vivi

the after party from the last race still replayed in your head because megan had been furious the entire night. she barely even wanted to go, but ferrari’s sponsors expected appearances and the team manager practically forced her into it. the place was crowded, full of flashing lights and people pretending they weren’t paying attention to the drivers while secretly watching every interaction. you stayed close to megan most of the night because she was already irritated enough to snap at somebody. every few minutes somebody came up to congratulate daniela on her win, and every single time megan’s jaw tightened harder. you could tell she was trying to ignore it, but she was terrible at hiding when something got under her skin.

then daniela walked over.

megan noticed her immediately and rolled her eyes so hard you genuinely thought it had to hurt. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath while setting her glass down harder than necessary against the table beside her. daniela was already laughing before she even reached your side of the room, loud enough to make people look over. she always acted like she owned every space she walked into. the cameras around the party immediately shifted toward them because reporters loved catching moments between rival drivers, especially when both of them were fighting for the championship lead. megan knew it too. you could see it in the way her shoulders straightened slightly, forcing herself to stay calm even though she already looked seconds away from saying something that would end up all over social media by morning.

“it’s alright meiyok, you’ll win next time,” daniela said with a smug smile, aggressively patting megan’s shoulder like they were friends instead of two people who could barely stand each other.

megan’s expression froze for half a second before she forced a smile that looked nowhere near real. she shoved daniela’s hand off her shoulder without caring how obvious it looked. “oh, i will,” she said flatly.

daniela just smirked wider like she enjoyed getting a reaction out of her. that was the problem with her. she always acted like everything was a game. every comment sounded rehearsed to annoy people on purpose. and megan absolutely hated when someone got inside her head. the cameras were still pointed at them, waiting for more, but megan grabbed her drink again and looked away first before things could turn into headlines. you could still tell she was angry though. her fingers were gripping the glass so tightly you thought it might crack. daniela eventually walked off laughing with her team behind her, completely satisfied with herself, while megan stared after her with a look that made it very clear she had been thinking about this race ever since that night ended.

—

the hotel room was quiet except for the sound of megan pacing across the carpet for what had to be the hundredth time that night. back and forth. back and forth. every few seconds she dragged a hand through her hair before starting the same route again from the window to the door and back. you had been watching her for nearly twenty minutes now, and honestly it was starting to make your head hurt. the room lights were dim, the city outside was finally settling down, and you were exhausted after an entire day spent around the city. meanwhile megan looked more awake than she had all week. nervous energy practically followed her around the room.

you groaned softly into the pillow before lifting your head enough to look at her again. “mei, come back to bed,” you whined tiredly.

she barely even looked at you. “i can’t sleep, y/n. all i’m thinking about is the race.”

you sighed dramatically before throwing the blanket off yourself and sliding out of bed. the cold floor immediately made you regret moving, but if you let her keep pacing all night she genuinely was not going to sleep at all. you walked around the bed toward her just as she turned again, and before she could continue another lap across the room, you grabbed her wrist and pushed her down onto the ottoman near the end of the bed. she looked up at you with a confused expression but didn’t fight it. honestly she looked too mentally exhausted to argue.

you climbed behind her and rested your hands on her shoulders immediately, feeling how tense they were under your fingers. “you’re impossible,” you muttered quietly before starting to massage the tight muscles there.

megan let out a slow breath almost instantly. her head tipped forward slightly while your thumbs pressed against the knots in her shoulders, and you smiled a little when you felt her finally start relaxing for the first time all night. she reached back blindly until one of her hands rested against your thigh, holding onto you loosely.

“you’re gonna do amazing tomorrow, baby,” you said softly. “you’ll win and you’ll beat daniela.”

immediately her shoulders tensed again under your hands.

you stopped for a second before rolling your eyes. “oh my god,” you groaned, pulling your hands away from her completely. “seriously?”

megan leaned back against the ottoman with an annoyed sigh. “you don’t understand—”

“no, megan, you don’t understand,” you interrupted while flopping dramatically back onto the bed. “can we please go to sleep? you need sleep if you want to win tomorrow.”

she turned toward you immediately, already looking defensive. “but you don’t get it. i have to beat her tomorrow. if mclaren gets another win—”

“i know.”

