#Rooftops Monaco | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

giuseppe-yuki · 2 months ago

Text

money, money, money

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 6.8k

warnings: curse words, allusions to sex, RUDE people, sprinkle of angst (?)

summary: you introduce max to the good and bad sides of having money.

a/n: roughly inspired by crazy rich asians- one of my fav movies!!!

edit: bonus birthday oneshot :)

photo credits from pinterest :)

it was no secret to the majority of the world that your bloodline was rich- filthy rich. with your father’s side of the family owning the equivalent of half a small country and your mother’s side of the family the owners of several major corporations, you had no lack of paper bills in your bank accounts.

along with your siblings and your cousins, you grew up pampered, only going to your country’s best schools and wearing only the latest fashion. you were picked up by a chauffeur in a personal sleek black bentley and had a team of maids at your beck and call. hell, you were even granted access to a private jet in case you wanted to fly somewhere exotic just for fun!

as a child without a sense of the value of money, you thought all children lived like this. every birthday, you expected only the very best from your parents. on your sixth birthday, your parents closed down disneyland and let the kids rampage throughout the park. for your cousin’s grade school graduation, your aunt bought an entire cruise liner (company) and held a week-long party on the water to celebrate. when your little brother passed his driver’s license, your father bought him a customized ferrari pista (that he might have crashed three days in) as his first car. when christmas came by, your grandma flew in your entire family to her private island in first class, and surprised all the kids with their very own mini play homes in the backyard that were each the size of a small apartment.

slowly, as you matured, you realized how lucky you were. while eating the caviar and champagne at the expensive gala, the homeless were out in the cold, eating the leftover crusts in oily crumpled pizza boxes that they fished out of the trash. each dollar in your bank accounts could go to sick children whose parents couldn’t pay the hospital bills for, and instead, they were going to mega yachts that sat in the monaco bay most of the year. besides, wouldn’t your parents' money run out some time?

it seemed that many of your cousins and siblings didn’t give a fuck. you watched them exponentially abuse their power, blowing through thousands of grands for luxury cars they drove only once and exclusive rooftop parties where they swam in pools of champagne. one by one, you saw them drop out of school and spend every day as the life of the party. once they rapidly grew out of the excuse of being “young, naive, and not knowing better” their reputation to the general public became “spoiled and out-of-touch” with society.

you of course, weren’t totally exempt from this. you had to admit that you occasionally spent a few k on a nice little bag for yourself, or had an occasional trip to bali for some sun. however, you focused much more on your studies and helping others than partying. instead of spending your draining your mother’s company assets, wouldn’t it be better to have your own? why wield a black card embellished with your father’s name in gold when it could be your own name? with your own money, you could also donate huge amounts to people in need- all under your name.

slowly, you built up your own credible business using the knowledge you gained, and it soon skyrocketed into a world-wide profitable company.

even with such success however, all your siblings and cousins laughed at you. running a company? they had chuckled, in their balenciaga suits and miu miu dresses. why do such tedious work when you can just marry into a rich family?

rich family, you scoff, looking at one of your cousins at the yearly family party that your family threw. though she was dressed to the nines, hair done up and jewelry glistening on her neck, she looked absolutely miserable. her husband, that everyone knew she had just married “for the money” stood on the opposite end of the room, flirting unashamedly with a rather uncomfortable looking waiter. that was really funny, considering that your cousin had been bragging about how much her husband loved her at the last function. she had even shoved a picture of her next to a humongous flower bouquet into your face, teasingly stating how “you never had this experience before, huh?”

your brother wasn’t that much different. although he looked rather successful with a big quarter of your mother’s company stocks, you knew that he was in major debt from burning through his bank accounts gambling at casinos around the world. he paraded around the room with his wife, who hung on his arm so proudly, but only because she didn’t know a thing. if you hinted at your brother’s little “problem,” you knew that she would have the divorce papers ready by afternoon the next day.

as the party went on and the alcohol broke down the painstakingly-built facades of your family’s relationships, you began to stop envying their so-called perfect lives. you realized that all they knew about was money. what did they know about love?

love to you was a kind man with blue eyes that crinkled whenever he smiled at you, light brown hair that was oh-so-soft to run through with your hands, and a soothing voice with a twinge of an accent and slight lisp. love smelled like his soft cologne, and tasted like the spiced sweetbreads he would bake on the weekends.

max was the total opposite from the cocky and money-hungry douchebags from your home country that were more attracted to your wallet and family influence, which was what you liked about him. even the way you met him was different. usually, the men would make it all about themselves, trying to impress you with their “achievements” (owning three ferraris is not a keystone achievement, david) or throwing technical jargon at you to sound smart. if you somehow invited them on a second date, they always showed up late and would tear off their clothes the second they got in the house, expecting to get to third base immediately. however, you met max through a friend of a friend at a small party in monaco. he could barely look you in the eyes and stuttered through his sentences, which you found quite refreshing compared to the arrogant guys that you usually encountered. on your first date, he got you some rather wilty looking tulips, but also brought some homemade bread that you swore was the best you ever ate. on the second date, he yapped about all the flags of all the countries he knew, but you didn’t mind because he let you ramble your own interests after. before long, you moved in with him in his apartment on the edge of monaco, and had the honor of calling him your boyfriend.

so now, lying in his arms on his tiny bed, you felt more at home than ever.

the sunlight streams in through the windows above his bed, casting a glow across his face and filtering through his impossibly long eyelashes. you take a minute to admire the angelic scene, before one his cats leaps off of who-knows-where and jumps on his face.

he yelps, and unwinds his arm from around you to softly push who you assume to be sassy away from his head.

you flash a glare at sassy for ruining such a nice moment, before picking her up and attempt to “throw” her off the bed.

unfortunately, max yanks her out of your hands before you are able to.

“hey!” he says in a chastising tone. “be nice to sassy. i’m sure she didn’t mean to.”

max sits up on the bed and gives sassy a few head scratches before placing a kiss on her soft head. sassy meows at you, which you swear is in a mocking tone. across the room, jimmy sprints over and takes a spot next to max, purring for head scratches too, effectively pushing you off the bed.

you didn’t understand how your boyfriend couldn’t see that his cats were literally devils. you were basically subject to their abuse every day (i.e. random ankle attacks, knocking over all you fragile items, unplugging your devices, cat hair in your food, and the worst one, stealing max away from you). scowling, you surrender your rightful spot on the bed and pad into the kitchen in your slippers to start the coffee.

it’s not until both the coffee and breakfast is ready when max finally enters the kitchen, now freshly dressed. the cats scamper around his feet, curling lovingly around his ankles.

“sorry about that, baby.” he says, pulling out his chair and taking a seat in front of his plate of food. “jimmy and sassy just wanted some love.”

you roll your eyes before settling down into your own seat.

he spears a few sausage links and eggs into his mouth before glancing at the clock. eyes widening, he shoves the rest of the food into his mouth and chugs down the hot coffee.

“so sorry, i have to run!” he sputters out, “i’m going to be late to my engineering meeting!”

he dashes to the bedroom to grab his bag before running back into the kitchen to press a kiss to your cheek in goodbye.

“have fun at work too, baby!” he yells before the front door slams closed.

sighing, you finish your plate before washing the dishes in the sink. he was always late for his engineering job at a small office in downtown monaco. max somehow always got to his office in time though, but probably because he raced his little yellow renault clio rs on the streets like he was some type of formula one driver. meanwhile, you had your “work” at home (which typically meant one phone call to your secretary to make sure everything was running smoothly, a quick scroll through your company accounts, and then netflix on the couch).

from the time you met to the time you started dating, you never got to telling max about your family history or your job. it was actually kind of unbelievable that he didn’t notice actually, even when all your clothes were covertly designer and heels were always red bottoms, or when you seemingly traveled out of the country every other weekend for company meetings. however, he never asked, so you never told.

well, that was until he came home that night.

his footsteps echo on the ground as he walks out from the bathroom, but stops before he gets into the kitchen

“hey baby,” he says, tilting his head. “what’s this?”

you stop stirring the pasta sauce, looking back to see your freshly showered boyfriend questioningly glancing at your open macbook on the couch.

you must have forgotten to close out of your company bank account tab. quickly, you throw the spoon aside, slam the laptop shut, and throw it to the side.

“that’s nothing, baby.” you say, rushing back to the kitchen and stirring the bubbling red mixture again.

“oh-kay…” he says, walking up behind you and reaching over to help strain the pasta noodles.

while straining the water out in the sink, he flashes you a quick glance. “was it like…” he whispers quietly. “adult material or something?? is that why you didn’t want me to see it?”

what?

you look back him, an unimpressed look at your face. “adult material, max???” you repeat back at him. “no. i was not watching adult material on my work laptop.”

“okay, whatever you say, baby.” max says, clearly not believing you. clearing his throat, he continues. “so, um… anyways, my coworker george was talking about how he met his boyfriend alex's parents over the weekend, and i realized that i never met your parents before. do you think we can maybe pay them a visit?"

you freeze, halfway sliding out a plate of garlic bread from the oven.

“i- um, don’t think that’s wise, maxie.” you reply quietly.

your boyfriend wrinkles his brow. he stops the plating of the noodles and walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“is it…is it because they are assholes?” he asks, looking at you seriously. “cause it’s okay if they are- i understand, because my dad…my dad is not very kind either.”

you can’t help to think about your family in your home country. you could never take your maxie there. they would rip him to shreds, degrading him for being rather plain and destitute compared to them. you would never want to put your boyfriend through your parents, either, who would probably criticize him for wanting to marry you just for the money, even if max didn’t know a goddamn thing about how you earned your funds.

you rub your face. “no, it’s not that.” you sigh, “i- mean- it’s just complicated over there in my home country. i don’t want you to feel pressure or uncomfortable-”

max cuts you off with a hug, and presses a kiss to your cheek. “i really don’t mind, baby. i’d really like to meet the people who made such a kind and beautiful person like you.”

you blush a little at his words. even if you have an uneasy feeling to your stomach, you nod lightly. it can’t be that bad, right?

if you were to take max over to your home country, there was no doubt he would be exposed to your massive fame and influence there. to slowly ease him into the more luxurious side of your life, you first introduce the luxuries of a private jet the day you take off from the airport.

“a private JET???” your boyfriend shrieks, looking at his speciality boarding pass.

hurriedly, you shush him to avoid the glares of other travelers within a yelling distance of you both.

“max, please be quiet.” you hiss into his ear. “yes, it says private jet.”

maneuvering your cart with your lv-branded luggage to the side of the terminal, along with max’s one small carry-on and two pet cages with the reincarnations of the devil inside, you pull out your phone to check the location of the driver who would take you to the separate private-jet entrance.

like magic, he materializes behind you, tapping you on the shoulder.

politely, he takes your horde of luggages and max’s items before politely gesturing towards a massive black lincoln that was definitely not parked there before.

“this way miss,” he says curtly, before reaching forward to open the car door for you.

max, snapping out of his confusion, snaps his hand out first and roughly yanks the door open, and nearly hitting both you and the driver.

“i’ll open the door for my own girlfriend, thanks!” he retorts, glaring suspiciously at the driver, who just shrugs and starts loading the luggage into the back of the car.

when max climbs into the spacious back of the lincoln, you can’t help but giggle into your hand.

“max, you need to relax,” you laugh, placing a calming hand on max’s leg. “he’s my driver. it’s his job to open the door, okay?”

your boyfriend sniffs, pouting a little.

“fine.”

after boarding the jet and ascending safely into the air, you settle into your padded chair. meanwhile, max runs around the jet like a little kid, pointing out the “special features,” much to the amusement of the staff.

“omg, baby, look!” he yells, pointing at a wooden-paneled door behind your chair. “the bathroom is huge!”

you nod, and hum in agreement, sparing a quick glance at max, who was opening and closing the door as if it would change what was behind it.

he then charges toward a cabinet near the middle of the plane, which is stuffed to the brim with your favorite snacks. “wow!” he shouts, before sprinting towards a similar cabinet further down, which you know is the alcohol storage area.

there’s a moment of silence before max steps into view with three gin and tonics and one of your favorite drinks in hand. he carefully sets them down in front of you, batting away a disgruntled-looking bartender who held a half-open bottle of gin that you assumed he was in the middle of pouring when max snatched the bottle away.

you apologize profusely to the bartender while max watches on, straight up chugging his drinks.

“this is wild!!” he whispers, pointing to the cups in front of him.

no more than five minutes after sending the bartender away with a little tip, max has already finished two of his three gin and tonics and was already bounding out of his seat to explore the rest of the plane.

once you hear his exclamations of joy from the back of the plane, you know he has discovered the master bedroom.

before you have a chance to take a sip of your own drink, max basically pounces on you and drags you towards the private bedroom. your boyfriend pushes you onto the soft bed, yells out the door.

“give us a little bit of privacy, okay?” he shouts to no one in particular, before slamming the door shut.

he turns back to your figure lying spread-eagle in the bed, and wiggles his eyebrows.

max is the first one to talk after you both lay on the bed, lips swollen and cheeks red.

“so…?” he says, running a hand down your back.

“so… what?” you ask, looking up at him from your position sprawled on top of him. from your point of view, you could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest, his slightly damp hair, and the way his blue, blue eyes study your face.

“so, when were you going to tell me that you were…like…rich?” he replies.

you maneuver yourself to a sitting position on your boyfriend’s lap, looking him nervously.

“well…” you remark, twiddling your thumbs. this wasn’t the way you thought you were going to break the news to max.

“i grew up more- comfortably in my home country, thanks to my family and their connections. i was lucky to not have to worry about money at all. when i became a little older, i separated myself from the rest of my siblings and cousins to form and take care of my own company. then, on a business trip, i met you and then.. yeah, you know what happens next.”

an awkward silence fills the room, with max digesting the information and you toying with a stray thread from the bedcovers.

your boyfriend opens his mouth slowly.

“a company?” he questions, turning to you. “what company?”

you scramble off the bed for your phone, and type something quick in the search bar. when you find what you are looking for, you rotate the phone towards your boyfriend, the glowing screen reflecting on his features.

it only takes one or two seconds for max to scan and decipher the words on the screen.

“YOU’RE THE CEO OF REDBULL??” max shouts.

when the wheels of your private jet hit the bumpy runway, it was midnight. your pilot’s voice crackles on the intercom, politely notifying you that you have arrived, and are free to disembark whenever you’d like. outside, you can see several workers unloading your luggage, along with jimmy and sassy in their pet carriers.

you turn to max, who was intensely staring at his screen, unmoving. you assume he was still in the middle of his fervent wikipedia dive of you and your family’s entire history that he insisted on learning, once he got over the initial shock.

“max,” you say, nudging him slightly.

he doesn’t budge, eyes trained like an eagle on his screen.

you pull on sweatshirt before nudging him again, this time a little harder. “max, come on, we gotta go.”

he snaps up, and pockets his phone before mock saluting you. “yes, of course, miss ceo! whatever you say!”

you roll your eyes. max was a little extra sometimes.

he trails behind you obediently as you climb down the stairs to get off the plane, and into a sleek black limousine.

before long, you find yourself on the familiar streets and freeways that you used to frequent when you were younger. it feels the slightest bit nostalgic, so different from the streets of monaco that you became used to thanks to max.

you look back to find max tilting his head at you.

“where to now, miss ceo?” he asks in a curious tone.

you smile.

”i know just the place.”

even when it was close to three am, the downtown streets were still packed with people. vendors engulfed the street sides, selling delicious soups and snacks beckoned to people, and little shops with bright signs advertised souvenirs, clothing, stationary, and everything in between. the car inches to a stop when you come upon a familiar old building that you remember visiting often as a child. bright glittery letters on the storefront and windows exclaim, “lombardi ice cream shop.” a line of people streams out the door, an ode to the delicious creamy treats that the shop has been selling for years. god, you could basically taste the ice cream on your tongue already.

you practically leap out of the car, dragging max with you towards the front of the shop. the red bottoms of your heels click against the concrete, turning many heads in the crowd along the sidewalk. you hear gasps of shock and a few whispers of your name along the crowd. they automatically parts like moses and the red sea when you get closer. max hesitates, wide eyed, at the edge of the crowd.

”c’mon,” you laugh, taking his hand and leading him through the people.

an old woman, back hunched with age, waddles out of the kitchen and greets you warmly when you arrive at the counter. without realizing, a warm feeling spreads across your chest. she was basically like a second mother to you, considering you spent your entire childhood frequenting this shop with your cousins and siblings. whenever you visited your home country, you would always make sure to pop by her shop (not that she needed your business- her lines always curled around the block, day and night).

“ahh!! welcome back, honey,” she exclaims, wiping her wrinkled hands on her apron. “you’ve gotten so beautiful!” throwing a glance at a shy max hesitantly hidden behind you, she sends you an eyebrow raise. “ah, and i see you brought a boy back huh?”

you reach over to give the weathered old woman a hug, blushing. “hello, momma lella! yes, this is my boyfriend max.”

max waves a polite hello, one hand still nervously holding yours.

the elderly woman smiles kindly at max, not hiding how she looks him up and down. “well, i approve!” she states, giving you a thumbs up and a wink. “polite and handsome!”

without another word, she grabs the largest size cup and fills it to the brim with creamy chocolate ice cream. sprinkling a good amount of sprinkles and shoving two spoons into the cup, she offers it to you.

“on the house!”

you and max sit on the sidewalk with the cup of ice cream, watching people walk by and cars zoom through the traffic. occasionally, max takes his spoon and shovels a large helping of chocolate ice cream into his mouth.

“you look like you’re really enjoying the ice cream,” you state, noticing the chocolate smeared over the corners of his mouth.

max just smiles at you in the way he always does, with the dimples and the crinkle in his eyes.

suddenly, your moment is ruined when a flash goes off in your face.

max jerks back, rubbing his eyes, not used to the invasive cameras that made up your childhood.

you whip around towards the flash, seeing a small herd of paparazzi smiling wickedly. a rare spotting of you in back in your home country for the first time in years? that was payday for them. a flash of anger shoots through you, causing you to throw your wooden spoon at their expensive cameras. unfortunately, it just bounces off of the arm of a short looking man carrying a heavy duty camera.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you yell, shooing them away from max. “can you just leave us alone for one second?”

bothersome paparazzi like this was common when you grew up in a family rich with drama and money. you recall them camping in front of your house, shutters clicking once they saw a sign of movement. whatever mistake you made, like tripping over a small rock or fighting with your sister over a doll, was publicized and dramatized into unrecognizable stories on gossip magazines that were popular in your home country. it was a pity that this was max’s first introduction to these pests.

you pull max with you as you shove your way roughly through the paparazzi. they deserved it if you accidentally smashed someone’s lens.

max stumbles behind you.

“wha-?” he says, holding the half-empty chocolate ice cream. “where are we going?”

you huff. “away from those wannabe photographers- i hate them so much.”

you flip open your phone to call your chauffeur, but your app notifies you it would take a total of ten minutes for him to weave through traffic to get to you both. in the distance, the paparazzi raise their cameras again, shutters clicking as they photograph your pissed off expression and a dumbfounded max next to you. you can practically see the headlines tomorrow- ‘bratty billionaire back in country!!’

like a godsend, a futuristic-looking car rumbles to life next to you. that will probably get you home and away from these fuckers fast, right? hurriedly, you march over to the disgruntled middle-aged man in the passengers’ seat.

“five million for your car- right now.” you say, dead serious.

the man’s eyes widen comically large.

“five mi-“

you cut him off quickly, seeing the paparazzi darting closer to max, who was still holding the ice cream and eyeing the cameras wearily.

“yes, five million. i’ll mail you the check.”

without another word, the man tosses you the keys and hefts himself out of the car. you leap into the drivers seat just as he gets out, and jam your finger on the window down button to beckon max into the car immediately.

the moment he sits down on the expensive-looking leather seats, you rev the engine and leave the paparazzi behind in the dust.

it’s not until you are halfway back to your penthouse when max finally speaks.

“this is a super nice car,” he states, running his hand against the interior side panels.

you look around, really noticing the detailings of the car. the sides look like they are made with some carbon fiber material, and it seemed like it didn’t even have a door handle- just straps you pull on the corner of the dashboard.

”yeah, i guess so,” you admit. “i just bought this off of that dude back there in order to get away from the damn paparazzi.”

max wrinkles his brows.

“you bought-?? what??? you know this is an aston martin valkyrie, right?”

the next morning, when the sun shines through the skyline windows lining your penthouse, you keep your promise by instructing one of your staff to send the promised check to the random guy on the street (fernando, he said his name was). your boyfriend scrolls idly on his phone next to you, probably scrolling through your family’s lengthy wikipedia page again. his cats stamp around your white bedsheets as if they owned the place. you think about what you both could do today. perhaps visit the children’s hospital? before moving to monaco, you frequented many small hospitals, bringing gifts for the children. it always felt good seeing the sick kids light up with joy. or, you could go shopping, although you did spend a little bit much on the random car yesterday. or-

before you can complete your thought, a familiar ringtone lights up the screen of your phone. your mother’s name lights up your phone, as if taunting you. before you second-guess yourself, you smash your finger into the green ‘answer’ button and place the phone to your ear.

your mother’s voice flows through the speakers, sending a wave of nostalgia throughout your body.

“darling!” the voice hums, “why didn’t you tell me that you were back in your home country? i had to find out over the silly little paparazzi pictures on the newspapers!”

damn it, you think, cursing silently in your head. it seemed that the paparazzi from yesterday night had probably sold your pictures to some trashy gossip magazine that had caught the attention of your mother. that meant that you had to face your family sooner or later.

“hello, mother,” you reply curtly, trying to avoid the topic. “how may i help you?”

your mother tuts through the speakerphone. “oh, your own mother can’t just call to say hello?”

you groan. “no- i mean yes-“

your mother cuts you off, laughing. “i’m kidding, darling. i just wanted to let you know that i’m hosting a party at our estate tomorrow, to celebrate your arrival! you’ve been in monaco for a god-awful long time. your cousins and siblings will be coming too- i’m sure they’ll all excited to see you after your hiatus in monaco!”

you hesitate before responding. your first instinct was to say no, because everybody knew full well that the only reason your cousins and siblings even bothered to show up at these kind of events is to save face and show off their new ridiculously expensive clothing and cars, not to welcome you. however, this also gave you a chance for max to meet your parents, like he wanted back in monaco. it isn’t a hard choice when you agree to meet the next day.

max revs the engine once again as he pulls the valkyrie to stop in front of the valet at the front of your family’s estate.

through the tinted windows of the car, you see one of your snobby cousins, dressed in an jeweled gown, jump at the loud sound and clutch her husband’s arm tighter however, her husband ignores her to get a good look at your aston martin supercar, which makes you laugh. to your surprise, he is not the only one. a few other family members gather around, admiring the hypercar.

in the passenger’s seat, max’s mischievous grin slowly turns into a frown of nervousness as he spots the crowd of people gathering around you both. you know it must look intimidating, meeting your significant other’s family, especially when they had such high expectations of you. you place a kiss on his cheek.

“you ready, maxie?” you ask, patting his shoulder comfortingly.

he nods, before opening the car door.

like the gentleman he is, max quickly hurries over to the passenger’s side of the car to help you out of the car. you gladly take his hand, and step out of the vehicle daintily. straight away, you can hear the confused mutterings and jealous glares of your family members start up, which follow the both of you into the house.

like expected, your childhood home is decorated a little over the top. people mingle under crystal chandeliers around staircases draped with real flowers. from the second living room, music drifts out that sounds suspiciously like martin garrix. a fancy bar is set up a room that was usually the dining room, with a bottle of every single alcohol you can ever think of. the courtyard, usually empty save a few plants, was turned into outdoor buffet bar, complete with a five story cake and massive chocolate fountain.

once inside, max attempts to introduce himself to the first friendly-looking family member that he sees, which happens to be your aunt on your mother’s side. he sticks out his hand, a smile gracing his face.

“hi, my name is max,” he says, “i’m your niece’s boyfriend.”

your aunt nods politely, shaking his hand.

“hello max,” she says, visibly studying him, “what are you, a ceo? businessman? sports star?”

”auntie!” you say, shocked, cutting max off from his response. that rude bitch. although she looked relatively kind from the outside, all she really cared about anyone was their power and money. which was probably why your cousin married a mega popstar that was away half the time. like the rest of your family, money trumped true love. “you can’t just start a conversation like that!”

max shakes his head, “no, no, it’s alright. i’m an engineer.”

“ah,” your aunt says, knowingly. taking a sip of her champagne, she continues, “head engineer, huh? of what company?”

thinking he might have misheard her, max corrects her, “oh- no, not head engineer, just an engineer, like in an office.”

your great-aunt’s friendly demeanor automatically drops.

“just an engineer?” she responds, coldly.

you notice how max’s face falls the slightest bit, before he plasters a fake polite smile on his face. he shuffles uncomfortably, glancing at you, as if saying, did i say something wrong?

before you can say something rather rude to your aunt, a hand clasps your shoulder. turning around, your brother beams at you.

“sister!” he exclaims. “i haven’t seen you in a hot sec. too busy partying in monaco, huh? or doing your silly little business things for redbull?”

he then eyes max, to which he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “who’s this, huh? your boyfriend?”

”yes,” you snap, still a little pissed from your aunt’s rude reaction.

your brother puts his hands up jokingly, in a surrender position. “damn, okay, no need to be defensive.”

he sticks out his hand to your boyfriend, who takes it gladly.

“what’s up, dude,” your brother says, shaking max’s hand. “i saw you pull up with my sister in that sick aston martin valkyrie! you must have some insane connections- the waitlist for that baby is like years long.”

your aunt answers before your boyfriend can.

