#barely drawn anything this week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellamarielu · 2 months ago

Text

on the job

joel miller x female reader

summary: you and joel are forced to work together, but neither of you can get past the others stubborn attitude or contractor!joel and interior designer!reader fuck in a walk-in closet

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, pre outbreak!joel, he’s kind of a huge asshole sorry, teasing, degradation, dirty talk, slightly dubcon, fingering, use of nicknames such as princess sweetheart and good girl, finger sucking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, sex against a wall, kinda public sex bc it’s on a job site?? pull out game strong with this one

author’s note: based on this lovely request. i made joel a little mean bc it felt right but at the end of the day he will forever be babygirl. also, i know very little about both of these professions so i apologize for any inaccuracies in that department

You liked to think that you were easy to work with, always polite and mindful— pleasant even.

You mostly kept to yourself, especially when you were working on a project alongside others, however, not everyone shared your cooperative mindset.

In fact, you had worked with a multitude of assholes. Men who thought they held some kind of power over you, who flourished under the opportunity to demean and mock your job like theirs was more important, but none of them even held a candle to Joel Miller.

Your paths crossed when you were hired by a pretentious, middle-aged woman in Austin to help design the interior of her new home— a home that was still under construction.

To make yourself familiar with the layout, you visited the site multiple times in the weeks before construction was scheduled to finish.

It was always an easy and uneventful trip. You greeted the workers, took a few pictures, wrote down some dimensions and then you were gone in twenty minutes tops; but that all changed the day you met Joel.

You waltzed into the house, waving to one of the men you had come to know from your previous visits and then you heard it, a deep berating voice targeted directly at you.

“Who the hell are you and why are you on my site without a fuckin’ hard hat?”

You stopped in your tracks as you were met with an unknown face.

“Uh sorry. I’m working on an interior design project for the Johnson’s. They told me I was welcome to come check out the space if I needed anything.” You didn’t know why, but your voice was coming out in compliance, the tone hushed.

The way this man approached you was incredibly entitled and unabashedly rude.

Normally you wouldn’t let some asshole like this get within two feet of you, let alone talk to you like that; but this guy had you questioning your morals for a split second. He was tall, and broad, and handsome. The southern drawl slipping from the smug curl of his lips and the flex of his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest, had your words stuttering.

“Well, until my job is finished, and the Johnson’s have the keys to their front door, I call the shots. And I don’t do well with unexpected visitors walkin’ around while my guys are trying to get work done.”

Your mouth nearly hung open at his words.

You’d barely said a word to him and he was coming at you with a disgustingly brash and assertive attitude. What the hell was his deal?

“Okay...” The word was drawn-out as it fell from your lips in annoyance.

“Well, it’s kind of funny, because this is probably the fifth time I’ve been here, and none of your guys seem to give a rats ass, so how about you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.”

Finally, you had gotten past the stranger’s criminally good looks and stuck to your guns.

There was no way in hell you were going to let him reprimand you for doing your job. Afterall, you had every right to be here.

“Yeah well, my guys will let you do whatever you want when you’re prancin’ around here in tight little dresses and high heels. You think they’re just bein’ nice for the hell of it?”

His irritation was masked by amusement as he looked you up and down, dramatically raking his eyes over your body.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop the attitude and keep things professional.” The quality of your voice was stern, juxtaposing the way his eyes on your body had you suddenly feeling a rush of heat throughout your chest.

Anger.

The warmth was an angry fervor, definitely not one of lust or temptation. It was a burning irritation for the man standing in front of you, not a curious warmth for how his eyes clung to every curve of your body, taking his time drinking in any exposed skin.

His smile widened as he watched you falter under his stare. “I’ll drop my attitude when you drop yours sweetheart.”

“Listen, Mr-“

“Miller. Joel Miller.”

“Okay, Mr. Joel Miller. I have work to do, so I’m just going to walk past you, take a few notes and I’ll be out of your hair. Deal?”

“Fine. But if I see you back here again you better be wearin’ a hard hat. Don’t need any trouble because you trip and hit your pretty little head.” He let his eyes wander down your body once more, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Yeah yeah, got it boss.” You scoffed as you pushed past his broad frame. You didn’t turn to look back, but you could practically feel his eyes burning into you as you swayed into the entry way, hoping it was the last time you’d ever have to speak to him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

You ran into Joel a few more times, each meeting more infuriating and demeaning than the last. He always had a smart comment on his tongue or a mocking intention in his voice.

Joel Miller had quickly become the bane of your existence; yet, for some reason there was a part of you, deep down, that always hoped to run into him when you went to scout out a new project for the house.

Maybe because he was undeniably handsome, always walking around with a charming smirk on his lips and a devious glint in his big brown eyes. It was almost as if he were challenging you— seeing how far he could push you before you snapped.

He continued to test your patience as you now stood in the giant walk-in closet off the primary bedroom.

You were trying to establish a color scheme sophisticated enough to fit Miss Johnson’s impossible to please pallet while Joel was making unnecessarily loud noises across the room.

He was far from graceful, the slamming and pounding of tools was all you could hear as he worked on one of the many intricate shoe shelves on the wall.

“I thought this side of the house was done.” You were speaking without looking in his direction, your eyes following the paint swatches on the wall.

“Was.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he continued working.

“Until the queen decided she needed more storage for all her designer shit.” He was chuckling at his own words, side eyeing you from his spot kneeling on the floor.

“You are genuinely the most unprofessional person I’ve ever met.” You dismissed his rude comment about the woman you were both employed by.

“That right?”

You refused to look at him, but you could hear the delight in his voice.

“Absolutely.” Your response was curt, a quick and straight-forward delivery.

“Good.”

As if you couldn’t hate him more, the word leaving his lips had you turning your head sharply in his direction, an appalled expression plastered across your face.

“God you get on my last nerve.”

“That right?” Again, his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at you.

You raised your brows in annoyance with a single nod of your head at his question.

“Good.” His voice was taunting as he watched you shake your head in frustration.

You brought your eyes back to the wall in front of you, not giving Joel another second of your attention.

After a few seconds of silence his deep voice broke into the room. “You know, if you weren’t so uptight, maybe I’d ask you out for a drink sometime.”

It took you a minute to register his words. Was he implying that he wanted to ask you on a date while insulting you at the same time? What a fucked-up, backhanded compliment; one that had your chest stirring with warmth.

“Well, I guess it’s too bad I’m such an high-strung bitch then.” Sarcasm dripped from your words as you kept your eyes trained ahead, your head spinning from Joel’s implicit interest.

“I doubt you’d last one minute in the bar I’d take you to anyway.”

His comment had your head snapping back again. This time his eyes were already on you, waiting to see a reaction.

“And why’s that?” Your voice cut through the room at his assumption.

“Because it’s not exactly a five star establishment, and I think you’re just like all these pretentious fucks you work for.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning back to the shelf in front of him, tending to a few finishing touches.

“Always so put together, walking around here with your shoulders high.” He was nonchalant as he criticized you, hands busy taking measurements, not even paying an ounce of attention to the dirty look you were currently shooting at him from the other side of the room.

“You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just another pretty face with an overblown ego.”

There it was. The final blow that had your body tensing with anger.

You couldn’t believe that just a few seconds ago you were letting him flatter you, swooning under the smallest inkling of positivity he threw your way.

He was the worst kind of guy, the kind that built you up just to tear you down. The kind that wanted to make you feel worse about yourself so you would go running to him for a semblance of positive reinforcement.

Joel Miller liked the chase— thrived off being such a douchebag that women somehow ended up falling on their knees for him. But you, you weren’t going to be that woman.

“Me? Talk about a massive-fucking-ego, take a look in the mirror Miller. You’re the one always making sure I know my place around here, acting like a fucking sociopath. It’s like you get off on being an asshole.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked directly at you, his expression unreadable, like your cruel words caused a switch in him to flip.

“Maybe I do.”

“What?”

“Maybe I like gettin’ under your skin, watchin’ you get all flustered.” He spoke slowly, setting down his materials and standing to his feet.

“Think it’s kinda cute. You’re always tryin’ to act all big and bad, but I know I make you nervous. I can see it in the way you look at me.” He didn’t move, the smirk on his face causing your eyebrows to furrow in irritation.

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing strong on your opinion that Joel was the world’s biggest asshole. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting his words get to you.

“You can stop wherever you’re going with this. I’m not here to play your little bullshit games, I’m here to do a job and get paid.”

“Who says you can’t have a little fun on the job?” His voice was laced with a deep seriousness as he set his tools down on one of the many shelves adorning the walls. You watched him over your shoulder but kept your back turned, your body still facing the wall.

“Turn around.” The command left his lips and you wanted to laugh at his attempt of authority but the sincerity in his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“What? No-“

“C’mon sweetheart, I think we both know you like bein’ told what to do.” His voice cut you off, the signature smirk on his lips sending a buzz straight to your head.

You didn’t mean to, or maybe you did, but your body turned to face him, watching intently as he continued speaking. His broad frame emphatic as he stood across from you.

“I bet you like it, having someone boss you around. Makes you feel a little inferior.”

As the words left his lips he began walking toward you.

It was a casual stroll, not intense or threatening, yet you felt your pulse racing and your posture slumping at his advances.

“Oh please. You need a reality check Joel.”

“Wanna give it to me princess?”

You kept the appearance of control as he continued moving forward, but internally you were fighting feelings of complete disarray.

You wanted to be offended— maybe even slap him across the face for his wildly inappropriate nickname and the implication of his words. But instead, you froze, his body now less than a foot away from yours and his words ringing in your ears.

There was absolutely no denying the way his statement had your thighs clenching and your head spinning. Something in his delivery, smug and dirty with his eyes holding a perverted hunger and a promise of follow through, made you weak.

You kept your body from jolting when you felt the touch of his hand wrapping around your waist, finding purchase dangerously low on your back.

“Bet you’ve never done anythin’ like this.” His voice was sturdy— rigid with power.

The weight of his hand was rough, his palm resting just above the curve of your ass. His touch was heavy yet temperate as he held you, softly pulling you’re your body further into his.

“Lettin’ some guy you barely know put his hands all over you.”

You watched his eyes carefully, your lips parted but you couldn’t find any words to fill them. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him to stop or keep going.

“Bet all the guys you hook up with are just as prim and proper as you. Can’t imagine that those dipshits graduating from UT with a business degree are fuckin’ you the right way.”

His other hand came to the small of your waist, the movement sending a faint gasp straight to your lips. Your reaction had Joel smirking, reinforcing his grip on your body.

“Probably don’t even know how to get you off.”

“You’re disgusting.” Your voice was a whisper. The insult that you meant to hurl his way dissolved in a pitiful sigh at the way his fingertips were latching onto you.

“Am I? Bet you like that too.” This time he leaned in, causing his words to land directly in your ear, his breath warm on your neck.

“Bet you want someone a little rough around the edges. Someone to fuck you real nice.”

As he spoke, his fingers curled into your body. His grip on you constricting.

His frame pushed into yours, sending you shuffling backward until your back was met with the solid friction of the wall.

“Joel..”

You were searching in your mind, trying to form an articulate sentence to explain why this was wrong; why you couldn’t be in this position with him.

But he had you trapped against the weight of his body— big and wide and rough.

Every single rational thought in your head dissipated, replaced by an instinctual need to have him fuck you against the wall of this ridiculously expensive closet.