“and ferrari’s only five points behind and if i mess this up—”

“mei.”

“and she’s been acting like she already won the championship because of one race—”

you stared at the ceiling while she continued rambling, her voice filling the room nonstop. once megan started spiraling there was genuinely no stopping her. at one point she stood back up just to continue pacing while talking with her hands like she was explaining race strategy to the entire f1 community instead of ranting to you at one in the morning.

eventually you rolled over onto your side and watched her with half lidded eyes while she kept going. despite how irritated you were, there was something almost stupidly endearing about how much she cared. racing consumed every part of her life whether she wanted it to or not. every loss stayed in her head for weeks. every win only made her want another one more. and right now daniela was sitting in first place in both the championship and megan’s mind, which was probably the real issue.

“mei,” you interrupted finally.

she stopped mid sentence. “what?”

“come here.”

“y/n-”

“come here.”

she stared at you for a second before finally walking back over to the bed with a reluctant sigh. the mattress dipped when she laid beside you, and before she could start talking again, you grabbed her face with both hands.

“you are going to drive tomorrow,” you said slowly. “and you are going to do what you always do. and after that, whatever happens happens. but if you stay awake all night freaking out, you’re gonna be exhausted before the race even starts.”

megan stayed quiet for once, her eyes fixed on yours while you spoke.

“also,” you added, pulling the blanket back over both of you, “if i hear the name daniela one more time tonight, i might actually lose my mind.”

that finally made her laugh quietly for the first time all evening. she pulled you closer against her side and buried her face into your neck with a tired groan. “sorry.”

“mhm.”

a few seconds passed quietly before she spoke again, voice muffled against your skin. “but seriously if she wins again-”

“megan.”

—

the long awaited day had finally arrived.

monaco was louder than usual from the second the race started. people crowded every balcony, every yacht, every possible spot overlooking the track. ferrari flags waved through the air while commentators shouted over each other somewhere in the distance, their voices muffled by the noise of the race itself.

you stood on the balcony overlooking the circuit, your body leaning so far over the railing it would’ve probably scared anyone else watching you. your fingers curled around the edge tightly while your teeth nervously bit at your thumbnail. your eyes followed the red blur of megan’s ferrari every single lap as it shot through the streets below at a speed that honestly made you feel sick if you thought about it too hard.

she was doing good.

really good.

just not good enough.

every lap daniela stayed barely ahead of her in that stupid bright orange mclaren, and it was driving both you and megan insane. the gap between them kept changing by fractions of a second, sometimes megan gaining, sometimes losing it again around the tighter sections of the track. monaco was brutal for overtaking. one tiny mistake and the entire race could end instantly. every time megan pushed harder through a corner, your stomach tightened painfully.

you barely even noticed yourself holding your breath anymore whenever she disappeared into the tunnel.

“come on mei,” you whispered under your breath without realizing it.

the laps were running out too quickly now.

—

megan’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as she pushed through another corner, eyes fixed ahead while the engineer’s voice crackled through her radio. her helmet felt suffocating now. sweat stuck uncomfortably against the back of her neck underneath the fireproof layers, but she ignored all of it. there were only a few laps left.

she had this.

she knew she did.

then suddenly she saw orange.

“what the fuck—”

the mclaren shot past her on the inside during the turn before she could fully block it. one second she was leading, the next she was staring at the back of daniela’s car disappearing ahead of her.

“fuck!” megan slammed her fist harshly against the steering wheel before immediately dropping her foot harder onto the throttle.

the engine screamed louder underneath her as the ferrari accelerated aggressively down the next section of the circuit. her jaw clenched painfully while she tried to close the gap again. the walls beside her looked like flashes of color now. she barely even registered the crowd anymore.

five laps left.

she stayed close behind daniela, searching desperately for any opening, but monaco gave you almost nothing. every corner felt tighter now. every failed attempt made her more frustrated.

four laps.