“there’s no way he could have bought that car- he’s just an office engineer at some company at who knows where,” she says pointedly.

hearing this, your brother’s impressed look turns into a sneer of disdain. he steps back from max in disgust, as if he had just turned into some horrible monster. he chuckles at you.

”wow, sister, you’ve outdone yourself huh? an office engineer?”

your family, slowly becoming aware of something going on, turns towards the scene. a wide-eyed martin garrix turns off the booming music in the back.

you shove your brother further away from max, causing the glass of champagne to spill onto your brother’s designer suit.

“what’s wrong with you?” you exclaim angrily. “at least he has a job, unlike you!”

ignoring the bubbling liquid staining his suit and your enraged expression, he turns toward max, still eyeing him with disgust. “how pathetic, leeching off of my sister’s money as a ceo? ha, you probably used her card to buy that valkyrie, didn’t you?”

next to you, stunned into silence, max’s blue eyes begin to fill with tears.

behind you, your aunt lets out a cackle of laughter, along with a few members of the crowd.

you just about launch yourself at your brother, wanting more than anything to bash his head in.

as if it couldn’t get worse, your mother pushes through the crowd gathered around you both, and grabs your arm before you can make contact with your brother.

“hey!” she yells, yanking you back. “what is going on here?”

your brother grins, pointing at max. “your precious daughter went and got herself a little gold digger boyfriend- and look, he’s crying!”

you glance over to max, heart sinking. like your brother said, he had a tear running down his face, and he shook a little with embarrassment. it reminded you of a story that max once told you, how his father had often upset him as a child when he was forced to do karting. an anger flared inside of you. max had only wanted to be a good boyfriend and introduce himself to your family, but was in turn ridiculed in front of a crowd by your hypocrite brother.

your mother turns to max, then turns to you.

“is this true, darling?” she asks, tilting her head. “does he exploit you for money?”

does max exploit you for money? you can hardly even comprehend the ridiculous sentence. you roughly yank your arm out of your mother’s grasp and march over to max. you lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze.

you turn towards your chuckling brother. he won’t be laughing soon.

“you’re really one to talk, brother! you think you’re hot shit, with a large chunk of mother’s company stocks. well, wouldn't it be a shame if everyone knew that you are in debt from your uncontrollable gambling problem, hmm? i wonder what your wife feels about that?”

you take comfort in the way the smug smile drops from your brother’s face, now replaced with a withering glare. the silent crowd gathered around the scene lets out a gasp, in light of this news. their focus now was trained on your brother instead of max.

“and you!” you exclaim, turning to your aunt. “since you think the word gold digger is so funny, auntie, wouldn’t you like to know how your own daughter is one, huh?”

your aunt jerks back, not used to the crowd’s attention trained on her, along with your harsh words.

”yeah,” you continue, “if you would stop judging people based on their worth in money, you might have been able to see that all she does is spend her husband‘s money on inane things in order to ignore his multiple affairs!”

from the back of the room, you hear your cousin burst into tears while her mother, your aunt, standing in front of you, turns as red as a tomato.

gently, you lead max towards the gilded gold front door. your family gives you judgemental looks as you make your way through the crowd. turning back one last time before you step out, you address the crowd. “don’t think any of you guys are any better. all you lot do is leech off of trust fund money!”

max stays silent all the way to your penthouse, as do you. after a hot shower, you bundle him up in your soft fluffy blankets until he looks the puft marshmallow man. you can’t help but feel terrible. he silently shuffles towards you, which you respond by pulling his head against your chest. jimmy and sassy watch wearily from a distance on the carpet.

you are the first to cut through the silence.

“i am so sorry that my family did that to you, maxie.”

he doesn’t answer, but the new tears that soak your expensive silk pajama set does the answering for him.

you run your hand through his damp strands of light brown hair, and rub his back comfortingly.

he pulls back from your embrace to wipe his eyes briefly.

“why do you love me?” he hiccups, cheeks wet with tears. “like- i have no money, two cats that you hate, and- and- a tiny apartment-“

“max!” you say, cutting him off from his ramblings. “listen to me.”

you look into his watery eyes, eyelashes wet with tears.

”i really don’t care if you lived in a literal dirt hole with no job, or if you were a formula one world champion. i would love you no matter what. i love your blue eyes and your pouty lips and your lisp, and your cologne, and the bread that you bake, and your little apartment and even though it may not seem like it, i love your stupid cats too.“

he chuckles wetly at the last part of your sentence.

you kiss the top of his head.

”you don’t know how much i love you, max emillian verstappen.”

a devious grin slips onto his face. he shoots you a sultry look.

“show me.”

and you do.

later, when max lays asleep on the bed, love bites on his neck, face slightly flushed, and back bare, you get up to fetch your phone.

the person you seek is only a few taps away. he picks up on the second ring, politely greeting you even though it was an ungodly hour. you tell him your request, but he hesitates slightly.

”are you sure-“

you cut your financial advisor off as politely as possible.

“yes, that’s right. i would like to buy the entirety of my mother’s companies and my father’s estates.”

the sounds of pencil scratching paper fills your ears before your financial advisor lets out a sound of approval.

“right away, ma’am!”

a/n: APOLOGIES for my week-long hiatus!! take this fic as an apology... your normal spinoff series! scheduling will resume shortly <3

also let me know if you have a better name for this piece- i was STRUGGLING trying to name this one ;-;

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #f1 imagine #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x reader #mv1 x you #📝

1K notes · View notes

chilling-seavey · 11 months ago

Text

National Anthem (gr63, ds)

↳ A/N The wonderful T-Anon (my og followers know!) introduced me into the world of Formula 1 and, of course, now I'm obsessed. What else is there to do but write something [sinfully] self-serving that incorporates both of my faves? I'm nervous to post this because last time I posted a multi-fandom fic, I got mega anon hate so I'm hoping this goes over well... 🙃

↳ Summary: As VIP guests of Scuderia Ferrari - thanks to Daniel’s best friend as one of their elite Formula 1 drivers - you have the privilege of travelling to Monte Carlo for the Monaco Grand Prix. While on this getaway, you and Daniel decide to lean into the grandeur status of the Monaco Circuit and celebrate the weekend in a way you normally wouldn’t back at home - and that comes in the form of a luxury yacht party and a handsome Mercedes driver who seemed to capture your eye from your first day in the paddock

↳ Pairings: Daniel Seavey x Reader, George Russell x Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 41.0k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, mmf threesome, one night stand, voyeurism, use of explicit language, oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation, minor choking and spitting, some derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex (whoops), no Carlos in this (so sorry, but I had to give Daniel a familiar friend in this universe), & heavy manifesting of a Leclerc Monaco Win™

In the comfortable warmth of the Mediterranean sun, you nursed your icy drink in hand to the roaring sound of racing engines speeding along the streets of Monaco. It was a place you had never expected to be, with a VIP lanyard around your neck donning the Scuderia Ferrari logo against vibrant red, sipping on cocktails and grazing on expensive dishes as you overlooked the Saturday Qualifying races for the 81st Monaco Grand Prix. The open air rooftop of the Paddock Club overlooked turn eighteen of the circuit and kept the ambiance of the elite in high spirits with lively music and an open bar, the view of the harbour and the lush mountainous city of Monte Carlo in the near distance.

Not much of a Formula 1 enthusiast yourself, you felt a bit like a fraud being so present and doted upon by the staff of the Paddock Club while you were surrounded by genuine VIPs from public figures and star-studded personnel alike. It wasn’t unfamiliar to you to be in the vicinity of the odd celebrity as your boyfriend’s career in the Los Angeles music industry scene allowed for some interactions in passing with those whom he worked with. But at least in those instances, you held at least somewhat of an understanding of what was going on. Here, watching twenty race cars weaving through tight curves and narrow streets at unbridled speeds, you were out of your element.

Said boyfriend - your own personal ray of sunshine with eyes that could arguably put the Mediterranean blue skies to shame - was finishing off his third margarita in the span of just over an hour-and-a-half since you had arrived at the rooftop. Donning an official Scuderia Ferrari t-shirt that clung to him in all the right places, he made focusing on the final qualifying race going on below incredibly difficult for you. If it was one thing you had going for you was the fact that you knew Daniel much more confidently than you knew the ins and outs of Formula 1. Despite your shameless glances at him at your side, you didn’t dare to interrupt his focus since he was completely enthralled by the race. His wide blue eyes darted across each passing car down below as he sipped the remainder of his drink, on high alert for the individual whom you owed your little VIP vacation to.

“Ah!” Daniel suddenly yelped excitedly, pointing a finger over the railing to the red racing car donning the number 25 that zipped around the corner directly in front of you and then tore up the short straight before disappearing around another bend to complete his lap. “There he goes!”

Since meeting in grade school, Daniel and Corbyn had been best friends for almost as long as they could remember. Even with Corbyn traveling back and forth between Europe and the States during his karting days as a boy and, later, as he navigated the senior categories paving his way to his dream of F1, the two of them never drifted. In fact, Daniel was the only one of Corbyn’s friends from home who stayed loyal and true through all those years, always his biggest support system outside of his immediate family, and the first one he called to share the news that he was moving to Monaco at only twenty-one. That being said, of course it was only fair that Corbyn hosted his dearest friend at some of his races whenever he could and there was no better weekend than the infamous Monaco Grand Prix.

With Corbyn living in Europe and almost always traveling the world with his lavish career as a driver for Scuderia Ferrari, you had only met him a handful of times in person when he would come to visit Daniel in Los Angeles once or twice a year. He had such a busy schedule, in fact, that even though the two of you were invited as guests of his that weekend, you still had yet to meet up with the young man who was arguably your host. Regardless, you decided to look at that weekend as a romantic vacation for two, an all expenses paid trip to one of the most luxurious countries on the globe as VIPs for a world-renowned organization.

“That’s so cool.” Daniel beamed, tearing his eyes away from the track to look at you instead before he shared the news as if it were new information, “That’s my best friend! Isn’t he awesome?”

His obvious love for his closest friend mirrored that of brothers and you couldn’t help but smile at his transparent pride, answering him honestly, “He’s incredible.”

Your agreement only had Daniel soaring and he shimmied his shoulders in a little dance as he drained the rest of his drink up his straw. Taking the glass from him as a few nearby patrons glanced over at the obnoxious slurping, you set it on the bar-height table nearby and then rested your hand on his arm.

“And, baby,” you started softly, only interrupted by Daniel’s soft ‘mhm’ in acknowledgement as he stared at you and awaited your comment, “you look so incredible.”

Daniel leaned in smoothly to kiss your lips once, twice, and before you could raise your hand up to the side of his neck for a third, he was tearing away from you at the incoming roar of the shiny red car and he pumped his fist in the air with a whoop as number 25 zoomed past again.

The final qualifying session finished at 5:00 and, promptly, you and Daniel left the festivities on the rooftop for your next destination of the evening. You still had some time to kill before your scheduled meeting time with Corbyn but Daniel was not willing to risk being late - even if he played it off like he wasn’t worried. So, sufficiently buzzed on expensive drinks from that afternoon’s excitement, you navigated your way towards the adjacent F1 paddocks hand in hand.

Another perk of those classy lanyards you were supplied with meant that you had access to a lot of the behind the scenes areas where the public wasn’t allowed. Standing at the turnstiles under the F1 branded archway, you each scanned your pass and with a display of your name and host’s name on the screen, you were able to step through. Once inside the paddock, Daniel’s hand naturally fell into yours like you were regulars and you began your slow walk along the pavement that was packed with bustling team members and media crew alike.

For as far as you could see - or so it felt like - was branded Formula 1 team equipment and technical apparatus. Down the straight alley, the right side was lined with impressive towering motorhomes for each of the teams. The motorhomes as well-designed structures acted as a way to showcase the luxury and pride of the team’s brand while also proving to be some sort of unspoken architectural competition of who could put together the most impressive hub. Most towering at three-storeys high, they each had a sense of uniqueness to them that captured your attention from the first glance; Mercedes’ clean lines and all black exterior had their silver larger-than-life logo glittering in the late afternoon sun while Haas’ curves and vibrant white coddled their modest one-storey in something easily inspired by the mechanics of racing.

Across from each of the motorhomes, across the main straight of the paddock, were the teams’ trucks and containers in which they housed and carted their equipment, necessities, and, of course, their cars. It all looked a bit overwhelming but, at the same time, neatly organized. In an industry that was always on the move, it was an absolute necessity to keep everything in order whenever possible. Team members in branded polos and official uniforms bustled back and forth between motorhomes and equipment containers, zig zagging across the spacious paved straight with a task to do. Qualifying might have been over for the public but there never seemed to be a lull in the behind the scenes work.

You and Daniel walked all the way to the end of the paddock where the Haas team was set up before looping back around to head back the way you came. You tried your best not to get in anyone’s way but there was so much happening and so many people coming and going that a few times you ended up having to let go of Daniel’s hand for a team member or two to barrel right between you. The media presence seemed to pick up as more of the drivers returned from their garages, all the journalists eagerly thrusting microphones at them to try and get their thoughts on their performances during qualifying. You only recognized maybe one or two from Corbyn’s instagram feed when the odd friend would be tagged in one of his weekend photo-dumps but you definitely didn’t have anyone memorized by name or enough to feel starstruck. Daniel, who grew up alongside one of these drivers and who worked in an industry that was just as star-studded for different reasons, didn't bat an eyelash either.

The red and silver three-storey building of Ferrari’s motorhome was second from the entrance to the paddock and there was where you were scheduled to meet Corbyn when he finished with his responsibilities. Similarly to some of the other designs along the paddock, Ferrari’s architecture mirrored that of the style that one would find in mechanic’s garages but with a touch of luxury that seemed to be ever present in the world of Formula 1. The potted topiary trees outside the tinted front windows were a nice, homey touch, and as you and Daniel fell to a stop to wait, you reached out your free hand to touch the greenery.

“It’s real.” you said softly to him.

“It looks too green to be real.” Daniel doubted you as he touched the leaves himself. “Holy shit, it is real. How do they keep it that…alive?”

“Rich Italian Ferrari water.” you suggested playfully.

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Sparkling water, even.”

From behind you, two hands rested heavily on one of your shoulders each and, startling as if you were about to be scolded for touching the shrubbery, Corbyn quickly eased your momentary anxieties with a smooth, “Nah, we actually feed them gasoline just like the cars.”

Ignoring his joke for the priority of their long awaited reunion, Daniel spun around to greet his best friend with an enthusiastic call of his name and a slap of their palms together and they yanked each other into a tight hug. You took a small step back to give them their moment, smiling affectionately at the scene as they embraced and swayed in place in a quarter circle. Corbyn was still wearing his red Ferrari race suit that was half unzipped and bunched around his waist, leaving him in only his fireproofs beneath, finished with a matching branded red Ferrari cap which he used to attempt to tame his messy brown hair. Just behind him, almost hidden by the two six-foot-tall best friends, was a young woman with a professional camera hung around her neck with the utmost care. She, too, was watching the reunion with fondness before sparing you a split second glance.

Pulling away from their hug, Daniel and Corbyn shared their secret handshake they had coined as teenagers and Daniel praised him as they did, “Great job out there today!”

Corbyn kept his wide grin on his face and set his hands on his hips with a modest shrug, “Not really, but thanks.”

“What are you talking about? P4 is really good!” Daniel protested.

“Not on a circuit where overtaking is virtually impossible but I won’t bore you with the technicalities.” Corbyn chuckled before then turning to you with an arm outstretched, greeting you by name with a quick hug and a, “So glad you could make it.”

“Of course!” you gushed, “Thank you so much for inviting us out here.”

“Don’t mention it. We’d never say no to having some more cheerleaders on deck.” Corbyn teased with a friendly slap to Daniel’s bicep. Before Daniel could offer any rebuttal, Corbyn was turning to the young woman whom he had approached with and he introduced you both by name before offering her introduction to you, “Guys, this is Tabitha: my girlfriend as well as the best photographer on the grid.”

“Co-workers to lovers, I see, I see.” you teased before directing to the young woman across from you, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” she offered politely.

“Hardly co-workers to lovers when we were both silently pining after each other since our very first day here.” Corbyn nudged her playfully, “Right?”

Her little eye roll was balanced with a bashful smile, “Yeah, yeah. Took us long enough and whatever else.”

“How cute.” you swooned.

Daniel directed his half-joking question to her next, “You keeping an eye on my best friend here? Keeping him out of trouble?”

“Oh my gosh, she’s hardly his security guard.” you smacked his arm. “I’m sure she’s got her own trouble to keep out of - especially around all these crazy men in this place.”

The two of you women shared small smiles that went over the heads of your boyfriends but she replied to your defence with a wave of her hand, “You’d actually be surprised how often I sometimes have to play mediator. Little boys, most of them.”

“Not me.” Corbyn scoffed with a cheeky smile and tossed his arm around her shoulders to pull her into his side, “I’m the easiest.”

“Yeah, okay.” she chuckled.

“So you’ve been working here, like, what? Five years now?” you asked her.

Tabitha nodded, “Sounds about right. Although I’ve pretty much breathed F1 all my life.”

“Oh, wow.” you gaped. “So this position was a dream for you?”

“Definitely.”

“I love that.” you smiled fondly at the confession of achieved dreams, offering some more information on yourself to your newly acquainted, “I just got into it recently because I didn’t want to look like a complete dunce when we came here. Other than the knowledge Daniel knows from Corbyn, I’ve been filling in the gaps by watching the Netflix show.”

The flicker of an amused smirk grazed Tabitha’s face but you didn’t quite catch it as you glanced at Daniel with a proud smile of your own. The Formula 1 docu-series produced by Netflix followed each season of the prior few years in the racing industry, giving an inside glimpse into the life of the drivers and their teams alike. To you, as an outsider, it was perfectly fascinating, but to the inside few who had to deal with the constant live filming, camera crews getting in the way, and presumptuous questions from the film industry, it was less than ideal in most situations.

Therefore, Corbyn replied to your statement with a half-joking, “Honestly, I’m surprised they aren’t here shoving cameras in our faces right now.”

Tabitha, who much preferred her art form of photography over the opposing scheme of invasive videography that seemed to be growing in popularity thanks to Netflix, added under her breath, “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

As if on her same wavelength - or maybe he noticed the way her hand tightened almost protectively around her camera lens in some metaphorical habit - Corbyn took a step away from his girlfriend to ask her with a smile, “Hey, think you can take a few pictures of my VIPs? It’d be sick to add them to my Instagram photo-dump tomorrow.”

“Yeah, of course.” Tabitha lifted her camera, “Get in there.”

Corbyn hopped the few half steps over to you and Daniel and he weaseled his way in between you, draping am around each of you with his photo-ready grin already directed towards the camera. Tabitha adjusted her settings a bit and then peered through the viewfinder of her expensive camera, meticulously framing you three in the composition with the backdrop of the Ferrari motorhome behind you. With VIP lanyards hung around your neck, you and Daniel seemed to fit right in on either side of the world-renowned racecar driver. But, just like tried and true best friends, Daniel held up four fingers with a cheeky grin, referencing Corbyn’s placement from that afternoon’s qualifying race, earning him a smack to his hand by said unimpressed driver.

With a few photos snapped, you then huddled around the camera to see the results, admiring the crystal clear focus and stunning lighting that Tabitha modestly attributed to the late afternoon sun when your praises came in influx. She promised to send them to Corbyn as soon as they returned to their hotel room later that night so he could forward them onto you. Then, when Corbyn pitched the offer to take you inside the Ferrari motorhome for a proper tour, she politely excused herself from your group with pleasantries of ‘nice to meet you’ and some passing excuse that she should get a few more shots before the drivers wrapped up and headed out for the evening.

Corbyn seemed unbothered by her sudden departure although his eyes lingered on her for a few seconds as she walked off before he turned his ever-present smile back to the two of you. With a clap of his hands together, he said, “Let’s get this tour started, shall we?”

Daniel stepped aside with a gesture of his hand, “After you.”

Corbyn hopped up the front steps of the Ferrari motorhome with grace after near years of practice and pulled open one of the double glass doors to lead you inside, “Welcome home. Or, as we say here at Scuderia Ferrari: benvenuto.”

Stepping over the threshold of the motorhome entryway, you were met with a modest size space lined with square tables which were circled by Ferrari red dining chairs across dark grey vinyl tile floors. Despite the team members that dotted the space in their uniforms and work shoes, the floors still appeared impressively spotless as if the luxury of it all could also purchase the ability to stay pristine. Motorsport had the ability to get messy fast and keeping their equipment and spaces in tip top shape only helped the cogs to turn smoother - and smooth was key in the world of F1.

Along the far wall of the cafeteria space was a bar counter that spanned about half the length of the space and on top was a neat arrangement of serving dishes topped with pastries and snacks and various cut up fruits and vegetables. A lady behind the bar in a Ferrari polo was arranging the platters and pouring drinks for crew members who came by, but it seemed that once Corbyn stepped inside, everyone’s attention turned to him. Their overlapping greetings were warm and friendly and even being a stranger amongst the group, you could easily feel the overwhelming sense of family that grew.

Once he said his quick hellos to the group, he turned his attention back to you and Daniel to begin the tour, “So, the first floor is catering. We usually always have at least snacks and things over there on the bar, but the door behind leads to the kitchen where we have genuine Italian chefs always at the ready to cook you up whatever you’re feeling.”

“For free?” you asked without thinking.

Corbyn sent you a pointed look, “Yes.”

You and Daniel exchanged impressed glances before following Corbyn across the spacious dining area to the stairs and you moved up to the second floor. When you exited the staircase, you were met with an open communal area donning red sofas and white lounge chairs as well as collaborative round tables with black leather chairs all resting atop commercial grade carpet. The LED strip lighting along the ceiling really brightened the space if not for the floor to ceiling windows on the front façade overlooking the paddock beyond. The tables were dotted with small potted plants and pads of Ferrari branded paper with matching pens on top and the walls were lined with framed memorabilia from Ferrari’s rich racing history and heritage.

“This is our lounge space.” Corbyn introduced as you circled the floor slowly on your tour, trying not to bother the few small groups of team members that were huddled around a table or chatting on the sofa, “We come up here to chill or to have informal meetings sometimes.”

“This is classy.” Daniel whistled, dragging his fingertips over the back of one of the leather chairs on the way past.

“And no lounge is complete without a bar.” Corbyn gestured to the mini bar along the back wall. Daniel agreed easily, still feeling the lingering effects of that statement from that afternoon at the Paddock Club.

The lounge was slightly more narrow than the first floor footprint as some of the space was taken up by rooms hidden by frosted glass doors. Walking along that wall which was adjacent to the front windows, the first one donned discrete and classy white lettering across the glass reading ‘team principal’.

Corbyn said quietly to the two of you, “Team principal’s office. Unfortunately off limits on this tour.”

The next frosted door led to a private meeting room which housed a fair sized oval table lined with red leather seats and a large flat screen TV on one wall for presentations and meetings. Corbyn explained how they often came in there to sign merchandise for fans or other similar projects. The third frosted door was the administration room where a few tables were set up with computers and laptops and other various equipment, three team members working away inside without even an ounce of distraction on their faces.

“The brains behind the operation take place in here.” Corbyn said, “Everything from marketing to hospitality to travel plans are all based out of this room, pretty much. They organize the logistics of when we have to start taking things down to move onto the next city for the next race weekend.”

Cocking your head to the side, you asked, “What do you mean ‘take things down’? Take what down?”

Corbyn spread his arms out, “This. The motorhome. The garages. Everything.”

Your eyes widened, “This doesn’t stay here? This huge structure?”

“No.” Corbyn chuckled at your innocent cluelessness and Daniel just smiled fondly at you as his best friend went on to explain, “We’re taking up a good chunk of the streets of Monaco right now. After race weekend we basically have to disappear like we were never here and take all of this to be set up in our next location. The motorhomes are built basically like stackable cubes for ease of transportation. Dope, right?”

You were speechless for a beat, merely blinking at him, open mouthed, “Yeah.”

Corbyn led you farther down the length of the transportable building to two final doors, each housing a shiny red number in the F1 font - 16 and 25, respectfully. Larger than life low-opacity decals were almost disappearing into the haze of the frosted glass, each being a headshot of each of Ferrari’s two drivers.

Corbyn tapped his own face on his door, “And these are our personal rooms as drivers. Our trainers can help us with some minor routine exercises in here or sometimes we have massages before the race to help loosen us up and stuff. Basically these are just our own little spaces to break away from everything if we need to.”

He slid the door open for a peek inside his room, although it wasn’t anything too crazy or impressive - just the necessities. One wall housed a red leather couch that could double as a massage table with the right adjustment to the metal bars beneath and the opposite wall had a built-in cabinet with a quaint table tucked in the corner. The landscape action shot of Corbyn’s Ferrari race car took up the length of the wall between the two but he also had taped his own polaroids and photographs to the plain white that covered the interior of his space. You noticed a few of him and Daniel and some with his family and many with the other drivers just goofing around…and only one, right in the center, of him and Tabitha in the Ferrari garage, taken as if they hadn’t known anyone was watching, just in innocent conversation. It was so candid and so natural and so calm, and yet it still made you smile.

As Corbyn closed the door again, ready to move onto the next location on your journey, you were interrupted by someone approaching and a greeting in an accent you couldn’t quite place, “Oh, we have guests.”