He was right, you’d never done anything like this and the excitement of it— the risk, had your entire body burning with white-hot desire.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His hands were holding your hips, pressing you into the wall with his chest dangerously close to yours.

“But I don’t think you want me to.” For a single second you could see an indication of honesty in his eyes as he looked you over, searching for any sign of distress on your face. And when he couldn’t find it, his stare narrowed and his hands held tighter, rotating your body in his grasp until your chest was pressed against the wall.

“I think,” He leaned into you, your ass pushing against the bulge in his jeans as his hum landed on the skin right beneath your ear.

“You want me to lift up this pretty little dress and fuck you nice and hard right here, against this wall.”

His hands found the hem of your dress, bringing it up just enough to bunch at your waist.

Your lower half was almost bare, the only clothing keeping your cunt from being fully exposed to him was the little black thong encasing the dripping mess that had now built up between your legs. It didn’t stop him from reaching between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clothed entrance.

“Fuck- you’re soaked princess.” The first word was a prolonged throaty groan, the rest of the sentence fumbling behind it.

“How long you been thinkin’ bout this huh? Me touchin’ you, makin’ you beg for it.” He was having too much fun playing with you through your panties, his thumb threatening to dip into you even with the lace still covering your entrance.

He pushed against it, moving between your clothed folds and marveling at the wetness seeping through the material.

“I’m not begging.” You managed to hiss out a response, turning your head to peer at him, your cheek nearly pressing against the wall.

“Oh, so she’s always mouthy huh?”

You watched the diabolical grin eat away at his face from the power trip of having you trapped under his weight.

You could talk-back all you wanted— be as bratty and uncooperative as possible, but it didn’t change the fact that he had you right where he wanted you.

“Keep talkin’ baby, go on.” He innocently raised his brows at you, his voice taunting as the weight of his thumb danced between your legs.

“I Know you want this too. You act like you can’t stand me, but I see the way you look at me…” Your voice was quiet but strong as you held onto the last bit of composure you had left, using it to defy the man at your back.

You were trying your best not to lose your train of thought as you spoke. You wouldn’t give up the fight that easily, succumbing to his tempting words and lewd touches. You could tell Joel was used to getting his way and every muscle in your body ached to challenge him.

“The way your eyes are glued to my ass every time I walk past you.” You glared over your shoulder as the words drifted off your lips in a gentle accusation.

His dark chuckle filled the room as his eyes darted away from yours for a short second. Then his stare was back on you— more intense than before. The two of you watching each other, sitting in a pool of mutual revelation.

You both knew it.

You knew since day one that there was a shared attraction, an unspoken sexual tension hidden behind rude words and unsavory exchanges.

What was happening now was just a detonation of built-up pressure that had been stewing for weeks; evident in the wetness at your core and the bulge in Joel’s jeans.

“Anythin’ else you wanna say? Should probably get it all out before I have you all fucked-out on my cock.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he hooked his thumb into your underwear, pulling the material to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely.

A soft gasp slid from your lips at the cool air meeting your newly exposed center, the slick pooling at your entrance only adding to the airy sensation.

“You’re so fucking arrogant.”

The words barely left your lips when you felt his touch meet your core, his fingers spreading your arousal.

You had more to say to him, you wanted to tell him how annoying he was and how you had lost every ounce of decency by letting him talk to you this way, but the words were caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers into you.

“Maybe I have good reason to be.”

Your eyes were squeezed shut at the unexpected feeling of him filling you with his fingers, yet you could hear the smirk dripping in his voice.

“You ever think about that sweetheart?”

His words were impatient, the initial drive of his fingers into your entrance was rough, but now they slowly worked into you. His movements were careful— cautious even.

It was as if he wanted to take his time, watching your body and listening to the shaky breaths leave your lips.

His hand worked between your legs, searching for the exact technique that would send you spewing profanities and crumbling against the wall.

He curled his fingertips at just the right spot, not too deep and not too forceful, just a gentle pulse that had an impulsive whimper pouring from your chest.

“Maybe I’m so arrogant because I know I’m good at what I do.” His words held a double meaning as he added a third finger to stroke your newfound sweet spot.

You almost yelped from the stretch, but you held it back as best you could, refusing to give him the gratification of your submission.

The position he had you in; back arched and ass pushed out, made it almost embarrassingly easy for the addition of a third digit as he watched them to sink into you.

You couldn’t help but hum in approval as he stroked you repeatedly, rubbing against the inviting drawl of your walls. You tried not to lose yourself at his fingertips, knowing from the familiar coil of pleasure in your core that he could have you coming on his fingers at any given moment.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, huh?” Your voice was a string of moans as you tried your best to form a coherent sentence with his hand pushed between your bodies.

As much as you didn’t want his movements to stop, you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you finish when he’d barely even gotten his hands on you.

Knowing Joel, he would never let you live it down. He’d ride around on his metaphorical high horse and crown himself the king of female orgasms. So instead of letting him bring you to the precipice of release, you met him with a phrase of defiance. But your challenging words were really just a gateway to get what you wanted. You could put on a tough act, but at the end of the day Joel was right, you did want him to fuck you in way no one ever had— hungry and hard against the wall, right here in your client’s house.

In fact, the thought of it had taken over every fiber of your being. The anticipation of feeling him rail into you was clouding your judgement and coursing through your veins at an alarming speed.

“Think you can take it?” His growl stuck in your ears as he pulled out of you. The lewd noises of his fingers plunging into the slick mess at your folds was quickly replaced by the sound of him fumbling with his belt buckle.

“How d’you want it, huh baby? You the sentimental type? Want it nice and slow and deep? Or d’you just wanna be ruined? Want someone to be a little rough with ya?” He was asking, but you couldn’t help but note the rhetorical quality of his words as you heard the rustle of his jeans pushing down his thighs.

“That’s sweet of you to give me choice, maybe you don’t like control as much as I thought- “

Your sarcastic remark was cut short at the abrupt stretch of Joel’s length slamming into you.

“Rough it is then.” His voice was a deep grunt echoing from behind you as he paused, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling back out and thrusting into you again.

“Shit princess, didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight.”

His voice swam with amusement and pleasure as he watched the way his dick fully disappeared into you with each thrust of his hips.

Hands pulled at your waist as you felt Joel drive deeper with every breathless groan floating off his lips.

“Look at you, takin’ me like such a good girl.” The words weren’t sweet, instead they teased you, shooting out of his mouth with a mocking tenor.

You couldn’t keep your body from reacting to his praise, albeit contemptuous, the words still held a deep truth about the situation unfolding against the wall of your shared employer’s closet.

“Oh, you like that don’t ya? When I tell you what a good girl you are?” His voice was a broken growl of grunts and sighs as he fucked into you— vigorous and desperate.

His pace was unrelenting as he held onto your waist, pulling you back to meet him with every drive of his hips into yours.

He let one of his hands travel up your body until he was reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up and back until your body was arched at a sinful angle.

“See, I knew you just needed a good fuck.” His groan was right in your ear now that he held your head close to his, the grip he had on your jaw was firm.

It was becoming impossible for you to keep quiet, the strength and depth of his thrusts were causing explicit moans to skate past yours lips.

The hand that Joel was using to hold your face was now maneuvering to your mouth in an effort to muffle the obscene sounds rolling off your tongue. Two of his fingers pushed at your lips, hooking into your mouth.

“Knew that little attitude a’yours was all for show.”

You closed your lips around his digits as he railed into you, a guttural moan sliding up your throat and humming onto his fingers.

“Fuck.” His fowl groan was a direct result of your soft mouth sucking around his fingers, mimicking the way you had his cock encased between your legs.

You invited his touch onto your tongue, swirling around his thick digits and sucking him in deeper, earning a prolonged sigh from Joel as he fucked into you even harder.

Each stroke of his cock had your body pressing further into the wall— his pace was mean and unyielding, like he had something to prove.

With the hand not in your mouth, Joel reached around your body, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quick careless circles over the bundle of nerves.

Your body faltered under his touch, your knees slightly buckling, and if it weren’t for the weight of his body trapping you against the wall, you’d be a puddle on the floor.

He slowed his pace slightly, taking his time to find that spot along your walls again. The one that he discovered just minutes ago when he was three fingers deep in your dripping cunt.

Whines of approval vibrated against the pads of his fingertips still pressing down on your tongue. His hips began rocking into you at just the right angle— slow and deliberate, with the goal of feeling you coming undone on his cock.

“That it baby? Right there?” Again, his words were a sadistic tease, but his voice gave way to pitiful throaty whines.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think with the way he was working you toward your release.

Everything felt so overwhelming, his unrelenting thrusts hitting you in the perfect place, his touch on your clit, rough and impatient and his fingers filling your mouth— all of it creating the perfect storm of inconceivable pleasure.

A jolt of relief surged through your body as the pressure inside you snapped. You let yourself fall further into the wall as Joel’s name slipped from your mouth in a chant.

Hearing his name on your lips in such a distant and dazed voice, had Joel’s cock pulsing. Your walls were clenching from your climax, sucking him in deeper and he couldn’t handle the abundance of warmth enveloping him.

Both of his hands came down to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as held tight.

His thrusts were merciless as he used you to reach his peak, chasing the familiar buildup of tension in his core as he drove into you at a startling pace.

Then he pulled out abruptly.

One hand on his cock, stroking just twice before spilling onto the skin of your lower back, the other pushing your dress further up your body to keep it from becoming a jizz painted mess.

Silence filled the room.

Neither of you spoke as your hands pushed against the wall underneath your palms. You stayed pressed there, Joel’s body still behind you evident in the ragged breaths leaving his chest.

Still no words were exchanged as you felt Joel take a step back, the warmth of his presence fading just slightly.

You dared to break your pleasure induced trance to look over your shoulder, only find him pulling his jeans back up his body and tightening his belt without even sparing you a glance.

You began to move until you were reminded of the thick warm mess resting on your back, keeping you from pulling your dress down.

Before you could do anything, Joel was back behind you, hooking his fingers into the waist band of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stopped at your ankles to tap against your skin, prompting you to step out of them.

Once the lacy material was fully in his grasp, he brought them up to your lower back, using them to gather his spend. He cleaned his mess with the lacy material then pulled your dress back down to cover your lower half. A sticky residue was left on your backside as a plaguing reminder of what had just transpired between you.

You turned to face him, watching as he crumpled up your ruined underwear and shoved it into his back pocket with a smirk on his face.

“How about that drink? Could meet you tomorrow night, should be done here around five.” He was back across the room in an instant, gathering tools and not bothering to look in your direction.

His invitation was genuine, but his words lacked interest.

“I’ll get these back to you then.” His hand came to rest on his back pocket, fingers tapping against the denim holding your used panties.

A self-righteous smile sat on his face as he shot you a look of pure deviance before his eyes were back on his hands as they worked to gather his materials.

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice came out more flustered than you intended as you smoothed out your dress over your thighs.

Joel was heading for the closet door, tool bag clutched in his hand as he gave you one last gaze of victory.

“It’s a date.” The words were a grumble from his lips, the same ones that were busy parading a smug smile.

Then he left you standing alone in the small room, your mind racing around itself and your legs still trembling.

A subtle grin rested on your face as you stared down at the floor, trying to find some sort of equilibrium before even attempting to move.

