friendship, for everything.

He’s the first to embrace you. “Congratulations.” His voice slightly deadpanned, you look down. “You deserve it.”

You pulled back enough from the hug to look at him; the silence told you something. The rivalry had simmered, but something far more dangerous remained, waiting for next season.

“Thanks.” You managed, the words almost feeling like choking. Your throat felt all clammed up.

After the podiums, and the fireworks, and the champagne, and the trophies, and the interviews, and the team celebrations, you found yourselves staring out at the dock again by the marina. The water reflected the fireworks, still going off after hours.

“So, what happens now?” He said, filling the silence between the two of you. The fireworks burst into colours again, and you watched another round of them bloom and fade.

“I don’t know.” You sighed, “But I don’t want to hate you anymore.”

He turned to face you; his face was highlighted by the lights of the fireworks. You saw a side of him he never shows the world – a vulnerable one. The nervous, childish Kimi.

He looks down at your hands, still mindlessly fidgeting with your Mercedes kit. He takes your hand, lacing your fingers with his.

Nothing else needed to be said. You stood together, at the end of the most intense season of your lives, the championship trophy having your name on it, and the complicated future waiting in front of you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Kimi’s words echoed softly on the many TVs located in the hospitality suite. “Like… the car was broken,” his voice crackled on the intercom, heavy with a watery swallow that was easily recognizable as a bitten-back sob. 

All you could do was sit and watch with a frown as the air seemingly left your lungs. Your heart throbbed dully with the ache of hearing him so broken, his strained words ringing in your ears. It was agonizing, knowing he was in pain so close to the paddock where you sat, yet completely out of reach. 

As sponsors and family chattered around you, your mind drifted back to where it all began. You had been friends since preschool, back when his hair was long and blonde and straight, though his attitude was the same. Back then, he was more soft-spoken, choosing to quietly play with his Hot Wheels while others screamed and cried. And when you sat next to him for the first time during school, he shyly shared his crayons, and you offered the Fonzies from your lunch kit. 

From then on, the two of you grew up together. The planned playdates turned to elementary school sleepovers, which turned to awkward middle school dances, and eventually to high school study sessions. 

Even back then, Kimi was one of the hardest workers you had ever seen. It had been evident since you were kids, when he began to insist on karting rather than playground hangouts. He wanted to be one of the greats, and he wanted you right by his side, cheering him on. 

Eventually, he had pursued his passion in racing, going to F1 at just 18, while you graduated and went to college. Life pulled you apart naturally, but neither of you would let that happen. You Facetimed whenever possible, often during late hours of the night. Sometimes the calls were quiet, just doing natural tasks together, glad to have each other's presence. Often, his little sister Maggie would come and interrupt to talk to you, or his mom stopped in to see how you were doing. 

Because of that distance, he invited you to every single race, but you could rarely go with all of your schoolwork. And so when you finally agreed to fly out to Britain for Silverstone, he knew he had to make it special. 

God, he wanted to win for you so bad. The weekend had started so good, winning the sprint and earning the right to start ahead of everyone else on the grid. Until the actual race day, when his car decided to fail him, and all of his hard work had come undone. Yet, the part that stung him  the most was not losing the race, but it was the painful knowledge that you were out there in the audience, watching one of the worst days of his career unfold. The beautiful fantasy he had built up in his head, where he won the race, dedicated the victory to you, and you fell head over heels for him in a grand romantic gesture, had all come crashing down. 

So when the race was finally over, he kept his helmet glued on tight, walking to his drivers room for ten minutes of peace before he had to deal with interviews. He locked the door behind him, his helmet not slipping as he crashed onto the couch. 

A faint knock filled the empty room within thirty seconds of his arrival. He didn’t make an effort to move. He was not in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

“Kimi? It’s me.”

Well, unless it was you.

His hands quickly slid to the door, unlocking it with a hushed click. It took a moment, but you slowly pushed in, your eyes meeting a defeated and exhausted Kimi. Your heart sunk at the sight, noticing the way his head slung low, helmet still on. He never kept his helmet on. Always said it was too restricting. 

“Hey,” you murmured, sinking down next to him, hands immediately reaching for the head protection. Kimi just watched through the tinted visor, letting you take off his only defences. He would never push you away.

His cheeks were red and puffy, part from exhaustion, and part from crying. His eyes were glossed over, darting around to avoid meeting yours. You had known Kimi long enough to realize he didn’t want some bullshit speech or whispers of sweet nothings, so instead, you wrapped your arms around his coiled up form.

Instinctively, he surrendered to the embrace, his damp curls tickling your neck as he nestled his head in the crook. Your hands roamed along his back, eager to soothe his sobs by providing some sense of comfort through familiarity. His chest hitched and shuddered, drained of all strength under your touch. 

“I am so proud of you, Ant,” you whispered shakily.

Kimi’s trembling hands grasped desperately at the back of your head, spread palms digging into your hair as he pulled you closer. The unshared nickname you had given long ago sent a surge of sentimentality down his spine. 

“I wanted to win for you.”

His words were muffled, but they still stabbed straight at your heart. Your head shook softly as the vibrations tickled your skin.  

“You already won in my eyes,” you started, pulling back to look at him so your words really stuck. “You are literally the most impressive nineteen year old I’ve ever met, Kimi. You race professionally for Mercedes. But–” your voice froze for a second, poorly attempting to block out tears before you continued. “But most importantly, you are so compassionate and kind and full of love, and trust me, not everyone can say the same. You make me feel like a winner for getting to be your friend. You will always be a winner in my eyes, because of who you are when the helmet comes off.”

The silence grew thick as Kimi stared at you with wide eyes, searching your face with an expression you didn’t quite recognize.

Until he lurched forward, his lips meeting yours in a passionate, borderline needy kiss. 

It took a moment before you leaned into it, the shock morphing into realization, before quickly changing into devotion. Years of built-up yearning spilled into the messy kiss, emotions overtaking any restraint. Memories of Kimi flashed through your brain, from him holding you through long nights to making you laugh so hard you fell to the floor, and it only made you pull him closer. One of his hands slid to cup your jaw, fingers trailing desperately across your delicate skin.

When you finally pulled apart, his lips were slightly-parted and glossy, and his pupils-blown out as he scanned your face. His hands stayed glued to you, not ready to let go of your warmth completely.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” he confided, his Italian accent thick in a way that filled you with wistfulness. The confession wasn’t the long, grand speech that he had prepared in his mind, but somehow the lack of words was substantially more intimate.

“Neither do I.”

A tender smile graced his face, his expression melting into a lovesick gaze. You let out a breathy laugh in response. Words didn’t feel important enough to fill the quiet space, so neither of you dared to utter another sentence. 

Unfortunately, a loud knock at the door echoed throughout the room to break that moment of peace for you. 

“Kimi! Interview in 5!” A woman’s voice rang out. It was probably some PR lady, based on the way her heels clicked and lanyard jingled as she walked away.

“After your interviews and dinner and stuff… you want to go get gelato? It won’t be as good as our spot in Italy, but it’ll be something,” you asked, slowly drifting away from his touch so you could leave before he got in trouble.

He dropped his hands, which suddenly felt dull and cold, your words still processing. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll call you when I’m done.”

He nodded as you two parted, sneaking one last kiss before you slipped out of the door. God, he couldn’t wait until tonight.

You had no idea how it had progressed this quickly. 

One moment you were friends, crying in each other's arms, and the next, you were making out in the silky sheets of his hotel bed. 

The taste of pistachio gelato that lingered in your mouth swirled with his stracciatella-flavored spit as your tongues clashed eagerly. Kimi’s hands drifted everywhere, from your ass, to your back, to your hair, as you straddled him, desperately trying (and failing) to ground himself. Everything was so new, so unfamiliar in a way that only urged the two of you to keep exploring. 

His hips involuntarily grinded upwards in such a smooth motion that it made you squeeze your thighs around his. Your teeth bumped together a few times accidentally, a small inconvenience born from the consequences of your messy fervor. Cautiously, his large hands slipped under your shirt, navigating a territory unknown to him. You didn’t flinch.

The lace of your bra tickled his fingertips as he cradled your boobs, eliciting a whiny moan from his puffy lips. The gentle hum bleeded into your kiss, and you couldn’t help yourself anymore. Running along his clothed chest, your hands pawed at his belt, eager to unbuckle it without parting from his mouth. 

“Wait, wait,” Kimi stuttered breathlessly, pulling apart just slightly so he could talk. The moonlight leaked in through the partially-closed curtains, casting a silver glow on your face. For a moment, the words vanished from his mind, your flushed cheeks and loving gaze rendering him speechless. 

He swallowed nervously, the sensation bringing him back to consciousness as he remembered why he stopped. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I,” you whispered, your eyes darting rapidly across his face, searching for a slight twitch of the lip, or scrunch of the eye, anything to hint at what he was feeling. Insecurity sprouted in your head and doubt seeped into your bones. Maybe you were moving too fast, doing too much. On instinct, you shifted away from him. “Do you still want to?”

Noticing the change immediately, his arm reached to pull you closer, if you were willing. He nodded rapidly, his voice a desperate cry. “SÌ, please, yes.”

You smiled into the kiss, hands going back to fumbling with the metal clasp of his belt. Kimi quickly got the memo, frantically pulling the edge of your shirt up. Helping him out, you disentangled your lips, only to pull the shirt off, before immediately going back to the warmth of his mouth. He scrabbled with your bra clasp, his attention mainly devoted to feeling around with his tongue. His hands shook in anticipation as he finally got it undone.

You shrugged the delicate fabric off and to the sheets as Kimi gently flipped you over. He peeled his shirt off hastily, watching as you shamelessly paused to marvel at the sight looming over you. Smugly and with a newfound confidence, he grasped at your hand and brought it to feel his chest, before lowering it down slowly across his abs. If you were thinking straight, you would roll your eyes at his cockiness, but your mind was too clouded with lust to care. Even as he took away his hand to shift your skirt off, yours remained on his torso, feeling and exploring the muscles like you always dreamed of.

Meanwhile, your skirt settled to the floor, and Kimi’s breath hitched at the sight of your matching lace panties. He paused to admire the dainty pink fabric, hands trailing carefully over the scalloped edges. 

“You like ‘em?” You smirked, watching his eyes drift back up to your face as he was brought back down to earth. Doubtful his mouth could let out anything but an embarrassing whine, he shakily nodded, fingers still aflutter as they triflied around your thighs. 

Your hands strayed down, leaving the crevices of his abs and grabbing at his loose belt. 

He stopped you yet again.

With all the courage he could muster, he spoke again, voice laced with anticipation and a hint of longing. “I want to make you feel good first. Can I?”

His eyes were misty along the rims, a pleading glare cast upon his facade. It was overwhelming, going from hopelessly pining over his best friend to having her bare beneath him. 

This time, it was you who was too starstruck to reply. You agreed fondly, eyes never leaving him as he dipped down beneath your legs. 

A flush pink creeped up your neck as his hands slid your panties down, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable. You didn’t shy away like most would. You trusted Kimi, whole heartedly.

His lips graced the plush of your inner thighs, peppering kisses gingerly across your slick skin. The warmth sent shivers up your spine, a stark contrast to the cool air spewing in through the vents and tainting your arms with goosebumps. On instinct, your fingers flew to his curls, gripping on for dear life at the gentle touches. You needed something to stabilize your body, shaking with anticipation. 

His eyes shifted up, lashes fluttering as he studied your expression with the evaluating stare of a strategist. Carefully, and without shifting his gaze, his tongue darted out to give a long, slow lick up your wet folds. Watching your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, he licked again, this time pausing to suck on your clit and coating the spot in spit. A breathy moan escaped your lips as you shifted to lean on your elbows for support.

Every whine went straight to his ego, his confidence increasing as he moved again hastily. This time, his tongue poked at your entrance, silently asking for permission to taste you deeper. Dripping with saliva and wetness, it was easy for Kimi to slide in your tight hole. Your legs spasmed momentarily around his head, while a sweet, musky taste flooded his mouth, one so inebriating that he could only compare it to fine wine. He lapped profoundly, hooked on the new taste of your salty flesh.

Quivering, you silenced your moans by biting your bottom lip, turning it cherry red. Kimi’s tongue explored your warm flesh, noting every spot that made your muscles twitch. He was so eager to make you feel good, to force the dreamy whimpers from your throat, to please you in a way no one had before. It was intoxicating to dangerous levels, an addiction forming quietly in the back of his mind.

One of his hands released from clutching your waist, gravitating down to where you needed him the most. Moving his tongue back to suck on your clit, a finger delicately replaced the emptiness inside you. Kimi went slow, his heavy eyes looming the whole time to make sure you felt comfortable. When you nodded desperately, he pushed farther. 

It was only one finger, and yet it had you clenching and twitching and moaning his name in pure ecstasy. The sight was unbelievably lewd, your nipples peaking in the moonlight, hands grasping and releasing in his curls, all while wet sloshes filled the air. His moves were deliberate, calculated almost, as if he were lovingly assessing data for race. He studied your every move, determining if you could handle another finger or it would be too much for your pretty pussy. He grinded messily against the edge of the mattress, his dick straining against his jeans at the sight of you, all disheveled for him. No one else had been able to experience heaven like he had. The thought had him throbbing harder. 

A second finger twirled around your entrance, gathering slick to make the stretch less painful. You hadn’t spoken in minutes, only breathless (and slightly pathetic) sounds escaping your mouth. His skin was so warm, palms dewy with sweat as his free hand groped around needily. The smell of sandalwood from his cologne floated faintly in the air, lingering and mixing with the smell of pure lust-filled adrenaline. 

“Is it okay if I–”

You interrupted him immediately. He could do anything he asked. 

“Yes, please, god, Kimi, yes.”

He smiled, love, and boldness, adorning his features as he probed another finger toward your tight hole. Your eyes snapped shut, swimming with tears as Kimi’s considerable fingers stretched you beyond familiarity. And just as you caught your breath, he curled them ever-so-slightly, moving against your walls until he found the spot.

A string of croaky curse words left your achy throat as he assaulted the area with a special kind of compassion. Everything was too much. His sweet taste loitered on your tongue, his hands worked with intense delicacy, his lips suckled against your clit, all working together and forcing you undone. Sopping plaps filled the hotel room, the sound so risqué you were sure the hotel had heard and blacklisted the both of you by now. 

“Oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna–”

Kimi cut you off before you could finish your sentence. Not with words, but by fucking you harder, moving his fingers faster and with more purpose, licking everywhere he knew would get a reaction out of you. You weren’t lying when you said Kimi was the hardest worker you knew. When he set his mind to a new goal, he wouldn’t stop until it was complete. And right now, that goal was you.

Waves of unexplored pleasure came crashing down in an instant, your legs quivering so hard it was foreign. Everything shook with staggering bliss, even your toes clenching to try and soothe the ecstasy. Kimi lapped your juices up fervently, devouring every drop until you physically wrenched him away by the hair. 

Your liquids leaked down his chin as he grinned dopily, so clearly proud of himself. You pulled him back up to you with a smile, wanting to feel his balmy skin against yours as your breath evened out. A few moments later, and you were reaching at his jeans for the third time, thankfully, with no push back. 

He slid off his denim pants, the heavy fabric and metal belt clasp making a thud as they hit the ground. You gulped nervously at the outline of his hefty bulge, his grey boxer briefs already stained with precum. Kimi noticed your hesitation (he had gotten quite good about noticing shifts in your mood), and instantly went to cup your jaw, a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. 

His touch was so comforting, and he was so patient and selfless, it only turned you on farther. You reached out, one hand sliding his boxers down carefully while the other wrapped around his length. 

Pearly drops of precum beaded and leaked from the pink tip, dripping down and spilling onto your skin. It was bigger than you expected, the girth making only enlarging it to a degree that was both delicious and nerve-racking. You couldn’t help but give it a small, drawn out lick.

A frantic, low groan grumbled from the back of Kimi’s throat, the noise so lewd it made you soak slightly. His head tilted back, revealing his pronounced Adam's apple that bobbed as he swallowed. 

“I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he whimpered, hands pawing at your head to gain some control. You smirked coyly, staring up at him with a sneaky stare.

Against his desires, he pulled apart slightly, reaching for his abandoned wallet on the nightstand and pulling out a silver foil packet. You snatched it, ripping the package with your teeth before slowly rolling it against his length. You wanted to tease a little, but you were too desperate yourself to prolong it. 

Laying you back softly against the white sheets again, Kimi pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, the taste of you still present on his tongue. He only broke it so he could look down, aligning the tip of his wrapped cock with your hole. His thumbs traced the side of your face, soothing you for the mixture of pain and pleasure that was to come. Wetness from earlier still soaked your thighs, making it easier for him to glide the tip in.