You and Daniel turned to see who it was, finding yourselves face to face with Scuderia Ferrari’s very own il Predestinato, the predestined one, Charles Leclerc. He was wearing the same race suit as Corbyn, of course, although his was a striking white and his matching white branded cap had a striking asymmetrical pattern of red diamonds along one side. With a warm smile framed in charismatic dimples and green eyes that nearly sparkled, he didn’t wait for Corbyn to introduce you before he was thrusting out his hand and introducing himself.

“Charles. You must be the friends’ of Corbyn’s. He has been talking about you coming all week.”

You and Daniel each shook his hand with amused expressions that were countered by Corbyn’s tisk that came from the call-out from his teammate and Daniel took the initiative to introduce the both of you himself and you exchanged pleasantries.

“So, you've been enjoying Monaco, non?” Charles asked.

“It’s beautiful.” you answered easily, “Like straight out of a movie.”

“Good to hear that.” he smiled at you with a friendly wink.

Corbyn, standing beside you, explained teasingly, “My dear teammate here makes being from Monaco his entire personality.”

“Okay,” Charles laughed humorlessly at the lighthearted dig, “says the American.”

“Mm,” you scrunched your nose and glanced over at Corbyn, “he’s got you there.”

Gaping at you, Corbyn gestured his hand out helplessly towards Charles, “You just met him five seconds ago and you’re already taking his side?”

“I always side against the Americans, don’t you know that about me by now?” you nudged him playfully.

Charles cocked his head to the side faintly, asking you, “You’re not American?”

“God, no.” you waved your hand as if to physically remove that assumption from the air between you, “I’m Canadian.”

“Then how did you meet these two?”

Daniel took the answer proudly, “Well, Corbyn’s my best friend so she knows him through me. And she and I met at a mutual friend’s Christmas party two years ago or so now after she moved to LA for work.”

You piped up with a casual correction of your boyfriend’s statement, “We actually met before that at that same friend’s birthday party that summer.”

Daniel replied to you smoothly, “But I don’t remember that so it doesn’t count.”

“Because you were fucking plastered.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You were still a solid flirt though.” you smiled and wrapped your hand around his bicep as you glanced at him lovingly for a moment, “That’s never changed.”

Daniel smiled right back and leaned in to share a fleeting kiss with you.

Charles, who had been trying to follow your quick bantered dialogue with wide eyes, glanced over at Corbyn who merely shrugged. With a casual clear of his throat, Charles reached up to adjust the white cap on his head and then reached into his room long enough to grab his bag to sling over his shoulder.

Straightened up, he told you all, “Well, I should go home. I have to rest before the race tomorrow.”

“Yes! Pole position for you at your home race.” Daniel stated.

Not giving the poor guy a second to properly process Daniel’s sentence first, you added, “Is that why you have a snazzy fit and Corbyn’s is boring red?”

“‘Snazzy fit’?” Charles chuckled half-nervously with another glance towards his teammate but with his amount of experience around other chaotic English speakers by that point in his career, he could extrapolate what you were trying to say, “Ah, yes, the special edition. It was something I was working with Puma and the team. You like it?”

“Yeah, I love it!” you agreed, “Maybe it will bring you luck tomorrow.”

“We will see.” Charles laughed modestly, “I will see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe. But we don’t want to get in your way.” Daniel said, glancing over at Corbyn, “We just follow him around; wherever he tells us to go.”

“Alright.” Charles offered his hand out to share some casual fist bumps with each of you.

As he turned, Corbyn called out his name and when he looked back, he told him, “Almost forgot: Tabs wanted to see you before you left today. She should be around the paddock. Try McLaren?”

“Okay, thanks.” Charles sent him a quick thumbs up before continuing his path to the stairs.

You smiled over at Corbyn, “Well, he was the sweetest.”

Corbyn shrugged with a soft laugh, “Yeah, I might have the best teammate on the grid. Don’t mean to brag but…”

“Only would be better if it was me, right?” Daniel reached around you to give Corbyn’s shoulder a pat.

“No way.” Corbyn scoffed, “You’d drag our team down to last.”

Before Daniel could retaliate with any form of physical banter, Corbyn scurried away with a cheeky grin and you were forced to follow after him towards the stairs for your last stop of your tour.

The third floor was actually a terrace for the drivers, the team, and any personal guests. The third of the top floor that was indoor was, as expected, a bar and lounge area that continued the same design from the rest of the interior of the motorhome. Corbyn explained how this space was used to sign new drivers and he sat himself down in the same seat he had been sitting at the table when he signed with Ferrari back in late 2018. He then ordered you both drinks at the bar - none for himself since he needed a clear mind until after the race the following day - and then led you outside the large sliding glass doors to the open air of the terrace.

Outdoor lounge furniture was laid out neatly across the rooftop with a few sun umbrellas here and there. It was generally empty on the terrace which gave the three of you a bit of privacy to talk and enjoy the Monaco sunshine and the city in the distance. You stood at the railing overlooking the paddock, skimming the hustle and bustle going on below with a sea of various coloured uniforms and equipment being moved in all directions.

Corbyn and Daniel stood just to your left in some conversation that you didn’t think you needed to be actively involved in. Instead, you took your time to people-watch in this world you were unfamiliar with, sipping your fruity cocktail from a red straw with your forearms resting atop the warm railing of the terrace. Directly down below, you saw Charles walking out of the motorhome, probably having been stopped by some team members for a chat on his short journey between the second floor and the exit since parting ways with your little group. As he stepped out onto the pavement, he raised his hand up to someone farther down the paddock and you turned to spy on who he was calling over.

You spotted Tabitha with ease between her F1 t-shirt and that camera still around her neck but more likely thanks to the impressively tall man walking at her side that helped them to stand out from the crowd. In light wash blue jeans and a snug fitted branded black t-shirt of a team you couldn’t make out from the height you were at, the Monaco breeze ruffled through his neatly styled light brown hair. Although he was wearing black Ray Ban sunglasses, his smile was bright and infectious and as they approached Charles, he reached a hand out to share a fist bump with his friendly rival.

As Tabitha spoke with Charles about whatever she needed to see him for, the other young man at her side glanced up towards the terrace of the Ferrari motorhome you were atop of as if he could sense your stare. He reached a hand up in a little wave and, although embarrassed at first that you were caught staring, you lifted your hand from where you were resting forward on the railing for a wave back. Tabitha and Charles looked up at you too thanks to their friend’s move and you offered them a little wave too. But the lingering gaze of the mystery addition kept your attention for a moment longer until he, too, was turning back to look at Charles and he slid his hands in his pockets naturally.

Someone nudging your arm had you startling slightly and you looked over at Corbyn who was on Daniel’s other side from you, “I was just talking to Daniel about what our weekend is looking like - there’s going to be a yacht party out on the water after the race tomorrow. Did you want to join?”

“Yeah, of course.” you straightened up from the railing, “Who’s all going to be there?”

“Probably just most if not all of the drivers and anyone they feel like inviting along too.” Corbyn shrugged, “T will be there so you won’t be the only girl.”

“Oh, thanks.” you scoffed lightheartedly. “Not like I’d need anyone but Daniel to keep me company.”

“That’s right, baby.” he winked at you.

“I swear, if you guys make half the grid puke overboard from bearing witness to your immense amount of drunken PDA tomorrow night, I will revoke your VIP privileges.” Corbyn teased, although he sounded like he was only half joking.

Briefly changing the topic, you didn’t dare to look in fear of giving yourself away as you asked him, “Who’s that down there?”

Corbyn and Daniel both looked over the railing to the trio below.

“With Tabs and Charles? That’s George Russell. Drives for Mercedes.” Corbyn answered.

“He’s fine as fuck.” you stated.

“Excuse me?” Daniel gaped at you, all too familiar with your blunt statements but always one to feign offence all the same.

“Not as fine as you, my beautiful sunshine.” you promised with an innocent smile and a touch of your hand to his chest.

“Yeah, you better cover your ass.” he laughed warningly.

Corbyn snorted at your banter and cocked his head in your direction, “I would assure you that he’s single but you, my dear, are not.”

“Why would I need anyone else when I already have the best?” you slung your arm around Daniel’s shoulders, “Besides, I’m allowed to look at the menu…I just can’t order.”

Your boyfriend kissed the corner of your mouth as his hand slid around your waist proudly and you glanced back down over the railing, only to see George still staring right back up at the two of you from behind the shadow of his sunglasses.

The next day at daybreak, the paddock was arguably even busier than it had been the afternoon before. At 7:30, teams and drivers were arriving to begin their preparations for race day which began with breakfast in the motorhomes. Being Corbyn’s guests, you and Daniel gladly accompanied him to breakfast despite needing to wake up at an early hour back in his house - he only had to come into the guest room to shake you both awake twice that morning. The drive to the paddock in his luxury BMW sports car was brief given that Monaco was such a small country and the rush of warm morning air helped to liven you from your previous slumber and once you arrived, the team valet took the keys to park it with a wish of luck to Corbyn.

Donning your VIP Ferrari lanyards again and, of course, matching official Scuderia Ferrari merchandise, you and Daniel walked hand in hand behind Corbyn as he led the way through the turnstiles and then towards the motorhome. Tabitha had to be at the paddock before the drivers so she didn’t accompany you in Corbyn’s car that morning but she and her camera were greeted almost immediately by Corbyn with a little wave and a beaming smile as she stood amongst some of the other media personnel just inside the entrance to the paddock. One to take her work seriously, she didn’t wave back, but you could see her smile bashfully behind her camera and the flutter of the shutter.

You leaned closer to Daniel to whisper, “I feel famous.”

“You look famous.” Daniel complimented. “Did I ever tell you that you look so fucking good in red?”

“Once or twice.” you turned away from him modestly, leaving him to only give your hand a squeeze so as to keep the PDA to a minimum for the sake of Corbyn’s photo opportunities he was walking through. It was his weekend, after all.

The three of you sat around a table in the Ferrari dining area and a waitress came over to take your orders. It was all so fancy and impressive - something you didn’t expect from a world of silly race car driving. You and Daniel treated yourselves to pancakes while Corbyn ordered something high protein and sufficient to start his day along with a smoothie packed full of extra nutrition. The nauseating colour of it made Daniel scrunch up his nose at the mere sight and Corbyn just smiled at his best friend over the rim of his glass as he took a hefty sip.

“Gives me a traumatic reminder of when you made me one and it came out my nose.” Daniel shuttered.

Corbyn nearly choked on his smoothie and he put it back on the table to cover his mouth with his hand before stumbling out an, “Oh my God, I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t.” Daniel insisted.

“When was that?” you laughed.

“Uh, few years ago now. How old were we?” Daniel glanced at Corbyn, “Twenty? Twenty-one?”

“It was the year before I signed, I think.” Corbyn thought aloud, “Because I was desperately trying to beef up before that season in F2 and I wanted you to join me in the effort.”

Daniel shook his head slowly, “It was then and there that I realized I will only go so far as to accompany you to the gym but not join you in your insane routines.”

Corbyn reached over to smack Daniel’s arm teasingly, “Just say you’re weak, bro, it’s okay.”

You replied effortlessly as you took a bite of your pancakes, “His stamina makes up for it.”

Daniel sent you a wink from beside you and Corbyn snorted and reached for his smoothie again with a tisk, “Disgusting.”

After breakfast, around 9:00, the drivers were set to begin their usual race day routines which started with their strategy meetings with their teams. Since that was strictly confidential, you and Daniel had to say goodbye to Corbyn there and most likely wouldn’t see him again until after the race. Besides, the Paddock Club and its free drinks and entertainment were calling your names. So, Daniel and Corbyn shared a quick hug and Daniel offered him some words of encouragement that had often been delivered over text message for most of the races prior. You gave him a hug too and wished him luck - insisting that he didn’t need it - to which he thanked you honestly. Then, you were parting ways.

Back outside in the familiar bustle of the paddock, you and Daniel stepped onto the pavement and let your hands fall into each other’s like second nature. With the area being so crowded, you moved slowly to navigate your way through the photographers without getting in their way and the team members who had vitally important places to be. A few incoming drivers breezed past you - some with their game faces already on - either in their own casual outfits or their branded team clothing. Your gaze followed one of them right past you as he was trailed by photographers with their cameras and a few volunteers thrusting Sharpies and various Red Bull merchandise at him for a signature and in your momentary distraction, you trusted Daniel to guide you through the crowd.

Daniel suddenly yanking on your hand had you whipping back around and stumbling to the side just in time to narrowly avoid a guy on an electric scooter screeching to a halt mere millimeters beside you. His startled expression was revealed under an orange cap that barely tamed his curly brown hair.

“My bad. You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry.” you assured him quickly.

Daniel tisked at you, gesturing with his hand that wasn’t in yours towards the young man and his team uniform he wore, “He’s wearing neon orange, how do you not see him coming?”

The guy’s expression furrowed for a moment as if he were completely taken aback and, with one foot on the pavement to stabilize himself and his scooter, he pointed to his chest and the vibrant orange McLaren polo he was wearing under a branded black vest, correcting Daniel seriously, “Uhm, it’s papaya.”

You giggled softly, licking away your smile at his slight offence.

Then, his eyes flicked down to what you both were wearing and he nodded towards your lanyards, “Ferrari guests, huh?”

“Yeah.” You thrust out your hand towards him and introduced yourself and your boyfriend by name briefly.

He took your handshake with a smile that scrunched his eyes closed in the outer corners, introducing himself in return, “Lando Norris. Driver for McLaren - also known loudly and proudly as team papaya.”

“Full introduction. You think we didn’t know you or something?” you questioned.

He cocked his head to the side, pulling his lips in a disbelieving line, “Mm, not really. That blinding red was a bit of a giveaway. Think you need an upgrade to team papaya, mate.”

Always on hot alert to anyone to dare question his best friend, even in joking passing, Daniel replied, “And why’s that?”

Lando shrugged coolly, “Everyone knows we’re the best around here.”

His statement had you suddenly remembering the Constructors Championship standings updates and history that Corbyn had shared with you over breakfast that morning and you were quick on the rebuttal, “But didn’t you finish fourth last year? And that was - if I remember correctly - after Ferrari?”

“Oh, lookey here!” Lando laughed, “I underestimated you.”

Daniel grinned and let go of your hand in exchange for his arm to wrap around your shoulders, “That’s my girl.”

“Well, don’t worry. This year’s numbers will turn out differently, I’m sure.” he leaned forward on the handlebars of his scooter, “So, I’m assuming you’re Corbyn’s guests since you’re too English to be friends of Charles’.”

“Yeah,” Daniel answered, “He’s my best friend.”

“How sweet. I think I definitely remember him talking about you.” Lando leaned in towards you both a little to say quietly, “He’s told us all your secrets.”

Daniel’s eyes must have widened in momentary surprise because then Lando was laughing and swatting his hand through the air playfully.

“Nah, I’m just pulling your leg. Corbyn’s a great secret keeper. Although, I’d argue not as good as that girlfriend of his; she knows far too much about me and has somehow still kept it all under wraps.”

Daniel chuckled, “Okay, I’ll know to hassle her about getting some dirt on you next time I see her.”

“Good luck.” Lando said pointedly. “She is a vault.”

“Makes for a great friend then.” you said.

“That is true.” Lando set his foot back on his scooter, “You guys enjoy the race. If you change your mind, we have lots of extra papaya shirts next door if you feel like cheering for the right team. But for now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already fashionably late to my strategy meeting.”

“Oh, we didn’t tell you?” you furrowed your eyebrows in his direction, “We were sent by Ferrari specifically to hold you up to sabotage said strategy.”

“Nice try.” Lando snorted, “I’ll have to hear you say that again when I’m on top of the podium later today.”

Then, he pushed off the ground with his other foot to zoom off again, calling over his shoulder,

“See you around!”

With his arm still around your shoulders, Daniel guided you towards the nearby exit of the paddock, both of you in lingering content smiles from that lighthearted interaction with a friendly stranger. Your boyfriend complimented you in passing on your wit and you slid your hand in the back pocket of his jeans with some reply about always trying to impress him. This wasn’t your part of the universe amongst the drivers and the cars, but when you were together, it certainly felt like it was you against the world.

Since it was only 9:00, you and Daniel took that time to explore some more of Monaco together and you walked the streets and found a few stores to poke into before your afternoon plans would begin. Most of the city felt as though it were closed off for the race so the traffic - both vehicular and pedestrian - felt much more than what would normally have been found in Monte Carlo. You took two hours to yourselves to shop and explore and take a few photos where you could before stopping at Corbyn’s house with Daniel’s spare key to drop off your bags so you didn’t have to lug them with you back to the track.

The Paddock Club welcomed you back in time for lunch and you and Daniel shared a table for two overlooking both the crystal blue water of the Monaco harbour as well as the race circuit carved out of the streets below. Your meal was prepared by Michelin star chefs and you and Daniel clinked your glasses of summery alcohol together in a content ‘cheers’ to your lovely weekend and sharing a ‘good luck’ to Corbyn and Charles on top of that.

A live band played across the terrace and the upbeat yet calming music was carried by the midday ocean breeze and the large screen set up on the opposite side of the rooftop was playing the recap from Saturday’s qualifying in preparation for the race ahead. Of course, Daniel’s attention was almost glued to the screen for any sort of spot of Corbyn’s impressive session, his only hint that he was aware he was there with you was the fact that his hand was resting in yours from across the table. You, instead, were focused all on him in the sunshine and the toe of your shoe gently rubbed up and down the bottom of his shin just under his pant leg, completely enamoured by merely the sight of him.

“It’s so cute how you’re so proud of Corbyn.” you spoke aloud.

Daniel tore his eyes away from the screen across the terrace to look at you with a soft smile, “He’s my brother and he’s in front of the world, doing what he loves. There’s nothing cooler.”

“Thank you for sharing this weekend with me.” you whispered as you raised his hand up from the table to kiss his knuckles and then you rested your cheek down against them.

Daniel’s gaze furrowed slightly in confusion, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, it could have been your guys’ weekend with Corbyn.”

“He’s too busy most of the time and I would have been super bored.” Daniel shrugged, “Besides, you and I always have fun together and I’m sure there’s lots more to come the next few days.”

You licked away your smile as you stared at him, “Yeah.”

Daniel gently moved his thumb from your grasp to caress your cheek softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” you whispered.

Then, he was leaning over the table to kiss your lips and you smiled against his mouth and cupped his face in your hands to keep him there for a moment longer. When he sat back down, he habitually pulled out his phone to check the time before gasping at the numbers staring back at him and he turned the screen to show you.

“12:27. We have to hurry to make the track tour.” he reminded you.

Just outside of the Paddock Club was where the track tour was picking up the VIPs. The flatbed truck was already awaiting the guests and a few were already loaded on and waiting for the tour to start in mere moments. You and Daniel showed your passes to the employees and you were permitted on board along with them.

The elite track tour was simply what the name implied: a tour around the Monaco circuit. Although the tour took the same path that the drivers would later that day, the truck that carried the guests was going much, much slower. You made some whispered joke to Daniel that you could walk faster than this thing. As you journey, facts and history of the circuit and Monaco Grand Prix’s of the past were given by a prominent figure in the Formula 1 world who could also speak to the best strategies that are key for that specific track. You hoped there wouldn’t be a quiz on who that individual was because you swore you had never heard his name in your life, but you still politely applauded his introduction along with the rest of the guests.

One lap around the track took almost an entire half hour and the truck returned you to the Paddock Club entrance where you had begun your tour. It appeared much busier in that area when you approached than when you left as if the usual bustle from the paddock had overspilled onto the edge of the track and the long red F1 branded carpet that was laid out over the pavement. You recognized a few of the drivers standing around together, chatting, between flutters of media personnel who were snapping pictures and a film crew that was weaving between small groups in preparation for the driver’s parade that was about to begin immediately following your tour.

The VIP guests were guided off the truck and ushered back towards the Paddock Club as if to prevent them from getting too distracted by any possible cases of star-struck. A few of the drivers were still struggling out from the paddock and as they were waiting, some were off to the side signing autographs for the fans thrusting pictures and merchandise through the fence - Charles among them - and he had an obvious grin across his face as he scribbled his signature for the enthusiastic fans of his homeland.

“Daniel!”

Someone calling his name had your boyfriend turning his attention from the crowds of fans through the fence to scan the smaller groups of drivers scattered about. As expected, Corbyn already had his hand up and a grin on his face, the other four drivers with him already staring in your direction as he called you over. As you approached, Daniel’s hand in yours as it had been for most of the weekend, you recognized the Red Bull driver from that morning who had distracted you enough to almost get hit by Lando’s scooter as well as Lando himself standing between him and Corbyn. The third person in their circle was George - the young man you had been eyeing from the top of the Ferrari motorhome the previous day - and he still wore those sunglasses, preventing you from getting a good look at him.

Although you could tell he was tall from your bird's eye view from the top of the motorhome, it surprised you that you actually had to look up at him a little when you took your place beside him in the group. You, Daniel, and he seemed to stand at least a few centimetres above the rest of the circle although you were sure the newly acquainted were surprised by your height.

“Aw, look,” Lando greeted as you approached, “it’s my new best friends.”

“You’ve met?” Corbyn glanced between you.

“This morning after breakfast when he tried to run me over.” you answered coolly.

The group chuckled faintly and the young man in the Red Bull uniform added, “Sounds believable.”

Lando pointed at him accusingly, “Hey, it was your fault she wasn’t paying attention.”

The stranger pressed his finger against his own chest in wide-eyed disbelief, “My fault?”

“Anyway,” Corbyn waved his hand to end the brief bickering before offering quick introductions of you and Daniel and then his circle, “You clearly know Lando already, that’s George, and this is Max.”

Hellos were shared and then George was turning to you, asking you both in the smoothest British accent you’d ever heard, “How have you been enjoying your experience so far?”

“Oh, it’s been amazing.” you answered honestly, half thankful for his sunglasses because you were sure his eyes would be as nice as the rest of him and completely distract you from your train of thought, “I was worried I’d stick out like a sore thumb around here but I think I’ve been catching on to what's going on enough to blend in at least somewhat.”

“Yeah, she threw some Ferrari statistics in my face this morning.” Lando shook his head, “Sounded just like our team.”

You held your hand to your heart in his direction, “So kind of you to say.”

“How’s your Mercedes knowledge?” George pressed cheekily.

“Weak.” you answered before explaining with a haphazard gesture across the small circle to Corbyn, “Our tour guide is a little biased.”

“Such a shame.” George shook his head in mock dismay.

Daniel shrugged, “I wouldn’t change him.”

“Hey, thanks, man.” Corbyn grinned at his best friend.

Lando made a heart with his hands, “Aw, bromance.”

Drawn back into a conversation with George, you added to your initial statement, “I think the only Mercedes knowledge I have is that you’re starting P2 today.”

“Very good.” he praised with a toothy grin.

Of course his teeth were perfectly straight and blindingly white and your hand tightened on Daniel’s at the way this stranger’s praise made your heart soar proudly.

Max then raised his hand slightly, expressing in a surprisingly serious tone, “I’m still wanting to know why I am at fault for Lando’s attempted murder.”

Despite Lando’s half-amused scoff, you replied briefly, “I was distracted by the impressive crowd of ducklings following after you through the paddock this morning.”

“And because of that, she wasn’t looking where she was going.” Daniel finished.

Max laughed lightly and nodded in understanding.

George piped up half jokingly, directing his explanation to you and Daniel, “You become world champion and suddenly people can’t get enough of you.”

You looked over at him on your direct left, sharing in his warm knowing smile for a brief moment as you desperately tried to ignore the invasive thought to just reach up and rip his sunglasses off his face. His skin just looked ridiculously soft and his fluffy brown hair that was ruffled by the seaside breeze was enticing to your fingers and you wanted a proper look at this man. Despite your itching curiosity, you were more than thankful for Daniel’s hand in yours to act as some sort of grounding in reality while he was too busy chatting with the other three. Why wasn’t George looking away from you? Why weren’t you taking the initiative to look away yourself?

It felt like ages that you were standing there in silence but it was truly no more than a few seconds before one of the F1 organizers was calling the drivers to load onto the flatbed truck for the parade, tearing you from your momentary distraction. The rest of the little circle shared brief fist bumps and goodbyes and they made their way to the truck a few paces away. George lingered back for a moment as he was at the back of their small group and he, too, shared fleeting fist bumps with the both of you.

“Are you coming to the yacht party tonight?” you asked him casually.

“Yeah, I think so.” he kept slowly walking in the direction of the truck but his body kept turning towards you both as if he didn’t quite want to leave too quickly, “Are you?”

“Definitely. We’ll see you there then.”

His lips perked up at the corner in a half smile, taking a step backwards, “Looking forward to it.”

“Good luck this afternoon.” you called after him.

“Thanks, love.” he replied smoothly and you could have sworn that if he wasn’t wearing those damn sunglasses, you would have seen him wink.

Entirely startled, you stood in near shock as he turned his back to you and hurried to join the rest of the guys on the flatbed truck, the snug black fabric of his long sleeve Mercedes shirt hugging him perfectly under the afternoon sun. You turned your head slowly to look at your boyfriend as if to see if he had heard that too, only to find him already looking at you with a peaked brow.

“Close your mouth.” Daniel laughed, using his hand that wasn’t in yours to physically nudge your chin up himself.

“Oh my God.” you glanced back towards the lineup of drivers on the flatbed truck, “Who is that man?”

“Do you want me to tie your hair back for you or what?” Daniel gave you a little shove.

“Huh?” you tore your eyes away from your obvious staring - that was definitely caught in the background of some photos - to look at your boyfriend beside you again.

“You were flirting it up with that guy.” he tisked, although his tone was entirely amused and his cocky smirk was proof enough of that, “Right in front of me!”

“Not like I’d do it behind your back.” you shrugged, glancing back towards the truck.