“push now, megan” her engineer said through the radio.

“i know,” she snapped back immediately.

three laps.

she was still there. still stuck behind that orange car. daniela defended every corner aggressively, leaving absolutely no room for an overtake. megan could practically feel her heartbeat pounding through her entire body at this point. anger sat heavily in her chest, getting worse every lap she stayed behind her.

she had to beat daniela.

she had to.

two laps.

then slowly, horribly, the realization started settling in.

unless daniela made a mistake, this race was over.

megan’s expression hardened instantly behind the visor of her helmet. the frustration sitting in her stomach spread everywhere now, hot and ugly and impossible to ignore. she kept pushing anyway, taking corners aggressively enough to make the car twitch underneath her, but nothing changed. daniela stayed ahead.

final lap.

the checkered flag waved as the mclaren crossed first.

then megan crossed second.

silence filled her radio for half a second before the congratulations started coming from ferrari, but she barely heard any of it. her hands stayed locked tightly around the wheel while she slowed the car down during the cooldown lap. her face was stuck in a permanent scowl, anger practically radiating off her even with the helmet hiding most of it.

second place.

again.

daniela had won again.

megan ripped one hand off the steering wheel long enough to aggressively tug at her helmet strap, jaw tight enough to hurt. she didn’t even look toward the giant screens showing the results because she already knew exactly what they said.

mclaren gained more points.

daniela stayed ahead.

and megan was absolutely furious.

—

megan shoved the car door open so hard it nearly bounced back toward her before she climbed out of the ferrari. the second her feet hit the ground the noise started immediately.

“megan, over here!”

“how are you feeling after the result today?”

“do you think ferrari made a strategy mistake?”

camera flashes practically blinded her from every direction while reporters crowded closer and closer around her. microphones were pushed toward her face before she had even fully taken her helmet off. people kept talking over each other trying to get a reaction out of her, hoping she’d finally snap on camera after losing another race to daniela.

she was close to it.

her jaw clenched tightly while she ignored every single question thrown at her. she could still hear the sound of that mclaren pulling ahead replaying over and over in her head. the reporters kept following her anyway, cameras practically in her face now, until megan abruptly turned around and yanked her car door back open again.

then slammed it shut hard enough to make several people jump.

without another word she got back into the car and sped off before anyone could stop her.

you already knew where she was going.

the second you saw the ferrari disappear away from the main paddock area, you turned and hurried off the balcony yourself. your heartbeat picked up while you rushed through the quieter hallways and stairs leading toward the empty practice section farther away from the crowds. megan always disappeared there whenever she was overwhelmed. away from cameras. away from reporters. away from everyone.

when you finally got there, the place was silent except for the sound of the ferrari engine shutting off.

megan slammed her fist down against the steering wheel once.

then again.

and again.

the sound echoed through the empty track.

you slowed slightly as you watched her shove the car door open and climb out aggressively before slamming it shut behind her hard enough to shake the entire car. she stood there breathing heavily, chest rising and falling quickly while both hands dragged through her hair in frustration. her helmet was gone now, leaving her hair messy and damp from sweat. she looked furious. genuinely furious. the kind of anger she usually tried to hide from everyone else.

you swallowed nervously before hurrying toward her.

“megan!” you called out quickly. “you did so good at least you—”

the rest of your sentence disappeared completely when she grabbed your face and kissed you hard.

your eyes widened immediately from the force of it, but within seconds you relaxed into her. megan kissed like she was trying to get every ounce of frustration out of her system at once. messy. rough. impatient. she pushed you backwards until the back of your legs hit the hood of the ferrari, and you barely had time to react before she pressed herself between your knees.

your arms wrapped around her neck automatically while her hands gripped your waist tightly enough to almost hurt.

her breathing was still uneven against your mouth.

when her tongue brushed against your bottom lip asking for access, you opened your mouth instinctively. her hand squeezed your waist harder the second you did, pulling you closer against her. every movement still carried the anger from the race. you could feel it in the way she kissed you, all sharp frustration and leftover adrenaline that she didn’t know what to do with yet.

one of your hands slid into her hair gently, trying to calm her down at least a little, but megan only kissed you deeper in response.

she pulled back just far enough to breathe, her forehead pressed against yours. her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, chest still heaving from the drive over.