It burned at first, the initial movement stretching you past any previous limits. He shook as he slowly pushed deeper, pathetic groans echoing off the walls. 

“You’re doin’ so– fuck ! So good- f’me,” he moaned out, coaching you through it while also trying not to bust before even getting started. 

You let out a cry of gratification, the pain gradually morphing into something much more satisfying. Kimi finally bottomed out, leaving you full and needy. He had to pause and focus on soothing his erratic breathing, the feeling of your fleshy walls clenching around him making his head ring. His eyes tensed shut for a moment as he adjusted to the unknown feeling. 

When his heart finally slowed to a pace that wasn’t borderline dangerous, he glanced up through hooded lids to check on you. Nodding frantically, your nails scratched at his back, urging him to move, do something.

With a soft tug, he pulled back out, lips meeting yours again. The loss of your warmth made him involuntarily plow hard back into you, hitting that special spot that lay deep inside you. Both of you let a groan into the kiss, not daring to break it just yet.

His pace increased rapidly, drilling into you uncontrollably like a dog in heat. It was messy, and frantic, and so full of love, your mind buzzed and muted out all other senses. He wished he could speak, say anything, help you through it somehow, but his voice failed him. All his focus went into making sure he didn’t come too soon. And judging based on how his balls were clenching and his moans getting louder, it didn’t seem likely that would last long. 

You had pulled away from his lips to look into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and his lashes waved, and for the first time, you fully grasped the situation. You were sharing one of the most vulnerable moments of your life with Kimi, your Kimi. Your heart suddenly felt full at the thought.

And then he looked at you, really looked, and came to the same realization in his mind. The girl he had always dreamed of, in his arms, looking more beautiful than ever, even with flushed cheeks and matted hair. God, he couldn’t wait to spend his life with you.

“Fuck, fuck! M’so sorry, I’m sorry,” he uttered, his thrusts slowing down and hitting deeper as his climax hit. It was short. Too short. Fuck, he was embarrased. The warm cum filled the silicone as he stilled inside of you, though he silently wished the border wasn’t there. 

You both let out a sound of breathless laughter, post-nut clarity easing the mood a little. 

A cold-hearted woman of ice. The media’s favorite way to describe you. You couldn’t blame them though. You never showed up at after parties, you answered questions with few words and your tone always seemed to be laced with a certain coldness.

If anything it seemed like you wanted to be anywhere but the track, but you knew that nothing was farther from the truth. The track was exactly where you wanted to be, it was where you were born to be.

Nothing made you feel more alive than the sharp turns, high speeds, and the rush of an overtake. You worked hard to be on that track, women had only been allowed into the F1 since a couple of years ago, and even though you weren’t the only woman on the track you felt like you had a certain reputation to uphold.

The FIA was strict, interviewers and paparazzi were shameless and you wanted to give them nothing they could unnecessarily critique you for, no media attention, just racing.

You felt the disdain of many other racers on the track towards your attitude, and you’d had many conversations with Mekies where he’d ‘asked’ you to improve your attitude. If it wasn’t for your skill he would have certainly dropped you by now.

One man however did understand you, and to your comfort that was your teammate Max. You didn’t even need to confide in him about your reasons, he just understood. A simple nod, a simple look, that was all it took. He led most interviews for you or he would steal you away when reporters came running.

You were eternally grateful for that. Besides a teammate Max had become a great friend to you, maybe even your only teammate on the track, but that all changed when the 2025 season began.

Kimi Antonelli.

The new child prodigy of Mercedes, Toto’s new golden boy. You didn’t have a problem with him, per se, but suddenly Max was around a lot less leaving you alone with interviewers prying about strategy and penalties. Luckily the child prodigy took away a lot of the attention from you.

He was 19, only a year younger than you but you still saw him as a child, maybe to distract yourself from the pure talent that he possessed, or his sudden wins during the 2026 season. He overtook with annoying ease.

He climbed up the ranks higher than you ever did, fueled with pure determination and the will to show his team, to show everybody what he was capable of. The ‘new’ Max Verstappen, as the media started to call him.

Whilst your team started failing, Max’ engine completely giving up in Monaco and your engine stalling during the race, too, Kimi seemed to be allergic to losing. Curse you, Bono.

Still you somehow managed to get on the podium, mostly due to George’s penalties. You coldly congratulated both Hamilton and Antonelli, the way you always did. As the champagne sprayed around the podium Kimi made a move and started approaching you, you saw Hamilton mumble something to him.

Over the loud roars of the audience you weren’t quite sure what he said, but Kimi shrugged his shoulders and moved towards you anyways. He stuck out his hand, and smiled at you. Genuinely smiled at you.Not the fake smile the other drivers would put on to avoid criticism from the media.

You hesitated, but stuck out your hand slowly, he grabbed it and shook it. “Congratulations!” he screamed over the loud music and cheers from the crowd, his thick italian accent had the corners of your mouth threatening to lift. 

This was the first time you’d ever had a podium with the Italian, his hospitality was unlike other drivers. Where they’d glare, sneer and grimace, he smiled, cheered and sprayed everyone with his champagne. The sparkle in his eye was unmistakable.

Lewis’ eyes on the other hand were as wide as pancakes. You almost chuckled, and eventually you did. Kimi was jumping all over the podium, cheering loudly and head to toe covered in sticky champagne. It was way too hard not to laugh.

It was the first time you actually decided to ‘join in’ on a celebration, the first time you audibly laughed on a podium. You cracked open your bottle and caught Kimi right as he turned around towards you.

“Not fair! I’m empty!” He laughed as he tried to get you with his last few drops of champagne. Somehow he managed to steal away your bottle and he almost chased you all around the podium with it.

It was pathetic, and it was the happiest you’d felt in a while.

Lewis stood beside you two, staring in absolute disbelief as the girl who’d been a stone cold Medusa to him and the rest of the grid for the past two years, suddenly seemed to melt next to the rookie. And best believe the media caught that, too.

“Antonelli melts the ice queen!” The headlines were inescapable, but you’d never seen Merkies so happy. And rewatching that podium later, you realized you’d never seen yourself so happy, either.

Then your phone buzzed. The atmosphere in the hotel was tense and cold. You picked up your phone. Dad. It read. Shit. That was another thing you and Max could bond over, horrible fathers.

“You could’ve had at least P2, pick up the pace next time.” It stung like a wasp, but not as much as the other fifty times he’s said something like that.

“The engine stalled, I tried my best.” You replied. His response came shortly after. “Your best is not enough, and never let me see you like that on a podium ever again unless you finally win a championship.” You rolled your eyes and tried your best not to tear up.

“Sorry.” You threw your phone across the hotel bed after hitting ‘send’ not interested in whatever bullshit he’d think about your position or your celebration. But he was right, though. Wasn’t he? 

Even though the media was remotely positive about your podium moment with Kimi, it felt like the shield you’d been building up all this time had started to crack. 

You couldn’t let that happen, above all what mattered the most was winning. No stupid celebrations, no fraternization, only the points behind your name. Right?

Your phone buzzed again.

You tried to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of you. You braced yourself for whatever insults your father was going to throw at your face as you turned over the screen. It was…

“Kimi?” You whispered, like the hotel walls were listening. How did he even get your number? 

“Hello it’s Kimi!” The message read, he was still typing. “Will you come celebrate with us tonight?” He was referencing the notorious after parties after each race weekend.

You weren’t going, you never went. You had nothing to celebrate, you weren’t P1, you hadn’t won. 

“Don’t think so.” You tried keeping nonchalant, even though you knew that wouldn’t work on him after this afternoon. “Why not? You got podium!” You tried not to smile at his sweetness.

You had to come up with a lie, fast. “I just started a movie, gotta finish it now.” You typed back, closing the messaging app thinking he’d get the hint and get off your back.

“Which one?” The notification popped up on your screen just as you closed the app. Damn he was fast.

“The Fast and The Furious.” You answered with the first movie that came to mind, maybe you shouldn’t have gone with a racing film. “Oh like us!” He typed back. 

Like us.

You never knew a simple phrase could make you feel so conflicted. Us? What did he mean by us?

“Will you be here next time?” You thought for a second. Your fingers hesitated above your phone's keyboard. 

“Maybe.” You stated, a simple, short answer. Leaving just enough room for ambiguity. Not a yes, but not quite a no, even though you knew it was a no. 

He simply replied with a thumbs up and that was the last of that. You then decided to actually watch the Fast and the Furious, you wanted nothing to do with social media at the moment, nor were you feeling like racing in the sim.

The week went by fast, training in the gym, training in the sim, free practice on friday. Barcelona was hot, almost unbearably so. The kind of heat that was wet, seeping into your skin and leaving as sweat. The sun was bright and piercing through your skull, you could only squint as you entered your car, off to qualifications.

You set a nice enough time in Q1, enough to go off to Q2. You sped up, suddenly you picked up pace, your car flowed smoothly over the burning asphalt, you were quick to overtake Sainz and another driver on the track. You’d just made it into Q3.

The sun was burning, your car was heating up fast, not just in temperature but on the track, too. Somehow you picked up pace fast, you passed Piastri, you passed Max, Leclerc took to the wall. Norris lost his focus, he took a turn way too wide, you intercepted.

At the end of it all you placed in third position, just behind Russel and Antonelli. You felt a rush like no other, this was one of the best qualifications you had had in a long time, you felt alive. So alive. Markies cheered you on as you got out of the car, as did Max. 

But from behind them all came someone else, Kimi. “Well done!” He shook your hand. “You were almost faster than me!” His smile was horribly infectious. You tried keeping casual and professional. “Almost is not enough.” You shrugged. 

“But it’s still great, no?” He smiled and finally let go of your hand. You shrugged again. His face was covered in droplets of sweat, carefully running down his cheeks and disappearing under the neckline of his racing suit. “Maybe, huh?” He playfully mocked, hitting you with his elbow. 

You couldn't help it and almost broke out laughing, luckily you just smiled instead. “Yes, maybe.” He winked at you before walking away to Bono and Toto. You froze in place for a second. Why did he just wink at you? And why did it make you feel even warmer than you already did in the scorching Spanish sun?

Kimi was gonna be a bigger problem than you thought. 

A little while later, you and Max were analyzing your performances during a walk around the outskirts of the city. “You really put down a nice time today.” He complimented you, you smiled and told him the same. You saw the slight hint of disappointment in his eyes. You knew he wasn’t that happy with the team anymore.

“The car just doesn’t feel like it used to, you know?” He stared off into the setting sun, you silently nodded. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you decided to ask him about the Monaco after party.

He started going on and on about Lando giving Oscar a hurricane shot, Lance bitching and moaning about who knows what and Carlos attempting to become the server and dropping a whole tray of glasses in the process. You laughed so hard you swore you would die. 

“You really ought to come to one of them these days, you work so hard, you deserve a break, too.” He nudged your shoulder, you looked away from him focusing your gaze on two cats near the bushes, one seemed to want to play with the other, but he wouldn’t come out of the bush.

“Yeah, maybe.” You murmured. “Wait, was Kimi even allowed to drink though? He’s only nineteen.” You quickly changed the subject, mostly out of genuine curiosity.

“Kimi? Oh I don’t know, he wasn’t there.” Max said it so casually, but that sentence made something go off in your brain. Kimi wasn’t there? Kimi didn’t go? But he invited you, did he not go because you didn’t go? You started quietly overanalyzing every interaction you’d had with him up until this point.

Looks, smiles, winks, texts. Max noticed you’d gone quiet and asked you if something was up. You shook your head, “No, just…” You stopped, “just thinking.” From the corner of your eye you saw Max sporting a big grin.

“What are you smiling like that for? I haven’t seen you this happy since George put in a pink sock with his whites.” You both laughed at the memory, but Max shook his head. “No just, you and Kimi.” You stopped dead in your tracks. Max walked forward and then turned around to face you.

“What do you mean me and Kimi?” He’d said it so casually, you and Kimi, like you were a pair, like how one would say Ben and Jerry’s, Batman and Robin, or Mickey and Minnie. “Oh well you know… just how his eyes seem to be glued to you ever since his debut.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him, bumping his shoulder.

“Whatever, Verstappen! You don’t know what you’re on about.” You turned around with a smug smile, knowing it annoyed him when you called him by his last name. “Just to remind you, I'm the one who’s been spending a lot of time with him, if anyone knows anything, it’s definitely me.”

You grumbled something before walking on. “Come on! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” He yelled trying to catch up to you. I mean, you did notice, at least lately. But was it true he’s had his eye on you for over a year now?

“Well..” You started before shaking your head, “It's nothing, nevermind.” You had never seen Max Verstappen be any faster than when he ran up to you at that moment. “No! Tell me!” And you had never seen him this excited either.

“It’s nothing really… just…” Max was dying from anticipation. “You said Kimi didn’t go to the after party, but he texted me that night in Monaco to check if I was going. And now that you told me he didn’t go, it does make me think about why he would even ask me, unless he didn’t go because I didn’t go. But that’s crazy right?”

Max was quiet for a moment, before bursting out in a cheer. “Yes! My favorite teammate and my grid son! This is such a magical moment!” You could only stare at him in disappointment and disbelief before bursting out laughing, too.

“Im sorry-” You managed between laughs, “Your grid son?” Max proudly smiled and nodded at you before going back to laughing. “I can assure you your favorite teammate and your grid son aren’t going to be anything.” You assured him after you two managed to compose yourselves.

“And I can assure you you are so wrong. You will come to the next after party and I am going to personally prove it.” You mouthed blah blah blah at him which only caused him to double down. “I’ll only come to the party if I get P1 tomorrow, so good luck.”

“Then I guess we have to get you P1.” He smirked, you tried to argue but he had to cut your walk short due to a call from Merkies.

You slowly made your way back to your hotel, along the same route you’d come from. You passed the same tall buildings, the waves near the boardwalk, the butterflies fluttering along the beautiful greenery. One thing you absolutely loved about the Grand Prix’ was the fact you got to travel all over the world, even if it’s just for a week.

You loved tasting every country's delicacies, sightseeing when possible, and the beautiful nature. You especially loved going around Europe, specifically the mediterranean areas, Spain, France, and of course Italy. 

Along your walk you passed the same area of trees and bushes as before. The cats were still there, but now the second cat had finally come out of the bushes. Their tails were intertwined as the one cat started pawing at the other. You smiled to yourself.

You had gotten the best sleep you had in a while, and after an early morning of inspecting the track and getting ready in the paddocks, it was time to race.

After lots of laps of keeping pace, blocking Lando, sadly having Hamilton pass you after a bad pit stop and almost overheating in the Spanish sun, you were currently in P3 with Hamilton in front of you, and Kimi up ahead.

You smirked to yourself, ‘Told you I wasn’t going to get to P1’ you thought, imagining you were talking to Max, but then. Lap 43, Kimi’s engine suddenly gave out, forced DNF. You were now P2.

The nerves were starting to build up, you rarely ever got to P2 in a race, you rarely ever kept P2. Hamilton decided to take a pit stop in lap 46 and to your luck somehow their pit crew messed up incredibly badly, making his stop last almost seven seconds. He would never catch up now.

You still had Lando breathing down your neck with a gap of two seconds, and you still had to make a pit stop. Markies was yapping in your ear about strategy, the feeling was overwhelming, god is this what it was like being a race winner? 

Then, Alonso. A crash at turn 8, a safety car, a free pit stop.

A chance to win.

After a free pit stop of exactly two seconds you got back into the lead, you stayed in the lead, and you finished in the lead.

The audience cheered like never before, maybe it was just the euphoria of winning your first race, maybe it was the sound of your hard work finally paying off, or maybe it was the annoying sound of your teammate coming up from behind you.

“A deal is a deal!” He hugged you before letting you celebrate with Markies and the team.

Later, when you stood on the podium and sprayed Lando and Russel with champagne, finally laughing with the grid for once, you felt… bad? Kimi was nowhere to be found and it felt unfair to celebrate with him having to DNF, if he didn’t you probably wouldn’t have won. You owe him.

The reporters were all over you, asking how it felt to finally have a victory, wanting you to talk about being a woman on the grid. One of them dared to ask you if you thought this was just a lucky moment. Deep down you did feel that way, but you simply told the reporter, “no comment.” and moved along.

You looked around for Kimi but he still seemed to be missing. “Boo!” Someone grabbed your shoulders from behind, causing you to jump and yelp, your heartbeat going a million miles a minute. Then you realized you recognized the voice, the accent.