Daniel tugged at your hand to bring your attention back to him, standing together in the middle of the red carpet, surrounded by media crew and professionals, as he asked quietly, “Think you want to ask him to join us tonight?”

“I mean, I’m thinking about it. I just dunno if I want to lay claim on him yet; he has so much going for him already that there has to be something wrong with the guy to balance it out.”

“Okay,” Daniel chuckled, “Your call, baby. Just let me know.”

You returned to the terrace of the Paddock Club to watch the Driver’s Parade on the big screen and share some snacks and drinks, and as you did, you were analyzing every word that George was saying to the interviewer, trying to see who he was under those preposterous sunglasses. Now it was Daniel’s time to admire you as you were focused on the screen, standing beside you at the bar table with his right arm leaning against the table top and his attention all on you. He had a faint smile on his face, eyes drifting between your habitually bitten lip and your unwavering attention given to the screen in front of you.

Just before 2:00, once the driver’s parade was over, Tabitha met you on the terrace to show you where you would be watching the race. Corbyn spared nothing when it came to making sure you and his best friend had the best treatment. Tabitha had been one of the photographers on the driver’s parade so, as usual, she still had her camera around her neck and her pass clipped to the belt loop on her jeans when she approached you.

“You’re busier than the actual drivers!” Daniel joked as she stopped at your table.

“We haven't seen you almost all weekend!” you finished.

“Yeah,” she sighed with a faint smile, “but I wouldn’t change it for a second. I love what I do.”

“Got any good shots?” you asked casually.

“Think so. But you won’t get to see them until later.” she set her hand protectively over her camera, “We also need to hurry because I need to find a good spot on the track to shoot the race. Ready?”

You and Daniel took one last sips of your drinks before following after her towards the stairs and down onto street level. The drivers were gone and the track was cleared and the red carpet was rolled up and put away and Tabitha led you across the pavement and towards the nearby entrance to the pit lane. She walked quickly despite her shorter stature, as if she always had to prove her standing in a career dominated by men, and you and Daniel found yourselves almost having to jog to keep up.

Daniel broke the temporary silence among you with a joking, “So what dirt do you have on Lando?”

“Nothing.” she replied plainly.

“He said you know all his secrets.”

“I do.”

“And?”

Tabitha stopped and turned to him, so suddenly that you almost crashed right into her, and she assured him plainly, “You’re utterly stupid if you think I’m going to tell anyone his secrets - especially someone I just met yesterday.”

Daniel, eyes wide, startled, merely nodded. You licked away your amused smile as she turned back around and continued walking.

Daniel looked over at you long enough to whisper, “She’s scary.”

You picked up the pace to keep up with her and you replied to your boyfriend coolly as he walked in step with you, “Your fault for trying so hard to be funny that you landed in ‘stupid’.”

“Just shut up and hold my hand.” Daniel grumbled and snatched your hand in his.

The pit lane was organized chaos with each of the ten garages filled with mechanics and engineers and team members all working around the impressively sparkling race cars and adjacent computer systems. You followed Tabitha down the centre of the lane to avoid getting in the way of the final work being done before the race was set to begin and the third garage from the entrance of the pit lane was Ferrari’s. Along the top of the open two Ferrari garages was a bold red stripe donning Corbyn’s name, number, home flag, and headshot over one as well as the same information for Charles over the other. Entering through Corbyn’s side of the garage, Tabitha kept close to the wall as the mechanics worked on the final touches to fiery red car donning ‘25’, and you and Daniel walked single file behind her, still managing to hold hands regardless, in fear of getting separated and lost amongst the chaos.

Walking between the towers of stacked tires, she then led you up a straight flight of metal stairs to the second floor of the garage and then right away turned up another straight flight to the third floor.

You tried to take in as much as you could of the areas which normally would be off limits while also keeping up with your guide. You managed to peek around the corner on the second floor to get a glimpse of the engineer’s room and the pit wall that was race ready and overlooking the pit lane and the grandstands that were filling with fans. Corbyn and Charles would be somewhere in the area taking part in whatever pre-race warm up routines they conducted for themselves - as were the other drivers in their team’s section - but you dared not to interrupt them, wherever they were.

The third floor was the hospitality area for Ferrari’s VIPS, lined with red and black striped walls dividing up the space cozily while also donning the once blank garage in applicable branding. You emerged from the top of the stairs towards the floor to ceiling windows that were angled downwards just enough to overlook the pit lane below and opposite grandstands and Tabitha showed you where the washrooms were just to the right before turning left into the modest lounge area. A handful of other guests were already there and ordering drinks with the bartender at the bar along the back wall. Outside the sliding glass doors was a curved patio that was just wide enough to fit a few chairs in a row and when you leaned over the railing, you could look directly down at the spot where the Ferrari cars would pull up for their pitstop mid race.

“You okay here then?” Tabitha asked from the doorway as you and Daniel took a moment to admire your new location and view of the Monaco harbour and the mountainous city of Monte Carlo in the near distance.

You turned around to face her, “You don’t wanna hang with us for a bit?”

“I don’t really like hanging around Ferrari areas.” she admitted softly, “These guys are not my biggest fans since they found out about Corbyn and me.”

You frowned, “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” she scoffed before smoothly changing the subject, “So, do you need anything else?”

Daniel shook his head, “No, I think we’re okay. Thanks.”

“Here,” Tabitha stepped forward and held out her hand to you, “let me give you my number in case you need something. I won’t be able to leave my spot during the race but I can try to answer if it’s important.”

You took your phone from your purse, unlocked it, and then handed it to her as you said, “That’s amazing. You’re amazing. Thank you so much.”

With Tabitha’s phone number in your contacts, you said your goodbyes and she hurried off as fast as she had led you there. Standing at the railing, you watched her emerge from the garage below and continue down the pitlane to make it to the starting line before the opening ceremonies would begin.

You and Daniel helped yourselves to the open bar and returned to the balcony for your impressive view, trying to get a glimpse of anything interesting going on beneath you. But, not long later, the cars were emerging from the garages one at a time, breaking through the air with testing rumbles of their engines as they made their way towards the track. It was only a matter of time now.

The drivers did one reconnaissance lap around the circuit to test the track conditions and the quality of their car before each stopping in their assigned grid slot given from the results of qualifying the previous day. Their mechanics had met them there and the section of track around the starting line was packed full of people in various coloured uniforms, circling each car like bees to a flower. You and Daniel stood inside the lounge to watch the happenings on the large screen tv that was hung on the wall, admiring the flurry of red around the matching cars in P1 and P4 and trying to spot either of the two Ferrari drivers. Of course, you didn’t bring attention to the fact that you were also trying to get a glimpse of the driver who took up P2 beside Charles, squinting your eyes to see anything amongst the bustle of mechanics in black and teal.

At quarter to three, the Prince’s Orchestra lined up ahead of the starting line and the drivers were arranged together in two rows a step behind the Prince and Princess of Monaco. Charles, since it was his home race, had the opportunity to even stand ahead of the royal family, donning his custom white and red race suit and designer sunglasses; in all honesty looking more like the Prince of Monaco than the real one who stood behind him.

The band began to play the national anthem and Charles stood tall and proud at the head of the group. The camera panned over the lineup of drivers who were all standing with their game faces on - except Corbyn who spotted the camera near him and to which he gave a little wink. Daniel let out a little scoff at his best friend’s antics. You tried not to do the same but because of the fact that George, two spots down from Corbyn, was still wearing those damn sunglasses.

Then finally, once the track was cleared and the mechanics had removed their equipment away from the cars, it was mere minutes until the race would begin at the top of the hour.

As the drivers prepared in the last few moments, one of the Ferrari team members brought over headsets and radios for each of you in the hospitality suite and introduced how they worked and how to switch between the two channels, giving you a chance to eavesdrop on the discussions between the drivers and their engineers. Of course, Daniel switched his to Corbyn’s channel right away - as did you - and you headed back onto the balcony to claim your seats. Although, once the five red lights shut off and the deafening roar of twenty engines and the screech of tires against pavement could be heard across Monaco, you were drawn to your feet and right to the railing.

Although you could listen in on the radio conversation and see the best clips of the race on the TVs that lined both the hospitality suite and projections for the grandstands outside, nothing beat the real-life vision of red turning that corner right in front of you, just across the pit lane, whizzing in front of the packed grandstands to the excitement of the crowd as Charles stayed firm at the lead of his rivals. But right behind was that sleek black Mercedes that threatened him by only a few shrinking seconds, the driver of mystery still ultimately hidden from your curious view. You sipped your drink, eyes following the two leaders closely as the rest of the group trailed behind them.

Max and Corbyn were ridiculously close together at your first sight of them. Corbyn was desperate to try and take over into third but Max was strongly holding his own, especially with the rest of the drivers clogged up behind them and nipping at their heels. The first three laps or so were that mess of chaos where the cars were a colony of colourful ants and it had you covering your eyes for half of it, claiming that the sight of them all slowing down to a crawl and bumping into each other around the corners gave you too much of an ick to watch. Maybe you needed a drink.

You lingered at the bar as the bartender mixed your cocktail and you listened to Corbyn’s crackling radio discussion with his engineer through your headset, complaining about Max constantly cutting him off and trying to nudge him off the track every time he tried to get past. He had reiterated to you and Daniel multiple times that this circuit was nearly impossible to overtake your opponents so you applauded his dedication to the cause. Glancing up at the TV on the wall, you wondered where Tabitha had placed herself around the track to get those best shots of the race. Part of you wanted to message her to ask but you knew better than to interrupt her.

By the time you returned to the balcony to your rightful spot beside Daniel, there seemed to be a bit more space between the cars to allow for some breathing room. Not that they liked that, so you figured. Charles was still keeping his spot in P1 and starting to really put more of a distance between him and George. That only meant that Max - previous multiple World Champion - was gaining on him with his hungry eyes on that slipping P2. Although you were there to support Corbyn, you couldn’t help but silently hope that Charles and George could both hold their own - especially given that it was Charles’ home race.

About a third of the way through the race with not much overtaking but certainly a good amount of collisions for the bulk of the drivers, Corbyn was still sitting in P4 and discussing coming in for a tire change and you and Daniel listened to his impressively professional explanation of how the car was feeling through every turn and on every straight to his engineer. Lando was gaining on him but he had a few seconds worth of gap between them so Corbyn decided to take the opportunity. At the confirmation call of ‘box, box’ through the radio from the engineer to alert the pit crew, Daniel nearly threw himself over the railing to peer down the pit lane in anticipation of Corbyn’s entrance.

The red 25 glided effortlessly into the pit lane and right into the painted lines that were framed by matching red-clad mechanics, only taking a fraction of a second to change the tires and send him on his way, barely enough time for Daniel - a few drinks deep by that point in the day - to shout enthusiastically down towards his best friend who certainly couldn’t hear him. Taking off again, Corbyn had to stick to the speed limit in the pit lane but he pushed it the most he could without breaking the rules, desperate to not give up his spot to Lando. And when he pulled out of the pit lane, the McLaren was neck and neck with him.

As if spotting each other at the same time, they both pressed onwards to try and overtake the other. Close friends off the track, friendship was a mute point during a race, and the two of them threatened to push the other into the barriers if they got too close through the first turn out of the pit lane. The Monaco streets weren’t welcoming to two cars at the same time and the faint grazing of Lando’s orange paint against the edge had him nudging back against Corbyn’s left side to try and get back in the centre as they made their way up the straight side by side.

Although you had the headset on that gave you full access to Corbyn’s radio, the TV playing just inside the suite had the full live broadcast, meaning you could hear Lando’s frustration to his own engineer loud and clear,

“What is this idiot doing?”

Daniel, as if he was being asked the rhetorical question personally, answered without tearing his eyes away from the big screen battle across the track, “Winning.”

And through your headset came a just as agitated Corbyn, “Can this guy get out of the fucking way?! No one knows how to leave space!”

“He’s pushing me off!” Lando argued from the TV.

And as Corbyn managed to pull ahead going into the next turn and regain his spot in P4, the less than polite name Lando shouted at the Ferrari driver was bleeped by the broadcast. You and Daniel shared a high five as some of the other guests in the suite cheered at the Ferrari success.

But up at the front of the line up, Charles was breezing on through the streets that shouted his name; people lined up across balconies with flags and banners and packed along the mountainside until every space between the green of trees was taken up by people in glorious red. He was riding on the high of having his hometown behind him, letting the cheers from his crowd glide him around the sharp corners and sizzling pavement that he knew like the back of his hand. He felt invincible.

George was certainly not an issue for Charles as he was starting to struggle on his tires. He was in desperate need to change them but with Max breathing down his neck, it was hard to give it up. If nothing else, for Charles, George’s ability to keep Max from squeezing by him along those narrow streets was a blessing in disguise. Finally, the top three had no choice but to come into the pits to change their incredibly worn tires and it seemed as though each of their engineers had them stack up together to prevent someone behind them taking their place.

You and Daniel watched over the railing as Charles, George, and Max came gliding into the pit lane at the same time and slipped between their markers framed by their assigned mechanics, the Ferrari garage nestled right between the ones of Mercedes and Red Bull. It was a matter of seconds to see who would finish their tire change first and it felt as though everyone on your balcony was holding their breath. There was no fraction of a second that could have been spared in a moment like this.

Ferrari seemed to be on the ball that day - sometimes a rarity - and Charles whizzed away from the garage in an impressive 2.2 seconds with Max pulling up behind him at 2.5 seconds. That only meant that when George pulled out of his pit stop after a painful 3.5 seconds, he was now in third. His displeased comments through the radio broadcast was obvious with his overly dramatic “nooo” quickly followed by a bleeped profanity, although you couldn’t bite back your smile at his silly little accent as he finishing his displeasure with an exasperated, “oh my goodness.”

Charles managed to hold off Max for the following laps although there were too many close calls for comfort that had you physically turning away from the screens with your hands over your eyes. For someone who hadn’t a single clue about anything to do with Formula 1 before the trip, it was certainly easy for you to get into it and your dramatic reactions had Daniel laughing at your obvious change of opinion about the sport. It didn’t take a pro-racer to know that Charles deserved to win his home race more than anything, although maybe it was your inexperience that claimed that Max should share the glory of constant wins. It wasn’t that easy, so you were told.

The last lap had you holding your breath, eyes glued to the grandstand’s screen across the way, watching Charles lean into every curve just enough to keep Max a half pace behind him. And when they came zooming around the corner and along the track in front of you, your entire balcony was screaming his name, drowned out by the sound of the engines and the heartbeat of Monaco behind him.

Eyes glued to the screens for the last curve of the race, the entire country was holding its breath. The Ferrari team emptied from the garage and rushed to the track-side, climbing up on the fences and trees and cheering on the racing red as he sped down the final straight of the race. Max was fire on Charles’ heels, only giving him that spark to push him harder, faster, flying past the checkered flag as the voice of the commentator rang out across the country,

“And he brings it home! Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix!”

You swore your ears rang with the cheers of the public and the bursts of fireworks over the circuit and the Ferrari garage nearly vibrated with the celebration that immediately ensued. The shouts from the floor below you at the pit wall brought a smile to your face over a team you hardly knew, hardly cared about, and yet you threw yourself into Daniel’s arms in a celebratory hug and he lifted you right off the ground with a beaming grin of his own. Charles’ shouts of joy over his radio broadcast crackled and broke from how loud, full of pure passion and overwhelming emotion from that long awaited, long dreamed about win.

It was a close finish with Max achieving P2 by only a few tenths of a second behind Charles while George managed to keep his P3 with only a few seconds of a gap. Corbyn kept his fourth place finish but through your headset still synced with his channel, you heard him hurriedly ask his engineer where Charles placed before even celebrating his own points scored.

“Charles placed P1 today.”

With a whoop of his own, Corbyn shouted his own adrenaline fused celebration for his teammate, “Yes! That’s my boy!”

The Ferrari employees in the hospitality suite had you return your headsets before they led you all to the opposite side of the building and a terrace balcony, packed like sardines among guests of the other teams to oversee the lively festivities and the end of the race as the remainder of the grid crossed the finish line. You peered down upon team members and mechanics all donning red uniforms, desperate for that first look of your glorious winner, held back only by metal fences. With one final lap completed as the rest of the grid finished their race, the podium finishers finally pulled their cars up to their markers at 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place, respectfully, and Charles took a second as if to compose himself, holding his gloved hands to the front of his helmet in near disbelief. The moment he lifted himself out of his car and stood atop it to greet his hometown crowds, the sound was almost deafening as the balconies and hills were filled with people cheering for him behind the bursts of fireworks, banners with his name fluttering from railings and rooftops. Charles, standing on top of his car still in his helmet, looked up to the sky for a moment and held his hand to his chest, basking in the moment, before he threw his proud fist in the air and jumped onto the pavement and stumbled right over to his team.

As Charles threw himself over the metal fence into the welcoming arms of his team, it nearly brought a tear to your eye at the emotion of it all - and you hadn’t even been around to see his struggles or his hard work throughout his career and the years that led up to it. Your attention was so focused on Charles’ moment that you almost forgot the other podium important winner of the evening as George had emerged from his car behind the 3rd place marker, greeted his team, and finally removed his helmet and passed it over to one of the Mercedes team members there to assist him before tugging off his balaclava to reveal his messy head of light brown hair and earned you your first glimpse of his face. You might not have known much at all about Formula 1 but in that moment it was safe to say you were suddenly quite starstruck.

His hand raked through his matted waves to push his sweaty hair out of his face, revealing the full effect of his handsome existence. His cheeks were flushed the softest pink from the race and his skin was glistening in sweat under the bright lights that lined the track under the early evening sun and his precise jawline flexed with the lick of his lips as he arranged himself out of his racing accessories. What his sunglasses had previously hid during the weekend were the biggest, most angelic aquamarine eyes you had ever seen - aside from Daniel’s brilliant blues - and you swore that they literally sparkled like you were in a scene in a Disney movie, batted behind long, thick eyelashes that would make makeup companies envious. He was a vision.

“Holy shit,” you exhaled, completely unable to tear your gaze away from the handsome stranger as you settled into confirmation rather than your hesitation from earlier that afternoon, “there’s nothing wrong with him.”

Daniel, who was pressed up so close to you in the packed crowd right up against the railing of the balcony with his arm tight around your waist, had already anticipated said confirmation - he knew you too well after all - and he merely smirked at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek. But it was far too busy and far too noisy to even attempt any conversation there and then so he didn’t speak to it, wanting to linger in the moment of celebration that filled the air for the time being. You had all night, after all.

A few official media personnel were right there to quickly interview the top three, beginning with George in P3. You had a perfect line of sight down over the dense crowd to right where he was standing with the interviewer and the modest film crew and the way he spoke into the microphone projected his voice across what felt like the whole city of Monte Carlo. He spoke so eloquently and contently, that wide smile ever present on his face as he reviewed his performance with grace with the interviewer. You clung onto Daniel’s waist a little tighter without realizing, in some sort of trance as you admired the handsome stranger that you were desperate to lay claim upon. Only time would tell.

Although the rest of the grid was back at the pit lane after the race and were there to be weighed and rested for a moment, the podium winners had their post-race processes done in the podium building just outside the track limits while the preparations behind the scene for the podium ceremony were hurried to be set up. With Max and Charles having completed their interviews, the three of them walked together into the building and out of sight, but you managed to catch George’s congratulatory pat to Charles’ back as they disappeared from view.

As you waited for the podium celebration to begin, you took that moment to scan the crowd below and the huddle of photographers and film crew on the terrace a storey or two beneath you, locating Tabitha at the front of them all. She was half squashed by the crowd of grown men with their noisy cameras, but she held her front and centre spot steadfast, her prized camera held securely in hand and ready to go the moment the ceremony would begin. Daniel’s hand didn’t stray from your waist the entire time you waited, holding you close, and between his touch and the anticipation for your exciting plans for later, you were antsy to get out of the crowd and get the night started.

Finally, with the Prince’s Orchestra back in formation on the track below and the Royal Family lined up along the second level of the podium above, the ceremony could commence. The commentator announced George first as P3 and he came out smiling and waving to the crowd in a black Pirelli cap over his messy hair, embroidered with his third place title along the side. You may have applauded a little louder than most in your area but Daniel just held you tighter, like you were his winning trophy. Then, Max was announced for P2 in his own matching embroidered hat and he came out with a few modest waves as he made his way to his tier of the podium. When Charles was announced as the race winner, the city went into uproar. From the large screens projecting the ceremony, you could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as he played it off with a beaming, honest smile and two handed waves to his homeland.

The three of them removed their hats for the national anthem of Monaco to be played by the orchestra and Charles, hands behind his back, held his chin up with a faint smile on his face and his gaze focused upwards as if he were lost in a thought or a memory of his own. After the national anthem, the Royal Family presented the trophies with the first one to Charles, then Max, and then George and photos were taken of the winners together. Once the trophies were set safely to the side, they each reached down to grab their large bottles of champagne they were provided with to pop and spray in celebration, always liking to make a ridiculous mess out of each other in good natured celebratory fun. Max and George seemed to gang up on Charles who ended up turning away with his shoulders to his ears in a beaming grin, trying to escape their bombardment the best he could. But the three of them were plenty soaked by the end of the ceremony and they gathered their trophies and the empty bottles and waved their last goodbyes to the crowd before retiring back inside the building.

Daniel leaned in close to you so you could hear him over the noise of the crowd, “Ready to go?”

You blindly searched for his hand without tearing your eyes away from the shadow of George just inside the glass walls of the podium building, “Yeah.”

Your boyfriend pulled you through the crowd that still hung around the balcony to linger on the excitement of the celebration but you had places to be and people to meet. You followed the same stairs back down to street level that Tabitha had led you up earlier that afternoon and in a bit of a tipsy haze, you burst out into the pit lane in giggles, buzzing from a successful race. Most of the cars were back in the garages by then and the mechanics were back at work and not paying you any mind as the two of you hurried down the empty pit lane hand in hand.

“Race you.” Daniel threatened, not even waiting for your response before he was ripping his hand out of yours and taking off towards the paddock at some attempt of a run.

“Daniel!” you gasped, your voice nearly echoing across the stark emptiness of the once lively track and you ran after him as fast as you could.

Life felt so freeing in that moment, wearing your matching Ferrari shirts donning Corbyn’s number and running over famous Grand Prix streets like you were the drivers of your own destiny, you stretched your arms out wide and let the fresh harbour breeze whizz past you. Your laugh was taken to the ocean, your joy heard and cherished by your boyfriend who suddenly slowed down as he approached the pit lane entrance and he turned around to face you, chest heaving, as he walked backwards for a few steps. You slowed down as you approached him and he held his hands out to you to catch you, sharing in your breathless laughter and wide grin and you leaned in to steal a greedy kiss from his soft lips.

“I love you so much.” you beamed, throwing your arms around his shoulders even as you both walked slowly in step with each other.

“I love you more.” Daniel gave your bum a pat, “Want a piggyback?”

“Yes.”

You let him out of your embrace so he could turn around and crouch down a bit, just enough for you to hold onto his shoulders and jump onto his back. He grasped your shins and pulled your legs around his waist, hopping in place to hike you up a little higher before he was continuing on your journey towards the paddock. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head against his, letting him carry you across the streets of Monaco to the nearby paddock.

Although the race was over and the grandstands were emptying and the public was going home, the behind the scenes world was still very much lively. The night wasn’t quite over. The podium winners had their press conference to attend while the rest of the drivers would have brief interviews in the media pen to quickly discuss their race performances. Even moreso, each team’s personnel were already on track to taking down their motorhome and garage setups in anticipation for the next destination, no second spared anywhere in Formula 1 - both on the circuit and off.

Once inside the paddock, you and Daniel lingered outside the Ferrari motorhome to wait for Corbyn and Tabitha to meet you so you could start to get ready for the evening’s festivities. Daniel was buzzing to see his best friend and congratulate him on P4 and his hard fight he put out for the full two hours; and the drinks he had consumed throughout the day helped him to literally be bouncing on the balls on his feet as he looked up and down the paddock in search of Corbyn.

Then suddenly, like a beacon in the evening light, Corbyn in his brilliant red Scuderia Ferrari race suit appeared farther down the bustling paddock with Tabitha walking proudly at his side. His suit was unzipped and resting lazily around his waist to reveal his matching long sleeve fireproofs beneath and he donned a match red Ferrari cap over his unruly helmet hair. At the sight of him, Daniel nearly jumped off the ground before making a beeline straight for him and Corbyn broke into a jog to meet him halfway, the two best friends grinning over their own ridiculousness as they met in a hard embrace in the centre of the paddock straight.

“That was fucking amazing, bro!” Daniel praised loudly as they pulled out of their hug and he held a secure grip on Corbyn’s shoulders to give him a little shake, “You are a beast.”

Corbyn laughed bashfully at his best friend’s enthusiasm before replying modestly, “P4’s nothing great, really, but thanks, man.”

“Nothing great? Are you kidding?” Daniel shook him again. “Incredible.”

“Okay,” you grabbed Daniel’s arm as you joined their reunion and your boyfriend took a reluctant step back, “let’s not give the poor guy a concussion.”

“Incredible was Charles’ win today.” Corbyn corrected smoothly, “He’s been waiting so long for that moment…it’s so well deserved, and everyone on the grid knows it. Everyone is fucking buzzing…tonight is going to be insane.”

“Then let’s hurry up and get out of here.” you offered.

“Yeah!” Corbyn agreed, “I just have to change out of this. Gimme a few seconds. Be right back.”