The giant walk-in closet still encasing a lingering heat of reckless choices as you prepared to go on with your day— business as usual.

my masterlist

#posting this on my lunch break lmao #enjoy a little afternoon delight from me to you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

3K notes · View notes

moonlightwritingf1 · 11 days ago

Text

Prove Me Wrong - Part 2 | LN4

˚༺☆ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N wakes up sore and disoriented, realizing she spent the night with Lando. Though she tries to ignore it, the connection between them lingers, growing harder to deny. At a countryside birthday weekend, tension simmers—but nothing changes. Three weeks later, a surprise visit turns into a night of raw, vulnerable sex. Lando opens up about how much she means to him, and Y/N admits she’s been scared of her feelings. As they cum together, they both realize it’s no longer just sex.

˚༺☆ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

˚༺☆ word count ━━━━━━━ 16.6k

˚༺☆ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, breast play, nipple play, soft sex, creampie, masturbation (f only), dirty talk, praising (incl. good girl), a few degrading terms (slut), rough sex if you squint a bit

Based on this request.

Part 1.

The first rays of morning sunshine filtered through Y/N's bedroom curtains, casting a warm glow across the tangled sheets. She stirred slowly, her body aching in places she'd forgotten could ache. For a brief, disoriented moment, she couldn't remember why she felt so pleasantly sore—until her eyes fluttered open and she registered the weight of an arm draped across her waist, the steady breathing of someone beside her.

Lando.

The events of the previous night came rushing back in vivid detail: their heated argument on the balcony, the taxi ride that crackled with tension, and then... everything else. The way he'd touched her, tasted her, pushed her to the edge again and again. The sounds he'd drawn from her, the pleasure he'd wrung from her body until she was breathless and begging.

She shifted slightly, and his arm tightened instinctively around her waist. Y/N froze, suddenly acutely aware of their naked bodies pressed together, his chest warm against her back. She needed to think, needed space to process what had happened between them—what was still happening, apparently, as his body curled protectively around hers even in sleep.

Carefully, she extracted herself from his hold, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible. She grabbed a t-shirt from her drawer and pulled it on, pausing to look back at him. Lando's face was softer in sleep, his usual cocky expression replaced by something almost vulnerable. His dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. Y/N felt an unwelcome flutter in her chest at the sight.

This was Lando Norris—arrogant, adrenaline-junkie Formula 1 driver who drove her absolutely insane on a good day. The man she'd argued with countless times, whose smirk made her blood boil, whose mere presence in a room set her teeth on edge.

The man who had made her come three times last night with a skill and attentiveness that had shattered every preconception she'd had about him.

"Shit," she whispered, running a hand through her tangled hair. She needed coffee. Strong coffee, immediately.

She was halfway through her first cup, leaning against the kitchen counter and staring unseeing at the wall, when she heard movement from the bedroom. Footsteps padded across the floor, and then Lando appeared in the doorway, wearing only his boxers. His hair was messy from sleep (and her fingers, she remembered with a jolt), his chest bare and sculpted. There was a faint mark on his shoulder where she'd bitten him, and the sight of it sent a wave of heat through her body.

"Morning," he said, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes swept over her, taking in the t-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh, the mug clutched in her hands, the way she was clearly trying to maintain distance between them.

"Coffee?" she offered, gesturing to the pot, anything to break the sudden tension.

He nodded, moving past her to reach for a mug from the cabinet. His arm brushed against hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity at the brief contact. They both froze for a heartbeat, eyes meeting before quickly looking away.

"Thanks," he murmured, pouring himself a cup and adding sugar. He leaned against the opposite counter, creating space between them as he took a sip. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, though she'd actually slept better than she had in months, curled against his warmth.

An awkward silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. What were they supposed to do now? Pretend last night never happened? Acknowledge it but agree it was a mistake? Y/N shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of the lingering soreness between her thighs—a physical reminder that couldn't be ignored so easily.

"About last night—" they both started simultaneously, then stopped.

Lando gestured for her to continue, but she shook her head.

"You go," she said, needing to hear his take first, to calibrate her own response.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. "Last night was... unexpected."

"That's one word for it," she agreed, hiding behind her coffee mug.

His eyes caught hers over the rim of his own cup. "I don't regret it."

The simple statement hung in the air between them. She should say she did regret it—that it was a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment fueled by wine and an argument that had somehow transformed into something else entirely. But the words wouldn't come.

"Me neither," she admitted quietly.

Lando's eyebrows rose slightly, as if he'd expected an argument. "Really?"

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalance even as her heart raced. "It was good. Really good. Doesn't mean I suddenly like you or anything."

A slow smile spread across his face, that infuriating cockiness returning. "Just 'good'? That's not what you were saying last night."

"Don't push it, Norris," she warned, but she couldn't quite suppress her own smile. "You know it was more than good."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice dropping lower. "It was."

The atmosphere shifted, the awkwardness giving way to something warmer, more dangerous. His eyes darkened as they roamed over her, lingering on her bare legs, the outline of her breasts beneath the thin t-shirt. Y/N felt her body responding to his gaze, heat pooling low in her belly.

"So what now?" he asked, setting his mug down on the counter.

It was the question she'd been avoiding. What now, indeed? She wasn't looking for a relationship, especially not with someone as fundamentally different from her as Lando. And yet, the thought of never touching him again, of going back to their usual sniping and bickering without the undercurrent of... whatever this was... felt impossible.

"I don't know," she admitted. "This doesn't change anything. We're still... us."

"Meaning we still can't stand each other?" he clarified, taking a step closer.

"Exactly," she nodded, not backing away as he approached. "You're still annoying as hell."

"And you're still stubborn and uptight," he countered, but there was no heat behind the words.

He was standing in front of her now, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His coffee-scented breath mingled with hers as he leaned in, his hand moving to rest on the counter beside her hip, effectively caging her in.

"But?" he prompted, his eyes dropping to her lips.

"But," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "I can't stop thinking about last night."

It was a confession that cost her, an admission of vulnerability she hadn't intended to make. But something about the way he was looking at her—intense, focused, like she was a puzzle he was determined to solve—made honesty feel safer than pretense.

Lando's free hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "Neither can I."

And then he was kissing her, soft and questioning at first, then deeper as she responded, setting her coffee mug blindly on the counter to thread her fingers through his hair. His body pressed against hers, solid and warm, his hands skimming down to grip her waist.

They could have easily ended up back in bed, repeating the previous night's activities with the added intensity of morning desire. But the shrill ring of Lando's phone from the bedroom broke the moment, causing them to spring apart as if burned.

"Shit," he muttered, looking torn between ignoring it and answering. "That's probably Max wondering where I disappeared to."

Reality crashed back in. Max and Pietra. Their friends. The outside world where they were still Y/N and Lando, antagonists who could barely be in the same room without bickering.

"You should get that," she said, pushing gently against his chest to create space between them.

He hesitated, searching her face. "Y/N—"

"Go," she insisted. "Before they send out a search party."

With visible reluctance, he stepped back, holding her gaze for a moment longer before turning to retrieve his phone. Y/N let out a shaky breath, pressing her palms against the cool counter to ground herself.

What the hell was she doing?

–

"There you are!" Max exclaimed as Lando slipped back into the flat later that morning, having made a quick stop at his own place to change. "We were starting to worry."

Lando shrugged, aiming for casualness. "Had an early errand to run."

"In the same clothes as last night?" Pietra smirked from where she was curled on the couch, nursing her own coffee. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Who was the lucky girl?"

"No one you know," Lando lied smoothly, heading for the kitchen to avoid further questioning. "Just someone I met at that bar on the corner."

Max followed him, lowering his voice. "Everything okay? You disappeared pretty quickly after Y/N left last night."

Lando's heart skipped at the mention of her name. "Yeah, fine. Just needed some air. Things got a bit heated with the whole debate."

"You two and your constant arguing," Max shook his head. "One of these days you'll have to find a way to get along."

If only he knew just how well they'd "gotten along" last night, Lando thought, suppressing a grin.

"Where is Y/N, anyway?" he asked, keeping his tone deliberately disinterested as he grabbed a fresh cup of coffee.

"She texted earlier," Pietra called from the living room. "Said she had some work to catch up on and wouldn't make brunch. Which is a shame because I was looking forward to watching you two snipe at each other over eggs benedict."

"Very funny," Lando rolled his eyes, ignoring the mixture of relief and disappointment that Y/N wouldn't be there. Part of him had been dreading seeing her in front of their friends, afraid his face would betray everything. But another part had been eager to see how they'd navigate this new territory, to catch her eye across the table and share the secret knowledge of what had transpired between them.

"Seriously though," Max said, leaning against the counter. "What's the deal with you and Y/N? Why do you dislike each other so much?"

Lando took a slow sip of his coffee, considering the question. Why did they dislike each other? Before last night, he'd have had a ready answer: she was too rigid, too judgmental, too quick to roll her eyes at his lifestyle. But now, after experiencing her passion, her fire, the way she'd matched him thrust for thrust and hadn't held back... he wasn't so sure anymore.

"She's just... different," he said finally. "We don't see eye to eye on most things."

"Opposites attract, you know," Pietra teased, appearing in the doorway. "All that fighting could just be unresolved sexual tension."

Lando choked on his coffee, coughing as Max pounded him on the back.

"You okay, mate?" Max asked, eyebrows raised.

"Fine," Lando wheezed, avoiding Pietra's knowing gaze. "Just went down the wrong pipe."

"Anyway," Pietra continued, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "you two should try actually talking sometime instead of arguing. You might find you have more in common than you think."

"I doubt that," Lando muttered, though the words lacked their usual conviction.

Pietra shrugged, turning to head back to the living room. "Just an observation. You both get this same look when you're arguing—like you're having the time of your lives."

Lando stared after her, unsettled by her perception. Had they always been that transparent? Had everyone seen something between them that they themselves had been too stubborn to acknowledge?

The thought followed him throughout brunch and into the afternoon, a persistent whisper that wouldn't be silenced. And beneath it all, the memory of Y/N's body beneath his, her lips against his ear, her breathless pleas for more.

He needed to see her again. Soon.

–

Y/N managed to avoid Lando for nearly two weeks after that night. She skipped group dinners with vague excuses about work deadlines, ignored the pointed texts from Pietra asking if she was okay, and generally threw herself into her job with an intensity that left little room for anything else.

But she couldn't avoid thinking about him.

At night, alone in her bed, she'd close her eyes and immediately be transported back to that night. The heat of his mouth between her thighs, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the sound of his voice rough with desire as he whispered filthy promises against her skin. She'd wake up tangled in sheets, flushed and aching, her hand already moving between her legs to chase the phantom pleasure of his touch.

Even worse were the everyday moments—catching a glimpse of a Formula 1 advertisement and feeling her heart race, hearing someone with a similar accent and whipping around expecting to see him, finding herself absentmindedly touching the spots on her body where he'd left marks, long since faded.

It was torture, this constant awareness of him even in his absence. She told herself it was just physical, just the lingering effects of spectacularly good sex after too long without it. Nothing more.

But eventually, her excuses ran thin, and Pietra's persistence wore her down.

"You're coming tonight," her friend insisted over the phone. "No more cancellations. We're doing game night at our place, and if you're not there, I'm personally coming to drag you out of your flat."

Y/N sighed, knowing resistance was futile. "Fine. What time?"

"Seven. And Y/N? Lando will be there, so try not to start World War III, okay? Max and I have a new rug."

Her heart thumped traitorously at the mention of his name. "I'll be on my best behavior if he is."