You turned around. Kimi. “You think it’s funny giving me a heart attack?” you playfully shoved him as he laughed his ass off, how can someone be this happy after their car just gave up? “You won!” He shook you by the shoulders, the glimmer in his eyes ever so prevalent. 

“I told you you could be faster than me!” He beamed, even on a bad day the man was like a walking ball of sunshine. “I wasn’t actually faster than you, Kimi, you would have won if it wasn’t for your engine.” Kimi shrugged, “Maybe.” He teased you, giving you another wink.

You sarcastically rolled your eyes, the smile on your face giving you away. “Does this mean you will be at the after party tonight?” He questioned, you saw Max standing behind him, grinning from ear to ear and holding both his thumbs up. “Lucky for you I have no choice, but trust me I am not excited for it.”

Kimi’s bright smile was immediately replaced with a sad frown. “Why not? We will celebrate! Celebrations are fun, no?” You brushed him off, moving your gaze to the engineers in the paddocks. “I just don’t think the grid would be too happy to celebrate me.” Kimi moved to be in your line of sight again, god this boy really does not give up. “Nonsense! Allora, you just need to show them you can celebrate, too! Like with me! We will have fun, trust me!”

We.

“Well, only because I already promised Max.” You sighed, you were almost a hundred percent sure Max put a spell on the other drivers to get you to P1. Kimi cheered. “Bellisimo! I cannot wait to see you there!’’ He was about to walk off when you stopped him.

“Are you gonna be there this time, Kimi?” His face went red like a tomato, realizing he’d been caught. He tried to play it off, “Oh what’s that Toto? To the pit? Right now? Okay!” He hurried off after pretending Toto was calling him, you just stood there, shaking your head.

“Told you.” Max came up from behind you.

“Oh fuck off, Verstappen.”

A little while later you’d taken a shower, the sticky champagne finally washing off of your body. You had to admit you were beyond nervous to attend the party, you barely got along with anybody on the grid except for Max and, well, now Kimi.

They never liked you, but that was nobody’s fault but your own. Maybe if you had been nicer.. but that simply wasn’t an option. At least that’s what your father always said. “They’re your competition, not your friends.” You sighed to yourself.

You wished it could have been different, you’re twenty for God’s sake and still you had no friends, no social life, barely any ambition. All your life you had to remain focused on the track, focused on being the best, focused on being a champion.

And where has it gotten you? You were a lonely girl, sitting in a hotel, off to a party full of people who hated you, to celebrate a win you didn’t deserve.

Your breathing started picking up, your heartbeat became irrationally fast, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. The tears started welling up in your eyes, something else built up inside of you, too. Anger? Disgust? Sadness? Or everything all at once?

Whatever it was, it was overwhelming all of your senses. You clutched the towel draped around your body. Your other hand grabbed the bathroom sink trying to stabilize yourself. Your breathing only quickened, no matter how much you tried to control it, the tears came shortly thereafter.

Your knees wobbled, your body felt like it was giving up on itself. You felt like giving up on yourself.

brr-ing, brr-ing!

Your phone buzzed on the counter, vibrating so hard it might fall off, but that could’ve been your imagination. You tried composing yourself, and reached to pick up the phone with shaking hands. 

“Fuck..” You whispered, of course it had to be Kimi It would have been fine if he texted but he just had to call. You ignored the call and let it go to voicemail, but he called again. And again. After the fourth time you were so frustrated you almost forgot you were about to lose your shit.

You clicked ‘answer’ and before you could yell, “Are you okay?” His voice spoke over the phone, he sounded genuinely concerned. It only made you feel worse. Trying not to cry you told him you were fine, and why he asked.

“You seem like the kind of person to pick up after one call.” Fuck, he read you like a book because, yeah, you are that kind of person. How did he know that? You dismissed his worries and asked why he called. “Oh I wanted to know what you were wearing.”

You hadn’t even thought about that yet, you hadn’t even stepped out of the bathroom yet! “Oh well it’s starting in like.. an hour?” You were now even more panicked than before, your hair was still wet, hell your body was still wet! 

“I will help! Tell me what you’ve brought.” You walked Kimi through the select few outfits you packed in your suitcase, honestly you didn’t even know why you agreed to let him help you, you probably could have done it by yourself. You always did everything by yourself.

“You have no dresses?” He said after a while, you put your phone on speaker on the floor next to you while you frantically pulled everything out of your suitcase. “Im a Formula One driver, Kimi. Where and when would i need a dress?” He was quiet for a little bit.

“So from what I hear you have nothing, correct?” He asked you, you grumbled whilst looking at the mess of clothes and shoes on the floor. A few bland shirts, two pairs of jeans, and one pair of comfy, off-track shoes. “I guess, yeah.” You murmured.

“Okay! I will be there in twenty minutes! Do your makeup or something, see you soon!” He hurriedly spoke, and before you could question him or protest, he had already hung up. This dude was unbelievable, but you knew that even if you texted him now he wasn’t turning around.

You silently obeyed for some reason, and did a bit of makeup whilst drying and semi-styling your hair. Kimi arrived in twelve minutes with a knock on your hotel room door, how the fuck did he even know your room number? You opened the door anyway.

He stood there with the biggest smile on his face, exposing his vampire-like canines, he was slightly hyperventilating. “Okay first of all, did you run up the stairs, and how did you even know my room number?” He passed you to go inside before you could even finish the sentence. “Yes I did, and Max told me.”

Always at the scene of the crime, that man, ugh. “Are you finished?” He was rocking back and forth on his heels, clasping his hands together whilst looking around at the mess in your room. “Surprisingly, with the short amount of time you gave me, I am.” You were so happy you put on a pair of jeans and a shirt just before he came in.

“Okay! Allora, I am going to take you to get clothes!” He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out of the hotel room. “Woah Kimi wait! What do you mean?” You released yourself from his grip, grabbing your hotel keycard, and some other necessities. “I mean, you have no clothing, we have like forty minutes until the party starts, and I have George’s car!” He beamed, almost speedwalking down the hallway.

“God, there’s really no arguing with you, is there?” You took a print, trying to catch up to him. He shook his head with a bright smile. “Now come! We have time, but not a lot.”

“Where are we even gonna go?” You finally caught up to him, he shrugged. “We are in Barcelona! We go anywhere.”

After a few stores, and about half an hour, you finally managed to find something. A cute top, a classy short skirt, nothing like you ever owned before, but you loved it. Along with the outfit, you somehow also got new shoes, new jewelry, another top, some other pants…

To be fair, you had never in your life before gone shopping. Your father never approved, a waste of money, a waste of time. Kimi seemed to love seeing you try on different items of clothing, though. “Okay but this is definitely the one you will wear tonight!” He said as you stepped out of the dressing room in a navy blue halter top.

“Are you sure? I’ve never worn something like this before.” You doubted yourself, seeing yourself go from a baggy shirt to a tight top felt unreal. “Definitely, you look amazing!” He cheered you on. That warm feeling you felt after the race had come back again.

The store owner allowed you to keep on the clothing you would wear to the party, it saved you time from changing so you thanked him. As you went to pay for the ridiculous amount of items you’d just gotten, Kimi ‘accidentally’ pushed you away and pulled out his own card instead.

“Kimi!” You gasped, “Why did you do that! Oh my god, no, I’m paying you back!” You immediately pulled out your phone, “What’s your venmo?” He just blankly stared at you, “No no, I take you shopping, so I pay.” He pushed away your phone.

“You two are so cute, you know?” The cashier gushed as she packed up your clothing. You and Kimi both looked at each other, looked away and immediately got red in the face. “No uh, we aren’t like… together…” You softly spoke, almost in a whisper, almost as if you wish that wasn’t true.

The cashier stopped packing your clothes to look you two up and down, she then smiled to herself as she continued. “Oh! I still have to change.” Kimi gasped as he ran out to his car, he came back with a change of clothing in his arm, you couldn’t quite see what it was as he ran off to the changing rooms.

“Thank you, have a nice evening!” You told the cashier as you took the bags and waited for Kimi who came out of the changing room a few seconds later wearing… “A navy blue dress shirt, really Kimi?” He just smiled as he took the bags from your arms and carried them to the car.

“Was this all just a cheap ploy to get me to match outfits with you?” He stayed silent and simply hummed as he loaded your purchases into the back of George’s Mercedes. “You’re unbelievable, but thank you, I really appreciate what you did for me.” You thanked him as he opened the car door for you, you sat down and he did too. “No thanks! You are a winner, you deserve it.” He started the car.

You had to admit he looked really good in navy blue, the shirt was tight in all the right places, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. He even undid the first two buttons of his shirt, allowing you to peek in but still letting a lot be left to your imagination. Your mind drifted away, shamelessly staring. And Kimi definitely noticed.

Your gaze then turned to the display screen of the car. “Wait shit– Kimi we have to be there in like two minutes!” You started stressing, checking your phone to see if the time on the display was right. “No worries! We do this for a living, no?” He looked over and smirked at you, whilst keeping eye contact he hit the gas.

He remained eye contact as he sped down the highway, the speedometer quickly shot from 0 to 60. You knew this was wrong, you knew his eyes should be on the road, but you would be lying if you said this wasn’t extremely attractive. He grinned as he took his eyes off of you to take a left turn. Surprisingly you only ended up a minute late, fifty-nine seconds late to be precise. 

“See?” He said with a smug smile. He was impossible. After he opened the door and let you out of the car, you two were almost instantly approached by George. “Kimi! Since when did I allow you to use my car? I had to catch a ride with Max! Max!” George was frantically going on and on about Kimi’s disrespect, but you could see he wasn’t listening to any of it. 

“George, my friend! Calm down, let’s have a drink okay?” He led George inside, guiding him by the small of his back, luckily for you Max was just getting out of his car too. “You had to ride with George, huh?” Max shrugged, “It’s fine, he says I drive like a maniac, I think he’s a pussy.” You both laughed at that.

“But you came with someone too, huh?” He nudged your shoulder, you could only look away and smile as you tried moving past the subject at hand. “And uhm, don’t get me wrong but, I don’t think I have ever seen you even look at a top like that.” He stated, eyebrows raised and pointing at the navy blue halter top. “Yeah uh, he got it for me, along with like.. another few hundred euros worth of clothing.”

You mumbled the last part, hoping Max didn’t hear. “I’m sorry WHAT?” Max’ jaw almost fell to the floor. “I wanted to pay myself! He wouldn’t let me!” You frantically tried to explain, but he wasn’t having any of it. “My grid son! He’s doing so well, simply lovely!” You wanted to argue but Max had already grabbed your arm to drag you inside.

The place was moderately fancy, high ceilings, greek decor, but with the lights off it looked like something completely different. Neon strobes of light beamed throughout the area, you could only make out the faces of a few fellow drivers once the lights hit them, and besides that there were about a hundred more people you didn’t recognize.

Max led you down a few steps of stairs, dragging you along the sweaty bodies on the dance floor and letting you go once you had arrived at the bar. “What are you having?” He almost had to yell over the loud music coming from the DJ stand. “Uhm, disaronno and coke?” You hesitated. Max’ face looked pleasantly surprised, he nodded and walked away to the bar.

You just stood there, arms leaning on the counter, looking at the people you saw every weekend on the grid dancing, laughing, flirting. Lando had his arms wrapped around some blonde girl, Oscar stood behind them, still and disinterested. You were snapped out of your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder. Lewis Hamilton.

“You did well today!” He grabbed and shook your hand, but you shook your head. “If it wasn’t for your horrible pit stop, I wouldn’t have even come close to winning.” You admitted with a half smile, he  lifted his shoulders. “That might be true, but you still defended against Russel and Lando for like twenty laps, that’s impressive, you should be proud!” Hearing someone like Lewis telling you to be proud, it moved something in you.

The man you couldn’t help but idolize since the start of your career, the man who had seven championships to his name, he told you to be proud of yourself. He told you you did good, and that mattered more than any approval you could have ever gotten from your father.

You smiled, praying he would not notice the tears starting to form in your eyes. “Thank you Lewis, it really means a lot coming from you.” Lewis smiled, too. “You are better like this, more open, you seem happier, keep it up.” He patted your shoulder before reuniting with his teammate across the area. You almost broke down right then and there.

But before you could, Max handed you your drink, he himself held something that piqued your interest. “Max, why is your drink piss-colored?” You couldn’t contain yourself and bursted out laughing at the suspiciously translucent drink Max held in his hand. “It’s vodka Red-Bull! Not piss! It’s actually lovely!” You eyed him up and down with a sarcastic look of disappointment.

He shoved the drink in your face, turning the straw to your lips. “Taste! It’s good I swear.” You hesitated, you didn’t want to drink too much, your father would–

Your father. 

It was then you realized, your father wasn’t in Barcelona, your father hadn’t congratulated you on your win, your father had never told you to be proud. The respect you had just received from Lewis was more and greater than anything you had ever received from your father.

You grabbed Max’ drink and took the biggest sip you could, and then another until he pulled the straw away from you, “Hey you’ve got your own!” He pointed at the mixture in your still shaky hand. “True!” You exclaimed, before finishing it in three big gulps. Your face contorted at the bitter taste of sweet marzipan and coke sliding down your throat.

“And now I don’t! Let’s do shots!” You moved past Max, making your way to the bartender, he grabbed you by the shoulder. “Woah, woah, slow down cowboy.” You looked back with a smug grin. “I thought we were going to celebrate my win? Backing down now?”

That triggered something in him, and before you could even blink he was already at the bar ordering two shots of something clear that tasted like pure acetone going down. “Ugh, what the fuck was that!” You both laughed before he told you it was bacardi. “Let’s get another!” You dragged his arm to the bar.

And another turned into another, eventually Kimi, George, Carlos and somehow Oscar joined you too. You and Kimi clinked your glasses together, loudly cheering before interlocking your arms and taking the other’s shot. George and Max did the same, Carlos was the most hyped and Oscar sat silently in the corner of your guy’s booth with his own entire bottle.

You sat in between Max and Kimi, George sat next to Max and Carlos was on Kimi’s other side. Somewhere during the night, Kimi’s arm had found its place draped over your shoulder. “I'm sorry, you let your engineers do your homework?” You were laughing so hard it ached, and Kimi did too. He nodded proudly, work smarter not harder he said.

“Oscar! Do you want to sit with us?” George yelled over to the man on the chair in the corner. He didn’t even reply, just took another swig of the bottle in his hand, before shaking his head. “What’s his issue?” George asked, half-sarcastically, Max just pointed at Lando and the blonde, everyone nodded. Everyone except you, but you couldn’t be bothered to ask what was up.

“I really like your necklace!” You whisper-yelled in Kimi’s ear over the ever-so-loud music. He removed his arm from your shoulder, which involuntarily made you a little sad, but he then went to unclip it from the back of his neck. “You want to try it on, yes?” You tried telling him no but his hands were already around your neck. His surprisingly soft skin brushed against your warm neck, it made you jump a little.

“Allora! It looks great on you!” It was a lot looser on you then it was on him, you played with the whale tail pendant a little and thanked him. He went back to putting his arm around your shoulder, and you all went back to chatting and drinking. That was until you heard a few beats to a song you could recognize anywhere. “Oh I love this song!” You squealed, Max shot Kimi an expectant look, and he immediately picked up on it. “You want to dance?” You nodded frantically.

As you tried to stand up, you almost fell down, Kimi and Carlos helped you back up and you dragged Kimi by his arm to the dance floor. “It’s simply lovely, right George?” Max sipped on his drink and George grumbled something, but quickly shut up when Max put his arm around his shoulder, too.

You led Kimi to the middle of the dance floor, you’d never been a very good dancer but somehow the swaying of your hips and the movement of your arms felt like second nature. You moved your arms to be around Kimi’s neck, his hips moved exactly in sync with yours, his hands placed on your waist.

Your gaze locked onto his brown eyes, their sparkle ever so prevalent. His face was lit up by the various flashes of strobe lighting, red, green, blue. Like always, his tongue was grazing his lips and teeth, his mouth curled up into a daring smirk. His gaze was locked onto you, too.

You moved a little closer, as did he, so did you, as did he. You could feel his breath on your skin, even though the hot mess of sweat and air from around you. His bottom lip almost grazed your top one, mere nanometers apart, you wanted to close that gap.

BANG

Your heads whipped around to where the loud sound came from, and you were met with quite a sight. Lando on the floor, Carlos with a raised fist and Oscar with balled fists and an angry stare beside him.

“What the fuck?” You gasped, Max let go of George and ran over to try and calm Carlos down before he could swing again, but Carlos wasn’t having any of it. “I think I'm gonna be sick.” You held your hand up to your mouth, suddenly the combination of chaos and strobe lighting made your throat up.