He left Tabitha with a kiss to her cheek before hurrying up the few steps into the Ferrari motorhome to return to his streetwear. It was mostly empty since most of the main crew was still out in the garage or celebrating around the podium so Corbyn wasn’t met with too many distractions on his journey to his driver’s room. Outside, you and Daniel were left with Tabitha who already had her camera equipment packed up in a modest professional bag draped over her shoulder and she asked some expected polite question about how you enjoyed the race.

“I was surprised I caught onto it so quickly.” you confessed, “But I guess it’s repetitive enough to get the jist pretty easily. Did you get any good shots? I saw you at the podium ceremony.”

“Oh, yeah, I think so.” she looked down at her camera bag habitually, “I never look until I get home though so I can see them all properly on my laptop and get to editing.”

“You’re coming tonight though, right?” you asked almost worriedly.

“Yeah, of course. I’m not much of a partier but I think tonight is a special occasion.”

You sighed with a smile, “Phew, I was worried I’d be the only girl.”

“Nah.” she shared a small upturn of her lips with you.

Daniel, as if unable to hold himself back any longer, blurted out, “Corbyn did so amazing, right? That head-to-head with Lando was fucking stellar.”

Tabitha couldn’t help but laugh faintly at not only Daniel’s obvious exuberance but also your picture-worthy expression of playfully-annoyed amusement at your boyfriend’s thrill and she humoured him enough to nod, “Yeah, he’s always amazing.”

You ruffled your hand through Daniel’s hair and gave him a gentle shove of his head, “You’re fucking zazzed and we haven’t even gotten to the party yet.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Daniel did a little dramatic loop around you before grabbing you around the waist in an attempt to pick you up. Squealing, you ran out of his grasp and around behind Tabitha to put distance between you.

“I do not really want to be in the middle of this.” she stated as the two of you stared over her head at each other, trying to out smart the other in who was going to make a move first.

Ignoring her, you darted around her and dodged Daniel’s reach of his hand out towards you but he grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you back against his chest, swallowing you up in his arms. You tried to squirm away but he had you tightly, arms locked around you with your back to his chest and his lips pressed a kiss to your cheek and then your neck and you smiled fondly at his affection, even in the middle of the paddock. No one seemed to pay any mind anyway - they were all in their own worlds.

As you waited for Corbyn, standing there wrapped up in Daniel’s arms, your attention was drawn to the sleek black motorhome directly beside Ferrari’s as someone walked out of the front sliding glass doors. George’s teammate was heading out for the evening and his presence in his black Mercedes t-shirt had you silently remembering George himself and wondering what he was up to at that moment. Leaning your head back against Daniel’s shoulder so you could look at Tabitha adjacent to you, you asked your question aloud,

“When are the top three coming out?”

She checked her watch before answering you, “They should be in their media conference by now. They probably won’t be done for a little while.”

Playing it off, you looked back towards the Mercedes motorhome and your eyes followed George’s teammate past you and towards the exit, acknowledging her response with a casual, “Okay.”

Just then, Corbyn emerged from inside and he hopped down the few front steps and joined your group, “Ready?”

You hadn’t noticed Tabitha’s slightly suspicious glance at you thanks to your seemingly random question since you were too busy taking Daniel’s hand and accepting his fleeting kiss. Oh, you were so ready for the night to get started.

You couldn’t make it back to Corbyn’s quick enough despite the fanciness of his sports car in which he navigated the traffic dense streets of Monaco thanks to the Grand Prix shutting down half of the roadways. His modern hillside house welcomed you as the sun dipped lower onwards the horizon and his car locked with a chirp as the four of you climbed the front porch steps and he led you inside. The four of you split up to start to get ready for the party, you and Daniel closing the door to the guest room behind you.

Right away, he was pulling off his Ferrari shirt and tossing it onto the bed while you stalked behind him slowly from a few paces away, finally alone together and thus having your opportunity for a private conversation out in the open. Daniel crouched down to lift his suitcase up from the floor and he set it on the foot of the bed to rifle through a little easier, trying to find something to wear for the yacht party.

“Were you planning on showering before the party?” he asked without looking up. “I feel like I might…I’m a little sweaty.”

“Yeah,” you answered softly, falling to a stop beside him, “we can shower together if you want.”

Daniel looked up at you and licked away his playful smirk at your offer, “Sounds like a great idea.”

When he turned back to his suitcase, you cleared your throat quietly and shifted in place, staring at his profile that was permanently etched in your mind. Your heart was racing with the possibilities of what could ensue that night and although it had been a brief conversation you had with your boyfriend before leaving for this trip, the concept of taking the initiative to bring it up again felt a little shameful.

“So,” you started, “remember what we said before we came here?”

Daniel chuckled, “That’s specific.”

You pressed on, “About finding something wild and spontaneous to do that we normally wouldn’t do at home?”

Still busy rifling through his clothes in his suitcase, he didn’t offer you much more of a response than an encouraging, “Uh huh?”

“I have an idea.” you said.

Daniel glanced up at you, paused a moment as his eyes lingered on yours as if he were trying to read your mind before you could speak a word, but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was impossible to miss, “Oh really?”

You knew him well enough by then. He was going to make you say it.

“And what idea might that be?”

“Tonight, at the party,” you started, keeping your voice down so as to not risk Tabitha or Corbyn accidentally overhearing, “I think I want us to ask George if he wants to join us for the night.”

“You think?”

You huffed in half-frustration, sometimes hating the way he pushed you just to see the way you blushed at your own confessions of truth, but you corrected yourself the way he wanted, “I want us to invite George to join us tonight.”

Daniel slid a step closer to you with his eyes lingering on your lips as his hand ghosted over your waist, taunting you a little more, “Join us where?”

“Fuck you.” you laughed lightly behind the heat of your cheeks as you turned your head away from him, “You’re making me nervous.”

“You get all nervous from me looking at you and yet you expect to be all brave and invite another guy to fuck you? You’re gonna get all shy and blushy and mumbly around him and not even be able to get a word out.”

“Will not.” you insisted. “I’ll just need another drink…or two…first.”

“Mhm?” Daniel pulled you closer and you tucked your arms around his body habitually as he stared into your eyes, “How are you going to ask him?”

“I don’t know.” you whispered, “I’ll see how the moment feels.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Daniel’s fingers ran up the length of your arms and then down and back up again before he was tucking your hair behind your ears and speaking to you softly, “It’s gonna be so fucking hot watching another man fuck you, knowing he can’t have you because you’re all mine.”

You bit your lip to hide your growing bashful grin at his possessive words and his nose bumped lightly against yours with how close you were. Your fingers scratched gently over the warm skin of his lower back and you slid your hands around his waist to grab onto the belt loops of his jeans to pull him impossibly closer. He let out a sharp exhale against your cheek at your move as his palms cradled your face and the sides of your neck, keeping your eyes on his.

“And if you ever feel like it’s too much, you tell me right away and we stop.” you whispered to him.

Daniel nodded, “I know. You too.”

Your hands ran up his abs and the shape of his figure over his warm skin, feeling his body against yours like that, taunting you with what you were sure to have later. You were already flustered from the way he was looking at you and speaking to you, his voice in that rich low tone that made your knees weak, but the anticipation for the mystery man with the aquamarine eyes and dazzling smile had your insides fluttering impatiently. It was a whole big mess of hormones swirling inside you, desperate to be released. Just a little more waiting.

As if thinking the same thing, Daniel sighed softly, “If we keep standing here staring at each other like this, I’m just gonna have to throw you on this bed and fuck you right now.”

Giggling, you pushed him away from you as you took a step back to leave space between the two of you and you turned for the ensuite bathroom, pulling your shirt over your head as you enticed him, “Come join me in the shower and we can warm up.”

Impressively, your shower was managed without too many wandering hands and intrusive thoughts although your steamy kisses between the shared responsibility of washing certainly didn’t make it easy. Daniel even helped to shave your legs for you and he helped to moisturize your warm skin fresh out of the shower afterwards, leaving you to work on your hair as he got dressed. After drying your hair, you took your time to straighten it and lightly hairspray it in place, making sure there wasn’t a flyaway to be seen.

Daniel lingered in the bathroom doorway as he did up his belt, watching you get ready and how you leaned over the vanity to meticulously apply your light makeup and made sure you finished it off with a sufficient amount of setting spray. Your attention to detail had your boyfriend smiling fondly with a soft shake of his head and he disappeared back into the bedroom to pull on his teal, grey, and white plaid shirt over his white t-shirt. You were right behind him, ridding your towel for your bra and panties and Daniel gave your bum a smack on his way past to take his turn in the bathroom mirror.

Once you were dressed and ready to go, Corbyn and Tabitha had been waiting for you for at least a good thirty minutes downstairs. They certainly had some teasing things to say about you both needing so long to get ready but you weren’t phased - you had very specific plans to prepare for that required extra attention in getting ready. At least they waited until you were done to call the taxi otherwise the poor driver would have been sitting there for a while.

It was just past 10:00 when you arrived at the marina and the once bright blue sky was an inky black, smudged into the rippling water of the sea along the horizon. The lights of Monaco were hard to appreciate from your position on land but as you stepped out of the taxi at the docks, you turned to look over your shoulder at the small city that thrived with nightlife of the rich and famous. You felt both out of your element and right in the middle of it all in the same. Another taxi pulled up beside yours and you waited with Corbyn and Tabitha so they could greet their newly arrived friends.

The young man who stepped out of the car was already all smiles as he saw who was awaiting him, his light brown hair fluffed neatly across his forehead and his light dusting of facial hair trimmed to a modest and tidy length. His smile was big enough to scrunch his eyes shut at the corners and if you didn’t know better, you would think he was part of Fashion Week with his designer attire of a crisp button up under a name brand letterman jacket over ironed slacks. Corbyn met him first with a fist bump and a passing ‘hey, man’ and then Tabitha was greeted by him by name,

“Tabitha,” he nodded in her direction, his words laced through a very obvious French accent, “Hello.”

“Hey, Pierre.” she smiled calmly at him.

“Funny seeing you without a camera on your neck.” he teased lightly.

“You’ve seen me plenty of times without my camera.” she reminded him lightheartedly although he just laughed softly at his own joke before she changed the subject, “Good race today.”

“Not my best, but thank you.” he shrugged, “Very good for Charles.”

“Agreed.”

Corbyn then introduced you and Daniel to Pierre, driver for the Alpine team, and you could remember them from their striking pink branding. Once hellos were shared and the five of you continued down the pier to locate the yacht, you trailed behind with Daniel, hand in hand, and you leaned into him to ask in a whisper, “Is everyone in this damn sport attractive or is the expensive alcohol I’ve consumed today giving me rose coloured glasses?”

“I think the alcohol has worn off.” Daniel reminded you, “So I think everyone’s just attractive.”

“Nice.” you muttered with a shake of your head.

Although the harbour was full of yachts of various sizes, the one that was docked at the end of the pier with all its lights on and already housing a few individuals on its deck that leaked thudding party tunes assured you that there was no question as to your destination. From the top deck, someone shouted down to you as you approached the end of the pier and you all looked up to see the brunette with a wide grin leaning over the railing.

“Oi! Corbyn! My brother! You made it!” he shouted down vivaciously, his already clearly tipsy words jumbled within a thick Australian accent. “Let me come down there and say hello!”

Corbyn turned to look back at you and your boyfriend, preparing you quietly, playfully, “Prepare to meet Daniel Ricciardo, the life of the party and arguably the protagonist of F1 according to the Netflix series.”

Pierre honestly laughed in agreement, lingering a pace behind Corbyn and Tabitha as they started to board. He gestured you and Daniel first to which you thanked him and then accepted your boyfriend’s hand to assist you across the gap to step onboard. By then, the host of the yacht party and ultimately the unofficial greeting committee had made it down to the main deck and Corbyn introduced you.

He shook Daniel’s hand then yours, “Good to meet ya, good to meet ya-” he then went to hold his hand out to Pierre who was behind you but then immediately took it back, “And I already know ya.”

“Good to see you too.” Pierre scoffed lightheartedly before excusing himself to join one of the groups of other drivers standing at the back of the yacht.

“So glad you could make it; the more the merrier!” the host expressed loudly, “Come, lemmy show you around. Give you the grand tour.”

You followed the Australian Daniel farther onto the yacht and through the sliding glass doors into the main interior space that was clad in black trim and dark wood finishes, completed with crisp white leather upholstery that absolutely drooled luxury. The 80” flatscreen along the right wall faced a spacious white sectional sofa and matching dark wood coffee table although everyone lingered outside instead, choosing the natural beauty of the Monaco harbour over television. Up two steps was the dining area with a marble waterfall table for eight that was nestled beside the large paned window overlooking the inky ocean. Just beyond was the small kitchenette and the bridge where the hired captain was preparing for your harbour party once everyone was aboard.

The second deck was the bar area and a few of the other drivers were already up there, helping themselves to the well stocked mini fridge and set up. The host poured you each a drink himself - insisting that he wanted to do the honours - and then walked you to the back of the top deck that overlooked the main deck below. It was a spacious yacht with plenty of outdoor socialization area that the party goers seemed to be making the most of; either lounging on the white upholstered sofas or loitering in little cliques by the water. Standing at the railing on the top deck, you peered down to the modest crowd of men below, trying to pick any words out of their loud conversations behind their mingled accents and the loud music that overtook the yacht.

Everyone looked so nice in their party clothes after only seeing them in uniforms and racewear all weekend and that only made your appreciation for people watching that much more interesting. It was always fun to see what kind of clothes people chose when they had a say. You sipped your drink and stood comfortably under the casual arm of your boyfriend as you chatted with your two friends and awaited the announcement that you were to be setting sail. A few people came past your group to say hello or share a fleeting conversation before moving on to chat with others. You were introduced to a few more drivers that way - some you forgot the names of the moment they were out of earshot - and others you had already met in passing throughout the weekend.

Charles got a huge cheer from the crowd of friends when he arrived on board and his bashful smile was passed around with one armed hugs or fist bumps with his friendly rivals. He was the homerace winner after many years of waiting and praying and although the attention and celebration of such caliber was a little unfamiliar throughout the grid, it was only proof of how much everyone loved Charles and knew he deserved it after all his hardwork and trials and tribulations. He ended up joining your group on the top deck and, already a drink deep, you had just enough courage to compliment his choice of an airy button up shirt that ruffled in the harbour breeze.

Unbeknownst to your friends, however, despite the good company, you were still awaiting someone’s arrival and as the minutes ticked by, you only felt yourself growing more and more antsy. You played it off well, you were sure, trying to use the excuse of admiring the Monaco harbour as your reason for constantly looking in the direction of the pier. But, like a watched pot never boils, your expected guest appeared when you were least expecting him.

The final few missing members of your party arrived around 10:45 and it wasn’t until Lando and his teammate emerged from the staircase that you glanced down to the main deck to see if they had come alone. Sure enough, George was finishing up his round of greetings down below and you kept your shameless gaze on him in his white khakis and t-shirt under a neat navy blue cardigan. His hair was tidied and pushed out of his face in those usual beachy waves as if he had showered and made an effort to clean himself up before the party; maybe that’s why he was a little late. Overall, his attire emitted the essence of the old money style and that was enough to have you struggling to keep your eyes to yourself as you stared him down greedily from the top deck.

Torn away from ogling George for a moment, you paid enough attention to your newly arrived friends and Corbyn held his hand out to Lando as they approached, “Late as always.”

Taking his hand to pull each other into a fleeting one armed hug, Lando answered smoothly, “Had to make an entrance, don’t you know that by now?”

Compared to their angry words from their battle on the track earlier that day, they greeted each other like nothing was wrong. It was a strange realization for both you and Daniel who half expected there to be lingering hostility between the two drivers after their incident, coming to terms to the polar differences from how they acted on track versus face-to-face. It really was an every-man-for-himself game out there but they were mature enough to know when to keep arguments as part of the job and let things slide off their backs.

At the same time, you were introduced to Lando’s teammate, Oscar, who was apparently the youngest on the grid. He definitely looked it, you thought, as his cheeks were reminiscent of a little boy still although he was still a legal adult at twenty-one. Lando, who was boisterous and personable and always up for a chat, seemed to act as Oscar’s emotional support teammate as the younger stood close at his side and simply observed for the first little while. Tabitha seemed to be good at coaxing some conversation out of him and soon he was opening up a little more - with help from a drink that Lando had thrust into his hand.

Only a few moments later, a girl in a flowing floral sundress emerged from the stairs and found her spot beside Oscar with a gentle touch to his back. He looked over at her and he broke into a grin that just took up his whole face before introducing her to the rest of you, “This is my girlfriend, Lily.”

Your heart swelled over the way he looked at her and their youthful puppy-love glances at each other had you ‘aww’ing out loud. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or maybe it was the nervous energy in the back of your mind that you somehow needed a distraction from, but you couldn’t help yourself but reach out to pinch Oscar’s cheek gently, with a coo of, “You are so freaking cute.”

Lando snorted and turned behind Charles’ shoulder who snickered in amusement at your move. Oscar just blinked at you for a second, processing what just happened, and then he let out a little laugh and gave you a passive thumbs up.

“Thanks.”

Tabitha seemed to have your back in smoothing over what could have easily turned into an awkward moment, “He is the baby of the grid, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oscar chuckled bashfully.

By then, with everyone on board, the captain came out to announce that it was anchors away and time to head out into the ocean and leave the Monaco coast and your ties to reality behind for the night. As the yacht’s quiet engine rumbled to life and the luxury vessel was steered away from the pier, you let your eyes drift from your little group down to the main deck again, sipping your drink as your eyes were locked on the handsome stranger down below. Daniel’s arm around your waist kept you distracted, however, and once conversation flowed with the drinks, you found yourself focusing more on your boyfriend than anyone else. You were out in open water by then so it wasn’t like George could make any kind of getaway before you could pitch your offer to him.

Your group grew and shrunk as the minutes passed and people mingled and soon, you and Daniel were alone on the top deck lounge. His arm was resting behind you on the railing as the sea air ruffled through his soft curls and his other hand nursed his uncountable drink from that night. The way he looked at you always made your inside flutter but especially then when you were a little tipsy and already a little aroused with anticipation and the lights that trimmed the luxury yacht sparkled in his blue eyes.

“You doing okay?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the music in your close proximity.

“Yeah, I’m great.” you nodded.

His arm raised from the railing to wrap around your shoulders and he pulled you into his side and leaned in to kiss your lips once. The gentle sway of the yacht had him leaning into you a little more and your hand reached up to slide around the back of his neck and keep his lips on yours. You shared a few soft kisses before he was giving your bottom lip a little nibble and you gladly opened up for his tongue to nudge against yours.

It seemed to be the standard that you ended up like that at a party, wrapped up together away from the crowd and drunkenly making out until it got a little too heated and you had to either stop or make a quick escape. Even on a yacht of wealthy strangers, nothing could get between the carnal lust you held for your boyfriend and the weakness you felt from his kiss.

Still holding his half-filled glass, he carefully slid that arm around your back and pulled you against his chest as he rested back against the railing of the deck so you were pressed chest to chest. You kept your one hand in the ends of his hair while your other kept to the side with the bottom of your glass resting on top of the railing, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his like always. All day you had been craving some sort of attention to satisfy that peaky lewd need that was burning inside you and even from only a few lingering kisses from Daniel were you already easing into satisfaction.

His arms around you pulled you impossibly closer until you were standing between his legs and he tilted his head a little more to the side to kiss you deeper, licking his way into your mouth until you were groaning happily into his kiss and tightening your fingers in the back of his hair. You could taste the expensive alcohol on his tongue and his love for you on his lips and for a moment you were completely lost in him and only him. With the lights of Monaco sparkling like stars along the hillside in the distance and reflecting in ripples across the dark ocean around you, it was a picture perfect moment of you and him.

And then something had you pulling away from his kiss for a moment to flutter your eyes open and Daniel didn’t miss a beat as he moved his lips down your neck in plentiful open mouthed kisses. Your gaze was pulled from the beautiful city along the horizon down to the main deck that was littered with people who hardly paid you any mind. Well, except for one person, as George was already looking right at you when your eyes landed on him. He was standing in a small circle of some of the other drivers but they were chatting away completely clueless while he seemed much more interested in you and your boyfriend than anything that was being said by his friends. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring, his expression unreadable as he held his glass in his hand and hardly even blinked. His stare was intense and your hand tightened habitually around the back of Daniel’s neck and he trailed his kisses back up to your lips to kiss you properly again, but you kept your eyes open to keep George’s gaze and you couldn’t help the sly smile that came to your lips.

“What are you smiling at?” Daniel chuckled into your mouth.

“He’s watching us.” you whispered, keeping your hand snug at the back of his neck to keep him from turning over his shoulder to see for himself, “Don’t look.”

“What are you wanting to do?” Daniel asked.

“Kiss my neck some more.” you instructed softly.

Never one to deny you that, Daniel ghosted his nose along your jawline and pressed his lips to your neck in a soft kiss before planting another just under your ear. Although it was all a bit of a ploy to get the attention of your mystery man, the sparks that Daniel could cause to shoot across your skin were entirely real and as he licked across your flushed skin just under your ear and left an open mouthed kiss to the same spot, you could feel yourself throb down your jeans. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, just long enough to focus on that beautiful sensation for a few seconds, but when you opened your eyes again and looked back down to the main deck, George was gone from his group.

You pulled away from Daniel in slight confusion and he was finally able to look down to the deck himself without you stopping him. His eyebrows furrowed since it all seemed a little suspicious that you were playing it up that George was there and when he looked, he was actually nowhere to be seen. But before either of you could speak to it, the man you were looking for was emerging from the top of the staircase onto the top deck.

George walked casually across the wood floors towards the bar, offering you both a calm smile and he lifted his empty glass, “Sorry to interrupt. Just getting a refill.”

You and Daniel were still standing at the railing, now side by side, with your arms around each other, right up close, and Daniel didn’t say a word, knowing that this was all your opportunity and he wasn’t going to be the one to take the initiative to initiate a situation that was about you. Instead, he tore his stare away from you to look towards George at the bar, waiting and curious to see what your move would be. Almost as if he were thinking the same, George glanced up at you both across the otherwise vacant deck. The music was loud and the presence of the rest of the partygoers on the yacht was obvious with the lively sound of chatter and laughter from the deck below but, at the same time, your area felt entirely secluded and private.

Knocking back the rest of your drink, you tore yourself away from Daniel and strode across the deck to step under the roof and join George at the bar, your boyfriend trailing behind you. In a fit of alcohol induced bravery, you leaned forward against the bar top opposite this stranger and offered him a warm and flirtatious, “Hey, handsome.”

George, in near shock, looked up at you and then glanced past you to your boyfriend standing just behind you and then, finally, back at you. In reply, he offered a safe, “Hello, there.”

“Saw your win today. I was very impressed.”

George chuckled softly, setting the bottle of whatever he was pouring himself back in the fridge, “Hardly a win. That was all Charles.”

“I dunno…” you shrugged, “I saw a trophy in your hand. That counts as a win to me.”

“I like the way you think.” he complimented with a soft smile, lifting his glass up towards his lips as if anticipating a sip before speaking, “If only it worked like that.”

You watched him take a drink before setting his glass back down on the countertop as he recovered quickly,

“Pardon me. Did you two want refills as well?”

“Would love one, thank you so much. Whatever you’re having.” you slid your glass across the bar and he reached under the counter to find the bottle of whatever he had served himself from the fridge before pouring you your drink. As he did, you asked him innocently, “Did you come here with anyone to celebrate tonight?”

“Nope. Just Alex.” he chuckled, referencing his close friend from one of the other teams that you recalled briefly meeting earlier that weekend. “And Alex brought his girlfriend so I am the third wheel tonight.”

Daniel cleared his throat and turned his head to keep his smirk at bay, lifting his half-full drink up to sip from. He was already too far ahead in your plan for that evening and George’s innocent statement didn’t look like it was going to be solved by your pitch any time soon.

“I see,” you spoke casually, still leaning forward against the side of the bar, you dragged your fingertip around the rim of your glass without taking your eyes off of him, “That’s actually perfect.”

George cocked his head to the side slightly in curious confusion, “How is it perfect?”

“Well, we were wondering,” you spoke slowly, cautiously, a hint of that proud salacious smile in your tone, “if you had no one to help you properly celebrate your podium finish tonight…would you be up to celebrating with us?”

His eyebrows raised slightly, drink held in midair as he processed the meaning behind your words. He licked his lips and then bit them habitually, taking a second to arrange his thoughts before he answered, “And what do you plan on us doing to properly celebrate?”

Oh the warm richness of his voice in that enchanting accent was enough to make you drip. You played it off coolly as you dragged your fingertips up the length of your glass and back down absentmindedly without taking your eyes off his face, answering him with the sweetest innocence, “Well, the three of us can find a spot that’s a little more private than out here and we…I can help you feel like the real winner. I think you deserve that, don’t you?”

Your question put the ball back in his court, pressing him a little more for an answer.

George’s hand looked so big around his glass he was holding and you couldn’t help but glance down to the way his slender fingers held it so tenderly in his grap, your mind already miles ahead of where you were in your plan. You were sure if he said no that you would have to throw yourself overboard with embarrassment and so you nearly held your breath as you watched him ponder your offer. As if knowing he were stringing you along just a little, he lifted the glass up to his lips as he stared at you under faintly furrowed brows and he tossed back the rest of his drink smoothly before setting the empty glass down on the counter with a faint clink.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat lightly and took a step back from the bar, “come on, then.”