"That's all I ask," Pietra laughed. "See you tonight!"

After hanging up, Y/N spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear—settling on jeans and a soft blue sweater that dipped just low enough to show her collarbones. She caught herself applying an extra coat of mascara, dabbing perfume on her pulse points, and stopped with a frustrated groan.

"It's just game night," she muttered to her reflection. "Get a grip."

But as she approached Max and Pietra's door that evening, her palms were damp with nervous anticipation. She paused, taking a deep breath before knocking.

Pietra swung the door open with a delighted squeal. "You came!"

"I said I would," Y/N smiled, stepping into the warm apartment. Her eyes immediately scanned the room, landing on Lando where he sat on the couch, beer in hand, mid-conversation with Max.

He looked good. Unfairly good, in dark jeans and a simple gray t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders. His hair was slightly longer than she remembered, curling at the nape of his neck. She had a sudden vivid memory of how those curls had felt between her fingers.

As if sensing her gaze, he looked up, their eyes locking across the room. Something electric passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of everything unsaid. Then his lips curved into that infuriating smirk, and he raised his beer in mocking salute.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he called. "Finally decided to grace us with your presence, Y/N?"

And just like that, they were back to their usual dynamic. Y/N rolled her eyes, shrugging off her jacket. "Don't flatter yourself, Norris. I'm here for Pietra and Max, not you."

"Wouldn't dream of thinking otherwise," he shot back, but there was something new in his eyes, a heated awareness that hadn't been there before.

"Drink?" Max offered, stepping between them as if anticipating an argument. "We've got wine, beer, or I can make you a cocktail."

"Wine would be great, thanks," Y/N said, following him to the kitchen, acutely aware of Lando's eyes on her as she walked away.

The evening progressed with a familiar rhythm of food, drinks, and catching up. Two more couples joined them—friends from Pietra's work and their partners—making it a lively gathering. Y/N found herself relaxing as the wine flowed, the initial tension of seeing Lando again easing as they slipped into their usual group dynamic.

But there was an undercurrent she couldn't ignore—a hyper-awareness of his every movement, every laugh, every glance in her direction. Several times she caught him staring, his eyes full of something that made her skin tingle, only for him to quickly look away when noticed.

"Alright, game time!" Pietra announced after dinner, herding everyone to the living room. "We're playing 'Truth or Dare' tonight."

Y/N groaned. "What are we, sixteen?"

"Don't be a party pooper," Pietra teased. "It'll be fun! Adult version."

"That sounds even worse," Y/N muttered, but took her place in the circle, carefully positioning herself across from Lando rather than beside him.

The game started harmlessly enough—silly dares like doing impressions or confessing embarrassing stories from university days. Y/N chose "truth" when her turn came, relieved when Pietra merely asked about her worst date experience.

But as the drinks continued to flow, the questions and dares grew progressively more suggestive. One couple was dared to make out for thirty seconds, another had to reveal their favorite sexual position. Y/N shifted uncomfortably, hyper-aware of Lando watching her reactions.

When the bottle spun to Lando, Max grinned wickedly. "Truth or dare, mate?"

"Dare," Lando answered without hesitation, never one to back down from a challenge.

Max considered, eyes gleaming. "I dare you to sit next to the most attractive person in the room for the rest of the game."

The room erupted in whistles and teasing comments. Y/N tensed, her heart pounding as Lando stood up. Would he choose her? What would that reveal to everyone? But what if he didn't choose her—why did that possibility make her stomach twist unpleasantly?

Lando made a show of looking around the circle, his eyes lingering on each person in turn. When his gaze landed on Y/N, everything around them seemed to fade momentarily. His eyes darkened, holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch—a look that communicated something raw and honest before he blinked and the mask slid back into place.

With deliberate casualness, he broke their connection and leaned back in his spot. "I'm going to have to pass on this one. All the women here except Y/N are in relationships, and I'm not about to disrespect any of you guys by choosing your girlfriends."

"Diplomatic answer," Max chuckled, clearly impressed by Lando's respectfulness.

"Boring answer," teased Pietra, but she was smiling. "What about Y/N then? She's single."

Lando's eyes briefly flickered to Y/N before he shrugged with forced nonchalance. "We all know how that would go. She'd probably push me off the couch."

There was laughter around the circle, but Y/N caught something in his voice—the slightest hint of strain beneath the casual dismissal. She told herself the sinking feeling in her chest was relief, not disappointment. And yet, that moment of eye contact had revealed something neither of them was ready to acknowledge. She wasn't the only one who noticed how he carefully avoided looking in her direction for the rest of the game.

Two rounds later, the bottle pointed at Y/N again.

"Truth or dare?" asked one of Max's colleagues with a mischievous grin.

"Truth," Y/N said, sticking with the safer option.

"Boring," the man teased. "Alright, truth it is. Who in this room would you most want to be stranded with on a deserted island, and why?"

It seemed like a harmless enough question, but Y/N froze, her mind immediately conjuring images of Lando—his hands, his mouth, the things he could do to pass the time on a deserted island. She took a long sip of wine, buying time as she composed her answer.

"Probably Max," she said finally, ignoring the way her conscience screamed liar. "He's practical, knows how to build things. We'd have the best chance of survival."

Lando snorted from across the circle. "Always the pragmatist."

Y/N's eyes narrowed at his tone. "Some of us think beyond immediate gratification, Lando."

"Is that right?" he challenged, leaning forward. "And how's that working out for you? Having fun up there on your high horse?"

"Better than living life like it's one continuous adrenaline rush," she shot back. "Some of us have responsibilities."

"Here we go again," Max muttered, while Pietra looked between them with narrowed eyes.

"And some of us actually know how to enjoy life," Lando continued, ignoring Max. "Instead of scheduling fun into fifteen-minute blocks on a color-coded calendar."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with anger. "You don't know anything about my life."

"I know enough," he replied, his gaze intense. "I know you're scared to let go, to actually feel something that isn't carefully controlled and analyzed to death."

The room had gone uncomfortably quiet, the playful atmosphere evaporating as everyone watched their exchange with wide eyes.

"Okay, maybe we should switch games," Pietra suggested, shooting a worried glance at Max.

But Y/N couldn't let it go, not with Lando looking at her like that, like he could see right through her carefully constructed walls. "That's rich coming from someone who treats everything like a joke. God forbid you actually take something seriously for once in your life."

Lando's expression darkened. "You think I don't take anything seriously? You have no idea what I—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "You know what? Forget it. You've already made up your mind about me."

"Whoa, tension," one of the other guests whispered, not quite quietly enough.

Max stood up abruptly. "Who wants dessert? Pietra made that chocolate thing everyone loves."

The awkward moment broke as people eagerly followed Max to the kitchen, relieved for the distraction. Y/N remained seated, heart pounding, unable to look away from Lando who hadn't moved either.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed once they were alone.

"You tell me," he retorted, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. "You're the one who's been avoiding me for two weeks."

"I haven't been—" she started, then stopped at his raised eyebrow. "Fine. Maybe I have. But what did you expect? That we'd just go back to normal after..."

"After the best sex of your life?" he finished, his voice dropping to ensure they weren't overheard. "Because that's what it was for me, Y/N. The best. And I can't stop thinking about it."

His blunt admission sucked the air from her lungs. She stared at him, momentarily speechless, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his honesty.

"Lando—"

"Here we go! Dessert for everyone," Pietra announced, returning with plates of chocolate cake. The others filed back in behind her, forcing Y/N and Lando to retreat to opposite sides of the room once more.

For the rest of the evening, Y/N felt his eyes on her, heavy with unspoken things. Every time she looked up, he was watching her, something raw and hungry in his gaze that made her stomach flip. The game continued with forced cheerfulness, everyone careful to steer clear of dares that might reignite the tension between them.

When the night finally wound down and people began to leave, Y/N made her excuses quickly, needing to escape the charged atmosphere.

"I should head out too," she said, gathering her jacket. "Early meeting tomorrow."

"I'll walk you out," Pietra insisted, following her to the door. Once they were in the hallway, she gave Y/N a searching look. "What's going on with you and Lando?"

"Nothing," Y/N said too quickly. "Same as always."

Pietra crossed her arms, unconvinced. "That was not the same as always. That was... different. More intense."

"We just get under each other's skin," Y/N shrugged, avoiding her friend's perceptive gaze.

"Mmm-hmm," Pietra nodded slowly. "You know, sometimes the line between hatred and attraction is thinner than people realize."

Y/N's heart skipped. "That's not—we're not—"

"Alright, alright," Pietra held up her hands in surrender. "I'm just saying, there's a lot of energy between you two. Always has been. Maybe worth exploring what that energy actually is."

Before Y/N could formulate a response, the door opened behind them, and Lando stepped into the hallway.

"I'm heading out too," he announced, studiously avoiding Y/N's eyes. "Thanks for dinner, Pietra."

"My pleasure," Pietra smiled, glancing between them with undisguised curiosity. "You two can share a cab, can't you? You're both heading to the same area."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but Lando beat her to it.

"I drove," he said shortly. "But I can give Y/N a lift if she needs one."

The last thing Y/N needed was to be trapped in a car with Lando, alone with the tension that had been building all evening. "I'm fine, I'll just grab—"

"Don't be silly," Pietra interrupted. "It's late, cabs will take forever, and Lando's offering. Just take the ride."

Caught between Pietra's insistence and the awkwardness of continued refusal, Y/N reluctantly nodded. "Fine. Thanks."

Pietra's satisfied smile as she bid them goodnight suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. Y/N followed Lando to the elevator in tense silence, hyper aware of the small space and the way his cologne—the same one she'd breathed in as he'd moved above her, inside her—filled her senses.

"You don't have to drive me," she said as the elevator doors closed. "I can call a car."

"It's not a problem," he replied stiffly, staring straight ahead. "I'm going that way anyway."

The silence stretched between them as they rode down to the parking garage. Y/N's mind raced, replaying their heated exchange from earlier. The best sex of your life. That's what it was for me. His voice, low and intense, echoed in her memory.

Why couldn't she just admit it had been the same for her?

Lando led her to his car—a sleek, expensive sports model that screamed "professional athlete"—and opened the passenger door with mechanical politeness. Y/N slid in, immediately enveloped by the rich scent of leather and his lingering cologne.

As he started the engine, Y/N focused on the dashboard, the road ahead, anything but the man beside her. But in the confined space of the car, it was impossible to ignore his presence—the controlled strength in his hands as they gripped the steering wheel, the clean line of his jaw, the way his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders as he reversed out of the parking spot.

They drove in silence for several minutes, the tension building with each passing street.

"I'm sorry," Y/N finally said, staring out the window. "About earlier. I shouldn't have taken that shot at you."

Lando's hands tightened on the wheel. "Which one? There were several."

She winced. "Fair enough. All of them, I guess. I was... defensive."

"Why?" he asked, glancing at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "What exactly are you defending yourself against, Y/N?"

It was a loaded question, one she wasn't sure she could answer honestly even to herself. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "This is all... confusing."

"You're telling me," he muttered. "One minute we're at each other's throats, the next we're..." He trailed off, the memory hanging between them.

"Yeah," she breathed, heat flooding her cheeks.

More silence, broken only by the soft purr of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. Y/N was acutely aware of the diminishing distance to her flat, of time running out on this conversation.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked suddenly. "About it being... the best?"