“Uh okay, okay. Allora, come with me.” Kim held out his hand for you to grab and you did. He led you away from the chaos, past Max and Carlos arguing and Lando’s bloody nose. You ended up on a balcony on the second floor. 

You breathed in the warm air, in through the nose, out through the mouth.Your hands rested on the balcony’s balustrade, your eyes closed, letting the small bits of wind cool you down. Kimi came standing next to you.

He placed his hands on the balustrade next to yours. “Are you feeling better?” The tone of his voice was so sweet, it almost sickened you. “Why are you so nice to me?” You asked him, but it must’ve been the liquid courage, because a question like that would have never crossed your mind sober.

He looked surprised, “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re nice, and pretty and I like you.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from the drink he brought. He likes you? “Why do you like me?” You were genuinely confused, which confused Kimi, too. 

“What is not to like? Amore, you are great! You are determined, focused, you are funny, you are ambitious, and again very pretty.” You looked away, he was nice, too nice. You chipped and picked at the white marble of the balcony’s balustrade. You’d never had someone care about you this much.

“Besides Max, you are the only person to ever be truly nice to me.” You shook your head and looked at your hands, rolling pieces of debris between your fingers. Kimi moved closer to you. “Just hard to believe, you know?” You continued, with full conviction this was something most people could relate to.

“I don’t know.” He spoke honestly, you looked up and met his eyes. The sparkle was vague, you stayed quiet. He placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb rubbing on your skin slowly. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, you reached for it and checked the notification.

‘Pure luck.’ Who else could it be but your father, ruining your night, your win. Kimi looked over and saw the message, too. “Who is that? Why would they say that?” He tried peeking more, but you already turned over your phone, nearly slamming it on the balustrade.

“It's nothing, Kimi.” You tried skipping over it but if Kimi Antonelli was one thing, it was definitely determined. After prying and pressing for a few more seconds, truly no prying and pressing at all, you gave in. Maybe you just wanted someone to listen to you for once.

“It’s my father, he just wants me to, you know, be the best.” You told him. “Well he’s not doing it well.” The Italian bluntly stated. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

“Ever since I was young, he’s been pushing me to be the best, somewhere I believe he always wanted a son, not a daughter. It would have made his life so much easier, he says every time. Just luck, I'm not that good, I need to push harder, be faster. You know, if I had the choice, I don't even know if I would've become a driver.” Your voice was shaky.

He was quiet. He squeezed your hand, his soft voice and smooth accent made something settle inside you. “Kimi, do you remember the first time you lost? Ever?” He slowly shook his head. “I do, he never lets me forget.” Your eyes started to sting.

Kimi turned you around to face him openly, and with a second's hesitation he pulled you in for a hug, deep, warm, slow. He embraced you and held you like you could disappear at any moment. "I'm sorry." He said it so sincerely, a slight crack in his voice, a twitch in his hold.

“Kimi?” Your voice was slightly muffled with your face being pressed into his chest. “Yes?” He let go of you, just a little, just enough to hear you. “I like you too.” You smiled at him with tented brows, his eyes looked watery, the spark was back.

“Are you sure?” He asked, half-joking, you upped the ante. “Maybe.” You jokingly shrugged, he burst out laughing, still holding onto you, you laughed with him, to the point your ribs hurt, to the point your abs couldn’t take it anymore.

His hand moved up to your cheek, it was soft, but rough in the right places. His face moved closer again, like on the dance floor. You moved in, too, it felt like your body was on autopilot, like it just knew what to do. And then your lips finally met his.

His lips tasted sweet, they were soft, pillowy. Seconds felt like a lifetime, he pulled away and kissed you again, and again. First just his lips, then he got brave, he opened his mouth and you followed, slowly letting your tongues move along one another. He moved into you more and more, like there was an invisible void he tried to fill.

Breathless, the only way to describe yourself after he pulled away.

It wasn’t before long until you both sat in the backseat of an uber, on your way back to the hotel desperately trying to keep your hands off of each other. For the driver’s sake.

The walk up the hotel’s stairs was nothing short of messy, you both stumbled up the stairs, your hands locked in his hair, and his travelling all over your body, gripping your waist tight. Your lips were stuck together like magnets, the taste of his tongue was sickenly sweet.

You blamed the alcohol for your reckless behavior, but truly you just loved feeling free, so free for the first time in your life. You were making your own decisions, chasing your own desires and damn did it feel good.

He pushed open the door to his room, surprisingly it was kept pretty neat but the fitted sheets were soon crumpled by your bodies crashing down onto the bed. He was laying on top of you, one knee in between your legs, hands slowly undoing your new shirt.

The soft cotton strap slowly moved along your neck as it came loose, he broke your kiss as he moved the shirt up over your head, leaving you exposed in just a bra. You were a little embarrassed, you had never done anything like this with anyone before, and on top of that you’d chosen today to wear the ugliest bra you owned.

Kimi didn’t seem to care, though, as he made quick work of taking your bra off, too. His swiftness and obvious experience scared you a little. No it wasn’t scary, it was thrilling.

“You are so beautiful, amore.” His eyes were full of admiration, that same sparkle shining only brighter, he slowly moved a hand up to your breast and started playing with it. Squeezing, massaging and eventually licking.

You whimpered, you moaned, you couldn’t even fathom the sounds leaving your mouth. You hands pulled at his curls, he looked up to you and you tugged at his shirt. He smirked as he understood your request and moved his button up out of the way.

The man was built. Like incredibly so, obviously he had to have a nice physique, being a driver and all but you never expected him to be this toned.

He hesitated for a second, his hands were frozen mid air as he reached for your body. “What do you want to do?” He asked. A question so simple but still stirring something inside of you. What did you want to do? He was so considerate, so sweet. You knew a question like this was what would be considered the bare minimum.

But to someone who had never been offered even the bare minimum Kimi was like an angel sent from heaven.

“I want..” You stopped, you thought, you considered. “I want you, I want everything.” That’s all you had to say, the look in his eyes, the surprise of your words activated something inside of him. Something pure, something raw.

He almost ripped your bottoms off, taking your underwear off, too. You were left naked on the bed, and before long he was bare too. You almost gasped at the sight of him, people often made jokes online about how it was a tick for him to reach for his crotch when nervous and that it must be big.

They’d never know how right they were. He was big, and thick too. A few large veins ran up from the bottom to the tip. He noticed your staring, and tried comforting you. “I’ll be gentle, prometto.”

And gentle he was. After spending a good amount of time kissing, licking and biting you all over, leaving marks everywhere he moved between your thighs. He licked a long striped all the way up to your pussy. He circled your clit with his tongue.

You felt him make shapes, licking you all over. You gripped the sheets and moaned so much your throat hurt, this new sensation was nothing like you ever experienced before, not even with your own fingers. 

Kimi was way too talented, and after a few minutes you felt something build up inside of you. You weren’t quite sure what it was but you knew you didn’t want him to stop. You whimpered as the feeling only got stronger and stronger. Like a firework something burst inside of you, you felt it from the tips of your toes to your ears, almost getting goosebumps.

“Was it good?” He looked up from in between your legs, his mouth was covered in your juices, and much like on the podium his tongue was out, licking up the remaining cum leaking from your pussy.

“I, think so, yeah.” You almost whispered, still catching your breath. He smirked and took two of his fingers, slowly wetting them in between your folds and pushing them inside, “Good.” He ate you out again, and again. Your head was full of pleasure, your body weak from the overwhelming orgasms he was giving you.

After number.. you lost count. You pulled his head away from your pussy, “Can I please feel you now?” His eyes went wide, shocked at how nicely you asked him. God you turned him on so bad. He stuttered a little before just simply nodding.

He lifted you up and against the headboard of the bed, spreading your legs again. “I hope I prepared you enough.” He slowly moved towards you, hesitating a little before nudging your entrance with his tip, coating it in your slick. “Just do it, please Kimi.”

The way you said his name so sweetly, so desperately, like you needed it, like you needed him. How could he ever refuse?

“You drive me crazy, amore.” He slowly pushed himself inside of you, letting out a low and broken moan. You reassured him you were okay, and he started moving inside of you. You held onto him by his neck, placing kisses and bites all over. His head was by your ear.

He was incredibly vocal. Moaning and whimpering in your ear as he thrusted harder and harder, his hips slamming against you. He moaned some unintelligible Italian stuff as well, something “così perfetto” and “Sei bellissima, amore.” Whatever he said it sounded hot, and that’s all that mattered. 

You were left like that all night, with him slamming inside of you at relentless speed, the man’s stamina was unbeatable. From missionary to doggy, grabbing and pulling you by the hair, slapping your ass. Prone bone, with his sweaty body slicking and rubbing against you holding you by the neck. 

His lips were always by your ear, licking and moaning. You lost count of how many times he made you cum, hell you lost count of how many times he came.

“You’re so beautiful, so pretty, a-ah.. I’ve wanted this for so long.. wanted you.. needed you amore.” 

His words of praise drove you crazy, and it seemed like the night would never end, his necklace was still around your neck, the cold metal feeling like home against your skin. But all good things must come to an end.

The morning came, the sunlight pierced through the curtains of the hotel room, waking you up unwillingly. Your head was killing you, for a second you didn’t even know where you were. Then you realized why you actually woke up.

Your phone buzzed like crazy beside you on the floor, you picked it up. Headlines, news stories, messages from Merkies, Max, your father even. Your eyes were unfocused, your head pounded like crazy, you tried reading any of it but gave up, you scrolled the news articles Merkies sent you. It was a picture of you and Kimi, kissing on the balustrade.

Kimi lowers himself into another push-up, his breath coming out in a controlled, steady rhythm. "It’s called discipline," he says, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You should try it sometime instead of complaining."

"Discipline is a scam," you declare, and before he can push himself back up, you flop your entire upper body straight onto his back.

The sudden addition of your weight forces a sharp exhale out of him, his arms dipping slightly before his core catches the burden. He stops mid-rep, holding both of you steady off the ground with a grunt that sounds equal parts annoyed and amused.

"Get off me," Kimi mutters, his shoulders flexing beneath you like solid steel cables as he tries to maintain his balance. "You’re heavier than you look when you're acting like a sack of potatoes."

"Nope," you murmur, burying your face against the cool fabric of his shirt, completely ignoring his complaint. "I am your new weighted vest. Consider it an upgrade to your training regimen. You should be thanking me."

"I am going to drop you on your face," he threatens, though he doesn't actually lower his knees to the ground. Instead, he stubbornly attempts another rep, muscles straining against the combined weight, his chest expanding and contracting forcefully against your side.

You ride out two excruciatingly slow push-ups on his back, giggling softly as his steady posture begins to tremble just a tiny bit under the ridiculous strain. Realizing that he might actually be stubborn enough to finish an entire set with you on top of him, you roll off his back and slump onto the floor beside his smoothie.

Kimi pushes himself up, wiping a forearm across his forehead, his dark eyes watching you with that familiar, easygoing exasperation he always reserves for your antics. He shifts his position, flipping over onto his back and bending his knees to set up for glute bridges.

"Don't even think about it," he warns, catching the mischievous glint in your eyes before you even make a move.

"Oh, come on, Kimi," you say, pushing past the thumping headache through sheer force of playfulness. "Where is that world-class athlete stamina? Show me what you’ve got."

Without giving him a chance to protest further, you move over and sit directly across his hips, straddling him while he lies flat on the ground. You settle your weight fully onto him, resting your hands on your knees and grinning down at his face.

Kimi lets out a slow breath, looking up at you from beneath his dark hair. "You are genuinely relentless when you're hungover."

"Fierce and unrelenting, that's me," you reply. "Now go on. Lift."

He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head, but his hands move to rest lightly on the outer edges of your waist to stabilize you. "Alright. Hold on, then."

He engages his core and drives his heels into the floor, pushing his hips upward. The sudden surge of elevation lifts you straight up into the air, forcing you to lean forward slightly to keep your balance. The raw power in his legs and glutes makes the movement look almost effortless, despite the added load of your body weight. You drop back down as he lowers his hips, only for him to immediately drive back up into a second rep, smooth and controlled.

"Not bad, Antonelli," you tease, leaning a bit lower so your face is closer to his. "Though I feel like you're slacking on the tempo."

"I am carrying a grown human," he points out, his voice a little raspy from the effort as he completes another rep, his hands tightening just a fraction around your waist to keep you centered.

By the fifth rep, the playful dynamic takes a subtle, undeniable shift. The repeated friction and close contact of your body pressed firmly against his hips create a sudden, unmistakable shift in the air between you. As he lowers his hips back down after a particularly slow lift, you feel a distinct, rigid heat pressing firmly against your thighs through the thin fabric of his workout shorts.

Your eyes widen slightly as the realization hits you. You stall mid-tease, the witty comeback dying right in your throat.

"Okay," you say quickly, a sudden flush rising to your cheeks that has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night. "Point proven. Workout over."

You place your hands on his chest and attempt to push yourself off him, swinging one leg over to slide away. But before you can clear his lap, Kimi’s hands snap firm around your hips, locking you securely in place. He pulls you right back down against him, refusing to let you retreat.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kimi asks, his tone entirely too calm, though his dark eyes are shining with a quiet, dangerous amusement.

"Kimi, let me go," you say, trying to wiggle out of his grip, which only makes the solid, rigid length beneath you far more pronounced. You let out a half-nervous laugh, pointing down at the obvious physical evidence between you two. "You... you have a little situation developing down there, in case you hadn't noticed."

You tease him, trying to deflect the sudden spike of tension with your usual humor. "What is wrong with you? We were just doing exercises, and you're out here getting turned on by a hangover intervention?"

Kimi doesn't look flustered in the slightest. If anything, the corner of his mouth tugs upward into a confident, unbothered smirk. He tightens his grip on your waist, shifting his hips just enough to make you completely aware of how hard he really is beneath you, leaving zero room for misinterpretation.

"What's the problem with it?" Kimi asks softly, his voice dropping an octave, smooth and entirely unbothered by your teasing. He looks straight into your eyes, holding your gaze without a single hint of embarrassment. "Aren't you glad?"

You blink, caught completely off guard by his absolute lack of hesitation. "Glad?"

"Yeah, glad," Kimi repeats smoothly, his fingers resting warm and heavy against your hip bones. "Because that just means I'm physically attracted to you. Simple as that."

He leaves you sitting right there on top of him, breathless and suddenly completely forgetting about the pounding ache in your head, while he just smiles up at you like he holds all the cards.

Your brain pulls a complete emergency stop, the gears grinding to an absolute halt as his words echo in the tiny space between your faces. Kimi is sitting beneath you, completely unbothered, looking like a cat that not only caught the canary, but also claimed a full three-course meal afterward. The sheer arrogance radiating off his calm, smug face should be irritating—it should make you want to roll off him, push his shoulder, and retreat into the kitchen to drown your hangover in a glass of water.

Except you don't move. In fact, you can't. You don't want to.

Because beneath the thin, warm fabric of his workout shorts, the rigid heat pressed against you is sending a jolt of pure electrical current straight through your veins, instantly wiping out whatever remaining fog was left over from last night's drinks. A sudden, dangerous warmth flares up deep in your stomach, heavy and thick, making your heart do a chaotic little tap-dance against your ribs. You are getting turned on, fast and completely against your conscious will, and the sudden realization hits you like a cold splash of water.

There is absolutely no way on earth you are going to confess this to him. None. Zilch. Zero. Admitting that his little display of brute strength and unblushing honesty actually worked on you would boost his already sky-high ego into a completely different stratosphere. He’d never let you live it down. You would be hearing about this until you were eighty years old.

"You're unbelievable," you manage to say, forcing your voice to sound exasperated while desperately trying to keep your breathing steady. "You really have zero shame, don't you?"

"Why should I be ashamed?" Kimi counters softly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His thumbs trace tiny, deliberate circles against the skin exposed by the ride-up of your shirt at your waist. "I’m just being honest. You’re the one making it weird."

"I am not making it weird!" you protest, placing your palms flat against his chest to create the illusion of pushing him away. "I am trying to rescue you from your own ridiculous body chemistry. Now come on, let me up."

You put on a show of attempting to pull back, bracing your hands against his shoulders like you're trying to gain leverage. But instead of actually lifting your weight off him, you subtly tilt your pelvis, shifting your weight back and grinding your hips forward in a slow, almost imperceptible drag against his length.