You straightened up quickly, trying to keep your shocked grin at bay as you glanced back at Daniel. He finished his drink too and set it down before sending you a knowing smirk as if he knew your plan would succeed, and his hand rested on your lower back to let you follow after George ahead of him. It was hard not to run after him with the excitement that burned within you and you paid extra caution on the stairs as the rocking of the boat made your already tipsy head spin a little more with each step.

Everyone was mingling around the main deck, both inside and outside, but George navigated through the edges of the crowd like he knew where he was going and led the way through the open sliding glass doors into the interior of the main deck. You followed him with a few paces between you while Daniel was directly behind you and your boyfriend’s hand found yours as you walked in a row and moved effortlessly past the obliviousness of the other partygoers. Adjacent to the dining table were the stairs into the depths of the yacht and you followed George casually so as to not draw too much attention to yourself. But your attempt at being blasé about it all was only slightly foiled when you reached the bottom of the tight staircase only to bump into Alex in the narrow hallway.

“Oh.” Alex stopped in his tracks before he could run right into George, “Hello, mate. Where are you all headed?”

As the close friends shared a habitual fist bump, George answered him calmly, “Showing our guests to the toilet, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah.” Alex stepped aside and gestured the group of you on, “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks, mate.” George gave him a pat to his shoulder as you three slipped past him.

You were sure if you looked at Alex you would have given yourself away as if your secret plan was written all over your face in neon lights, so you kept your head down and tried to move past him as quickly as possible despite the tipsy smile that seemed to be every present on your lips. The moment the three of you were past Alex, he was making his way back upstairs to the party, only stopping halfway up to glance back down into the narrow hallway. George’s lie was smooth, but was it believable? You could only hope that Alex was too drunk himself to think much deeper about it.

You had to turn the corner in the direction of the bathroom to move out of the way for Alex but once he had disappeared upstairs again, George slid back to the way you came to reach the shut wood door directly at the bottom landing of the stairs. He tried the handle and it opened with ease and he cocked his head to encourage you both inside.

The cream commercial grade carpet softened your footfalls as you stepped into the surprisingly spacious bedroom that was located in the centre of the yacht’s cabin. Directly ahead of the entrance door was a neatly made king size bed with a sleek black leather headboard that reached the ceiling, the pulled tight duvet complete with throw pillows and a coverlet that was embroidered with the rental company’s luxurious logo. Both sides of the room had horizontal windows overlooking the darkened ocean and through the one to your left, above the built-in lower cabinet storage in that same dark wood detailing that shone in pristine condition throughout the entire yacht, you could see the sparkling coastline of Monaco in the distance. To the right, under the window and wrapping around to the wall you had passed through, was a corner leather window seat in white upholstery that matched those found on the upper decks, topped with throw pillows and concealing dark wood storage drawers beneath.

The room was absolutely handsome if nothing else and you felt as though you were dreaming; the entire weekend being so out of the ordinary for your normal life that it had to have been the only explanation. The click of the door behind you had you turning casually in the centre of the modest size room to face the two men, although your boyfriend drifted curiously to the window, leaning his hands on top of the lower cabinets so he could learn close to the glass and peer out at the twinkling city lights.

“How did you know this room was here?” Daniel asked in near admiration before turning back around to face the two of you.

“I have connections. It’s not important.” George brushed it off, “Besides, you attend enough of these parties and you start to find your way around.”

“You often escape to the bedrooms at parties?” Daniel challenged as he leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest with a coy smirk.

George chuckled modestly, “Here and there.”

“Ever with two people?” you asked.

“Actually, no.” he answered. “This is a first.”

“Us too.” you added.

George peaked a brow at you, “Really? By the way you were coming onto me I would have expected you to be pros.”

“No,” you drew the word out softly, sliding a step closer to him, “I just know what I want and I’m not going to let it pass me by.”

“And what is it that you want?”

His voice was so rich and enticing and he spoke to you in a tone that was gentle but with a firmness to it that had you biting back your restless smile. His slender frame was only two or so inches taller than you but standing right in front of him like that made him feel so much bigger than you. You fought with the intimidation inside of you, trying to lean into that liquid courage that had your chest feeling warm and helping to ease you into a more comfortable reality and facing the existence of your desires that were being dangled right in front of you, just within arm’s reach.

With a soft breath, you answered him, “You.”

“Mhm?” George couldn’t stop staring at you, “And how long have you been sitting on that confession?”

“Since yesterday afternoon.” you admitted, “Since seeing you talking with Tabitha and Charles in the paddock. I thought you were so fucking sexy.”

Your fingers raised quickly to ghost over your lips as if you hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out, wide eyes staring back at him. But George just chuckled warmly, his smile almost bringing you to your knees, and those big aquamarine eyes taking in every little inch of your face.

“I can’t imagine what your boyfriend thought of the idea at first.” he said playfully.

“It was his idea.” you confessed, glancing back at Daniel who was still leaning against the storage cabinets as you continued, “We agreed we’d have some fun on this trip and he said he’d let me pick whomever I wanted.”

You looked back at George and it took all your self control not to reach out and touch him, almost nervous that if you did, he would back out. He had already agreed though and you were sure he wasn’t going to rethink his decision. It was all in your hands to progress this night onwards and everyone in that room knew it.

“And today,” you rambled on, letting the alcohol in your system act as your fearlessness as you finally reached a hand out to testingly nudge the fabric of his open blue cardigan before ghosting your fingertips over his pecs, “seeing you race…and then getting up there on that podium…wish I could have been able to just lick that champagne off of you.”

“Jesus Christ.” George exhaled with a small shutter at your blunt words, “You’re not shy at all, are you, love?”

Daniel answered for you from his spot a few paces away, “Not when she’s tipsy. And she gets fucking horny after a few drinks.”

George skimmed his eyes across your face, agreeing quietly, “Yeah, her cheeks are already so flushed.”

Your palm bravely rested down against his chest and you dragged your hand down his torso to earn your first testing feel of his body. He was similar to Daniel with a slim, lean build, but his athleticism as a professional athlete definitely outshone Daniel’s recreational gym trips and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you felt the taught muscle of his abs through his thin white t-shirt.

“Sweetheart?” Daniel called out to you angelically.

“Yes, sunshine?” you answered obediently without taking your eyes off the exploratory path of your hand moving back up George’s body.

“Do you want to get us started?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Go on then. Gimme a little show, baby.”

Your eyes slowly, slowly slid up George’s body and your fingers followed in the faintest of touches until your fingertips were grazing over his neck and jaw and you could feel him shutter under your hesitant teasing. His skin was so warm and it drew fire across your body as he finally reached out to ghost his hands over your waist and you took a step closer to him, lost in the storm of his eyes and drawn in by the way he licked his alluring lips.

His expensive cologne smelt so good too - his scent tied in with hints of the salty sea air that kissed his skin from the hour on the deck of the luxury yacht - and your head tilted faintly to the side to tempt him closer, feeling his breath against your cheek. He was so close and you were already going fucking crazy stuck lingering in that torturous anticipation, feeling how your boyfriend’s eyes bore into the back of your head from where he stood watching. Shivers tore up your spine as George’s hands slid farther around your hips and rested politely over your back, guiding you gently towards him just as his lips grazed over yours.

Then, as you parted your lips just enough to lock with his in a soft, lingering kiss, you swore sparks of euphoria erupted in the back of your mind. The first kiss was nothing but the tiniest, most innocent testing of the waters but as you broke apart, he was tightening his hands on your waist and pulling your body against his as he leaned in for another. You couldn’t help the small hum of appreciation that slipped from your lips onto his as he kissed you again, lingering together like that again as your hand slid up from his chest to rest on his shoulder. You broke apart again just long enough to go in for a third and as you did, George lifted a hand from your waist to set tenderly on the side of your neck to guide you deeper into your shared kiss and his thumb slid around your throat. His simple move had you tilting your head a little more to deepen your kisses that only seemed to get hungrier by the second as you swayed together with the gentle rocking of the yacht on the restless ocean waves.

George kissed so much differently than Daniel and his lips were plumper which made sinking your teeth into the bottom one just a little more enthralling. He chuckled warmly at your move but pulled you in again by his hand sliding around the back of your neck and tangling in the roots of your hair, locking your lips with his in shiver-worthy kisses. Maybe it was the foreignness of the situation compared to the comfortable familiarity you had with Daniel, but he also seemed a little more gentle than your boyfriend; taking his time with you, making sure you knew you had every ounce of his attention.

God, but he knew how to kiss and that was obvious. You were finally getting what you had wanted all weekend and yet it still didn’t feel like enough, forcing you to wrap your arms right around his shoulders to embrace him closer and pull more from him. His tongue teased your bottom lip gently and you gladly opened up more for him, meeting him halfway for filthier kisses that had you throbbing down your jeans. The muted music from the party going on upstairs was obsolete as your ears were tuned right into the wet sounds of your deepening kisses and your breaths falling as one. George moaned softly into your mouth, a greedy rich sound that you felt throughout your body, and you arched into him habitually with a soft whine of your own and pulled him into you by your arms slung around his shoulders.

His front was almost completely pressed right up against yours but even that didn’t feel like enough as he dropped his hands to your waist and tugged you impossibly closer as his tongue pushed intently against yours. Kissing him back in a clumsy battle of lips and tongues, you moved your hands back to his shoulders to anchor yourself for a moment before breaking away from his mouth to trail impatient kisses down his neck. His warm skin under your lips was invigorating and you breathed him in selfishly as you kissed right up under his ear.

“Fuck.” George breathed to the ceiling as he tilted his head back ever so slightly to give you room, his hands tightening around your waist as you licked up his neck and seemed to reach all the spots that made him shiver.

From across the room and still leaning casually against the cabinetry, Daniel spoke again, “Good girl, baby. You’re just fucking throwing yourself at him.”

Words were a waste of precious time so you simply replied with an agreeable hum against George’s neck between open mouthed kisses that you moved down towards the collar of his t-shirt. Your hands slid down from his shoulders to caress his chest over his clothes and you stole a few more kisses from his lips as you pushed his navy blue cardigan off his shoulders and to the floor. He helped to shrug it off and get his arms out and before he was even completely out of it, you were already peppering hurried kisses down his chest and over his abs that were hidden under his t-shirt before you sank yourself all the way down to your knees in front of him.

Not wasting a second, you untucked his t-shirt from his pants and shoved up the bottom of it to get your first peek at his body, leaning in to press your lips just above his navel and kissing right down between his firm abs to the waistband of his jeans. You raised your eyes up to him, staring up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth as you pulled the leather of his belt through the buckle and tugged at it hard to get it unpinned, making him have to take a half step towards you to keep from falling over at your aggression.

“Christ.” he groaned lowly as he stared down at you, wide eyed, “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

You left his belt open so you could focus on popping the button on his jeans all while staring up at him with a sweet smile that was so incredibly hard to hide, only giving him a nod.

“Use your words.” Daniel reminded you firmly from a few paces away, “Show him what a good girl you are.”

You licked away your smile, still peering up at the handsome stranger that was quickly becoming less than a mystery to you as you rested on your knees for him, your careful fingers tugging down the zipper of his pants as you confessed up to him softly, “I’m so fucking desperate for your cock.”

Although his breath shuttered at your blunt words, he played it off with a brush of his fingers through your hair and a taunting, “Yeah? You wanna suck it for me, darling?”

“Please, can I?” you asked sweetly.

“Go on then.” he permitted.

He was so tall that you had you sit up on your knees with your posture perfectly straight to reach him comfortably but that fact only had you grinning excitedly as you tugged open the fly of his white jeans and then grabbed hold of the waistband of his pants and his underwear at the same time to yank them down together. You could almost hear the thudding of your heart over the muffled music and chatter coming from the deck above but your attention was all too focused on what you had been fantasizing about all weekend. Before this, the only man you had ever been with was Daniel. He was your first and your only, but even as you delved into a world of experimentation together, simply having him keeping a watchful eye from across the room was reassuring enough for you as you earned your first look at a man who was not him.

“Oh my God.” you exhaled, hands still grasping onto the waistband of George’s pants as you took a moment to just stare at him.

Neatly trimmed and kept, he was already somewhat hard and was at least somewhat bigger than Daniel. Not that you minded or made a point to speak to it, but the intimidation factor was certainly all encompassing of this man in front of you from his dazzling eyes and model height to the impressive dick that, tonight, was all yours. You hesitated, as if forgetting all your plentiful prior experience you had with your boyfriend, simply gaping at George’s dick in your face.

Daniel, who knew you better than anyone, was easily there with the save, “I think he’s waiting for you to touch it, sweetheart.”

You giggled shyly and moved your right hand away from his fly to gently wrap around the base of his heavy cock and you stuck out your tongue and leaned in to lick at the tip teasingly. George’s hand pushed through your hair again to get your bangs out of your face and his soft exhale had you dragging your tongue right up the side of his dick without tearing your eyes away from his.

“That’s my good girl.” Daniel praised honestly, dropping a hand down to adjust himself over his pants, “Now wrap those pretty little lips around him and show him what you can do.”

You tore your eyes away from your handsome stranger to look at your task at hand as you pursed your lips to dribble some spit down onto the head of his cock. Your hand gave him a few lazy strokes to slick your palm up in it as you shuffled a little closer on your knees and you pressed a tender kiss right to the tip before slowly guiding him into your mouth. Feeling the warm weight of his cock against your tongue had your eyes fluttering shut with a soft moan as you sunk your mouth around him farther.

George took in a sharp breath through his teeth and his hand tightened in your hair, staring down at your mouth wrapped around his cock and he used his other hand to pull the hem of his shirt up and out of your way. He then licked his lips habitually before speaking to you in a voice as smooth as butter, “You are such a good girl, aren’t you?”

You hummed around him softly in agreement before starting to pull your mouth back before moving down again, all while your right hand was keeping him in place for you. You could feel him getting harder in your mouth, swelling up against your tongue, and it was a feeling that had you salivating; the proof of which being the way your spit slipped past your lips and leaked down the shaft of his cock to your hand wrapped around the base.

After a few seconds, you pulled off him to take a breath - and to get a real, proper look at him - as your hand picked up the slack. It was true, what you had said earlier, that there was absolutely nothing wrong with this man; there was not a damn inch on his body that had even an atom of ugly and it blew your goddamn mind into nothing more than buzz of humanistic arousal. You couldn’t help the bite of your lip as you stared at your hand pumping his cock with steady flicks of your wrist as if you were trying to memorize the sight of him like that. Your weekend fling, that was that. You were going to have one and only one glorious night with this man so you knew you needed to make the most of it and make it count.

So you took his dick back in your mouth and nestled yourself down until your lips met your fist and when you pulled back, you hollowed your cheeks greedily to earn yourself a pretty moan from his chest. The sound went right between your legs and encouraged you to repeat that action just to hear more of him. Only a few strokes in and the modest bedroom was easily welcoming the sloppy sounds of your mouth taking him in steady bobs of your head, forcing more spit to drip from your mouth and down your chin. You never minded being messy with it.

Daniel from his spot across the room, was indiscreetly palming himself over his jeans with his gaze focused all on you and he spoke to you in a coo, “Look at you, sweetheart, you have a millionaire’s dick in your mouth. How's that feel?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they already were but you didn’t want to lose out on a second with George’s cock in your mouth so all you gave your boyfriend in reply was a pleased moan in agreement.

“Really good, hm?” George taunted cockily, lifting his other hand to help keep your hair back as he kept his gaze all on you and the rhythmic strokes of your mouth you offered him. He bit his bottom lip through a faint groan with both of his large hands wrapped around your hair in a sort of messy makeshift ponytail that certainly was messing up your curls that you had meticulously worked on before coming to the party. You didn’t mind, however, as you were more than willing to let him ruin you however he pleased, and that only seemed to be working in your favour as he let another soft moan slip past his lips before complimenting you honestly, “You’re a fucking goddess.”

But maybe that was just stemmed from the fact you had his cock in your mouth.

You started to move your hand in twisting strokes at the same pace of your mouth taking half of him against your tongue over and over, desperate to bring him pleasure and show off how good you could be. With both of his hands in your hair, his shirt had fallen back into place and you took the initiative with your left hand to link your thumb under the hem and slide your palm up his body to hold it out of your way. The firm muscle of his abdomen had you hungry for more of him as you sucked on his cock in messy slurps.

Suddenly, the yacht swayed a little more than usual over a rougher wave and between that, the alcohol in his system, and his pants around his knees, George stumbled slightly with a, “Shit.”

You pressed your hand a little harder against his abs, instructing him with a gentle, “Lean against the door.”

He glanced behind him and then took the two steps back so he was resting flat against the locked door and as you shuffled on your knees to take your place in front of him again, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. You forced yourself to take a second to admire his bare torso as your hand stroked his dick in the meantime, wide eyes nearly turning into hearts at the sight of him and his vast expanse of soft caramel skin. The position felt so much more invigorating to have him sandwiched between the door and you and it gave you a flicker of powerfulness in your chest, especially as you got a whimper out of him as you finally sunk your mouth down on him again. George’s hands tangled in your hair again and as he fell into his own familiarity with the situation, he gently started to guide your motions a little deeper.

“Can you take more, darling?” he purred angelically.

Daniel answered for you, “She can. Honestly, just use her mouth all you want.”

Almost disbelieving, George looked over at him with slightly furrowed brows, “Really?”

“If it’s too much, she’ll tap out three times on your thigh.” Daniel assured him, “She likes it. Don’t you, baby?”

You pulled off George’s cock with a messy slurp and glanced over at Daniel as you smeared your spitty lips over the length of it before answering, “Yes, sir.”

“So you better tell him that then.”

You tore your eyes away from your boyfriend to bat your eyelashes up at the man you were on your knees for and with your hand snugly holding his dick against your mouth, you asked of him angelically, “Please can you fuck my throat?”

“Such good manners.” George praised warmly as his hands in your hair guided you in again.

You didn’t hesitate before opening up to take his dick in your mouth again as you set your hands on his thighs for balance. He then slowly started to take control of your head as he pulled you into shallow motions to start you off, his breaths falling in time with your rhythm. But you were impatient and desperately wanting more, so you took the initiative yourself and forced yourself deeper on him until you gagged yourself on him. He took the hint to tighten his hands in your hair and keep you at that greedy depth as he started to nudge his hips towards you, forcing another wet gag from your throat. Your fingers dug into his thighs but you didn’t complain about the slight discomfort that came with the responsibility.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” George groaned tightly, fingers locked in your hair just tight enough to keep a snug pull at your scalp that made you moan messily around him.

You tried to look up at him but the tears that burned your eyes made your vision blurry and you scrunched your eyes closed instead, putting your focus on staying right where he needed you. The sounds were horribly lewd and if you were a bit more sober you might have worried that anyone who walked past the door out in the hallway would be able to hear the gasping wet gags of your throat with his every thrust into your mouth. Maybe the music was loud enough to conceal you.

After a few more seconds, you were tapping out on his thigh and he loosened his grip on your hair so you could pull back with a messy cough, spit dripping down your chin and still connecting your lips to his cock as you blinked your teary eyes up at him. He wiped your mouth with his thumb and then slipped it past your lips, earning a pleasant moan of appreciation out of you and your eyes fluttered shut as you sucked on his thumb for a moment.

George tisked from above you, “You’re fucking incredible.”

Daniel’s hands on your shoulders startled you slightly but he just leaned down and grabbed the bottom of your shirt to pull it up and over your head, leaving you in your bra and your jeans on your knees. George’s fingers fell into your hair again as you wrapped a hand around his cock and leaned in to happily swirl your tongue around the head while Daniel crouched behind you and reached around your waist to unbutton your jeans.

“I think you deserve a turn now, sweetheart.” he cooed against your ear.

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine and you pulled your mouth away from George to turn your head back towards your boyfriend situated behind you to meet him for a kiss. Daniel lifted a hand up to cradle your jaw as your lips locked in sloppy tongue-led kisses just like second nature, while your grip was still secure around George’s dick in front of you and you gave him a few gentle strokes. His hand was still in your hair and he stroked your head faintly as he watched the way you kissed your boyfriend right in front of him just like he had back upstairs at the party. But now he had the added bonus of your hand on him, touching him so perfectly in twisting tugs that had his bottom lip between his teeth, while his eyes drifted downwards to watch Daniel’s hand slip down the front of your unbuttoned jeans.

Daniel groaned into your mouth, “You’re so fucking wet for us already, baby.”

You pulled away from your boyfriend’s lips with a withering moan only to peer right up at George above you as if to subconsciously see if he was watching you. Of course he was; dead focused on the disappearance of Daniel’s hand down your pants and the way your hips moved ever so slightly against his touch. Even as you succumbed to the pleasure of your boyfriend's touch, you couldn’t get enough of your handsome stranger as you leaned in to wrap your lips around his cock and suck on him lazily, letting him feel the sweet moans from your mouth right up against him.

“Wanna let me go down on you?” George asked with another rake of his fingers through your hair, “Is that alright?”

Daniel’s low chuckle from behind you had you pulling back from George’s cock, licking your lips as you peered up at him again and let your body mould against Daniel’s chest right behind you. Your head was spinning and you could hardly form a thought as your brain raced a mile a minute.

“You wanna say yes so bad, don’t you?” Daniel taunted softly against your ear, that cocky smile on his face, “Say it. Then I can get you out of these pesky clothes and hold your fucking legs open for him. Do you want that?”

“Yes.” you breathed without tearing your eyes away from George’s face.

“What was that?” George brushed the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, speaking to you in that warm voice of his that seemed to have perfected the art of feigning innocence although the weight behind his every word was very present, “Speak up.”

“Yes, please.” you repeated a little louder.

Daniel helped you to your feet and then tugged your jeans down while George, too, got out of his pants that had lingered around his knees for the last little while. In only your bra and underwear - a nice set that you had meticulously packed and chosen for this exact moment with help from your boyfriend’s input - Daniel led you over to the window seat by your hand and he sat himself down first, right in the corner, and then hurried to pull off his plaid shirt and then his white t-shirt, tossing both to the growing pile on the carpeted floor. He patted his thigh and you turned to sit yourself down on his lap, a position quite familiar to you, and although the denim of his jeans was less than ideal compared to how the warmth of his skin against yours would have felt, you had alternate priorities at that moment.

Sitting there on your boyfriend’s lap in the corner of the room, you had your first proper look at George’s naked body as he finished stripping completely and was making his way over to you. You shifted in place on Daniel’s lap and leaned back against his chest with a smile you couldn’t bite away, eyeing up the endless expanse of beautifully smooth caramel skin of the chiseled stranger in front of you. Between the sight of him in addition to the soft groan Daniel let out against your shoulder at your movements on his lap, you were already naturally spreading your legs at the ready.

“Hang on,” Daniel mumbled, guiding you off him long enough for him to give up on his jeans and he shoved them down his thighs and kicked them to the floor before pulling you back down, “That’s better. You comfortable?”

“Yeah.” you answered softly without tearing your eyes away from the man in front of you who resembled that of a Greek God. You licked your lips habitually at the sight of him and your hand slid down between your parted legs to rub yourself over your underwear for a moment, trying to ease that pesky ache.

George nudged your hand away as he sank down to the floor in front of you, right between Daniel’s legs which were, ultimately, keeping your legs open too. With a gentle hand, George dragged two fingers along the fabric of your panties right down the center, and his eyebrows raised slightly at the feeling of how aroused you already were.

“You’ve ruined these.” he exhaled, “Naughty girl.”

The way his accent sounded when he called you that had your head dropping back with a tight groan, definitely giving Daniel a facefull of your hair but he didn’t mind. Your boyfriend swiped your hair over your opposite shoulder so he could watch too, paying close attention to the way George’s large hands slid along your legs and how his lips ghosted over your inner thighs. You shivered on his lap and Daniel kissed your neck, trailing his fingers over your waist and up to your chest, playing with the lace of your bra that followed the curve of your breasts.

Playing on George’s words, Daniel whispered against your ear, “Yeah, you’re our naughty little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered as you succumbed to your intrusive thoughts and reached a hand down to rake through George’s soft brunette waves.

Drawing his attention from the fleeting kisses he left over your thigh, his eyes raised to yours and he offered you a little wink from between your legs. He could tell you were antsy and he, himself, didn’t want to wait much longer either so he linked his fingers in the sides of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, watching carefully to see how the thin lace fabric stuck to your pussy for a moment thanks to the wetness you were leaking.

Once your underwear was discarded to the floor, Daniel linked his hands under your thighs and spread your legs for you, so much so that you had to fall back against his chest to be able to sit comfortably. Your cheeks were flushed in slight nervousness over the fact that you were now spread open and vulnerable for a stranger but the liquid courage in your system helped to ease any slight embarrassment until it vanished the moment George got his hands on you. His soft caress of your pussy with two fingers was quickly followed by a ghostly kiss to your clit just before his tongue was dropping out to earn his first taste of you.

You were already so sensitive that the first touch had your legs twitching from where Daniel held them and your soft squeak was almost completely involuntary. Despite your slight shyness, you couldn’t tear your attention away from the man between your legs, even as his big blue eyes raised to meet your gaze in time with another slow, teasing lick. Your hand was still in his hair and it only tightened its grip as you tried to pull him in for more, desperate for some sort of friction to soothe that ache.

“Good girl, sweetheart.” Daniel cooed against your ear, “Not even shying away. Look at you pulling him in.”

George set his hands on the backs of your thighs as Daniel held them out of his way for him, holding himself between your legs as his tongue slid between your lips in slow, full licks that had your toes curling. Your impatient hum had George smiling against you for a moment until he dragged his tongue up to your clit and swirled around it tauntingly.

“Fuck.” you whined, trying to nudge your hips up against his face.

“Isn’t this my celebration?” George retorted cockily at your greedy move, his warm breath fanning across your wet cunt and the feeling made you shiver, “So we do things my way, yeah?”