Lando's profile was illuminated by passing streetlights, casting his features in alternating shadow and light. For a moment she thought he hadn't heard, or was choosing to ignore the question. Then, without taking his eyes off the road:

"Yes."

The simple admission hung in the air between them, charged with possibilities.

"Me too," she whispered, the confession slipping out before she could stop it.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel again, knuckles white. "Y/N..."

"We're here," she interrupted as they turned onto her street, both relieved and disappointed by the timing.

He pulled up outside her building, putting the car in park but leaving the engine running. They sat in silence for a moment, the air thick with things unsaid.

"Thank you for the ride," she said finally, reaching for the door handle.

"Wait," Lando's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The touch sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. "We should talk about this. Whatever this is between us."

Y/N looked down at where his fingers wrapped around her wrist, warm and firm. "What is there to talk about? We had sex, it was good, end of story."

"Bullshit," he said quietly. "If it was just sex, you wouldn't be avoiding me. If it was just sex, I wouldn't be thinking about you constantly. If it was just sex, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

She met his eyes then, finding them filled with an intensity that made her breath catch. "What do you want from me, Lando?"

"I don't know," he admitted, his thumb tracing small circles on the inside of her wrist, sending shivers up her spine. "But I want... something. More than just pretending it never happened."

Y/N swallowed hard, caught between the urge to flee and the equally powerful desire to lean across the console and kiss him. "I can't do this right now. I need to think."

After a moment, he nodded, releasing her wrist slowly, reluctantly. "Okay. Think. But don't overthink, Y/N. That's what you do—analyze everything until there's nothing left but cold logic. Some things aren't meant to be analyzed. They're meant to be felt."

She stepped out of the car without responding, her mind too tangled to form coherent thoughts. At her door, she turned back to see him still watching, waiting until she was safely inside before driving away.

Upstairs in her flat, she leaned against the closed door, heart racing. What the hell was happening to her? To them? It was supposed to be simple—one night of hate-fueled passion, a momentary lapse in judgment that they could both move past. Instead, it had unlocked something neither of them seemed able to control, unleashing feelings that refused to be neatly categorized and dismissed.

The worst part was, she couldn't even blame it on the alcohol or the heat of the moment anymore. The attraction was still there, stronger than ever, a constant awareness that hummed beneath her skin whenever he was near.

"Get a grip," she muttered to herself, pushing away from the door. "It's just Lando."

But as she got ready for bed, her mind kept returning to his words. Don't overthink. Some things aren't meant to be analyzed. They're meant to be felt.

Sleep was a long time coming that night.

–

The next few weeks brought a fragile truce. Y/N stopped avoiding group gatherings, and she and Lando settled into a wary coexistence, careful to maintain their usual banter but without the sharper edges that had characterized their previous interactions. If their friends noticed the change, they didn't comment, though Y/N occasionally caught Pietra watching them with speculative eyes.

What their friends couldn't see, however, was the current of tension that ran beneath every interaction—the way their eyes would lock across a room, the careful distance they maintained, the heightened awareness that made every accidental brush of hands or shoulders feel like a deliberate caress.

It was, Y/N thought bitterly, like living with a constant low-grade fever—this persistent, simmering heat that never quite diminished, leaving her perpetually on edge.

They were managing, though. Keeping their distance, being civil, pretending that nothing had changed. Until Max and Pietra's weekend trip to the countryside threw everything into chaos once more.

"It's Ed's birthday," Pietra explained as they gathered for dinner at a new restaurant in Soho. "We're doing a big thing at this gorgeous house he's rented. You'll both come, right?"

"Of course," Y/N agreed immediately, fond of Ed, who was an old friend of Max and Lando's from karting.

"Count me in," Lando nodded. "Sounds like fun."

"Great!" Pietra beamed. "Here's the thing—we're carpooling to save on parking, and since you two are the only singles in the group..."

Y/N's stomach dropped as she realized where this was heading. "We have to drive together," she finished flatly.

"Lando's already offered to drive," Max confirmed. "You don't mind, do you? It's a couple of hours, but better than going alone."

Y/N shot a glance at Lando, who was watching her with hooded eyes. "I guess that works," she said carefully.

"Perfect," Pietra clapped her hands together. "It's settled then. We leave Friday afternoon—Lando will pick you up around two."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur as Y/N's mind fixated on the upcoming trip. Two hours alone in a car with Lando. After weeks of carefully managed distance, they'd be confined together in close quarters with nowhere to escape.

By Friday, she'd worked herself into a state of nervous anticipation. She packed with meticulous care, agonizing over every outfit choice. The weather forecast promised unseasonably warm temperatures for early spring, so she included a swimsuit at the last minute, remembering Ed mentioning a hot tub at the rental house.

At exactly two o'clock, her phone buzzed with a text from Lando: Outside when you're ready.

She took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down her simple white top with a neckline that dipped just low enough to be flattering without being obvious. She grabbed her weekend bag and headed downstairs, her stomach fluttering with nerves.

Lando was leaning against his car, arms crossed, sunglasses shielding his eyes. He straightened when he saw her, moving to take her bag.

"Hey," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Hey," she echoed, handing over her luggage and trying not to notice how good he looked in dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. "Thanks for driving."

"No problem." He stored her bag in the trunk alongside his own, then opened the passenger door for her. "Ready for a couple hours of awkward silence?"

The joke, delivered with a self-deprecating half-smile, broke some of the tension. Y/N found herself smiling back despite her nerves.

"I've packed emergency topics in case of awkward silence," she replied, sliding into the passenger seat. "Weather, traffic, the declining quality of reality television..."

"All the classics," he nodded solemnly, closing her door and walking around to the driver's side.

As they pulled away from her building, Y/N was surprised by how quickly they fell into easy conversation about inconsequential things—music preferences, a new restaurant that had opened near Max and Pietra's place, the latest superhero movie neither had seen yet but both wanted to. It was almost... comfortable, this truce they'd established.

But beneath the casual chat ran a current of awareness that neither acknowledged. Y/N found herself hyper-conscious of every movement Lando made—the flex of his forearm as he changed gears, the way his fingers tapped the steering wheel in rhythm with the music, the occasional glance he cast her way when he thought she wasn't looking.

An hour into the journey, the conversation naturally faded. Lando focused on navigating a particularly winding stretch of country road, while Y/N gazed out at the passing landscape, enjoying the warm spring sunshine that streamed through the window.

"You're quiet," he observed after a few minutes of silence.

"Just enjoying the view," she replied, turning to look at him. "I don't get out of the city often enough."

His eyes remained on the road, but she saw the corner of his mouth lift slightly. "It's nice, isn't it? Open space. Room to breathe."

"Is that why you like driving so fast? For the freedom?"

The question slipped out before she could consider how personal it was—a genuine inquiry rather than the teasing remark she might have made before.

Lando was quiet for a moment, considering. "Partly," he admitted. "There's something about pushing the limits, finding exactly how far you can go before you lose control. It's... I don't know, pure somehow. Just you and the machine and physics."

Y/N watched his profile, struck by the sincerity in his voice. "I never thought of it that way."

"Most people don't," he shrugged. "They just see the speed, the danger, the showing off. But it's more than that."

"What's the rest of it?" she asked softly.

His hands tightened slightly on the wheel. "The rest is... proving something, I guess. To myself more than anyone. That I can do something exceptional, something that matters." He glanced at her quickly, then back to the road. "Sorry, that sounds pretentious."

"No, it doesn't," she said, surprised by the insight into a side of him she'd never bothered to look for before. "It makes sense. We all want to matter."

A comfortable silence fell between them, different from the tense quiet of before. Y/N shifted in her seat, adjusting the thin strap of her top that had slipped slightly off her shoulder. The movement drew Lando's attention, his eyes leaving the road briefly to glance her way.

She caught the look—the way his gaze dropped to the neckline of her top before quickly returning to the road. A familiar heat bloomed in her chest at the knowledge that he was still attracted to her, still affected by her presence despite the weeks of careful distance.

The realization was both thrilling and terrifying. Thrilling because she couldn't deny the reciprocal attraction that had only grown stronger since that night. Terrifying because she had no idea what to do about it, how to navigate this new territory where the lines between animosity and desire had blurred beyond recognition.

"Music?" Lando suggested, breaking into her thoughts.

"Sure," she nodded, grateful for the distraction.

He connected his phone to the car's sound system, and soon the interior was filled with a playlist that surprised her with its eclectic mix of indie rock, classic hip-hop, and even a few mellow acoustic tracks she wouldn't have expected him to enjoy.

"What?" he asked, noticing her raised eyebrows after a particularly soulful ballad began playing.

"Nothing," she smiled. "Just wouldn't have pegged you for a Sam Smith fan."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he said, a challenge in his voice.

"Apparently," she agreed, settling back in her seat.

The journey continued, punctuated by bursts of conversation and comfortable silences. As they ventured deeper into the countryside, the sun beat down more intensely, warming the car despite the air conditioning. Y/N adjusted her position, suddenly very aware of how the fabric of her top clung to her skin in the heat.

Lando's eyes darted to her again, lingering a fraction too long on the dip of her neckline before he forced his attention back to the road. Y/N pretended not to notice, but a thrill ran through her at his obvious appreciation. She shifted again, ostensibly to get more comfortable, but the movement caused the neckline to slip a little lower.

This was dangerous territory. She knew she was playing with fire, deliberately drawing his attention while acting oblivious. But there was something intoxicating about the power she held, about knowing that beneath his carefully maintained composure, he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him.

"Hot?" he asked, his voice slightly rougher than before.

"A little," she admitted, fanning herself lightly. "The sun's stronger than I expected."

"I can turn up the AC," he offered, reaching for the control panel.

"Thanks."

The cooler air provided some relief, but did nothing to dispel the growing tension between them. Y/N found herself remembering that night with increasing vividness—the way his hands had felt on her skin, the taste of his mouth, the sounds he'd made when he came. Her body responded to the memories, a familiar ache building low in her belly.

She glanced at Lando, wondering if his thoughts were following a similar path. His jaw was tight, his posture tense, his eyes fixed determinedly on the road ahead. But the slight flush on his neck, the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, told her everything she needed to know.

They both knew exactly what was happening here. Both fighting the same losing battle against an attraction that refused to be denied. Both pretending they weren't hyper-aware of each other's every breath, every movement, every unspoken thought.

"How much further?" she asked, her voice sounding strained even to her own ears.

"About forty minutes," he replied, checking the navigation screen. "We can stop if you need a break."

"I'm fine," she said quickly. Too quickly.

He shot her a look, one eyebrow raised. "You sure about that?"

There was a challenge in his tone, a knowing edge that told her he'd seen right through her carefully maintained facade. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she turned to look out the window, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

"Perfectly sure," she lied.

Lando's soft chuckle told her he didn't believe her for a second, but he let it drop, turning his attention back to the winding country road. They fell into silence once more, but it was different now—charged, expectant, like the air before a storm.

Y/N's mind raced with possibilities, with scenarios that ended with them pulling over to the side of the road, with his hands on her body and her name on his lips. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to contain the growing ache between them, knowing her underwear was already embarrassingly damp.

She needed to think of something else, anything else. "Tell me about the house," she said abruptly.

If Lando was thrown by the sudden change of subject, he didn't show it. "It's spectacular, from what Max has told me. Right on the edge of a lake, with a massive deck, hot tub, the works. Ed spared no expense."

"Sounds amazing," she nodded, latching onto the safe topic. "How many people will be there?"