It is a completely stealthy move—or so you think. You keep your expression carefully neutral, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the sudden shudder that runs down your spine as the delicious friction rolls right through you. You shift again, a tiny, deliberate sway of your hips that slides your body right against his growing hardness, testing his limits while pretending you're just struggling to get your footing.

"Seriously, Kimi," you say, keeping your tone mock-annoyed while you give him another agonizingly slow, subtle roll of your hips. "My legs are getting cramped. Just loosen your grip for two seconds."

Kimi doesn't answer immediately. For a second, you think you might have actually pulled it off, but then you catch the sudden, sharp hitch in his breathing. The easygoing, lazy smirk on his lips falters, replaced by a tight, focused line as his jaw muscles clench. His dark eyes darken even further, blowing wide as he realizes exactly what you're doing beneath the cover of your little act.

"Nice try," he rumbles, his voice dropping into a thick, low growl that vibrates right through his chest and straight into your palms.

Before you can even process the change in his tone, his grip on your waist tightens into steel bands. Instead of letting you play your subtle little game, Kimi flexes his fingers, taking full control, and abruptly hauls your hips down hard against his, eliminating every single millimeter of space left between you.

A sharp, involuntary gasp tears out of your throat as the force of the movement drives you full-weight into his lap, the firm, unforgiving heat of him pressing directly against the center of your ache.

"Ah—Kimi!" you choke out, your hands instantly gripping his shoulders for balance as a sudden wave of sheer pleasure shoots straight up your spine, making your knees go entirely weak.

"You really thought you were being subtle?" Kimi whispers, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls your upper body down closer to his. He shifts his hips upward in a sharp, deliberate bump, matching your earlier move with ten times the force and sending another shudder straight through your body. "You think I can't feel what you're doing?"

Your heart is hammering so hard against your chest it feels like a trapped bird trying to break free. The teasing, playful dynamic has completely evaporated, replaced by a thick, heavy tension that leaves you breathless and trembling above him. You look down at him, your lips parted, all your clever little excuses completely evaporating from your mind as his hands slide from your hips down to the curves of your thighs, pinning you securely in place while his dark gaze burns right into yours.

All your carefully constructed defenses crumble into absolute dust. The pride you were trying so hard to protect vanishes, completely incinerated by the white-hot current of desire shooting through your belly. You can’t pretend anymore, and honestly, you don’t even want to. The heavy, thumping ache in your head from last night's hangover is entirely gone.

You let out a low, shuddering breath and surrender. Your back arches instinctively, your spine curving like a drawn bow as your head drops backward, exposing the long line of your throat. Every single drop of reluctance evaporates, leaving only the raw, undeniable need to feel more of him.

"Fine," you breathe out, the word coming out as a desperate, rasping whisper. "You win."

Kimi lets out a dark, satisfied hum deep in his chest—a sound that vibrates through your entire torso—as he senses the exact moment you stop resisting and completely surrender to the moment. His hands, broad and warm, anchor themselves firmly against the sides of your waist, his knuckles digging slightly into your flesh with a possessive, unyielding grip. He doesn't just let you ride out the movement on your own; he takes total, absolute control of your hips, steering your body with the practiced, effortless precision of someone who knows every single inch of you.

He guides you into a heavy, rolling grind, pulling your hips forward and then pressing them back down in a slow, agonizingly deep motion. The friction of his hard, uncompromising length sliding beneath the thin layer of your shorts acts like lit matches against dry wood. Every time he lifts you just a fraction and pulls you back down, a shudder runs through your entire frame, making your toes curl and your thighs tremble against his sides.

"That's it," Kimi mutters, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intense register that sends fresh shivers straight down your arms. His eyes are fixed on your face, tracking every single subtle shift in your expression as you lose yourself in the feeling. "Stop fighting it."

You start moving your hips in tandem with his hands, matching his steady, hypnotic rhythm. The motion becomes a desperate, fluid dance, a seamless rhythm where you can barely tell where his control ends and your own urges begin. You roll your hips over him, letting out a sharp, breathless moan that breaks through the quiet room, completely unbothered by how loud you are being. Your head thrashes slightly from side to side, your fingers digging into the firm muscles of his chest, clutching at his shirt like a drowning person clinging to a lifeline.

The slow, steady pace is intoxicating, but within moments, it isn't enough. A deep, hollow craving begins to bloom in the pit of your stomach, spreading outward like ink soaking through paper. The subtle friction through layers of clothing is driving you completely out of your mind, a cruel teaser that only makes you crave a deeper, more direct kind of touch. You need his hands on you, everywhere, filling the empty spaces and turning up the heat until you completely burn out.

Without taking your eyes off his, you reach down and grab both of Kimi’s wrists. His skin is slick with a light sheen of sweat from his earlier workout, hot and pulsing with a heavy pulse. You drag his large, calloused hands up from your waist, pulling them steadily upward until you press his palms flat over your chest.

"Kimi," you gasp out, your voice laced with an unmistakable, demanding edge. "Don't just sit there."

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his features as he realizes what you're asking for. His fingers spread wide, taking full possession of your mounds, molding to your shape through your top. He squeezes firmly, massaging the soft flesh with a heavy, deliberate pressure that makes you gasp, your hips instantly stuttering in their rhythm before picking up speed again.

He kneads you with a deliberate, confident rhythm, his palms warm and heavy, driving a low, continuous sound of approval from your throat. Then, his thumbs slip upward, finding the hard peaks of your nipples through the fabric. He circles them slowly at first, applying just enough friction to make your breath catch in your chest before rolling them tightly between his thumb and forefinger.

The sharp, electric zap of pleasure shoots straight down to your core, hitting your sweet spot with terrifying accuracy. You arch your chest high into his hands, practically begging for the sensation, your hips naturally picking up a faster, far more frantic pace against his lap.

"A minute ago ," Kimi murmurs, his thumbs continuing their merciless teasing, flicking over your sensitive peaks until you're squirming helplessly on top of him. "You were complaining and trying to run away, and now you can't even keep still."

"Shut up," you pant out, though there is zero bite in your words. You are far too gone to care about his teasing now. "Just... don't stop."

"I'm not stopping," he promises, his hands flexing hard against your chest, squeezing you tightly as he uses his grip to anchor your upper body while his hips roll upward to meet every single movement you make.

You switch gears entirely, driven by an overwhelming, primal urgency to reach the edge. You lean forward slightly, driving your hips faster and harder against his firm length. You adjust your angle, tilting your pelvis just right so that your clit drags directly, relentlessly across the solid, rigid line of him with every single stroke. The contact is blindingly intense, a concentrated burst of pure friction that sends white flashes through your vision.

You pound against him in a fast, punishing rhythm, your body operating on pure instinct now. Every press of your hips is heavy and deliberate, sliding back and forth over the exact spot that is driving you over the edge. Kimi’s hands shift again, one hand staying firmly gripped on your chest, plucking at your nipple, while the other sweeps back down to lock onto the small of your back, holding you flush against him so that not a single drop of friction is wasted.

"Kimi... oh god, Kimi," you moan out, the sound unspooling from your lips in a continuous, breathless string as the pressure inside you builds to an absolute crescendo.

The sensation is spiraling completely out of control, building like a massive, breaking wave that threatens to drag you under. Your legs are shaking, the muscles in your thighs straining as you push yourself faster, riding him with an intense, unyielding speed. Every slide of your sensitive center against his hard shaft sends a shockwave through your lower belly, pulling the tight coil of tension tighter and tighter until it feels like it's about to snap.

You are so close. You can feel the peak hovering right there, just millimeters out of reach, a blinding explosion of heat waiting to consume you completely. But the sheer intensity of maintaining the pace while sitting upright becomes too much to handle. Your strength gives out, your core trembling under the overwhelming overload of pleasure.

With a ragged, desperate breath, you fully collapse forward onto Kimi.

Your chest slams against his, your entire body weight coming down onto his solid frame. You bury your face straight into the warm crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin—a sharp, intoxicating mix of his cologne and fresh sweat. You wrap your arms tightly around his neck, locking your fingers together behind his head to pull yourself as close to him as humanly possible, leaving absolutely no gap between your bodies.

In this position, completely buried against him, you grind against him even harder, using the leverage of your entire body pressing down on his to increase the pressure. You lift your hips and slam them back down, dragging your clit over his hard length with a fast, desperate, merciless motion that has your entire body vibrating with tension.

"Right there... right there, don't move," you sob out into his neck, your lips pressing against his warm skin as you speak.

Your voice is completely wrecked, a mess of broken gasps, breathless moans, and desperate curses muffled directly against his collarbone and shoulder.

"Fuck, Kimi... god, fuck," you swear filthy, unfiltered curses directly into his skin, your teeth lightly catching the flesh of his neck as another wave of intense friction hits you dead-center.

Kimi lets out a ragged, heavy breath of his own, his arm wrapping around your waist like an iron bar, lifting his hips forcefully into yours with every single grind to match your desperate pace.

"I'm right here," he rasps, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as his fingers tangle into the hair at the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "Take it. Come on, ride it out."

The tight coil deep in your stomach finally snaps, unleashing a violent, rushing wave of pure ecstasy that crashes over your entire body.

Your hips hitch violently, locking tight against his length as the first hard wave of your orgasm hits you. You let out a high, muffled scream directly into the crook of his neck, your entire body going rigid as the pleasure pulses through you in deep, rhythmic spasms. You grind desperately against him through the peak, trying to wring out every single drop of sensation as your walls pulse tightly, dragging your center against his rigid hardness with every shuddering wave.

Kimi holds you through all of it, his chest heaving beneath yours, his hips surging up one last time to press firmly into you as you ride out the intense, trailing ripples of your release. He buries his face in your hair, letting out a long, shaky exhale, his grip on you unyielding and steady while your body slowly, agonizingly comes back down to earth.

"So," Kimi murmurs softly into your hair, his tone dripping with that insufferable, fond smugness as a slow smirk forms against your neck. "Still think my morning workout routine is a scam?"

You let out a weak, breathless laugh against his skin, too entirely spent to even bother coming up with a comeback, simply tightening your arms around his neck and sinking fully into his heat.

For a long moment, neither of you says a word. The only sound is the synchronized, heavy rhythm of your collective breathing. Kimi’s hand remains resting on the small of your back, his broad palm broad and steady, lazily tracing small, reassuring circles against your lower spine. His own chest is heaving beneath yours, his heart pounding a swift, electric cadence against your cheek where you remain buried in the crook of his neck.

Slowly, agonizingly, you begin to stir. You slowly start to slide down his body.

You let your weight linger, dragging your chest slowly over his flat, defined abdominal muscles. The thin, damp fabric of your top clings to your skin, and as you slide downward, your still-hardened, hyper-sensitive nipples glide directly along the warm contour of his chest and stomach. The contrast of his smooth, hot skin against your sensitive peaks sends a tiny, lingering spark of pleasure shooting straight back down to your core.

Kimi lets out a low, rough exhale as you move, his stomach muscles involuntarily flexing beneath the drag of your body. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice thick, raspy, and thoroughly ruined.

You continue your slow, deliberate descent until you are kneeling between his parted legs, sitting back on your heels. You look down at him, your vision slightly unfocused, taking in the state he’s in. His dark hair is messy, sticking to his forehead in damp strands, his lips are parted, and his dark eyes are heavy-lidded, burning with an unquenched, raging fire. And below his waistband, the sharp, unmistakable outline of his erection is practically straining against the fabric, heavy, rigid, and completely unsatisfied.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you hook them into the elastic band of his workout shorts.

Kimi’s hand instantly comes down, his broad fingers wrapping around your wrist in a firm, decisive grip. He stops your hand, his gaze snapping directly to yours.

"No, no," Kimi rumbles, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly register that vibrates through the space between you. He pulls on your wrist, trying to tug you back up his body, back toward his chest. "Come here. Up."

"Kimi, wait—" you start, but he cuts you off, shifting his hips upward with a dark, hungry expression.

"I’m not sitting here letting you tease me while you get everything you want," he says, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to command your full attention. "You’re done. Strip off your clothes. I’m fucking you."

The absolute certainty in his tone sends a dangerous, thrilling flutter straight to your chest. The thought of him lifting you, driving into you, and taking you right here on the floor makes your core pulse with a fresh, needy ache. But as you look down at the heavy bulge trapped beneath his shorts, a completely different, darker kind of greed takes hold of you. You don't want the quick, intense collision of a full-on fuck just yet. You want him in your mouth. You want to feel the heat of him on your tongue, to taste the salty, addictive edge of his skin, to control his gasps and break his composure entirely with your own lips.

"No," you say, resisting his tug on your arm and staying firmly rooted between his knees.

Kimi raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he pulls harder on your arm. "What do you mean, no? Look at me. I’m out of my mind right now."

"I know you are," you murmur, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of his thigh, right over the seam of his shorts. You feel his muscle jump violently under your lips. "And I want to help you with that. But not like that. Not yet."

"You are not going to just suck me off and call it a day," Kimi warns, though his voice cracks slightly as your mouth stays tantalizingly close to his warmth. "I want to be inside you. I need to feel you wrap around me."

"Kimi, please," you beg, dropping all your teasing pretense, letting your tone soften into a sweet, desperate whine. You look up at him through your eyelashes, your hands coming up to rest on his thighs, your thumbs stroking the thick muscles there. "Please. I am literally begging you."

He stares down at you, his breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling in sharp, jagged lifts. "You get your release, and now you want to dictate terms?"

"I don't just want to dictate terms, I crave this," you plead softly, your voice laced with an honest, undeniable need that makes his dark eyes flare with sudden warmth. "I need you inside my mouth, Kimi. I’ve been thinking about it since you pulled me down on your lap. I want to feel how hard you are on my tongue. I want to taste you. Please."

Kimi lets out a low, ragged groan, dropping his head back against the floor with a harsh thud. "You are absolute poison," he mutters, though the grip on your wrist slowly slackens, his fingers sliding down to gently cup the side of your face instead. "You know exactly what to say to break me, don't you?"

"Is that a yes?" you ask, a small, triumphant smile playing at the corners of your lips as you feel his resistance completely give way.

"You can fuck me some other time, I promise," you add quickly, leaning over him to press a fast, eager kiss to his jawline, bargaining with everything you've got. "Later today, tonight, whenever you want. You can have whatever you want from me. But right now, right this second... let me have this. Please."

Kimi closes his eyes, a tight, pained expression crossing his face as he battles against his own roaring desire to just turn you over and take you. His pulse thrums wildly under your cheek. After three agonizingly long seconds, he lets out a defeated, shaky breath, his hand sliding from your face down to your shoulder, pushing you gently down toward his waist.

"You are so spoiled," he rasps out, opening his heavy, dark eyes to stare down at you with a look of pure, unadulterated heat. "Fine. Do it. But if you think this buys you a free pass later, you're out of your mind."

"Deal," you whisper, not needing to be told twice.

Before he can change his mind, you hook your thumbs back into the waistband of his shorts and his athletic briefs, pulling them down in one smooth, confident motion. His length snaps free, thick, heavy, and pulsing with a furious, rigid heat that radiates against your cheeks. A tiny bead of clear fluid glistens at the tip, reflecting the light, looking utterly devastating and completely irresistible.

Your mouth instantly waters, the sheer sight of him sending a fresh wave of heat straight between your legs. You don't hesitate. You lean down, hovering your lips just an inch away from his peak, letting your hot breath bathe the sensitive skin.

Kimi’s hips jump off the floor before you’ve even touched him. "Jesus," he mutters, his fingers instantly tangling themselves into the hair at the back of your head, not pushing you down, but holding you close, anchoring you to him. "Don't torture me. Just take it."

You smile against his skin, darting the flat of your tongue out to drag it slowly, deliberately over the tip of his head, sweeping up that single, salty drop of pre-cum.

A sharp, ragged hiss rips through Kimi’s teeth, his lower back arching slightly off the ground as his hands tighten in your hair. "Fuck..."

The taste of him—salty, warm, and distinctly Kimi—hits your tongue like an addictive drug, completely sweeping away any remaining hesitation you ever possessed. You press your mouth open wider, wrapping your warm, wet lips around his head, swirling your tongue around the sensitive ridge in a slow, intoxicating circle.

He lets out another harsh, low growl, his knuckles turning white as he grips your hair. "You're killing me," he rasps, his hips twitching upward, instinctively seeking more depth, more heat, more of the tight, wet suction you are offering him.

You don't hold back. You lean forward, taking more of his thick, rigid length into your mouth, swallowing him down inch by inch until your lips press firmly against the base of his shaft. The back of your throat tightens around him, creating a firm, seamless vacuum that pulls a sharp, loud gasp straight out of Kimi’s chest.