You exhaled your muttered agreement, “Yeah.”

“Good girl.” he winked before moving back down to slip his tongue inside you.

You groaned tightly as his nose bumped against your clit perfectly, just stimulating you enough to want more, and your fingers tightened in his hair to tug at it harder. The slight aggression from you had him moaning against your pussy and he pulled away just enough to spit loudly onto your glistening lips and make it messier.

“It’s like he knows just what you like.” Daniel chuckled softly, his head right beside yours. He lifted his hand up to wrap around your throat to give you a bit of pressure as you both stared down at the pretty brunette between your legs.

George’s eyes were all on you as if dead set on gauging your every slight reaction to his every slight movement, but his blinks were slower as he struggled to not shut his eyes and lose himself in you, instead letting his long lashes kiss his cheeks before opening up again. His tongue nudged inside you in purposeful motions and alternated with long licks right up to your clit and back down. He was taking in every inch of you with his mouth all without taking his eyes off of yours and it made you squirm.

From your spot on Daniel’s lap and leaning against his chest, you could feel his dick against the small of your back and even though he was still wearing his boxers, you could feel how hard he was already. You were sandwiched between the two handsomest men in the world, you were sure, and you mouthed a silent ‘oh my God’ to the room at the realization of your reality.

Daniel, with his hand still around your throat, guided your head back onto his shoulder so he could kiss your lips. Having the privilege of both kisses and oral at the same time was unheard of for you and it nearly sent shockwaves throughout your body, urging you to share your appreciation through pleasant moans into your boyfriend’s mouth. His tongue fought its way into your mouth between sloppy kisses and your free hand reached back to tug at the brunette curls at the nape of his neck to keep him where you wanted him. Your head was fucking spinning - although that may have been thanks to the sway of the yacht that only intensified the dizziness of your pleasure.

Your breath was falling shallower by the second and forcing you to break away from Daniel’s lips, urging his face into your neck instead as he kissed over your flushed skin. George dragged his tongue right up to your clit and lapped at it gently, even the slightest touch having your legs try to close at the growing sensations. Daniel’s hands grabbed your thighs again and pulled them farther back, his fingertips pressing indentations into your flesh as he held you open for George’s tongue.

“That’s it, baby.” Daniel praised against your cheek, “You’re doing so good for us.”

George pulled away from you just long enough to slip his middle finger in his mouth to wet it before teasing it across your pussy and finally sinking it inside you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared down between your spread legs to watch his slender finger disappear inside you just as his tongue met your clit again. You jolted at his touch, earning a warm chuckle out of him right up against your body and your head fell back against Daniel’s shoulder.

“Sit nice and still for him.” Daniel warned you gently.

“It’s hard.” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” Daniel cooed, “Feels really good, huh?”

As if appreciating your praise, George slowly added a second finger inside you and as he did so, your mouth dropped open with a soft gasp and you heaved your head up from Daniel’s shoulder to look down at him. He couldn’t stop staring at you as his tongue lapped at your clit and his fingers thrusted firmly inside you, reaching only about halfway just to try and find that perfect little spot. You dropped your hand from the back of Daniel’s neck to join your other in George’s hair, unable to hold back the tumbling of moans that spilled past your lips as you tugged at those heavenly soft brunette waves.

He was a fucking prince and he certainly treated you like a queen, catering to your every need without even having to ask. You swore he was unreal, that he was some magnificent man written by the hand of a woman; that had to have been the only explanation to how he could make you see stars so effortlessly.

The lewd wet sound of his tongue on you and his fingers nudging inside your dripping cunt paired beautifully with his low moan stemmed from your hands tugging at his hair, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in equal parts concentration and his own pleasure. The vibration from his mouth had you gasping and Daniel’s hands gripped your thighs harder to keep you spread wide as your muscles worked against him to try and close yourself up in overwhelm. It was hard to smother your whimpers through your bitten lip and part of you didn’t want to; ignorant to the memory of the party going on above you or the fact that anyone could be walking by the room to locate the bathroom at any given moment. Your priorities were far away from what was deemed socially acceptable as guests on this yacht and amongst this group of wealthy and illustrious individuals.

Writhing on Daniel’s lap and against George’s mouth, you arched against your boyfriend’s shoulder and pleaded to the air softly, “Can I cum?”

“That’s up to our podium winner here. He decides when you cum tonight.” Daniel told you.

George didn’t correct him on the technicality that he wasn’t actually the winner because in that moment it sure fucking felt like he might have been.

Keeping his fingers moving at that consistently strong pace, he answered you softly right up against your pussy, his hot breath fanning against your slick skin and his words muffled slightly by your body, “Yeah, you can cum for me, darling.”

Your fingers tugged at his hair to keep his face between your spread legs, your chin held down to your chest as you desperately chased that taunting orgasm that was building inside you quickly. If you had any care at that moment, you were sure you would have looked ridiculous in such a position with your face screwed up in pure pleasure, but all that mattered to you in that moment was doing anything that would get you over those blissful waves. George was certainly making it easy as he didn’t dare move from his spot, keeping his two fingers right where you wanted them and his tongue flicked mercilessly at your swollen clit until he could feel you start to clench around his fingers.

“Mhm.” he mumbled against you encouragingly, staring up at your flushed face and gaping mouth.

“That’s my girl.” Daniel praised from beside you, “Show him what a good fucking girl you are and cum all over his fucking face.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-” you squealed, letting yourself stumble out nonsense as that burning tight pleasure grew hotter and hotter.

And the feeling burst inside you like a pop of champagne and your head tossed back against Daniel’s shoulder with a strangled cry, eyes screwed shut, fingers locked in a white-knuckled grip in George’s soft hair as you creamed around his slender fingers. He licked up everything you offered him right through your orgasm, moaning greedily against you as his tongue joined his fingers and he worked you through it, all while your boyfriend praised you strongly against your ear in filthy words you could hardly even make sense of in such a state. Your legs trembled from where Daniel held them out, nearly vibrating, and you whimpered loudly to the ceiling with ears ringing faintly from the sudden intensity of it.

“Holy shit.” you gasped out of it. You took a hand from George’s hair to push through your own to get the messy strands out of your face and wipe your eyes that were brimming with unshed tears.

“Good girl, baby.” Daniel kissed your neck, gently setting your legs down to he could wrap his arms around your middle as he trailed kisses over your skin, “That was so fucking hot.”

From between your legs, George pulled his fingers out of you and slipped them into his mouth to suck clean for a moment before turning his head to press a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, followed by another alongside a soft groan as he spoke up to you, “You taste incredible.”

“Doesn’t she?” Daniel boasted with a proud smirk.

George leaned in for one more gentle lick at your swollen pussy and one more wet kiss - your body flinching with a soft whine in oversensitivity at his fleeting touches - before he was standing up in front of you, taking a second to wipe his glistening mouth before holding out his hand towards you, “Come on. I’m not quite done with you yet.”

You wouldn’t dream of declining him and you set your hand in his and let him help you off Daniel’s lap before leading you over to the bed. You took the initiative to turn yourself around and sit on the edge of the mattress before scooting back a little, reaching to grab George by the back of his neck to pull him after you. He followed your insistent lead to lock your lips in a well deserved kiss as he blindly followed you onto the bed until you were both situated near the middle. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, the undertones of possession setting your mind ablaze as you moaned into his mouth and your body tried to arch against him. But from where he was positioned half beside you and half in front of you, touching wasn’t all that simple.

Instead, George pulled away from your lips to move his kisses down your neck and over your collarbones while one hand slid behind your back to unclip your bra and toss it to the floor. You were pleasantly surprised at his secret skill of undoing it blind and one-handed and you glanced past him to Daniel still sitting where you had left him in the corner of the window seat, sharing silent impressed glances. George’s mouth on your breasts had your mouth falling open and your attention pulling back to him instead of your boyfriend, giving him a pleasant groan as he licked and sucked over one of your nipples while the other was tended to by his fingers.

“Oh my God, you’re perfect.” you exhaled shakily, sliding your fingers into the back of his messy brunette waves.

He laughed ever so faintly in response as he switched over to your other breast, covering you in wet kisses before taking your nipple in his mouth again. Your head fell backwards with a moan to the ceiling, having already come once but still wanting more from him.

George didn’t make you wait much longer as he pulled away from your breast with a soft pop and then smoothly leaned in towards your lips. Your tongues met first as your heads tilted naturally to lead you into filthy kisses, probably swapping too much spit in the process but by that point in the night you were well past acquainted. You barely had moved your hands to cradle his face in your palms when he was pulling away again and sitting back from you on his knees.

“Turn around for me, love.”

It was almost embarrassing how easy you flipped yourself around onto your hands and knees at his simple request. You often found it fun to push Daniel’s buttons and purposefully ignore his demands but, with George, his voice held this power over you that had you succumbing to his every wish effortlessly. Without being asked, you bent forward at the waist to rest your forearms on the bed and leave your ass up for him, giving him a little taunting wiggle.

His warm hand caressed the curve of your ass and he asked warmly, “Can I spank you?”

“Yeah.” you answered, “Only if you hit me hard though.”

As if in reply to your rule, George’s hand came down hard against your flesh, the sharp sound nearly echoing through the modest bedroom, and he followed it up with a taunting, “Naughty girl.”

You turned your head to the left to be able to see your boyfriend a few paces away, still lounged back in the corner of the window seat with his underwear pushed down just enough to get his cock out and his hand was already gently stroking himself. He licked his lips at the sight of you catching his eye and, as if more than willing to put on a show for him, you threw a request back to George, “Spank me again.”

“Yeah?” he smacked his hand down against one cheek and then the other, his strength apparent by the impact and the tingling sensation his palm left behind across your flesh. “You really are a slut, hm?”

“And I’m your slut tonight, sir.” you answered playfully, wiggling your ass back against him to earn you another spank.

Hearing you using his title to address another man had Daniel’s eyebrows furrowing slightly as he watched the scene in front of him unfold but he didn’t intervene. You could tell it got to him slightly by the way he shifted on the window seat and you licked away your sly grin, glancing over your shoulder at George behind you. He reached over to grab your cheeks in his hand and he leaned over you to kiss your lips, pressing right up close to you and you could feel his hard cock right up against your sensitive pussy.

“Holy shit.” you groaned into his kisses, breathless as he broke away from you.

“Do you have a condom with you?” George asked the both of you.

In all honesty, out of all your meticulous preparation, it had slipped your mind, and you looked over at Daniel with wide eyes in realization. He looked just as startled for a moment before turning it back to you,

“Your choice, sweetheart.”

You could only grin before directing to George, “We don’t…but you can just pull out. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh, blimey-” George was clearly taken aback by your statement for a moment, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure.” you assured him easily.

He looked over at Daniel as if needed reassurance from him that it was okay that he fucked his girlfriend raw, but Daniel just tilted his head up slightly with a casual, “Go on; fuck her brains out.”

Your soft giggle had George looking at you again, bent over at the waist in front of him and so ready and willing. You were sure you never craved something more in your life; you had already come once but you wanted to feel all of him and really make the most out of your once-in-a-lifetime weekend plan. The feeling of his firm hands caressing over your ass again before giving you another passing spank had you whining impatiently. He then carefully dragged the head of his cock between your legs, slipping across your slick cunt and teasing you cruelly, just to watch how your body shuttered in anticipation for him.

“I want to hear you say it.” he ordered softly, his low voice thick with lust.

“Fuck me.” you pleaded sweetly in a gentle whisper, all too focused on his every taunting move behind you and every slight dip of the mattress.

“Louder.” George insisted, tapping his dick against your cunt just to hear the filthy wet slaps from how fucking wet you were. You could feel it dripping down your legs and you just wanted him to scoop it up and fuck it back into you, dammit.

With a huff, you tried again, “Please fuck me.”

“I still couldn’t quite hear that.” he tutted, his voice smooth and gentle in that angelic accent of his but the undertones of sterness were apparent, as if he had a demand to be heard and obeyed, “Come, now. Use your words.”

“My God, you’re cocky.” you mumbled weakly towards the sheets despite the lingering smile across your lips at that fact before giving into his demand with a firmly spoken, “Please can you fuck me?”

“Of course.” he cooed, running his palm up your spine and then back down as his other hand angled the tip of his cock right against your pussy, “You simply had to ask.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to offer any sort of witty rebuttal as he took that moment to sink inside you slowly. Your expression fluttered along that perfect balance of pain and pleasure and your fingers grasped onto the tightly pulled duvet to clutch some of the fabric desperately. The whimper that fell from your lips had George hushing you warmly as his hands took to your hips and he gave you a little squeeze as he pushed deeper inside you so cautiously.

“Good girl. This what you wanted?” he purred.

“Yeah.” you exhaled, “Thank you, sir.”

Across the room, Daniel watched with a firm stare as this stranger filled you up and received the privilege of that filthy title that was usually meant only for him. Daniel never pinned himself to be an insecure man and it was this fact that led him to understand his comfort for allowing a weekend plan like this to happen. Even in a moment like this, watching you be taken by another man right in front of him, he was unfazed. Your words were spoken out of habitual pleasure and your needs were nothing more than physical desire. Your heart still belonged entirely to him. It was his bed you were falling into at the end of every night. He was the one who could fuck you whenever he pleased - no strategic plan necessary. Yeah, George was the winner that night but Daniel knew he was the winner every night solely for the fact that he was the one who had you.

That fact was only solidified the moment your eyes locked on his from across the room, always finding him at any given moment, wanting to stare at him even as you were about to be fucked by another man. It was a whole new angle for Daniel and one he couldn’t seem to get enough of. He shifted on the window seat to push his boxers all the way off before lounging back against the cushions and he spit in his palm to help stroke his dick a little easier.

George, with his hands grabbing your hips, had filled you completely, stalling a moment with his cock buried entirely inside you and able to feel every last inch of your body hugging him so tightly. The angelic moan you let out as he bottomed out had his expression furrowing for a second as he forced himself to hold back for a moment, hands squeezing your hips to keep your ass right up against his body so there was absolutely no space between you. The gentle rocking of the yacht seemed to help get in started, pulling out of you only about halfway before easing into you again, finding a slow pace to get you used to him. You definitely appreciated that since he was entirely different from Daniel and your inexperience that came from your lack of quantity of lovers had you still slightly hesitant.

But it wasn’t long at all before you were easing into the feeling with your body starting to accommodate him a little better, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip without tearing your eyes away from your boyfriend who was lazily stroking his cock and watching you both so intently. You started to push your ass back into George’s motions to meet him halfway, giving enough strength to start to have your sweaty skin clap together with each movement, and he groaned lowly with a two handed squeeze of your ass, punctuating it with a sharp spank to one of your cheeks.

“Yes.” you breathed dreamily, “Gimme more.”

“Naughty girl.” George taunted, giving you another spank as he started to thrust into you faster.

You squealed lightly at the growing intensity and tightened your grip on the sheets beneath you, letting yourself moan for him freely with your lip still captured by your teeth. It still wasn’t enough and you kept pushing back on him at that same pace to try and get him going.

“More.” you insisted, looking back at him over your shoulder, “Fuck me hard.”

Speaking up from across the room, your boyfriend guided him, “Pull her hair, bro. Do what you want to her.”

“Yeah,” you giggled in agreement, “this is your night.”

“Jesus Christ.” George exhaled in near shock before helping himself to a fistful of your hair. He gathered all of it in his grasp and then gave it a sharp tug, forcing a pleasant smiling moan from your chest.

“Fuck, yeah.” you beamed.

“Yeah?” he right away picked up the pace again, thrusting into you harder now just as you so obviously begged for, with his hand holding tightly to your hair.

The muted music from the party on the deck above was obsolete as your attention was all focused on the lewd slap of his skin against yours with every quick snap of his hips against your ass. His free hand came down hard on your flesh again and you cried out for him pleasantly. You rose up onto your hands flat against the mattress just to feel him pull at your hair until your head was forced to tilt up towards the ceiling.

“Oh my God, yes.” you moaned shakily as your knees spread a little wider just to make sure he was getting as deep as he could go. You were already getting dizzy from it, tears burning your eyes from how good it felt to be a little roughed up by this handsome stranger you had been ogling all weekend, and the way your knuckles were turning white as you gripped the duvet underneath you was proof enough of that fact. The whimpers and moans that tumbled from your lips were almost involuntary as it were nothing but your body’s natural honest reaction to the way he could make you feel but you still encouraged him with a pitchy, “Please don’t stop!”

“Naughty girl.” George spoke down to you firmly without breaking his pace, spanking you hard again so the sound nearly echoed across the modest bedroom, “Naughty fucking girl.”

His large hand groped your ass and tugged at your flesh as if to open you up some more, his eyes focused right down to where you were connected to watch how his cock disappeared entirely inside you over and over again. Licking and biting his lips under prettily furrowed brows, he couldn’t help the soft groans of his own pleasure, especially watching how you absolutely coated him in your creamy wetness with every thrust. He made sure to keep that snug grip on your hair all the same, almost using it to pull you back into his rough motions because that seemed to get the best reaction out of you.

“God, look at you taking it so well.” Daniel spoke from across the room.

You could only offer a pleading “uh huh” in reply, your sounds almost constricted by the way your head was forced back.

Daniel tisked, “My pretty little whore gets so fucking cock drunk…you can’t even form words anymore.”

With your hair pulled so snugly, you couldn’t turn to look at Daniel sitting across the room as much as you might have wanted to. It wasn’t nothing you hadn’t seen before, however, all too familiar with the image of him sitting in the nude with his cock in his hand, stroking himself off with his eyes fixated on you. You never minded him staring at you and you never minded putting on a little show for him to get that attention from him; this was no different. It was a new experience for the both of you but as initial nervousness had easily melted away, all the way left was pure erotic pleasure in the both of you and connecting you from across the room.

George’s hand in your hand pulled a little harder and you followed his wordless demand to get you up on your knees in front of him so your back was almost to his front and his hand let go of your hair to wrap around your throat as his lips met your neck. Your eyes rolled through your pleasant moan, reaching a hand behind you dumbly to try and grasp his waist as he kept his rough thrusts into you, stuffing you entirely full until the heat of it all was rushing right through your body and raising a tasteful sweat to your skin. His other hand drifted from your waist around your front to easily find your clit and his middle finger tugged greedy circles over the sensitive bud, earning a choked whimper from your throat.

“Yeah, that’s good, isn’t it?” he taunted against your ear, holding your body tightly against his as he had his way with you, telling you honestly in that warm rich voice of his, “You’re a fucking treat.”

You couldn’t even manage to string a reply together, only proving yourself to be embarrassingly agreeable with Daniel’s prior jab towards you, and all you could do was nod dumbly to the wall ahead of you with that view of sparkling Monaco in the distance. It was unreal. Between the way he fucked you and his hand on your already sensitive clit, he was drawing you closer and closer to another orgasm and although you couldn’t find the words to express it, it was glaringly obvious by the way your whimpers grew pitchier and your pussy squeezed tighter around him.

The way you were suddenly released from his arms and naturally dropped forward onto your hands on the mattress again startled you slightly but you barely had a second to process the change and the dwindling coil of pleasure inside you before George was pulling out of you completely as he grabbed your arm and flipped you over onto your back. It was his obvious assertion that had you gaping up at him as you were suddenly face to face again, your hands flying above your head to fist the duvet as he grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs open in a wide v-shape so he could lean down and spit loudly onto your pussy before straightening back up above you like a God.

“I decide when you cum, yeah?” he reminded you as his eyes locked on yours along with the demanding slip of his cock back inside you all the way. His eyebrows raised in time with your tight gasp at the return of that sudden stretch and his hand wrapped around your throat just as he began to fuck you again.

You nodded quickly with a whimper, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah.” he exhaled strongly, guiding your left leg up to his shoulder before returning his hand to the back of your right knee to keep your legs spread wide, “You look like a fucking goddess. Don’t stop looking at me.”

As if you were in some sort of trance, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to look away from him even if you tried. His hand around your neck and pinning you down to the mattress certainly helped; you wouldn’t have had it any other way. It almost felt like a wet dream that was too good to be true from just the sight of this handsome stranger above you, having a front row seat to the sight of his messy light brown waves flopping over his forehead in time with his rough thrusts into your pliant body and the expression of firm lust across his features that found home in his big stormy blue eyes.

The room was filled with the lewd sound of your shared breaths and soft moans, paired so filthily with the steady clap of your sweaty skin colliding in some consistent rhythm. His hand was so big around your throat that he could move his index finger up to slip into your mouth and, almost as if by natural instinct, you gladly sucked on it without breaking his eye contact. You wanted to lift your head up to watch how he fucked you but he gripped harder to your throat, pinning you down, even as you spit rolled down the side of his finger and over the back of his hand.

“Keep looking at me, love.” he ordered firmly. “Wanna see you turn into a fucking mess for me.”

But Daniel had alternate plans as his shadow appeared above you as he stood at the opposite side of the bed where your head was and he grabbed your biceps to yank you closer to the edge. George accommodated his move with grace as he just shuffled after you and slipped back inside you, filling you right up again with a handsome groan, still holding your leg out to the side so you could take all of him.

With your head hanging off the side of the bed just slightly, Daniel tapped the head of his cock against your swollen lips and you didn’t need to be instructed before you were opening your mouth for him. He praised you lowly as he carefully slid in against your tongue, moving slowly but surely until his balls nudged against your nose and you gagged lightly around him.

“Christ.” George groaned at the sight of your throat bulging slightly from the shape of Daniel dick helping itself to your body, and he slowly started up his thrusts again without tearing his eyes away from you.

Now you couldn’t see either of them at that angle, simply trusting them enough to use you how they needed from both ends. Daniel’s cock thrusting gently into your throat was forcing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as you choked on him but George fucking you at just the right angle had you nearly sobbing with pleasure. So much so that you had to reach up to press a hand to Daniel’s abs to get him to let up and pull out of your mouth so you could cough up a pitchy moan and heave your head up to watch George’s cock pistoning addictingly inside you.

“Feels so good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” Daniel cooed, stroking his dick right beside your face as he, too, was watching the scene unfold intently.

“Uh huh.” you whimpered, eyes raising to George’s face, only to find him already staring at you.

Your expression directed up at him had his jaw visibly clenching and his grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you in place as he kept his rough pace going. Daniel’s dick poked against your cheek from how close he was standing, smearing a bit of precum across your flushed skin, and you naturally turned your head towards him to guide him into your mouth with a greedy hand. He set his hand under your head to help keep you supported as you sucked on him and you moaned around him from the way George was fucking you so deliciously.

“I want you to cum for me now.” George ordered down to you, yanking you towards him a little more to make sure your head was back on the bed, all without faltering his strokes into your sopping body. “Think you can do that for me, gorgeous?”

You pulled away from Daniel with a string of spit still connecting you, answering him with a weak, “Please.”

He took his hand from your leg that was resting up on his shoulder just enough to lick the pad of his thumb so he could drop it down to rub at your clit, letting his palm and fingers apply a bit of pressure to your lower abdomen at the same time. You literally flinched under his touch, back arching off the bed slightly as your legs threatened to curl inwards. George was firm in his grasp as he kept your one leg held outward no matter how much you struggled against him, his eyes nearly unblinking as he stared at your face like he didn’t want to miss a second of your reaction to him.

“Harder,” you squeaked, desperate for more of that hint of growing tight pleasure inside you as your fingers slammed down against the mattress on either side of you to grab tightly to the sheets, “please, harder.”

“Naughty girl.” he spoke down to you but complied, quite literally pounding you into the bed that you swore the rock of the yacht might have been influenced by it. His thumb on your clit was just as quick, his spit mixing in with the slick of your pussy to have him gliding effortlessly over your most sensitive spot that was nearly throbbing with need.

“Yes,” you whimpered, forcing yourself to stare down your body to watch him touch you, fuck you, have you just the way you liked it in a way you never expected for your reckless weekend plan, “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-”

Daniel still stood right beside you, pumping his cock faster as he kept his gaze flicking between your face and how this handsome stranger fucked you in a way only he had before. You were quite literally dizzy from pleasure, almost frightened by how quickly your body was ramping you up to your second orgasm of the night, but the presence of Daniel right there beside you was comforting.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you cried out, face scrunching up as it just kept building, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer pleasure of it all.

“That’s it,” Daniel praised lowly down to you, the slick sound of his hand on his cock only enhancing your senses, “Give into it. Cum for him, darling. Give him what he wants.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” you sobbed, teetering right on the edge, drowning in overwhelm.

“Yes, you can.” George insisted firmly without stopping, his words strained behind his slight breathlessness, “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes to open and focus on him, already squeezing around him at the sight of his pretty face, especially seeing him so sweaty and ruined by you. He licked his lips dreamily before speaking again, in that beautiful rich accent of his that seemed to have captivated a piece of your soul,

“You’re gonna cum for me. You said this is for me and I want you to cum right now. Okay? It’s my fucking day and you’re my fucking toy and you’re gonna do what I say and cum all over my cock. Isn’t that right, naughty girl?”

The first slight pulse of your cunt around him had a small smirk pricking the corner of his mouth and you didn’t dare to tear your eyes away from his as he kept you going with more pretty words,

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby. Come on, come on, come on, gimme it,”

It hit you hard, forcing your head to drop back against the bed with a choked sob to the ceiling as your vision almost went black, fingers pulling hard at the sheets and nearly untucking them from the sides of the mattress in the process, legs trembling from where he held them splayed, and the intense grip of your innermost muscles around him had him groaning deeply as he fucked you through it.