"Around 20, I think. Mostly couples, a few singles." He glanced at her. "We're the only ones from our immediate group who aren't paired up."

The observation hung in the air between them, loaded with implication. They weren't a couple, of course, but they weren't exactly just friends either. They existed in some undefined space between animosity and attraction, neither willing to put a label on what was happening between them.

"Great," Y/N muttered. "So we'll be the odd ones out."

"Would that be so terrible?" Lando asked quietly. "Being paired up together in people's minds?"

The question caught her off guard. "I—that's not what I meant. I just..."

"I know what you meant," he said, his voice neutral again. "Don't worry, I won't cramp your style if you meet someone interesting."

The thought of flirting with anyone else while Lando watched made her stomach twist uncomfortably. "That's not going to happen."

"No? Why not?"

Y/N hesitated, unsure how honest she wanted to be. "Just not interested in random hookups."

"Since when?" he challenged, a hint of that familiar cockiness returning to his tone. "Seems like not that long ago you were pretty open to the idea."

"That was different," she snapped, irritation flaring at his deliberate misunderstanding.

"Was it?" he pressed, taking his eyes off the road long enough to pin her with an intense gaze. "How?"

"You know how," she said quietly.

The admission hung between them, neither willing to elaborate further but both acknowledging the truth of it. Whatever had happened between them that night—whatever was still happening—wasn't just a random hookup. It was something else entirely, something neither of them had expected or knew how to define.

Lando's phone chimed with a notification, breaking the moment. "Can you check that? Might be Max."

Y/N picked up his phone from the center console, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that shot through her when their fingers brushed. "It's Pietra. She says they're about twenty minutes away and to let her know when we arrive."

"Can you reply for me? Tell her we'll be there in about half an hour."

Y/N typed out the message, hyperaware that she was holding his phone, touching something so personal to him. It felt strangely intimate, this small act of everyday assistance. She set the phone back in the console, careful not to let their hands touch this time.

As they drove the final stretch, the landscape opened up to reveal glimpses of a lake shimmering in the distance. The roads became narrower, more winding, requiring Lando's full concentration. Y/N was grateful for the break from conversation, using the time to gather her composure before they arrived.

Finally, they turned onto a gravel driveway that led to a stunning contemporary house perched on the edge of the lake. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the afternoon sunlight, and a large deck wrapped around the structure, offering panoramic views of the water.

"Wow," Y/N breathed as Lando parked alongside several other cars. "Ed wasn't kidding about going all out."

"No expense spared for the big 30," Lando agreed, turning off the engine. He sat for a moment, hands still on the wheel, then turned to look at her fully for the first time in hours. "Y/N, before we go in—"

The sound of a car horn interrupted whatever he'd been about to say. They both looked up to see Max and Pietra pulling in behind them, waving enthusiastically.

The moment was gone. Lando sighed, offering a tight smile. "Never mind. Let's go say hello."

As they stepped out of the car to greet their friends, Y/N couldn't help wondering what he'd been about to say. Had he felt it too—that shift during their journey, the gradual erosion of the walls they'd built, the undeniable pull that kept drawing them together despite their best efforts to resist?

She watched him hug Pietra, exchange backslaps with Max, his easy smile betraying none of the tension that had filled the car minutes before. But when his eyes met hers over Max's shoulder, she saw it again—that flash of heat, of raw honesty, before the mask slipped back into place.

Whatever was happening between them, Y/N realized, was far from over. In fact, trapped together in this beautiful house for an entire weekend, it might just be beginning.

–

The house was even more impressive inside. Soaring ceilings, minimalist decor, and those incredible views of the lake from almost every room. Ed greeted them enthusiastically, pulling Y/N into a warm hug.

"So glad you could make it! How was the drive with Speed Racer here?" he asked, gesturing toward Lando with a grin.

"Surprisingly, we made it in one piece," Y/N replied with a small smile, avoiding Lando's eyes.

"She doesn't appreciate my talents," Lando said, the familiar teasing tone back in his voice. "Most women would be thrilled to be driven by a professional."

"Most women have better survival instincts," Y/N shot back, falling easily into their usual pattern of banter.

Ed laughed, looking between them with amused eyes. "Some things never change. Come on, let me show you to your rooms."

They followed him up a floating staircase to the second floor, where a hallway led to several bedroom doors. "Couples are in the rooms with king beds," Ed explained, "singles in the rooms with queens." He stopped by a door halfway down. "Y/N, this is you."

He pushed open the door to reveal a beautifully appointed room with a large window overlooking the lake. "Bathroom's through there," he pointed to a door in the corner.

"It's gorgeous," Y/N said sincerely. "Thank you."

"Lando, you're right next door," Ed continued, moving to the adjacent room. "You two don't mind being neighbors, right? I can switch things around if there's a problem."

"No problem," Lando said smoothly, though Y/N detected a slight tightness in his voice. "We'll be civil."

"More than civil, I hope," Ed frowned. "It's my birthday weekend, guys. Truce for a few days?"

"Of course," Y/N assured him. "We'll be on our best behavior."

"Great! Everyone's down by the lake or on the deck. Get settled and come join when you're ready."

Once Ed had disappeared back downstairs, Y/N and Lando stood awkwardly in the hallway, acutely aware of the proximity of their rooms.

"So," Lando said, leaning against his door frame. "Neighbors."

"Looks that way," Y/N nodded, shifting her weekend bag to her other shoulder.

"Thin walls in these modern places," he observed casually. Too casually.

The implication sent a flush creeping up her neck. "I'll be sure to keep the TV down."

A slow smile spread across his face. "That's not what I was worried about."

Before she could formulate a suitably cutting response, he disappeared into his room, leaving her standing in the hallway with heated cheeks and a fluttering in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

Inside her room, Y/N dropped her bag on the bed and took a deep breath. The drive with Lando kept replaying in her mind—the way his eyes had lingered on her neckline whenever he thought she wasn't looking, the heat in his gaze when she caught him, the undeniable tension that had built between them mile after mile.

She unpacked slowly, distracted by the memory of his hands on the steering wheel, wondering how they would feel on her body again. The ache that had started in the car had only intensified, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Her underwear was still embarrassingly damp from hours of suppressed desire.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, trying to gather her composure, but the knowledge that Lando was just next door—probably changing, maybe even thinking about her too—was too much to ignore. This persistent attraction was maddening, impossible to reason away.

With a frustrated sigh, she lay back on the bed, her hand drifting down her stomach. She shouldn't be doing this—there were people waiting downstairs, friends who would wonder where she was—but she needed release if she was going to make it through this weekend.

She closed her eyes, letting herself remember that night with Lando—his mouth between her thighs, the weight of his body on hers, the way he'd made her feel things she'd never experienced before.

Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, and she hissed at the contact, her body already so wound up that even the slightest touch sent shocks of pleasure through her. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the fantasy that had been playing on a loop in her mind since the car ride. Lando’s hands on her body, his mouth on her skin, his tongue—

Her breath hitched as she imagined him kneeling between her legs, his gaze filled with hunger as he leaned in. She could almost feel his breath against her inner thigh, the warmth of his lips as they brushed against her sensitized skin. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he’d whispered in her ear the last time they’d been together, and the memory of it sent a shiver down her spine. His tongue had been soft, teasing at first, but then he’d pressed harder, licking a slow, deliberate path up her folds until she was trembling beneath him.

Her fingers mimicked the movement now, circling her clit with the same rhythm she remembered him using. Her hips jerked involuntarily, a soft moan escaping her lips as she arched into her own touch. “Please, Lando—” she whispered into the empty room, her voice breaking as her fingers worked faster, her body coiled tight like a spring. She could see him in her mind, his curly hair messy, his eyes glowing in the most perverted way, his hands gripping her thighs as he buried his face between her legs, his tongue lapping at her hungrily.

The image was enough to push her over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, her breath coming in sharp gasps as waves of pleasure crashed through her, her body trembling with the intensity of it. “Yes, yes, yes—” she whimpered, her fingers still moving, drawing out every last drop of her release until she was spent, her body collapsing back onto the bed in a boneless heap.

For a moment, she just lay there, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. The guilt crept in almost immediately—this was wrong, wasn’t it? Touching herself while imagining him, while he was just next door?—but it was quickly drowned out by the lingering heat in her veins, the memory of his touch still so vivid in her mind.

She then cleaned up quickly, changed into another pair of shorts, and applied a fresh coat of lipstick before heading downstairs to join the others. The back deck was crowded with people, most holding drinks as they chatted and laughed in the warm afternoon sun. Y/N spotted Max and Pietra by the railing and made her way over.

"This place is incredible," she said, accepting the glass of wine Pietra offered her.

"Isn't it?" Pietra agreed, gazing out over the lake. "Ed knows how to celebrate in style. How was your drive with Lando?"

Y/N took a sip of wine before answering, buying herself time, hoping the flush on her cheeks would be attributed to the alcohol rather than the memories of what she'd just done. "Fine. Uneventful."

"Really?" Pietra raised an eyebrow. "No arguments? No passive-aggressive comments about his driving?"

"We managed to be adults for two hours," Y/N shrugged. "Shocking, I know."

"Very," Max chimed in. "Usually you two can't go five minutes without sniping at each other."

Y/N was saved from having to respond by the arrival of Lando himself, now changed into swim shorts and a t-shirt, a beer in his hand. He greeted Max with a fist bump and nodded at the women.

"What did I miss?" he asked, taking a swig of his beer.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as their eyes met, wondering if he could somehow tell what she'd been doing just minutes ago. She looked away quickly, taking another sip of wine.

"We were just discussing how surprising it is that you and Y/N survived a car journey without killing each other," Pietra said with a mischievous smile.

Lando's eyes met Y/N's briefly before he shrugged. "Don't worry, we'll make up for it this weekend. Plenty of time for Y/N to critique my character flaws."

"I'd need more than a weekend," Y/N replied dryly, falling back into their familiar rhythm of teasing insults, even as her body hummed with lingering satisfaction and renewed desire.

Max laughed, clapping Lando on the shoulder. "And we're back to normal. For a second there, I was worried you two might actually be getting along."

"Never," Lando and Y/N said in unison, then exchanged surprised glances.

Pietra shook her head, amused. "You two are so alike sometimes it's scary."

"We are nothing alike," Y/N protested, at the same moment Lando said, "Not even close."

"Point proven," Pietra smirked, linking her arm through Max's. "Come on, let's go say hello to everyone else."

As they walked away, Y/N found herself alone with Lando at the railing, both staring out at the lake rather than at each other.

"They're onto us," Lando murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

"What are you talking about? There's nothing to be 'onto,'" Y/N argued, though her racing pulse suggested otherwise.

Lando turned to face her, one elbow propped casually on the railing. "No? So that tension in the car was just my imagination?"

"Yes," she lied, taking another sip of wine to hide her flushed cheeks, wondering if he could somehow sense what she'd just done upstairs, thinking about him.

"Liar," he said softly, his eyes dropping to her lips. "You felt it too."

Before she could respond, they were interrupted by Ed calling everyone together for a toast. Saved by the birthday boy, Y/N thought with relief, moving away from Lando to join the gathered group.

But as Ed raised his glass and everyone cheered, she remained acutely aware of Lando's presence across the circle, of his eyes finding hers through the crowd, of the promise—or was it a threat?—in his gaze.

This weekend was going to be even more complicated than she'd feared.