"don't," she said, her voice rough and low. "don't tell me i did good. don't fucking patronize me."

you opened your mouth to argue, but she was already kissing you again, harder this time. her hands slid down from your waist to grip your thighs, yanking you closer to the edge of the hood. the metal was cool against the back of your bare legs where your shorts had ridden up.

"get in the car," she muttered against your mouth. "back seat. now."

she didn't wait for an answer. she grabbed your wrist and pulled you off the hood, dragging you to the rear door of the ferrari. she yanked it open and pushed you inside, and you scrambled across the leather seat on your hands and knees, the door slamming shut behind her.

megan was already on top of you before you could turn around. her hands found the button of your jean shorts, popping it open with one rough motion. she pulled at the zipper, yanked the shorts down your hips, and you lifted yourself to help her get them off. they landed somewhere on the floor of the car.

she didn't bother with your shoes or socks. her hands went straight to your thighs, pushing them apart, and she lowered her mouth to the inside of your left knee. a slow, open mouthed kiss that turned into a scrape of teeth. then another kiss, higher. then another, higher still, trailing up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh while her fingers dug into the opposite leg to keep you spread open.

you could feel how wet you were getting. the cool air hit your cunt and made you shiver, but megan's mouth was hot as she worked her way up. she bit down gently on the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you gasped, your hand flying to the back of her head.

"megan-"

she ignored you. her mouth moved higher, dragging across your stomach, leaving a wet trail that cooled almost instantly in the conditioned air of the car. she pushed your shirt up as she went, exposing your skin inch by inch. when she reached your ribs, she stopped, hooked her fingers into the hem of the shirt, and pulled it over your head in one swift motion. your bra went next, the clasp coming undone with practiced ease, and then her mouth was on your neck.

she sucked hard at the side of your neck, not gentle, not tender. marking. claiming. her tongue soothed the sting for half a second before her teeth found the spot again, and you moaned, arching into her. she moved lower, her mouth closing around your nipple, and the sharp pull of her suction made you cry out. she did it again, harder, while her thumb found your other nipple and rolled it roughly between her fingers.

"fuck," you breathed, your head falling back against the window.

she switched sides, giving the other breast the same rough treatment, and you could feel the vibration of her growl against your skin. she was still angry. you could taste it in every bite, feel it in every pull of her mouth. this wasn't about making love. this was about fucking the frustration out of her system, and you were more than willing to let her.

she pulled back and looked at you. her lips were wet, her hair a mess, her eyes dark and hungry. she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside.

"lie back," she said.

you did.

she settled between your thighs, her hands gripping the inside of your knees and pushing them wide, spreading you open for her. the car was silent except for both of you breathing hard. the smell of leather and sweat and arousal filled the inside.

megan looked at your cunt like she was studying a racing line. her thumb found your clit and pressed down, not rubbing, just pressing, and the pressure made your hips twitch.

"look at you," she said, her voice low and rough. "already this wet for me. is this what you wanted? watching me lose out there?"

"i just wanted to-"

"shut up." but her voice wasn't cruel. it was desperate, hungry. she dragged her thumb through your wetness, collecting it, and brought it to her mouth. her eyes never left yours as she tasted you. "fuck."

then her mouth was on you.

she went straight for your clit, no teasing, no working up to it. her tongue was flat and firm, dragging from your entrance all the way up to your clit in one long, wet stroke, and your whole body jerked. she groaned against you, the vibration sending a shock straight through your core, and she did it again. slower this time.

her fingers found your entrance, pushed inside without warning. two of them, thick and insistent, curling immediately to find that spot inside you that made your vision go white. she fucked you with them while her mouth worked your clit, alternating between broad strokes of her tongue and sharp, focused suction.