“Good girl.” George praised loudly, “Fuck me, that’s it-”

He lasted as long as he could inside you until he was pulling out and taking his hand from your clit to stroke himself off instead, only needing a few pumps before he was coming right up your stomach in thick white spurts. His moans were as angelic as his voice as he claimed you up in pretty ribbons up to your navel and it dripped down his hand as his orgasm tapered off.

“Holy fuck.” Daniel groaned from beside you, interrupting your silent gaping towards George with his hand in your hair and he pulled your head in. You barely got your mouth around him before he was coming too, blessing your ears with those pretty moans you knew all too well as he came across your tongue and down your throat. Having been unprepared, you choked around him slightly but took it all, knowing it was better than making a mess on the bed or your makeup.

When he was done and you pulled away from him with a spitty gasp before swallowing, he then leaned right down to kiss you, hand cradling your jaw to lead you through a few sloppy kisses. The moment you separated, George’s fingers were on your lips and you let him slip them into your mouth, gladly cleaning them off for him with the salty taste of cum grazing your tongue thanks to the both of them.

“You okay?” Daniel asked you softly with a pet to your hair.

George took his fingers from your mouth and you nodded, assuring them both with a breathless, “Yeah. Fuck, I’m so good.”

The two young men chuckled softly in agreement and George gently put your quivering legs down on the mattress before shifting off the bed.

“I’ll get you a towel.” he announced before disappearing through the door beside the bed that led to the small ensuite bathroom.

In his absence, you forced yourself into a sitting position and Daniel sat on the side of the bed beside you, both of you facing opposite directions but able to look at each other easily that way. He pet your hair out of your face and leaned in to kiss your lips softly once, twice, and then you rested your head on his shoulder with a blissful smile.

“How was that?” he asked quietly into your hair.

“Loved it.” you whispered. “Love you.”

Daniel smiled and reached a hand up to pet your hair again, “Me too. I love you too. You were so fucking good.”

George returned with a damp face cloth and he knelt on the bed again so he could reach you comfortably and he wiped up his mess from your stomach like a true gentleman. You stared at him intently as he cleaned you up and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your fingers through his hair, asking him bluntly, “How does your hair still look incredible?”

His soft chuckle was warm and low and his smile was infectious to you as he sat back from you, “I doubt it’s still incredible after your hands were tugging on it for a while there.”

Your fingers trailed out of his hair and down the side of his face, tracing his sharp jawline until you ghosted across his lips, licking your own habitually, and he hesitated only a moment before leaning in to kiss you. Giddy thanks to this handsome stranger, you smiled bashfully into it, and only a few seconds later he was pulling away and sharing in your soft smile before he moved to toss the cloth into the bathroom sink.

Daniel kissed your shoulder before asking the both of you as he stood up from the mattress, “You think we should get dressed and get back up there before people wonder where we are?”

“Probably.” George answered, walking around to the end of the bed so he could grab his underwear to put on.

You stayed on the bed for a little longer to catch your breath and took that moment to watch the two of them get dressed before Daniel brought over your clothes for you. You thanked him with a kiss and he helped you get up. You seriously needed to lean on his arm as the combination of your trembling legs and the sway of the yacht had you stumbling and, the three of you still slightly tipsy, shared light laughter. George came over to offer his hand for you to hold for stability while Daniel crouched down to help dress you himself.

Once you were all dressed and you had each made sure you still looked somewhat presentable in the bathroom mirror - you needing to wipe the smudged makeup from around your eyes first - you made your escape back to the party. George led the way again, peeking out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before slipping out of the bedroom with you and Daniel close behind. Daniel shut the bedroom door after you and he took your hand as you followed George right up the steep staircase.

Of course, your legs were still quite wobbly and as the boat rocked beneath you, you ended up half stumbling and nearly falling on George in front of you in the process. He stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to you as the three of you bursting into quiet giggles and they both helped you up again as if you were scaling a mountain together.

Since everyone at the party was quite intoxicated by then, your sudden ascension of the stairs right into the main space of the yacht went genuinely unnoticed and you melted right into the group with ease. You located Tabitha and Corbyn with ease near the rear of the yacht overlooking the dark ocean water surrounding you, talking with Charles and Pierre as well as Alex and his girlfriend. Tabitha noticed you first, giving you a lingering glance as you and Daniel approached hand in hand, George trailing behind casually.

“There you are.” Corbyn greeted you with a smile, his hand resting on the railing of the yacht behind Tabitha, “Where were you guys?”

“Just around.” Daniel answered casually as the circle shifted to welcome you three in.

You found your spot together between Pierre and Corbyn while George took to the other side of the little group between Alex and Charles. Daniel then took his hand out of yours to slide into the back pocket of your jeans instead and you stepped closer to his side and tucked your arm around his back in response, definitely overthinking how you were supposed to act in order to appear normal.

Alex sipped his drink and eyed George silently for a brief moment but you were sure that you were in the clear. Everyone seemed perfectly clueless, and your slight PDA with Daniel didn’t seem anything more than your usual drunken infatuation, the flush of your cheeks easily excusable as a result of the alcohol. Alex and Tabitha were looking at you like they expected more details of what you were up to in your absence but thankfully Charles went back to whatever story he was sharing and the attention shifted.

It was hard for you to focus on what he was saying when you were still buzzing with those glorious pleasure hormones and you were finding it difficult to keep your smile at bay. George kept glancing at you from across the circle, always having to keep looking away because one look at your obvious grin was making him start to smirk too. You couldn’t afford to have your cover blown. It was set to be the dirty little secret between the three of you.

In the early, early hours of the morning - some time around 3am - the yacht returned to the harbour and the mess of drunken professional drivers all stumbled out onto the pier to head home. Taxis and Ubers were called and there was a chaotic mess of intoxicated hugs and noisy goodbyes shared as people started to part ways. Corbyn and Tabitha stayed close to you and Daniel since you four were heading back to Corbyn’s together although part of you wished you had a bit of distance so you could have a proper, private goodbye with a certain handsome stranger.

Regardless, he still went in for the hug and you held onto each other probably a beat longer than real strangers would have. He gave your back a little rub and spoke to you as quietly as his drunk self could manage, “Thanks for such a memorable night.”

You giggled into his neck to try and hide your blushing smile, hands grasping onto the back of his soft expensive cardigan for a moment, replying sweetly, “You too. Get home safely.”

He pulled away from you and kissed your right cheek and then your other, half startling you, but no one seemed to bat an eye and in a second he was moving to Daniel to share a fist bump and knowing smiles with their casual ‘good night’s. And then, you watched him get into his taxi and shut the door without a look back and then he disappeared towards the winding late night streets of Monaco.

You couldn’t stop thinking about George for the rest of the night and well into the next day. You dreamt about him once your head hit the pillow that night - reliving your experience on the yacht in cloud-like detail - and you opened your hungover eyes in Corbyn’s guest room at nearly noon, tucked up in Daniel’s arms, with the memory of it all fresh on your mind. As you dragged yourselves out of bed to get ready for the day and even throughout brunch with your gracious hosts, your thoughts kept straying to wonder what George was up to and if you were going to be able to run into him again before you had to leave Monaco after only a few more days.

As Corbyn and Daniel took the responsibility of cleaning the kitchen, leaving you and Tabitha to hangout in the living room for a bit, you finally had enough of a distraction to stray you from the thought of George as you admired Corbyn’s shelves of trophies from throughout his career that lined the living room wall. Tabitha offered a few tidbits of information to you about some of them and you listened politely, trying to follow some of the lingo she was saying without making yourself look too much like an idiot. There was only so much to discuss at the trophy display so you eventually sat on the couch together and she asked you a few questions about how you enjoyed the party the night before and you made some lighthearted jokes about your underlying hangover you were nursing. She seemed insistent to know more about you and your night but to keep from having to spill your secret, you found a distraction in the album on the coffee table beside you.

Maybe you shouldn’t have just gone snooping through Corbyn’s things - especially with a title as personal as ‘Our Story’ that was written in curling calligraphy on the cover - but it was out in the open so you were sure it was fine. Tabitha didn’t stop you. Of course, what you had anticipated to be a good distraction, ended up being the opposite as the first page of the homemade photo album housed an image of a younger Corbyn, Lando, Alex, and George with their arms thrown around each other in a line up, each donning a different race suit. Underneath read The Rookies - FP1, Australia, March 2019 in neat printing. You stared at the picture and the younger, rounder face of George smiling back at you, trying not to think about the horribly sinful things that same young man did to you not even 24-hours prior.

Tabitha had asked you something, or maybe she had just said something about the album in passing, but you didn’t hear her at first until you finally looked back over at her to find her staring expectantly at you.

“Huh? Sorry.” you cleared your throat and closed the album before sitting back on the couch like you were touching something you weren’t supposed to.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly at your startled reaction but she played it off with a gesture to the coffee table and a, “You can keep looking through it. It’s not a secret. Just a summary of Corbyn’s F1 career and a bit of him and me getting to where we are today. I gave it to him for his birthday two years ago.”

“Aw,” you glanced back at the book, “that’s cute.”

“Here,” she picked it up from the table and rested back against the couch with it, “let me show you the best parts.”

You leaned comfortably into the couch beside her and let her walk you through a few of the best photographs, all taken by her. It wasn’t long before Daniel and Corbyn joined you from the kitchen and Corbyn was holding his phone up as he called out to his girlfriend to drag her attention away from the album.

“Charles texted,” he said, “He’s having a little get-together at his place tonight. Did you want to go?”

“Another party?” she peaked a brow at him.

“Just a lowkey thing.” Corbyn assured her with a chuckle. “Looks like just Pierre is going over so far. Then us. Maybe Lando if we wanted to bring him along too?”

Tabitha looked at you, “Did you want to go?”

“Yeah, sure, it sounds nice.” you smiled in agreement.

“Okay. I’ll text Lando to invite him too.” she grabbed her phone from the table.

Part of you was hoping she would catch onto your telepathic girl-message to request her to extend the invite to George too but maybe you hadn’t known each other long enough for that to work. All you got in response to your silence was her acknowledgement that Lando was going to join the group at Charles’. You frowned but didn’t push anything. God forbid you made yourself look suspicious.

Charles lived in a nice apartment building farther into the core of Monaco, right amidst the hustle and bustle of it all, and Corbyn pulled his car into the two-car garage using the passcode he knew well by then, parking beside Charles’ sleek black Ferrari. You eyed the red and white stripes that stretched up the hood of the car as you followed Corbyn towards the entrance of the building. The lifestyle of these young men was nothing you had ever had the privilege of witnessing before.

Although spacious, Charles’ apartment was quite modest compared to what you were expecting but hints of luxury were present in the real hardwood herringbone floors and the high scale appliances and furniture. Right away, Daniel was admiring the white upright grand piano by the window the moment you walked in and he slid over to it with his hands held behind his back to force himself not to touch it without permission.

“This is beautiful.” Daniel complimented to your host as Corbyn and Tabitha headed into the adjacent living room to greet Pierre who was relaxing on the sofa. “I didn’t know you were into music. Do you play?”

“Thank you.” Charles smiled as he joined you and Daniel at the piano, “We used to have a piano when I was younger and my younger brother was spending hours and hours on it so I didn’t have really much time to play piano. But I always loved listening to him. Then a few years ago, when I had a bit of free time, I get a bit of time on the piano and actually learn and I love it. It’s a time where I can actually relax and disconnect from racing and everything that is around.”

“That’s amazing.” Daniel said honestly, “Piano is definitely my favourite. It really is an escape for me too. Corbyn and I actually met in music class in school.”

“Yes, he told me.” Charles said, “He plays too, a little.”

“Yeah.” Daniel glanced into the living room and then back to Charles, lowering his voice to add a cheeky, “Just not as good as me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Charles laughed.

Daniel then glanced at you with a nod to the piano in front of the three of you, requesting, “Add this to my Christmas list.”

You laughed humorlessly, teasing him truthfully, “For who? Me? I can hardly afford to breathe next to it.”

“Well then steal this one.” Charles joked, but hurriedly followed it with a lighthearted, “Just kidding. Just kidding.”

“I think even if we tried, the oversized baggage fee to get it home would cost more than buying a new piano.” you countered.

The two men laughed in agreement, all without taking their eyes off the sleek white instrument.

Charles gestured to it, offering to Daniel, “Would you like to play?”

Daniel’s eyes widened, “Can I? I’d love to.”

“Yes, of course.” Charles nodded him on.

Daniel nearly looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he sat himself down on the matching white wood piano bench and Charles lifted up the fallboard to reveal the pristine black and white keys. Daniel rubbed his hands together and then gently set his fingers on the keys, finding his spot, before pressing them down to begin to play. He began one of his original songs - one that he had written for you - and you smiled softly at him from your spot at his side, watching his focused face as his fingers danced over the keys.

Suddenly, Corbyn was beside you and scolding his best friend with a teasing, “Hey, that’s my spot.”

Daniel scooted over, “Duet with me, bro.”

“Oh, duet?” Charles crossed his arms over his chest in amusement, “Let’s see that.”

You left the three of them to their piano symphonies and you joined Tabitha and Pierre in the living room, placing yourself on the white couch with them as they chatted casually. You admired the view through the open blinds that revealed a breathtaking view of Monte Carlo and, in the distance, sparkles of crystal blue water, before skimming the room to familiarize yourself with the unfamiliar apartment. Like Corbyn, Charles had a display of his trophies along one wall along with a few race helmets and framed photographs from throughout his career and you smiled fondly at the few of little Charles from his racing days posing with people you didn’t recognize.

The ring of the doorbell had Charles leaving Corbyn and Daniel to their lighthearted bickering at the piano to welcome in the last of your group. Lando appeared in the living room doorway with two shopping bags that he placed on the coffee table as he greeted everyone cheerfully.

“What’s all in there?” Tabitha asked, leaning forward from her spot on the couch to try and see in.

“Nothing for you since it’s all alcohol.” he announced proudly, well accustomed to her sobriety, and he lifted two new bottles of vodka out of the bags to show off, “I woke up with a fucking killer hangover this morning but, you know what I say: the best cure for a hangover is to just drink more!”

“Oh my God.” Pierre laughed from Tabitha’s other side, shaking his head in amusement at the ridiculous declaration.

“Dude,” Tabitha sighed, “you’re going to kill your liver.”

“Yeah, well…YOLO.” Lando said in a singsong voice before setting the bottles on the coffee table and starting to unload the rest of them from the bags. Six glass bottles of clear liquor stood in a line on the table and he tossed the empty bags underneath it recklessly, setting his hands on his hips proudly at his little display.

You, Tabitha, and Pierre stared at him pointedly.

Suddenly, he clapped his hands together and turned in the direction of the piano, calling out, “Hey, Charles, where are your shot glasses?”

“Shots again?” Charles appeared in the archway, “I’m still ill from last night.”

“Yeah!” Lando brushed past him with a skip in his step, announcing over his shoulder, “Come on, you better show me the way or else I’ll start helping myself to your cupboards!”

“Oh my gosh.” you laughed into your hand over the messy notes from the piano from the next room, glancing over at the other two startled friends on the couch with you.

“Who invited him?” Pierre chuckled to you and Tabitha from her other side.

Tabitha sighed, “I think I have to take responsibility for that.”

You smiled, “That’s okay. He’s the life of the party.”

“That is some way to put it.” Pierre scoffed with a smile of his own.

The three of you entertained yourselves in the living room with modest conversation and you got to know Pierre a bit better and he shared a few childhood stories of himself and Charles - some that were encapsulated in frames on the shelves beside the couch. There was something so enthralling about Pierre’s demeanor and you swore you could listen to him talk for ages; he was just so relaxing. That was only proven more by the stark contrast that was Lando who literally bounded back into the room moments later.

“We ordered pizza too.” he announced as he set the Monaco-themed shot glasses on the coffee table with the unopened bottles but held one out to you first, “Wanna do a shot with me?”

You lolled your head to the side, pondering, “I dunno. I kinda overdid it last night.”

“C’mon.” Lando frowned, waving the empty glass in the air towards you, “I thought we’re new best friends.”

You took a second to stare at him and his pout as he tried to give you his best puppy eyes to get you to give in, but you didn’t need much convincing since the excitement of the night before was still fresh on your mind. So you leaned forward and snatched the red and white shot glass from him with a call to the next room, “Dani, I’m taking a shot!”

Your boyfriend shouted back from over his piano playing, “Okay, sweetheart!”

Lando unscrewed one of the bottles and you held out your glass so he could pour you a shot before taking one for himself and he offered the bottle out to Pierre who shook his hand to politely decline. Lando tisked in disbelief and then clinked his glass against yours, “To being the only two cool people here!”

“Here, here!” you laughed and tossed back the strong alcohol in one go.

Once the pizza arrived, Charles and Daniel and Corbyn joined you all back in the living room to eat and the spread of pizza and alcohol was squished on the coffee table. Tabitha was set on not drinking and she graciously offered to be the designated driver so Corbyn could succumb to Lando’s peer pressure to drink with the rest of you. Charles’ fridge ended up being raided for various fruit juices to make mixed drinks to sip on as you ate which was a much safer alternative than shots. You and Daniel ended up sharing the living room rug as the rest of the group took up the couch, you placed contently in your boyfriend’s lap, each with a half-filled cup in hand, Lando sitting closest to you on the couch and he was leaning forward to talk to you intensely about whatever conversation had arisen.

“No, no, no, listen.” he held his hand up in your face, “It doesn’t work like that. That’s not the point.”

You shoved his hand away in retaliation, “You listen.”

“Just listen,” he giggled.

“I’m not listening to you when you’re wrong.” you said louder.

“Stop!” he shouted over you, despite your shared laughter, “I’m not wrong!”

“Oh my God,” Tabitha shook her head from her spot right in the middle of the lineup between Corbyn and Charles, “You both are crazy.”

“And intensely intoxicated.” Corbyn added.

At the same time, you and Lando both pointed at him with a firm, “Wrong.” before bursting into laughter again. You flopped backwards against Daniel’s chest and his arms went around you habitually, smiling at your obvious drunken glee and he took another sip of his own drink, too tipsy himself to acknowledge how you were thrashing around your own cup and causing it to be dangerously close to spilling.

“Well, this is better than any film we could have watched.” Pierre said quietly from the end of the couch to the rest of the more sensible few alongside him.

“I’m just saying,” you continued loudly to Lando who was slouched back on the couch with his cheeks pink from alcohol and his tearful laughter, and you pointed your finger at him with the hand that held your cup, “One person can’t keep winning all the time! That’s so mean and selfish and…and…rude! They need to share! Like, if you have no wins and I have seven hundred, I’d be nice and let you pass me.”

“That’s not the point!” Lando whined, smacking his hands to his face.

“Might as well give participation ribbons to everyone at that rate.” Charles piped up.

You swooshed your pointed finger towards him instead, arguing all-knowingly, “Isn’t that what points technically are? Winners get fancy shiny trophies and the rest of you get little gold-star pity points?”

Pierre, Charles, and Corbyn just blinked at you for a second as if processing.

“No. It’s not like that,” Tabitha waved her hands in the air as if to clear that concept, before directing to the three of them, “Stop thinking about it.”

“You’re just afraid to admit that I’m right.” you smirked as you brought your cup to your lips to sip from your drink.

“No, actually, I don’t think you can be any farther from the truth.”

Hardly acknowledging her, you smacked Lando’s leg to get his attention, “Oh, oh, another thing: why is it that when there are three people on the podium are they not all called winners?”

“What?” he squeaked with laughter, “Because there can be only one winner.”

“It’s not the Hunger Games.” you insisted, “All three of you up there get a fancy trophy so why aren’t you all podium winners.”

“Podium winners.” Charles repeated as he licked away his amused smile and exchanged a glance with Pierre.

Tabitha argued in reply, “So everyone’s a winner to you? What about the rest of the drivers? What do you call them? Are they the pit lane winners?”

“Yes!” you gasped, “Genius!”

The guys audibly laughed out loud while Tabitha rolled her eyes despite her own little smile that grazed her expression and Corbyn flopped his head onto her shoulder affectionately through his chuckles. Daniel pulled you back against his chest again so he could press a chasté kiss to your shoulder and you smiled proudly at the reaction you got out of the group of them. You wiggled on his lap a little to try and get comfortable and his arm around you tightened to keep you close, but in your tipsy state, it was hard to sit still. Inevitably, you ended up splashing some of your drink onto Daniel’s jeans and he groaned as the wet sticky liquid seeped against his skin.

“Baby.” he huffed, gently nudging you off his lap.

“Sorry.” you pouted and stood up, almost stumbling over in the process as the alcohol was already in your head and making you dizzy. Tabitha habitually held out a hand to press to your back to keep you stable as Daniel got up from the floor and inspected the large wet spot on his right thigh.

“The toilet is down the hall if you need.” Charles offered, gesturing in the general direction.

“Yeah, thanks.” Daniel answered thankfully.

“Sorry.” you tried again, grasping onto his shirt to prevent him from leaving until he answered you.

Daniel kissed the corner of your mouth, “That’s okay, sweetheart. It was an accident. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the hallway and no sooner was he gone that you were spinning around to face the group on the couch - stumbling slightly - and then you dropped back to the floor, nearly draping yourself over Lando and Corbyn’s legs with each arm.

“I have a secret.” you whispered to the five of them loudly.

“I don’t think now is a good time to tell secrets.” Tabitha offered as the only logical and sober one.

Lando leaned forward and thrust his hand out across Corbyn to hold his index finger towards her, “Shh. I want to know the secret. Don’t ruin it.”

“So…” you glanced behind you to make sure Daniel wasn’t there all of the sudden before turning back to the lineup on the couch, “y’know George? The tall sexy one of you?”

“Uh huh. He is very tall.” Lando nodded you on.

“Last night, on the yacht,” you held your hands to your mouth for a moment because the grin that was taking up your entire face was hard to control. The five of them were holding onto your every word as if they lived for the gossip and especially about one of their friends. You opened your hands to form a circle around your mouth and you confessed to them, “we had a threesome with him.”

There was a half second of silence that was quickly interrupted by Lando bursting into a fit of laughter and throwing himself backwards on the couch, clapping his hands together in full drunken amusement.

From the polar opposite side of the couch, Pierre had to look away to hide his cheeky smile with a hushed, “Oh mon Dieu.”

“What’s that you say in French?” you giggled, offering a crude translation for the two native French speakers in the room, “Ménage à trois.”

“Yes, yes, we know what you mean.” Charles assured you seriously, holding both hands towards you as if to quiet you, his tone bordering entertained and half-stressed.

Corbyn was in half-shock, “Daniel wanted to do that?”

“It was his idea!” you smacked his knee as if to say ‘can you believe’. “He so totally got off on watching someone else fuck me, it was so hot.”

“No fucking way!” Lando cackled, barely able to catch his breath as he asked you again as he raked his fingers through his curly hair in complete bewilderment, “Did that really happen? You really had a fucking threeway with George Russell?”

“Yeah, we did!” you leaned on his thigh enthusiastically so you could move in closer towards him and confess to him the naughty details shamelessly, “He’s got a big dick.”

Lando literally shrieked with laughter, thrashing on the couch until he flopped onto the floor with you as if having a complete fit. His laughter only had you keeling over yourself, sharing in his hilarity until the rest of the group were pulled into light chuckles themselves at the insanity of it all. Tabitha shot a pointed look at her boyfriend who merely shook his head with a baffled grin spread across his face, at a complete loss of words. Lando had tears pouring down his face as he struggled to catch his breath, clutching his chest through peels of laughter until you were both leaning into each other in complete silence as your lungs ran out of air.

Daniel returned to the living room at that moment, only to find the two of you in shambles on the floor and the rest of your little group in indescribable confusion and amusement on the couch. He stopped in the archway to assess the scene he walked in on for a moment before he spoke, “What did I miss?”

Lando just managed to catch his breath before turning to look at Daniel with a smooth and lighthearted, “I didn’t know you were a cuck, mate.”

“Oh my God, bro.” Tabitha gaped at his vulgar bluntness.

Daniel’s eyes widened as you and Lando burst into laughter again and he was right on the defence, “You told them?”

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and turned to your boyfriend, “I had to tell someone. It was fun and worthy of a brag.”

“Don’t worry,” Charles spoke up, “this will not leave this room, yes?”

Pierre, Corbyn, and Tabitha all agreed easily, while it took Corbyn to lean down and smack Lando’s arm to get him to catch his breath enough to agree too. Sprawled out on the rug, Lando held his hands over his stomach as he started to calm down, having laughed himself into a stitch.

“Fuck me.” he chuckled faintly before catching himself and wagging his finger between you and Daniel, “That was just a saying, by the way, don’t take that seriously or anything.”

“Oh, God, everyone on the grid is going to know by tomorrow, aren’t they?” you giggled, smacking your hand to your mouth.

“Nah,” Corbyn assured you, “We won’t let him say a thing. He listens to Tabs, at least.”

“Although, there were already suspicions last night as to who was occupying the room.” Tabitha said, “And Alex 100% knows since he saw you three.”

“What?” Charles gaped at her, “When did he see them?”

Daniel sighed and joined you and Lando on the ground, accepting his defeat, “When we were sneaking off, we ran into him. I guess George’s lie wasn’t as smooth as we thought at the time.”

“If only he could lie as good as he could f-”

Daniel’s hand smothered your mouth before you could finish your drunken thought but Lando was already sent keeling over in laughter once more.

#daniel seavey #why dont we #corbyn besson #george russell #f1 #formula 1 #george russell smut #george russell x reader #formula one #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #daniel seavey smut #daniel seavey x reader #why dont we smut #why dont we fanfic

119 notes · View notes