–

The next two days unfolded in a slow agony of almost-moments and carefully maintained distance. Every shared glance across crowded rooms felt weighted with unspoken words. Every accidental brush of hands while passing plates at dinner sent electricity through Y/N's body. Every laugh from Lando that she caught herself admiring was quickly dismissed with forced indifference.

They played their parts well—maintaining their usual banter for their friends, never letting their masks slip for too long. But underneath it all, the tension continued to build, a pressure cooker with no release valve.

There was the moment by the lake when they'd found themselves alone on the dock at sunset, silence stretching between them until someone called their names from the house. There was the game night when their fingers had touched reaching for the same game piece, both freezing at the contact before quickly pulling away. There was the morning Y/N had emerged from her room to find Lando leaving his, their eyes meeting in the early light with a hunger neither could deny before Max appeared in the hallway.

By Sunday afternoon, as they packed their bags to return to London, Y/N felt like she might shatter from the strain of wanting something she couldn't have. The journey back was quieter than the drive there, both of them exhausted from the constant performance, from pretending that nothing had changed when everything had.

When Lando dropped her off outside her building, his "See you around" felt inadequate for everything unspoken between them. Y/N watched his car disappear down the street, a hollow ache in her chest that she refused to name.

–

Three weeks later

Y/N had just settled in for a quiet Friday night when her doorbell rang. She wasn't expecting anyone, and for a moment she considered ignoring it. But curiosity won out, and she padded to the door in her comfortable loungewear, peering through the peephole.

Her heart stopped.

Lando stood in her hallway, hands in his pockets, a tense set to his shoulders that suggested he was as surprised to be there as she was to see him. For a moment, she considered pretending she wasn't home, but even as the thought formed, her hand was already reaching for the lock.

She opened the door, steeling herself against the rush of feelings his presence evoked. "Lando," she said, aiming for casualness but landing somewhere closer to breathlessness. "What are you doing here?"

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes traveling over her face as if memorizing her features. He seemed different somehow—less cocky, more vulnerable, the usual swagger replaced by a quiet intensity that made her pulse quicken.

"I came to talk," he said finally, his voice lower than usual. "About... everything."

Y/N hesitated, then stepped back to let him in. He moved past her, his cologne—that same scent that had haunted her dreams for weeks—filling her senses as he brushed by. She closed the door, turning to find him standing in her living room, looking somehow both out of place and exactly where he belonged.

"Do you want something to drink?" she offered, desperate for something normal to do, some routine to cling to in this unexpected moment.

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't come here for that."

"Then why did you come?" she asked, crossing her arms protectively over her chest, maintaining a safe distance between them.

Lando ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration she recognized from their many arguments. "Because I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, the words tumbling out as if he'd been holding them back for too long. "About that night. About the lake house. About every moment in between."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "Lando—"

"I've tried," he continued, taking a step toward her. "I've tried to forget it, to move on, to go back to how things were before. But I can't. You're under my skin, Y/N, and I don't know how to get you out."

The raw honesty in his voice stripped away her defenses. "I know," she whispered, uncrossing her arms. "I've been thinking about you too."

"Have you?" he asked, taking another step closer. "Because you've been avoiding me for weeks. Not showing up to things, making excuses—"

"Because it's too hard," she interrupted, feeling her own composure slipping. "Being around you and pretending that nothing's changed. Pretending I don't—" She cut herself off, afraid of where that sentence might lead.

"Pretending you don't what?" he pressed, now close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Y/N looked up at him, at the familiar features that had somehow become essential to her in ways she couldn't explain. "Pretending I don't want you," she confessed quietly. "Still. Again. Always."

Something in Lando's expression shifted, relief and desire flooding his features in equal measure. "I didn't come here for that," he said again, his voice rough. "I came to clear the air, to talk about what's happening between us."

"And now?" she asked, her heart pounding as he moved closer still.

His eyes dropped to her lips. "Now I'm having trouble remembering why talking seemed like a better idea than this."

Y/N knew she should step back, knew they should have the conversation he'd come for, knew that giving in again without resolving anything would only complicate matters further. But as his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, her resolve crumbled.

She didn't consciously decide to move—her body simply responded to his proximity the way it always had, drawn to him by forces beyond her control. Her hand reached out, pressing against his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath her palm. She meant to push him away, to create space for rational thought, but instead her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him in place.

"We shouldn't," she murmured, even as she leaned closer.

"Probably not," he agreed, his hand sliding to cup the back of her neck.

Neither moved for a heartbeat, suspended in the moment of possibility. Then, as if choreographed, they both closed the remaining distance. The first brush of his lips against hers was tentative, questioning—so different from the desperate hunger of their first time together. But that gentleness only lasted a moment before deeper needs took over.

Lando's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him as the kiss deepened. Y/N's hands threaded through his hair, holding him close as her mouth opened beneath his, a soft moan escaping her as his tongue met hers. It felt like coming home and embarking on an adventure all at once—familiar yet thrilling, comfortable yet exhilarating.

They stumbled backward until Y/N's back hit the wall, neither willing to break the kiss long enough to navigate properly. Lando's hands roamed her body, rediscovering curves and contours he'd memorized weeks ago, each touch igniting fires beneath her skin.

"I've missed you," he whispered against her lips, the confession slipping out between kisses. "God, I've missed you so much."

The words pierced through the haze of desire, striking something deep and vulnerable within her. She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, finding a rawness there that matched her own feelings.

"I've missed you too," she admitted, the truth both terrifying and liberating. "Even though I tried not to."

His hands framed her face, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones with surprising tenderness. "What are we doing, Y/N?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "But I don't want to stop."

That was all the permission he needed. He kissed her again, deeper now, his body pressing hers against the wall as weeks of longing surged to the surface. Y/N's hands slipped beneath his shirt, tracing the warm skin and firm muscles she'd dreamt about for countless nights.

Clothing fell away between desperate kisses and whispered confessions neither would remember clearly later—his shirt discarded in the hallway, her pants left by the bedroom door, undergarments creating a trail that marked their progress through the apartment.

By the time they reached her bed, they were both naked, both breathing heavily, both beyond the point of turning back. But unlike their first encounter, there was no rush now, no frantic need to prove something or win some unspoken competition. Instead, there was a deliberateness to their movements, an intent to savor each moment, each touch, each reaction.

Lando laid her gently on the bed, following her down, his weight a welcome pressure as he settled between her thighs. His eyes held hers, searching, finding something that made him pause.

"What is it?" she whispered, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"I want to do this right," he said quietly. "Not like before, when we were angry and trying to prove something. I want to show you how I feel."

"How do you feel?" she asked, her heart racing with more than just physical desire.

Instead of answering with words, he kissed her—slow and deep and thorough, pouring everything he couldn't say into the gesture. It was more intimate somehow than their previous encounter, more revealing, and Y/N felt herself surrendering to it completely, letting go of the walls she'd built around her heart.

Lando’s lips left hers, trailing down her neck in a slow, deliberate path that sent shivers racing through her body. His hands moved to her waist, gripping her tightly as he kissed lower, his mouth brushing over her collarbone before settling on her chest. She felt his breath hot against her skin, her nipples hardening in anticipation before he even touched them.

“Fuck, baby… your tits drive me insane,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. One hand moved to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in slow, teasing circles. “So soft, so full—perfect in my hands.” His other hand joined the first, both palms pressing into her flesh, squeezing gently before releasing. “I could spend hours here, just tasting you.”

His lips found her nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before he closed his mouth around it, sucking hard. Y/N gasped, her back arching off the bed as pleasure sparked through her. “You feel that? That’s how much I want you,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin as he continued to suck, his tongue working in lazy circles. “I need your tits in my mouth.”

She moaned softly, her hands tangling in his hair as he switched to her other nipple, licking slow, teasing circles around it before dragging his tongue over the tip. “Look at how sensitive they are for me,” he said, his voice rough with need. “Fuck. You love this, don’t you? The way my tongue plays with your nipples—your body’s begging for it.”

He was right—she did love it. Every touch, every lick, every suck sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, making her ache for more. His hands moved to both breasts, squeezing them together as he watched her, his eyes filled with desire. “These tits were made for me,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “I swear. The weight of them, the way they bounce when you moan—God, you’re unreal.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he kissed down her stomach, his lips brushing over her skin in a trail of fire. His fingers grazed her inner thighs, and she could feel how wet she was already, her pussy glistening with arousal. “You’re already so wet for me, baby,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re soaked. This pussy knows who it belongs to.”

She whimpered as he kissed the inside of her thigh, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. “I could tease you like this all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her as he spoke. “Watch you beg, watch you shake. But I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want, princess.”

“Please,” she gasped, her thighs trembling with need. “Lando, please. Put your mouth on me—I need you.”

He smirked, his eyes filled with mischief as he shifted lower, kneeling between her legs. “Fuck, look at you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Dripping. I haven’t even gotten my tongue on you and you’re already trembling. You’ve been aching for this, haven’t you?”

Y/N nodded, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to lick her pussy in one long, slow stroke. “Mmm—fuck, baby… you taste better than I remembered,” he moaned, his voice muffled against her skin. “Sweet, salty, soaked. I could live off your pussy.”

He didn’t wait for her response before diving in, his tongue lapping at her eagerly as if he couldn’t get enough. Y/N’s moans filled the room, her hands tangling in his hair as he devoured her, his mouth working in slow, deliberate strokes. “This pussy’s mine,” he growled, his voice dark and possessive. “You hear me? The way it clenches when I lick you? How wet you get just from my mouth? No one else makes you like this.”

She could barely think, let alone respond, her body consumed by the pleasure he was giving her. One hand moved to her nipple, pinching it between her fingers as she moaned his name, her hips grinding against his face. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “Grind on my face—yeah, just like that. Let me feel how good I’m making you. Let me drown in you.”

“F–fuck, Lando… no one’s ever made me feel like this,” she gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Your mouth—God, your mouth is perfect.”

He moaned against her, his tongue flicking over her clit in rapid strokes that made her cry out. “Fuck, baby… yes, just like that,” she panted, her voice breaking with every word. “Your tongue’s so good—so fucking good—I can’t take it.”

Her thighs shook around his head as he continued to eat her out with an almost desperate urgency, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place. “You’re gonna make me cum—fuck, Lando, you’re gonna make me cum just from your mouth,” she gasped, her body trembling on the edge. “God, yes.”

He didn’t slow down, his tongue working in quick, desperate strokes as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Y/N’s moans grew louder, her hips grinding against his face as she neared her climax. “Look at you—eyes on me, mouth on me,” she panted, her voice raw with need. “That’s my boy. My sweet, dirty boy.”

“I love how you moan for me… how you get so messy just to make me cum,” he growled against her, his voice dark and desperate. “You need it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her body trembling as she neared the edge. “I need it—I need you.”

He didn’t let up, his tongue working faster and faster as he pushed her over the edge. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “Let me feel how good I’m making you.”

Y/N’s body tensed, her back arching off the bed as she came, her moans filling the room as pleasure crashed through her in waves. Lando didn’t stop, his tongue lapping at her as she rode out her orgasm, his hands gripping her hips to keep her in place. “That’s it, baby… just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.

She gasped for air, her body trembling as he finally pulled away, his chin glistening with her arousal. “You make me feel like a goddess,” she panted, her voice raw with emotion. “No one’s ever made me feel this worshipped. So seen.”