"that's it," she muttered against you, the words muffled but clear enough. "let me hear you. i want to fucking hear you."

you were already a mess. your hands found her hair, gripping tight, pulling, and she groaned again, the sound vibrating against your clit. she sped up, her fingers pumping into you harder, her tongue circling your clit in tight, fast movements.

"come on," she said, pulling back just long enough to breathe. her chin was slick, her lips shining. "cum on my fucking mouth. now."

the command pushed you over. your orgasm hit hard, a sharp, sudden wave that tore a cry from your throat. your back arched off the leather seat, your legs clamping around her head, and she didn't stop. she kept licking, kept sucking, drawing it out until you were shaking and whimpering and pushing weakly at her head.

she pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. her eyes were still dark, still hungry. she climbed over you, her body pressing yours into the seat, and you felt how hard her cock was through her racing suit.

"need you," she said, and it came out angry. desperate. "i fucking need you right now."

"you have me," you said.

she sat up just long enough to rip at the zipper of her suit. the suit peeled away from her shoulders, then her chest, then down to her waist. her cock sprang free, hard and leaking, and she took herself in her hand, stroking once, twice, spreading the precum over the head.

she positioned herself at your entrance, the head of her cock pressing against your slick folds, and she looked at you. her jaw was tight.

"this is gonna be rough," she said. "i'm not gonna be gentle."

"good," you said. "i don't want gentle."

she pushed in.

she buried herself inside you in one sharp, brutal thrust, and you both groaned. she filled you completely, the angle of the back seat forcing your hips up to meet hers, and she didn't give you time to adjust. she pulled out and slammed back in, harder, her hips slapping against yours.

"yes," you hissed, your nails digging into her shoulders. "fuck, yes."

she fucked you like she was chasing something. each thrust was punishing, driven, her breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck. she grabbed your hips and angled them higher, changing the depth, and the new angle made you cry out. she was hitting deeper now, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl.

"whose pussy is this?" she demanded, her voice strained.

"yours," you gasped. "fuck, megan, yours."

"say it again."

"yours. all fucking yours."

she growled and bit down on your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but close. her pace increased, sloppy and desperate now, the wet sounds of her fucking you filling the car along with both of your moans.

she reached between your bodies and found your clit again, rubbing hard, fast circles that matched the rhythm of her thrusts. you were close again. you could feel it building, hot and tight in your stomach.

"i'm gonna- megan, i'm gonna cum-"

"yeah," she breathed. "cum on my cock. come on, baby, let me feel it."

she drove into you harder, faster, her fingers relentless on your clit, and the coil snapped. your orgasm crashed through you, violent and overwhelming, your cunt clenching around her cock, and she kept fucking you through it. the overstimulation made you sob, but she didn't stop.

"one more," she said. "one more for me. i'm right there."

she was close. you could feel it in the way her thrusts lost their rhythm, in the way her breath hitched. you reached down and pressed your own fingers against her mouth, and she sucked them in without hesitation, eyes locked on yours.

"cum inside me," you said. "i want to feel it."

that was all it took.

she buried herself deep, her hips stuttering, and she came with a sound that was half groan, half sob. you felt her cock pulse inside you, felt the warmth of her release filling you, and she collapsed against you, her face buried in your neck, her body shaking.

the silence that followed was heavy. full. her weight pressed you into the leather seat, and you wrapped your arms around her, your fingers combing gently through her damp hair.

her breathing slowly steadied. her grip on your waist loosened, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

"i'm sorry," she said finally, her voice muffled against your neck. "i just…i needed…"

"i know," you said softly. "you don't have to apologize."

she lifted her head and looked at you. her eyes were red rimmed, the anger finally gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

"i hate losing to her," she said.

"i know."

she kissed you, soft this time. gentle. a promise instead of a punishment. when she pulled back, she let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

"everyone’s gonna talk," she said. "they all saw me speed off."

"let them talk."

she smiled, small and tired, and pressed her forehead to yours. the night air seeped through the cracked window, cooling your sweat slick skin, and for a moment, nothing else existed except the two of you tangled together in the back seat of a ferrari.