You begin to establish a slow, rhythmic slide, pulling back until just the tip remains cupped behind your lips, before plunging all the way back down, taking every single inch he has to offer. You use one hand to cup his weight at the base, your thumb gently massaging the sensitive skin there, while your other hand rests flat on his tight, flexing abdomen, feeling the sharp, involuntary spasms of his core every time you take him deep.

"Ah—fuck, yeah," Kimi groans out, his head thrashing slightly from side to side against the floor. His eyes are closed tight now, his jaw set in a hard, strained line as he completely surrenders to the feeling. "Just like that... fuck, you're so warm..."

You intensify the pace, letting your tongue curl around the underside of his shaft with every upward stroke, swirling over the sensitive frenulum before taking him right back down to the back of your throat. You make a deliberate point of letting him hear how much you are enjoying it, letting wet, needy sounds escape your throat around his length, making sure he knows that every single second of this is driving you just as crazy as it is driving him.

Kimi’s hips begin to ride your mouth, his hands taking a firmer grip on your head, guiding your rhythm. He tries to keep his movements controlled, but as the friction builds, his thrusts grow faster, sharper, and far more desperate, his body taking over where his willpower failed.

"I'm close," Kimi rasps out, his voice completely wrecked, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He tries to pull your head back a fraction, his protective instinct flaring up even through the haze of his pleasure. "Wait… fuck—I'm going to come in your mouth—"

You completely ignore his attempt to pull away. Instead, you wrap your hands firmly over his, pinning his wrists down against his thighs, refusing to let him retreat. You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his through the dark fringe of your hair, and take him as deep as you possibly can, holding him at the back of your throat while your tongue works his tip in fast, relentless, merciless circles.

That is the absolute end of his control.

Kimi lets out a loud, shattered groan, his hips surging up violently to bury himself as deep into your mouth as he can physically go. His whole body goes taut as a piano wire, his thighs trembling against your knees as he spills over the edge, firing heavy, hot pulses of his release straight onto your tongue.

You take every single drop, swallowing rhythmically around him, matching the deep, pulsing surges of his body with firm, loving suction until the very last drop is cleared. You keep your mouth wrapped warmly around him even as his hips slowly settle back down, letting him ride out the intense, sensitive aftershocks that leave him completely motionless, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

Slowly, gently, you slide your mouth off his length, letting out a soft, satisfied breath as you pop free. You wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, a triumphant, wicked little smirk spreading across your face as you look down at the completely ruined state of your best friend.

Kimi lies there, flat on his back, his arm thrown over his eyes, his chest heaving up and down in heavy, ragged gasps.

"You," Kimi mutters from beneath his arm, his voice barely a raspy whisper, "are a complete menace."

You giggle softly, leaning down to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his warm cheek. "I told you I wanted to taste you," you whisper playfully into his ear. "And I always get what I want."

Kimi lets out a low, breathless laugh, his arm sliding off his eyes to reveal a dark, possessive look that promises absolute retribution for later. "Enjoy your victory now," he rumbles, reaching up to pull you down against his side. "Because tonight, you're not getting off this easily."

—

True to every single word that rasped out of his chest, Kimi didn't let you off easy. That night was a masterclass in systematic ruin. When evening finally rolled around, the playful banter and subtle teasing vanished, replaced by an intense, overwhelming hunger that left you completely powerless. He took his time, laying you out and making good on his promise until the boundary between pleasure and sheer physical exhaustion blurred completely.

He moved you through every position imaginable. He took you from behind with his hands locked firmly around your hips, driving into you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm that had you clutching the sheets until your knuckles turned white. He flipped you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head, staring down into your eyes with a dark, possessive focus while he buried himself inside you over and over again. Every time you thought you reached your absolute limit, every time you sobbed out that you couldn't handle any more, Kimi would pause just long enough for you to catch a fraction of your breath before coaxing another loud, breathless scream out of your wrecked throat.

By the time he finally let you sleep, your voice was entirely shot and your core was humming with a deep, throbbing ache. The next morning was an entirely different kind of disaster. The hangover was long gone, but your lower body had effectively resigned from service. When you tried to get out of bed to reach the bathroom, your legs wobbled like wet noodles, your knees buckling instantly under your own weight. You had to physically hold onto the doorframe and the wall just to keep upright, your muscles quivering with tiny, involuntary spasms every time you took a step. Kimi had just watched you from the bed, propped up on one elbow with an insufferable, satisfied grin plastered across his face, entirely unrepentant.

That night completely rewired the foundation of whatever you two had built over the years. You weren't just best friends anymore. There was a new electric layer underlying every interaction—an unspoken agreement packed with benefits that neither of you felt inclined to label too formally. "Friends with benefits" was the easiest label to toss around, but in reality, it felt far more potent than some casual arrangement.

The days that followed were an absolute torture chamber of rising heat. Every minor interaction became a weaponized opportunity to tease each other. Walking past him in the hallway meant his hand would snake out, broad fingers catching your waist and pulling you flush against his side for two agonizing seconds before letting you go. Sitting together on the couch meant your legs were intertwined, your bare foot tracing lazy, teasing lines along the inside of his calf while he tried to focus on his phone. He would brush his lips against the shell of your ear while passing you a mug, whispering filthy reminders of what he did to you, leaving you red-faced and squirming in your seat. The air between you stayed charged, a thick, heavy cloud of anticipation that built steadily with every lingering touch, every loaded glance, and every accidental brush of skin.

"Your legs still shaking?" he’d whisper, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent instant shivers shooting straight down your spine. "Because I can make sure you don't walk for a whole week if you keep looking at me like that."

It was in the way you would intentionally walk past him wearing the shortest pair of shorts you owned, intentionally brushing your hip against his thigh as he sat on the couch, watching his jaw clench tight as his eyes tracked your every movement. It was the deliberate, lingering touches—a palm sliding slowly off a knee, a thumb tracing the shell of an ear, a firm squeeze of a waist in a crowded hallway—that kept both of you permanently operating on a razor-thin edge of frustration.

One afternoon, while you were standing in the kitchen trying to reach a glass on a high shelf, Kimi stepped up directly behind you, effectively trapping you against the counter. He didn't reach up to help you. Instead, he planted his hands on either side of the counter, pressing his hips firmly against your rear, letting you feel the unmistakable, growing weight of him through his sweatpants.

"Kimi," you gasped out, your back arching slightly into his heat as the familiar, tight coil instantly twisted in your lower belly. "I’m just trying to get a glass."

"And I’m just trying to stand here," he replied smoothly, leaning down so his lips brushed the sensitive skin just beneath your jawline. He subtly rolled his hips forward, a slow, punishing press that made your knees buckle all over again. "You were pretty loud last night. Remember how you begged me to stop because your legs couldn't take it anymore?"

"You're an idiot," you panted, biting your lip as he shifted his weight, his hands sliding around to grip your stomach, pulling you even tighter against his hardness.

"An idiot who made you scream so hard the neighbors probably think you were being murdered," he corrected playfully, his teeth lightly catching your earlobe in a sharp bite that made you whine. "Keep teasing me today, and we won't even make it to the bedroom tonight."

Then Friday night arrived.

The week’s built-up tension was supposed to find an outlet, but the night took a sharp, unexpected turn. You were out with your usual group, the music thumping a heavy, rhythmic bass through the floorboards, alcohol flowing in endless rounds of shots and cocktails. Kimi was entirely in his element. Off the track and away from his brutal training schedule, he moved with an easy, magnetic confidence. He was laughing, tossing back drinks with the guys, his dark hair slightly rumpled, radiating a relaxed charm that naturally drew eyes from every corner of the room.

You were standing a few feet away near the bar, sipping your drink and keeping a casual eye on him, enjoying the sight of him looking so relaxed and handsome. But as the night wore on, the dynamic shifted in a way that set off immediate, screaming alarm bells in your head.

Two women—clad in tight, ridiculously short dresses—decided that Kimi was their target for the evening. At first, it looked like standard club friendly interaction. A laugh here, a shared comment over the noise of the music there. But within minutes, they closed the distance, effectively sandwiching Kimi between them on the crowded floor.

One girl positioned herself directly in front of him, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, swaying her hips against his in a slow, explicit rhythm. The other girl moved in from behind, her hands sliding over his broad shoulders, leaning in so close her lips were practically touching his ear as she whispered something to him. They weren't just dancing with him; they were marking territory, moving with a blatant, calculated intimacy that made it crystal clear dancing was merely the preamble to whatever else they were trying to secure.

Kimi, slightly hazy from the alcohol and caught up in the music, wasn't actively pushing them away. He was smiling, his hands resting casually on the waist of the girl in front of him to keep his balance, totally oblivious—or at least seemingly unbothered—by how invasive they were being.

You watched the scene unfold from the bar, your glass frozen halfway to your mouth. A sudden, violent surge of heat flooded your chest—not the fun, warm arousal of the past few days, but a sharp, blinding, razor-edged rage. A dark, ugly green monster slammed straight into your gut, clawing its way up your throat. You didn't give a single damn about your "casual" arrangement or the unwritten rules of being just friends with benefits. Seeing another woman’s hands sliding over his chest, seeing another girl’s hips grinding into the man who spent the last week making you scream his name, turned your brain into an absolute wasteland of pure instinct.

You didn't pause to think. You didn't stop to rationalize. You set your glass down on the counter with a hard, shattering clack and marched straight across the floor, cutting through the crowd like a torpedo.

You reached them in three long strides. Before Kimi even realized you were standing there, you reached out with both hands, fingers locking tightly into the hair of both women.

With a vicious, unyielding yank, you snapped both of their heads backward, physically ripping them away from Kimi’s body.

"Get the fuck off him!" you snarled, your voice cutting sharply through the thumping bass of the music.

The girl in front let out a high-pitched, sharp screech of pain as her head was jerked back, her hands instantly flying up to claw at your fingers. The girl behind him stumbled violently backward, gasping in shock as you tore her grip off his shoulders, practically throwing her off balance.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?!" the first girl shrieked, clutching her scalp, her eyes wide with absolute fury as she squared up toward you, ready to throw hands.

"Try touching him again and see what happens to the rest of your hair!" you spat right back, stepping aggressively into her personal space, every single muscle in your body coiled tight, ready to turn the center of the club into an absolute warzone. You didn't care about the people turning to stare, you didn't care about the security guards scattered around, and you certainly didn't care about making a scene. All you saw was red.

Before the situation could completely boil over into a full-blown physical brawl, a pair of massive, iron-strong arms wrapped firmly around your waist from behind.

Kimi yanked you back against his chest with immense force, pulling your feet right off the ground for a split second to break your forward momentum. "Whoa, whoa—hey! Stop!" Kimi barked, his voice loud, firm, and suddenly stone-cold sober.

"Let me go, Kimi!" you yelled, thrashing wildly against his grip, your elbows digging into his ribs as you tried to break free to get another swing at the two girls, who were now backing away while spewing insults. "Let me go! I’m going to rip her fake eyelashes right off her face!"

"Alright, that's enough! Calm down!" Kimi ordered, his arms tightening like steel bands around your ribs, locking your upper body completely immobile against him. He spun on his heel, physically carrying you backward, putting his body between you and the two bewildered women.

He threw a quick, sharp hand up at the approaching security guard, mouthing, 'It's fine, I've got her, we're leaving,' before dragging your kicking, furious frame straight through the crowd toward the exit doors.

"Kimi, put me down!" you snapped, your heart pounding like a sledgehammer against your ribs, your face flushed red with an explosive mix of residual alcohol, adrenaline, and pure, unadulterated jealousy.

"Not a chance until we are outside," Kimi rumbled right next to your ear, his breath heavy, his grip never slackening for a single second until he pushed through the heavy doors, dragging you out into the cool night air.

—

Kimi sets you down on your feet the very second the heavy front door of the apartment clicks shut behind you, cutting off the quiet tension that had been suffocating the entire car ride home.

During the drive, neither of you had uttered a single word. Kimi had kept both hands locked firmly at ten and two on the steering wheel, his knuckles stark white against the leather, his jaw set so tight the muscle kept pulsing in rhythmic, furious twitches. You had sat in the passenger seat, staring dead ahead out the window, your chest still heaving with an angry, volatile mix of lingering adrenaline, possessive jealousy, and the heavy, intoxicating pull of alcohol.

The silence had built up like a pressure cooker ready to explode—and the second you step onto the hardwood floor of the entryway, the lid completely blows off.

Before Kimi can even turn around to flip the light switch, you turn on your heel and slam straight into him. You grab the lapels of his jacket, yank him down, and smash your lips against his with violent, unyielding force.

It isn't a sweet kiss. It isn't even gentle. It is a harsh, possessive collision of teeth and mouth, a raw declaration of ownership that hits him like a freight train. You drive your weight forward, shoving him backward until his spine slams hard against the entry wall with a heavy, solid thud.

Kimi lets out a sharp, surprised breath against your mouth, his hands instantly coming up to grip your waist, his broad palms digging deep into your hips to steady the violent momentum of your body.

"What the hell—" he starts to rasp out, trying to pull his head back just an inch to catch his breath, but you don't give him a single second of air.

You capture his lower lip between your teeth, biting down just hard enough to draw a deep, gravelly groan out of his chest, before dragging your mouth frantically down the line of his jaw and straight into the crook of his neck.

"Those disgusting, desperate little sluts," you spit out against his skin, your voice ruined, rough, and trembling with an absolute, unhinged fury as your hands move frantically over his upper body.

You grab the hem of his shirt, hooking your fingers into the cotton, and rip it upward over his head with zero care for whether the fabric tears. You throw it blindly onto the floor behind you, your bare palms instantly slapping against his warm, broad chest, digging your nails into his chest muscles.

"Dragging their fucking fake nails all over your chest," you snap, breathing heavily against his collarbone, sinking your teeth lightly into the soft flesh right above his shoulder blade. "Grinding their ugly hips right into you like you were just some random guy on the dance floor. I wanted to tear their fucking hair right out of their scalps!"

Kimi’s head thrashes back against the wall, a deep, dark rumble building in his throat as your hands drop lower, tearing furiously at the buckle of his belt. His hands tighten on your waist, his fingers digging in so hard it's going to leave dark, distinct bruises by tomorrow morning, but he doesn't try to stop you. The sheer, unadulterated possessiveness radiating off you is driving him out of his mind, completely melting away whatever anger he had about the club scene.

"Is that right?" Kimi rasps out, his dark eyes burning down at you through the low light as his hips thrust forward, intentionally pinning your core flat against the growing, rock-hard bulge straining against his jeans. "You almost got us thrown in jail because you couldn't stand seeing another girl look at me?"

"I don't give a fuck about jail!" you yell back, your fingers finally undoing his belt and ripping the button open. You shove his pants down his thighs, your hands moving with frantic, desperate speed, clawing at his briefs to free his length. "You're mine, Kimi. You hear me? You're mine, and if anyone else fucking touches you like that again, I will tear this entire city apart!"

Kimi lets out a low, dangerous laugh—a sound so rich, deep, and thoroughly aroused that it sends a violent shudder straight down to your toes. He grips the back of your head, tangling his fingers deep into your hair, and yanks your face up so you're forced to look directly into his dark, blazing eyes.

"Say it again," he growls, his hips driving hard against yours, burying his heavy, rigid heat right between your thighs through your clothes, making you gasp out loud. "Tell me who I belong to."

"You're fucking mine," you sob out, the fury completely blending with a wild, uncontrollable wave of pure arousal. "Now get inside me before I lose my mind!"

A slow, dark, wicked smirk spreads across Kimi’s face, his chest heaving under your hands as he takes in the sight of you—completely unhinged, wild-eyed, and practically vibrating with a terrifying, beautiful breed of possessive rage. He doesn't offer a single word of resistance. Instead, he lifts his hands completely off you, raising his palms in mock surrender, fully relinquishing every ounce of control to your hands. He loves this. He loves seeing you stripped of your usual cool composure, driven entirely insane by the sheer thought of anyone else laying a single finger on him.

"All yours," Kimi rumbles, his voice thick, heavy, and thoroughly wrecked. "Do whatever the fuck you want with me."

You don't need to be told twice. You grab him by his broad shoulders and shove him backward with everything you’ve got. He lets himself be pushed, stumbling back a few paces until the back of his knees hit the edge of the living room couch. He falls heavily onto the cushions, his legs spreading wide, his dark hair falling wildly over his forehead as he looks up at you with heavy, hooded eyes, watching your every single move like a predator waiting for a strike.

You follow him down instantly, dropping to your knees right between his open thighs.

You tear off your own clothes in a chaotic, frantic blur—shoving your top over your head and kicking your bottoms away until there isn't a single layer of fabric left to separate your skin from his. The cold air hits your bare skin for a split second, but the roaring furnace of heat radiating off Kimi’s body instantly burns it away.

You lean forward, planting your hands flat against his thighs, and bury your face straight into the junction where his hip meets his stomach. You don't just kiss him; you mark him. You sink your teeth into his flesh, biting down hard enough to make him hiss through his teeth, before soothing the spot with the hot, wet flat of your tongue. You drag your lips upward over his ribs, leaving a trail of heavy, bruised purple hickeys across his chest, over his collarbone, and right up the sensitive side of his neck.

"Every single inch," you mutter frantically against his skin, your breath scalding against his throat as you press another harsh, biting kiss right over his pulse point. "I'm leaving marks on every single place those sluts tried to touch. Everyone who looks at you is going to know exactly who you belong to."

Kimi’s head thrashes back against the top of the couch, his hands tangling deep into your hair, his knuckles digging firmly into your scalp as a harsh, ragged groan escapes his lips. "Fuck... yeah, bite me," he growls out, his hips twitching involuntarily off the cushions, his long, rigid length pulsing hot and heavy against your stomach. "Mark me up, baby. Make sure they all see it."

The sound of his voice—raw, dark, and completely consumed by you—sends a violent wave of liquid heat straight to your core. You can feel how slick and desperate you already are, your body completely primed and practically begging for him to fill the empty, aching void inside you.

You lift yourself up, straddling his lap, and sink your fingers into his shoulders for leverage. You align the swollen, wet center of your core directly over the thick, throbbing head of his erection. For a fraction of a second, you hover there, teasing both of you on the absolute precipice, your eyes locked onto his dark, burning gaze.

"You're mine, Kimi," you whisper, your voice a dark, lethal promise.

"Then fucking take me," he rasps back.

You impale yourself on him in one single, punishing, bottomless drive.

A sharp, breathless scream rips straight out of your throat as he fills you completely, his massive length stretching you to your absolute limits, sliding all the way deep until your pelvis slams flush against his hips. The sheer fullness of him hits you like an electric shock, sending a blinding wave of pleasure shooting straight up your spine, making your vision white out for a brief second.

Kimi lets out a loud, shattered groan, his hands instantly snapping around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as his lower back arches off the couch. "Jesus Christ—fuck, you're so tight—"

You don't give him a single second to adjust. Driven by a pure, unadulterated madness, you instantly start bouncing on him.

You lift your hips high, sliding almost all the way off his length until just the very tip remains cupped inside you, before slamming your entire weight right back down, taking every single inch deep into your core over and over again. The rhythm is fast, chaotic, and utterly merciless. You ride him like a woman completely possessed, your hair flying wildly around your shoulders, your back arching as you roll your hips with a relentless, brutal pressure against his base.

The couch springs creak loudly under the violent, rhythmic impact, the sound drowned out only by the wet, heavy friction of your bodies colliding and the loud, echoing sound of your shameless moans filling the room.

"F-Fuck, Kimi!" you scream out, your fingers clawing at his chest, leaving long, red scratch marks down his skin as you speed up even further. You tilt your pelvis, making sure your hyper-sensitive center drags heavily against his shaft with every single up-and-down stroke. "Oh god... it's so deep—!"

Kimi’s hands grip your hips like steel vices, his knuckles turning stark white as he tries to hold on for dear life while you completely wreck him. He throws his hips upward to meet every single downward plunge of your body, driving himself even deeper into your tight, pulsing heat, matching your absolute insanity with raw, athletic power.

"Look at you," Kimi pants out, his breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches, his dark eyes fixed on the way your body is completely losing its mind on top of his. "Look how fucking bad you needed this... riding me like you're trying to break me in half..."

"You... you're not allowed... to let anyone else... touch you!" you sob out, the words coming out broken, breathless, and completely ruined between your high-pitched moans as you bounce faster and harder, the overwhelming pleasure building into a massive, terrifying wave deep in your belly.

"Nobody else touches me," Kimi growls back, his thumbs digging into your hip bones, guiding your rhythm, forcing you down even harder onto his length. "It's only you. It's always been you, you crazy fucking bitch!"

The confirmation shoots straight to your head like pure, uncut adrenaline. The tight, coiled spring inside your core snaps completely, unleashing an explosion of blinding, white-hot ecstasy that crashes over your entire body.

Your walls contract violently, clamping down around his heavy shaft in a series of intense, relentless spasms. You let out a long, shattered scream, your head falling back as your entire body goes rigid, riding out the peak of your orgasm while continuing to slam your hips down onto him, wringing out every single drop of sensation until you physically collapse forward onto his chest.

Kimi doesn't stop. As your body twitches and pulses tightly around him, the intense contraction of your walls pushes him completely over the edge. With a low, guttural roar that echoes straight from his chest, he hooks his arms under your thighs, lifting you slightly before thrusting up into you three hard, deep, agonizingly perfect times, spilling his burning, heavy release deep inside you.

You both hang there in the aftermath, gasping for air, hearts hammering against each other like frantic drums, completely tangled together on the couch in a tangled, sweaty, thoroughly exhausted heap—bound together tighter than you ever had been before.

You lie completely melted against Kimi’s chest, your chest heaving in rapid, shallow hitches while his heart hammers a frantic, chaotic beat directly beneath your cheek. The heavy, sweet exhaustion of your orgasm is still pulsing through every single nerve ending in your legs, turning your muscles into heavy lead, but the fierce, territorial fire in your belly hasn't completely burned out yet. It simmers beneath your skin, warm and stubborn.

You don't pull away. You tighten your arms around his shoulders, burying your face deeper into the crook of his neck, breathing in the sharp, addictive mix of his sweat, his cologne, and the lingering heat of what you just shared.

Kimi’s hands stay firmly wrapped around you, one broad palm pressed flat against the small of your back while his other hand gently tangles into your messy, sweat-dampened hair. He’s breathing just as heavily as you are, his ribs expanding violently against your stomach, his entire body vibrating with the slow, lingering aftershocks of his own release.

Slowly, you shift your weight, raising your head up off his collarbone just enough to look down into his face. Your hair falls around both of your faces like a messy curtain, sealing the two of you off from the rest of the world.

Kimi opens his eyes, his dark pupils still blown wide, heavy-lidded and thoroughly exhausted. He gives you a tiny, lazy curve of his lips, a quiet smirk rising to his face. "You completely out of your mind, you know that?" he rasps out, his voice wrecked, deep, and scratchy from all the noise he made.

You don't smile back. You keep your expression deadly serious, letting your gaze burn directly into his. You reach up with one hand, your fingers trembling slightly from exhaustion, and cup his jawline, your thumb pressing firmly over the sharp line of his bone.

"Listen to me, Kimi," you say, your voice low, thick, and laced with an absolute, uncompromising authority that makes his smirk slowly fade into a look of intense, quiet attention.

"I'm listening," he murmurs, his hand tightening just a fraction on your waist.

"I am the only one," you state, driving the words into him with zero hesitation, zero shame, and zero pretense of trying to play it cool. "Do you understand me? I am the only one."

Kimi watches you silently, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he lets you speak.

"I am the only girl you are supposed to touch like this," you continue, your thumb dragging slowly over his lower lip, pulling it down just enough to expose his teeth before pressing flat against his skin. "I am the only one you are supposed to look at when you're out. I am the only one who gets to be in your bed, on your couch, or against your wall. I am the only person you are ever allowed to fuck."

The declaration hangs heavily in the space between your lips. It isn't a casual 'friends with benefits' boundary anymore; it is an absolute, non-negotiable territory line drawn in stone.

"You don't let anyone else put their hands on your chest," you demand, your tone dropping into a fierce, desperate whisper as you lean closer, pressing your forehead directly against his. "You don't let anyone else dance with you like that. You don't let anyone else taste you, or hear you groan, or pull you down by your collar. You belong to me, Antonelli. Every single inch of you."

Kimi stares up at you for a long, silent second, processing the raw, unfiltered possessiveness pouring out of you. The lazy, satisfied look in his eyes shifts into something far darker, far deeper, an intense spark igniting in his gaze that matches the exact fire burning inside your own chest.

A slow, wicked, completely unbothered smile slowly spreads across his lips beneath your thumb. He doesn't pull away. He doesn't argue, he doesn't bring up the "friends with benefits" label you both loosely tossed around days ago, and he certainly doesn't tell you that you're being unreasonable.

Instead, his hand on the back of your head flexes, his fingers digging firm into your hair as he pulls your mouth down until your lips are barely a millimeter apart.

"Good," Kimi rumbles into your mouth, his voice a dark, possessive purr that vibrates straight through your teeth. "Because I wasn't planning on letting anyone else get anywhere near this anyway."

He shifts his hips beneath you, the slick, spent length of him twitching where he rests buried deep inside your core, proving that even after everything you just put him through, his body responds instantly to the absolute claim you just laid on him.

"Say it again," Kimi commands softly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an unyielding intensity. "Tell me who I'm allowed to touch."

"Only me," you whisper against his lips, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, sinking completely back down into his heat. "Only ever me."

ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ

The club pulses with energy, bass thrumming through your chest as you watch Kimi accept congratulations from yet another group of friends. He's magnetic tonight—confidence radiating from him in waves after his win. The dim lighting catches the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shirt fits across his shoulders, and you can't help but admire him from across the room.

His eyes find yours through the crowd, and something flickers in his gaze. Heat. Want. It makes your stomach flip.

You make your way to the bar, ordering another drink, when you feel him materialize behind you. His hand finds the small of your back, fingers splaying possessively across the fabric of your dress.

"Having fun?" he murmurs against your ear, voice rough enough to send shivers down your spine.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? This is your party." You turn to face him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his pupils are slightly dilated even in the low light.

"Yeah." His gaze drops to your lips, then lower, tracing the neckline of your dress. "Yeah, it's great."

He doesn't sound convinced.

The bartender slides your drink across the polished surface, and Kimi's hand tightens on your waist. "Dance with me," he says, though it sounds more like a plea than a request.

On the dance floor, bodies press close in the crush of celebration. You move against him, feeling the hard planes of his body, the way his breath catches when you roll your hips. His hands grip your waist, then slide lower, fingers digging into your hips with barely restrained need.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you feel it more than hear it.

You turn in his arms, pressing your back against his chest, and the groan that rumbles through him is deeply satisfying. His lips find your neck, hot and open-mouthed, and you arch into him.

"Kimi," you warn, laughing. "We're in public."

"Don't care." His voice is strained. One hand splays across your stomach, holding you against him, and you can feel exactly how affected he is. "You look so fucking good tonight. Been driving me crazy since we got here."

You glance back at him over your shoulder, catching the desperate edge in his expression. His jaw is tight, eyes dark with want, and suddenly you realize he's barely holding it together.

"We should stay," you tease, even as heat pools low in your belly. "It's your celebration."

"Baby." His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I need to get you home. Now."

The raw honesty in his voice makes your pulse race. You turn fully, pressing close, and rise on your toes to whisper in his ear. "Then take me home."

His control snaps visibly. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing tight, and he's pulling you through the crowd before you can blink. He tosses a quick excuse to his friends—something about being tired, early morning tomorrow—but no one's buying it based on the knowing grins that follow you out.

The night air hits you like a shock after the heat of the club. Kimi's hand is still locked with yours as he practically drags you to his car, and the moment you're both inside, his mouth is on yours. The kiss is desperate, hungry, his hand cupping your jaw as he devours you.

"Fuck, I've been wanting to do that all night," he groans against your lips. "Watching you dance, watching other guys look at you—"

"No one else matters," you breathe, threading your fingers through his hair. "Just you."

He makes a sound low in his throat and kisses you again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes you clench your thighs together. When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard.

"I need to drive," he says, sounding pained. "But the second we get home—"

"I know." You bite your lip, watching his eyes track the movement. "Drive fast."

He does.

His hand finds your thigh within seconds of pulling onto the road, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, pushing the hem of your dress higher. You part your legs slightly, and his grip tightens.

"You're killing me," he mutters, eyes fixed on the road even as his hand slides higher. "Actually killing me."

"Keep your eyes on the road," you tease, though your voice comes out breathy when his fingers brush the edge of your panties.

"You're not helping." But he doesn't move his hand, just keeps touching you, teasing, until you're squirming in your seat.

The drive feels endless and far too short all at once. When he finally pulls into his driveway, he's out of the car and opening your door before you can unbuckle your seatbelt. He pulls you out, pressing you against the car, and his mouth finds yours again—hot, demanding, perfect.

"Inside," you gasp between kisses. "Kimi, the neighbors—"

He growls but releases you, though his hand finds yours again immediately. You barely make it through the front door before he's on you, pressing you against the wall of the entryway, his body hard and hot against yours.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" His voice is rough, hands roaming your body like he can't decide where to touch first. "All night, watching you, wanting you—"

"Show me," you challenge, and something in his expression turns feral.

His mouth crashes against yours as his hands find the zipper of your dress, sliding it down in one smooth motion. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you in just your underwear and heels, and he pulls back to look at you.

"Fucking perfect," he breathes, eyes raking over you with undisguised hunger. "How did I get so lucky?"

You reach for his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. "Less talking, more touching."

He laughs, the sound dark and promising, and helps you strip him. Soon his shirt joins your dress on the floor, and your hands explore the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen. He's beautiful, and he's yours.

His hands cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they're hard peaks. You arch into his touch, gasping, and he takes advantage of your distraction to unhook your bra, tossing it aside.

"Bedroom," he mutters, but neither of you move. His mouth finds your breast, tongue circling your nipple before he sucks hard, and your knees nearly buckle.

"Kimi—oh god—"

His arm bands around your waist, holding you up as he lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp nips that make you cry out. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close, and you can feel how wet you're getting, how badly you need him.

"Please," you whimper, and he groans against your skin.

"Love it when you beg for me." His hand slides down your stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. When he finds how wet you are, he curses. "Fuck, baby. All this for me?"

"All for you," you confirm breathlessly. "Always for you."

He drops to his knees, pulling your panties down your legs, and the sight of him looking up at you from that position makes your core clench. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and then his mouth is on you.

The first touch of his tongue makes you cry out, head falling back against the wall. He's relentless, licking and sucking, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as your legs shake. When he slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly come apart.

"Kimi—I'm—oh fuck—"

"Come for me," he demands, voice muffled against you. "Want to taste you."

His fingers pump faster, tongue circling your clit with perfect pressure, and you shatter. Pleasure crashes through you in waves, and you're dimly aware of crying out his name, fingers tight in his hair as he works you through it.

When you finally come down, trembling and oversensitive, he stands, and the sight of him—lips glistening, eyes dark with lust—makes you want him all over again.

"Bedroom," he says again, and this time you both move.

You barely register the journey down the hall before you're falling onto his bed, and he's covering your body with his. His weight is perfect, grounding, and when he kisses you, you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Need you," he groans, grinding against you. Even through his pants, you can feel how hard he is. "Need to be inside you."

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for his belt. "Please, Kimi."

He helps you strip him, and then he's finally naked above you, all hard muscle and heated skin. His cock is thick and hard, and when he positions himself at your entrance, you spread your legs wider in invitation.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, pushing inside slowly. The stretch is delicious, perfect, and you both groan as he fills you completely. "So tight. So perfect."

"Move," you beg, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please move."

He does, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, and the pleasure is overwhelming. He sets a steady rhythm, each thrust deep and purposeful, and you meet him movement for movement.

"Harder," you gasp, nails raking down his back. "Kimi, harder—"

He complies with a growl, hips snapping against yours with increased force. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts of pleasure. His hand finds your breast, pinching your nipple, and the added sensation makes you clench around him.

"Fuck, do that again," he demands. "Love feeling you squeeze my cock."

You do, deliberately tightening your muscles, and he curses, rhythm faltering. "You're going to make me come too fast."

"Good," you pant. "Want to feel you come inside me."

His eyes darken impossibly further. "Dirty girl." He shifts the angle slightly, and suddenly he's hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Touch yourself. Want to feel you come on my cock."

Your hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, and the added stimulation has you spiraling fast. "Kimi—I'm close—"

"That's it, baby. Come for me. Let me feel it."

A few more thrusts and you're gone, orgasm crashing over you with devastating intensity. You cry out his name, body arching, and the feeling of you clenching around him triggers his own release.

"Fuck—" He buries himself deep, hips jerking as he comes, and you feel the warmth of him filling you. His face is buried in your neck, breath hot against your skin, and you hold him close as you both ride out the aftershocks.

When he finally lifts his head, his expression is soft, sated. "Worth leaving the party early?"

You laugh, still breathless. "Definitely worth it."

He kisses you, slow and sweet this time, before carefully pulling out and collapsing beside you. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

"Sorry I couldn't make it through the whole celebration," he murmurs against your hair.

"Don't be." You trace patterns on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath your palm. "This was a much better celebration anyway."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Give me ten minutes and we'll celebrate again."

And he does.

ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ - ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

To what? 

Well... it wasn't that hard to put two and two together, was it? 

Kimi, the sweet little golden boy of Formula One, was an incorrigible man.  

No one knew him for what he really was. Or how he was.  

Every free day, every free second he had. His driver's room, the bathroom, the kitchen counter, the balcony, the car, under the table...  whether it was shorts, jeans, a skirt, or a dress you wore... his head was between your legs all the goddamn time.  

It was 'only because of you' as he innocently claimed. A poor attempt at defence and shifting the blame. Like it was your fucking fault. Like you were the one who made him crazy. Like you were luring him in.  

You swore to God you weren't. 

Addiction wasn't even the right word for it.  

Fuck, you had no idea what was.  

Obsession? Dependency? Compulsion? 

Devotion. 

You had tried to intervene time and time again. Wearing the tightest jeans possible only for those beautiful fingers to hook them down, leaving a gentle burn against your skin in his trail. Pantyhose under the dresses and skirts? Apparently, they were pretty easy to rip into. 'Non-breakable' your fucking ass. You should’ve sued them for false advertisement. 

You had even gone as far as blocking your schedule with the most insignificant events to get a little breather. But that inconsolable little shit always found you.  

But the shameful truth rested with you, tucked away in your heart. Because you and Kimi both knew it—you loved it.  

You loved his nose. You loved his mouth. And you loved that goddamn tongue.  

That was your problem. That stupid tongue. It was always out. When Kimi needed to focus on something. When he needed to pose for a picture. In interviews. When he listened. When he talked.  

It was always there. Teasing. Waiting. Reminding you of what was to come. What could make you cum.  

Just like he was doing now. Standing a couple metres away from you in the garage as you talked to Carmen and he entertained George and Toto, built arms folded and chocolate brown eyes flickering to you for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes, tongue peeking out of his mouth. 

"Is Kimi okay?" Carmen suddenly queried, making your throat dry as you snapped your eyes to her.  

The heat almost instantly grew in your cheeks. "W-What do you mean?" You stuttered, fingers already fidgeting. No way... there was no way... 

"He hasn't stopped looking our way, or your way, since you got here. Did you guys fight or something?" She asked, turning her head to you while she raised a brow.  

You swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "No, no. We didn't fight," you laughed nervously. You were definitely about to get into one by the sheer smirk settled on his face. "Um... I think he just wants to go home," you reasoned poorly. 

Carmen hummed, nodding in understanding. "George gets like that too. It's okay. Just a few more minutes." 

You gave her a tight smile and nodded. Sure. You were certain George was nothing like Kimi. Because the gleam in his eye told you that you would either barely make it to the car or make it to the hotel room. Or worse... somewhere else.  

Kimi vaguely listened to his boss talk, too preoccupied with the way you stood metres away from him in those jeans. God, those jeans. Clinging to you like they had specifically been made for you. You had no business looking this good all the goddamn time.  

His lips quirked at the discreet press of your thighs together, making his eyes flicker up to your face, spotting the narrowed gaze of annoyance from miles away.  

You always did that. Played the innocent, miffed girl. Like he was an inconvenience. But at the end of the day, it was always you screaming his name just the way he liked it, hips and legs shaking around him.  

You loved it as much as he did.  

The minutes had indeed passed by. Kimi's hand hung low over your waist as you both walked towards his car alongside Carmen and George. The conversation between you both was minimal. You could see the cogs in your boyfriend's brain turning, tongue peeking out of his mouth as his eyes flitted across the bare parking lot, observing the settling sun as the couple filled the air.  

"Okay," Carmen started, small yawn falling from her mouth, eliciting an amused smile from George. "I'm ready to go. You guys text me when you reach the hotel, yeah?" 

You smiled quietly, giving her a small nod. Would you even reach the hotel? "Of course," you assured, giving Kimi a nudge to not leave you hanging.  

He pressed his grin down, arm moving to grab George's hand for a brief shake. "Drive safe, mate." 

George nodded, giving the both of you a wave as they both headed towards their car, leaving the both of you alone for a moment.  

Kimi unlocked the car with the quick press of a button, opening the passenger door for you. He watched you eye him suspiciously as you propped yourself into the car. Closing the door gently, his footsteps were light and fast towards the other side of the vehicle.  

You sat in the passenger seat, all buckled. You took note of how Kimi made no effort to do the same as he sat down. Nor did he start the engine. Instead, his eyes move to the rear mirror. He waited. He watched. He listened.  

For the sound of George's car turning on. For the movement of those tyres to peel out of the parking lot. For him to leave. 

Somehow, you were waiting too. Carefully watching the taillights of George's car which had barely left the parking lot before Kimi was reaching over to undo your seatbelt. A sigh immediately left your mouth. "Kimi! Someone is going to catch us," you hissed, knowing damn well the churn in your stomach made all your excuses futile.  

"We're the last ones here," he retorted, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans after unbuttoning them with ease. His tugs of the thick fabric are short and harsh as his lips fell to your neck; sinful tongue pressed against your burning skin.

Any other reprimand you had lined up had died in your throat, replaced by the curled gasps your lips had wrapped around. Your hips betrayed your mind, naturally lifting as he pulled your jeans down to your shoes, leaving his hands to roam your bare thighs.  

His words were muffled and heaved. "Been waiting for this all day," he groaned, placing a messy kiss on your lips, savouring the taste of your lip balm briefly.  

If you were in the right mind, you would've given him a blank look. He made it sound like you had starved him. Like he hadn't just made you see stars in the morning either.  

But you weren't. You could barely think with his lips and hands on you. Kimi always seemed to have that effect on you. Even with the ebbs of orange sun settling away through the car windows, reminding you where you were... you couldn’t be ashamed of the heat unfurling in your stomach.  

Kimi didn't take long to remove the barrier between him and all he wanted, making you draw a sharp breath as the cold air hit your pulsing cunt. His fingers pressed into your thighs, keeping them apart. A deep moan, unrestrained and reverent, fell from his lips. "My pretty, pretty girl," he praised.  

He wasn't talking to you. Not exactly.  

He smiled at the obvious clench of your pussy. A mirthful chuckle swirled deep from his chest. “Yeah... you missed me, didn't you, baby?" 

Your cheeks flamed at the treachery of your body. As if it couldn't get any worse, a yelp escaped your lips as Kimi grabbed your legs, hooking one up against headrest and the other on the dashboard, pants, underwear, and shoes long gone. Everything about it was smooth... natural because he had done it a million times.  

Kimi pulled his shirt off and leaned over the console, pupils dilated as he stared at the glistening mess right in front of him, heart hammering in his chest. Every fold primed with your slick, dripping out slowly.  

You complained here and there. He had heard them all. "We're in public, Kimi," or "I'm trying to go to sleep, Kimi." All of them baseless and weak.  

You just didn't get it. You hadn't tasted yourself like he had tasted you. Because if you had, you would understand why he couldn't stop.  

Your head pressed harshly into the car window behind you. Fuck, it was awkward. It hurt. But nothing else mattered when Kimi's mouth attached itself onto your cunt. The wicked tongue flat against you, lapping up the disloyal arousal pouring out of you. He always knew how to use it well. Matching every curve to every crevice. Every flick and lick.  

You squirmed against his face, hand inevitably reaching out to fist those beautiful brown curls. A strained cry escaped your throat as you pressed him further into you, feeing his groan vibrate through your body while his nose knocked against your clit.  

"Fuckkkk," you whimpered, gasping for air already while you watched him. 

His smirk was like a ghost imbedded into your cunt. Brief but present before he continued to drink you. You're sweet. Additively so. Sharp in a way that made him shudder. So homely it made him want to never pull away.  

Your breath caught as his tongue moved to your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking firmly. With your brows mending, you writhed, feeling his grip on your ankles tighten. "Kimi," you gasped, eyes shutting intermittently.  

He chuckled, barely taking a breath, lips coated and shining as he spoke. "You always act so annoyed," he stated, tone mocking. "But you're the one acting like this, belle. Hips moving for more. Tell me, baby. You love it, don't you?" 

The pleasure rippled through you as you felt his teeth graze your clit, brown eyes staring at you expectantly, smug smirk carved into his face. You heaved, sweat littering your skin. You waited. He waited. The air thick as the game begun.  

You could see it in his eyes. The thinning patience. Like a dog who had been told no. Except it was him doing it to himself. Waiting… standing by for your admission. For a greenlight.  

You weren't sure what was. The pulse of your core. His desperation. Or the bold truth that had slapped you right in the face.  

"Yes, Kimi. I love it." 

And that's all Kimi wanted. All he needed before he put his tongue back on you and sucked and prodded every crevice in his vicinity. His chest warmed at the burn of his scalp as your fingers tugged at his curls. The way the heels of your feet dug into his bare shoulders. Everything about you bringing him closer and closer.  

"Fuck, yes, Kimi," you cried out, hips rolling up against his tongue, making him hum between your puffy folds.  

Kimi couldn't stop. Like his fingers had been glued to your ankles while the wetness seeped from your pussy. You just tasted so good. It made him whine. Whine while his tongue flattened over you, slurping all the juices before they could escape.  

"Kimi, Kimi," you breathed harshly, pit of your stomach churning. Fuck, you weren't lasting. 

He said nothing, continuing his masterful artwork as his tongue travelled across the bulb and shaft of your clit with ease, bringing the burning flash right to the edge. 

And just like that, you came undone. Your hips shook against his face, juices running down your thighs and to your ass while the pleasure crashed over you, leaving you seeing white as your sob ripped through the empty air of his car.  

Kimi, the sly bastard, he didn't stop. He said he couldn't. Mouth still latched to your cunt, sucking you so good, letting you ruin his ability to breathe by stuffing his nose in you. God, he could die in this perfect cunt. It was decided. 

Your hips thrashed against his face, senses entirely overwhelmed with the tingles of pleasure and pain blending together like a good burn. "Kimi, come on," you mewled, eyes glossing over with tears, body torn with the second wave of pleasure building up.  

And yet, he apologised.  

"I'm so sorry, baby," he grunted, voice muffled while he dug his face deeper, making you choke on the air. "So fucking sorry. I love this. I love you so much. I can't stop," he moaned, just capturing a glimpse of your teary eyes. Oh how beautiful, you were.  

In seconds you were unravelling again, tears escaping your eyes as your thighs clamped down around his legs hard. Your gasps and sobs stuttered, music to his ears while dots threatened your vision and body spasmed hard.  

Kimi groaned with delight, licking you clean with every swallow. His breath warm and tainted with the taste of you washed over your cunt as he reluctantly pulled away, chest heaving. Bringing your ankles down so you could rest more comfortably, he watched you come down gently. His large hands rubbed the top of your thighs soothingly before he leaned forward and kissed you deeply.  

You softly hummed, feeling Kimi's forehead rest on yours as he pulled back just a smidge, thumb wiping your stained cheek.  

"Too much?" He queried quietly, resting his face on your bare knees, dismissive of the way the console dug into his side.  

You rolled your eyes, tapping his temple as he stared at you warmly. "You and I both know that wasn't your worse," you muttered, eliciting a cheeky grin on his face.   

You could still remember those days. Days where your brain had fought between pushing Kimi off and begging for more. Those days were Kimi couldn’t pull away, leaving you both in tears, apologies on the tip of his tongue as he ate you out.  

You shivered at the memories, goosebumps littering your skin.   

"If you were me, you'd understand,” Kimi mumbled, fingers trailing over your skin in odd circles. "If you were me, you wouldn't stop either." 

You pursed your lips, looking at him quietly, chest aching at his words. "Maybe," you whispered, hand moving through his curls.  

In some weird way, you understood.  

You understood it in the way you teased and complained.  

You understood it in the way you always wanted more. 

You understood it in the way you never asked him to stop.  

Whatever souls were made of, his and you were the same. Equally in love. Both equally fucked up. And you were perfectly okay with that. 

His bright blue eyes snapped open to see you pouting at him, hands over your already very sore breasts that he had painfully squeezed against his side. "Oh" he frowned, understanding. "It's that week, isn't it?"

You nodded slowly, letting Satoru manoeuvre you on your back so he could rest on his elbow next to you. When you first found out he was tracking your cycle you did call him a freak, but to be honest, it was worth it with how gentle he was with you now.

"Is it really bad?" he asked, tracing soft lines over your collarbone with his free hand. His touch was feather light, his hand apologising to your tender skin.

"It hurts" you exhaled, letting your head sink into the pillow with a long sigh. "They feel heavy"

"Heavy?" Satoru echoed, very obviously looking down to your chest. Naturally, you pinched him. "Ow! What was that for?"

"I'm in pain and you want to check if they're bigger?!" you growled, ready to throw a pillow right on his stupid white hair.

"No no no, you know I think they’re perfect” Satoru apologised immediately, peppering kisses all over your face. "It was for science only"

"Sure" you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't keep the angry act for long, not with your boyfriend's puppy dog eyes so close to your face.

"I mean it, I only want to help" he said, sitting up. And you did believe him – your boyfriend had been trying his best since he figured out how difficult pms was for you.

Last month, he even bought you a personalised hot water bottle with both your initials on it. Baby blue, of course.

You weren't sure who else would be confusing their hot water bottle for yours anyway, but its the gesture that counts.

"Come here baby, I'll help you up" he called to you with wide open arms, but as soon as he started to pull you up, you groaned again. "Is it that bad?" he grimaced, seeing your hands go back to holding onto your sore breasts.

Unfortunately, it was.

"It's ok" you tried to deflect, feeling bad for how worried he seemed. "You don't have to worry about m–"

"None of that" Satoru pouted. "Does that help?" he nodded to your hands, clearly some sort of plan starting to form in that head of his.

"Kind of" you replied, massaging yourself. "Should probably put on a bra" you sighed.

"In bed?!" Satoru shook his messy white hair side to side. "It's unfair" he completed solemnly. And you agreed with him.

But then he opened up his mouth again, with that tone he employed when he was going to suggest something... unusual.

"Why don't you...let me help?"

That made you stop halfway, turning up to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Just… come here" he said, extending those pale fingers to you. You had one raised eyebrow, but let him do what he had intended – and soon his large palms were closing around your breasts.

"Pervert" you deadpanned.

"You said it helped!" he argued.

You took a moment, considering. You were very used to your boyfriend touching you everywhere, of course, but you had never seen him look so commited about it. It was almost endearing, in a kind of, um, odd way.

"So, what, you'll just be my personal bra today?" you teased.

"If you want me to" he nodded.

"Aren't your arms getting tired?" you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Baby, this is what I train for" he replied smugly.

You let out a little laugh, enjoying your boyfriend's silly plan and how serious he was about it. "You can't possibly keep this up" you joked.

"Wanna bet?"

You shouldn't have said yes. But of course you did.

The rest of the day was spent with Satoru glued to you – more so than usual. "You're enjoying this" you poked him as he stood with his chin on top of your head and his hands right where he promised they'd be, watching you make your morning coffee.

"You wound me, princess" he pretended to sigh. "This is for your own good"

Sure it was.

Later you sat down to watch TV, and Satoru placed you right on his lap, before his hands returned to your chest. "You're ridiculous" you laughed, his chin heavy on your shoulder this time and your back to his chest.

"Is it helping?" he asked.

In truth, it was. He was warm and soft and much more comfortable than a real bra; and walking around like you had been cursed into attachment was lifting your mood as much as it was annoying you too.

His eccentric ways were just one of the things you loved about your boyfriend, after all.

Of course, this all got a bit too ridiculous when you announced you were going to shower, and got followed by the white haired giant all the way into the bathroom. "You can't be serious" you looked up at him.

"I only want to hel–Ow! Ok, I'll be outside"

You laughed, seeing his pout as he closed the door behind him. It was adorable how devoted he was to this stupid plan – and you also couldn't deny you missed his loving touch as soon as he had let go of you.

Maybe he could help you shower too. He only wanted you to feel better, right?

"Satoru" you called, not even surprised when the door opened before you had even finished saying his name.

"Need me?" he grinned from ear to ear.

You would have pinched him again if he wasn't so damn adorable.

my boobs feel like they're about to explode and this is what came of it I don't know what else to say

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