“I’m only getting started.” His words sent a shiver down her spine, her body still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm. Her pussy was overly sensitive, every nerve still buzzing with pleasure, yet she could feel the heat building again, her need for him unrelenting. She was trying to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he began to kiss up her body once more.

His lips trailed kisses up her stomach, each touch sending sparks of electricity through her. He worshipped her body with his mouth, paying special attention to her tits again, his tongue flicking over her nipples in slow, deliberate circles. She moaned softly, her hands tangling in his hair as he moved higher, his lips brushing over her collarbone before settling on her neck. He kissed her there, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. Everywhere he touched, he left a trail of fire, his mouth claiming her as his own.

Then she felt it—the hard length of his cock pressing against her lower stomach. Her breath hitched as she realized how much he wanted her, how badly he needed her. His kisses didn’t stop, his lips moving over her neck and chest as if he couldn’t get enough of her. One of her hands drifted down his chest, her fingers tracing the ridges of his abs before she reached for his cock, wrapping her hand around him. He groaned against her neck, the sound primal and raw, and she smirked, loving the way he reacted to her touch.

“Let me suck your cock, Lando… please,” she begged, her voice trembling with need. “I’ve thought about it every night since that first time.” Her hand stroked him slowly, her thumb brushing over the tip, feeling the slickness of his pre-cum. “I want to be on my knees for you… looking up at you while you fuck my mouth. Please, baby. Let me.”

Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers. There was a tenderness in his gaze, a softness that she hadn’t seen before. “I want to be soft tonight,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I want to focus on you, make you feel good. I’m not sure if I should let you… I just want to take care of you.”

But she wasn’t having it. She needed him just as much as he needed her. “You made me feel so good. So fucking good,” she whispered, her hand still stroking him. “Now let me make you feel that. Let me taste you.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “I’ve dreamed about this—sitting between your legs, your cock in my mouth, your hand in my hair. Please let me make it real.”

Lando hesitated, his jaw tightening as he fought with himself. But then he nodded, his resolve crumbling under her desperate pleas.

“Alright, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You can do anything you want with me. As long as I get to have you, I’ll let you have me.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest at the unexpected sweetness in his tone. She kissed him then, her lips soft and tender against his, one hand cupping his cheek while the other continued to stroke him. She poured all her emotions into that kiss, everything she couldn’t say aloud. When she finally pulled back, she gently pushed him off of her, making him sit at the edge of the bed.

She got down on her knees between his legs, her eyes locked on his as she knelt before him. The way he looked at her—like she was a goddess and he was a mere mortal worshipping at her feet—made her feel powerful in a way she never had before. His cock was achingly hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum, and she couldn’t wait to taste him. She gently took him in her hand, her fingers wrapping around his girth, and without hesitation, she leaned forward, taking him into her mouth.

The moment her lips wrapped around him, Lando let out a low groan, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. She hummed softly, her tongue swirling around the tip before she began to bob her head up and down, her mouth moving with practiced ease. She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes meeting his as she sucked him, her hand stroking every part of him that her mouth couldn’t reach. Her other hand rested gently on his inner thigh, her touch grounding him as she worked him.

“Fuck, baby… look at you,” he groaned, his voice rough and thick with need. “You look so pretty like this. On your knees. My cock in your mouth.” His words sent a thrill through her, and she moaned around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath.

“Good girl… fuck, you’re my good girl,” he praised, his hand tangling in her hair as she took him deeper. “Taking all of me so deep, so eager.”

She loved the way he praised her, loved the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

“I want to feel your cock against my tongue,” she murmured, pulling off him for a moment to catch her breath. “I want to hear you moan for me. Let me be your good girl.” Her tongue darted out to lick the tip, savoring the salty taste of him, before she took him back into her mouth, sucking him with renewed enthusiasm.

“Shit—look at you,” he panted, his hips jerking slightly as she hollowed out her cheeks, sucking him like a vacuum. “So happy with my cock in your mouth. Like you were made for this.” His words sent a surge of heat through her, her own arousal spiking as she continued to pleasure him. She loved how his cock felt in her mouth—the shape, the size, the girth—it was perfect to her, and she couldn’t get enough.

“I love how you suck me,” he growled, his fingers tightening in her hair as she took him deeper.

“Like I’m the only man you’ve ever wanted.” She moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his cock as if to confirm his words. “You’re gonna ruin me. Mouth like that—eyes like that. Fuck.”

Her hand moved faster, her mouth working in tandem with her movements as she brought him closer and closer to the edge. But just as he was about to come, he stopped her, his hand gently pulling her away.

“Stop—fuck, stop,” he panted, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “I need to be inside you. I need to feel that pussy before I cum.”

She looked up at him, her lips swollen, her eyes glazed with desire. She nodded, her heart racing as she stood up, her body aching for him.

“I want to be your slut tonight,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Your sweet, messy little thing. Let me show you how good I am with my mouth.” She kissed him then, her lips brushing against his as she guided him to the bed, her body ready to give him everything he needed.

And as she climbed on top of him, her pussy already soaked and ready, she knew that this was just the beginning. Lando wasn’t just a man—he was her addiction, and she was more than willing to let him ruin her, over and over again.

Y/N’s body was on fire, her hips instinctively rocking against his as she tried to guide him inside her. She wanted to ride him, wanted to feel him deep within her as she took control, but Lando had other plans. His hands gripped her hips firmly, stopping her from moving. She whimpered in protest, her eyes meeting his, and what she saw there made her breath catch.

"I want to be on top," he said, his voice low and soft, almost pleading. His eyes were full of desire, but there was a tenderness in them that she hadn’t seen before.

"I want to see all of you. Your face, your tits bouncing as I fuck you. I want to watch you fall apart because of me. I want to look into your eyes as you cum. Please, Y/N."

The way he said it—so needy, so desperate—was completely different from the Lando she’d known that first night. This wasn’t the cocky, self-assured man she’d expected. This was something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. She almost melted on the spot, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words. She nodded, her heart racing as she let him take charge, shifting her body to lay on her back in bed.

Lando moved between her legs, his eyes raking over her body like he was memorizing every curve, every inch of her. Her legs were wide open, her pussy glistening with need, and he couldn’t help but smirk as he saw how wet she was, even after everything they’d already done.

"Fuck, Y/N," he said, his voice rough with desire. "You’re already soaked again. You’re so needy for me, aren’t you?"

She moaned in response, her hands gripping the sheets as she begged him. "Please, Lando, I need you inside me. I need to feel you. Please, don’t tease me anymore."

He didn’t need to be told twice. Positioning himself at her entrance, he leaned down, his forehead resting against hers as he slowly pushed inside her. Her breath hitched as she felt him stretch her, the sensation overwhelming as he filled her completely. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper, and she let out a soft moan as he bottomed out, his body pressed flush against hers.

One hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin as he looked into her eyes. The other hand gripped her thigh, holding her open for him as he began to move. His thrusts were slow, deep, and deliberate—each one measured and purposeful, like he was memorizing the way she felt around him.

"I want to see you fall apart," he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. "I want to feel it."

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as she gave herself over to the sensation, her body responding to every movement he made. His cock was hitting all the right places, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her. She was already on edge from sucking him off earlier, her body primed and ready, and it didn’t take long for her to feel that familiar coil tightening in her lower belly.

"Lando," she gasped, her hands moving to grip his shoulders as she felt herself spiraling closer and closer to the edge. "I’m gonna cum. Please, don’t stop."

"Fuck—there she is," he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction as he felt her pussy clench around him. "Cumming all over my cock like a desperate little thing. That’s it, baby. Let me feel it."

Her orgasm hit her hard, her body trembling as she came, her pussy squeezing him tightly as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Lando didn’t stop, his thrusts slowing but never ceasing as he fucked her through her orgasm. He was relentless, his movements deliberate and unyielding, making sure she felt every second of it.

"You were begging for it, weren’t you?" he teased, his voice low and rough. "So needy, so wet for me. Look at you now—falling apart on my cock."

Y/N could barely think, her mind consumed by the intensity of her orgasm. Her body was still trembling, still sensitive, but he didn’t let up, his cock still driving into her with slow, deep thrusts.

"God, you’re squeezing me so tight… you love this, don’t you?" he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. "Being underneath me, legs wide, full of me."

She could only moan in response, her body still writhing with pleasure as he continued to fuck her. He was right—she did love it. She loved feeling him inside her, loved the way he filled her, the way he made her feel.

"Can’t even handle it, can you?" he teased, his voice smug but tender. "That sweet little pussy’s still cumming, still begging for more. And I’m not stopping, baby."

As the tremors of her orgasm began to subside, Lando shifted, lifting her legs over his shoulders and folding her in half so he could fuck her even deeper. Her eyes widened as she felt him hit a part of her she didn’t even know existed, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through her.

"You’re soaked, baby," he groaned, his voice thick with desire as he looked down at her. "So fucking wet for me. You make it so easy to slide in. Like your body’s begging."

Her hands gripped the sheets, her moans unfiltered as he began to thrust into her again, this time even deeper than before. Her pussy felt incredible, the way he was hitting her making her feel things she’d never felt before.

"Lando—fuck, you’re so deep… I can feel you everywhere," she gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure.

He smirked, his eyes locked on hers as he continued to move, his hips hitting just right with every thrust.

"Fuck… I’m ruining you, aren’t I?" he said, his voice low and rough. "And you fucking love it."

She did. She loved it more than she could put into words. "N-No one’s ever fucked me like this… not even close," she panted, her body trembling as he continued to move inside her. "I didn’t even know I could feel this good… I didn’t know this existed."

"Let me see your eyes when I make you cum again," he said, his voice soft but demanding. His thrusts began to quicken, his movements sharper and more urgent as he drove her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel it building again, the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower belly, and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

"Please, Lando, fuck me harder," she begged, her voice breaking as she felt herself spiraling out of control. "Faster, please. I need it—I need you."

He obeyed, his hips snapping into hers with a newfound urgency, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she felt herself on the verge of another orgasm.

"Fuck, you feel so big like this… you’re stretching me, baby," she gasped, her hands gripping his arms as she tried to hold on.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, the intensity so overwhelming that she almost cried out. Her pussy clenched around him, her body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Lando wasn’t far behind, his movements growing erratic as he felt her cumming around him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough with need as he came inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies still entwined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they tried to catch their breath. Lando slowly moved her legs from his shoulders, wrapping them around his hips instead as he leaned down to kiss her neck. His lips were soft against her skin, his touch tender as he held her close.

Y/N’s mind was still reeling from the intensity of her orgasm, her body completely spent. She had never cum so hard before, never felt pleasure like that. Lando stayed inside her, her legs still wrapped around his hips, his body still pressed against hers as he softly kissed her neck. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he held her.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "You’re incredible."

She didn’t respond—she couldn’t. Her body was still buzzing with pleasure, her mind too overwhelmed to form coherent thoughts. But as she lay there in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she realized one thing: she was completely and utterly his. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lando’s eyes met hers, his breaths still heavy but his gaze soft as he searched her face. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice a low rumble that sent warmth curling through her.

She nodded, her lips curving into a dazed smile. “I’m more than okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. “I feel… weightless. Like I’m floating. No one’s ever made me feel like that before.” Her body was still humming, every nerve alight with the intensity of what they’d just shared.

He chuckled softly, the sound rough but tender, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. But then his expression shifted, his brows furrowing slightly as realization dawned.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice tinged with panic. “I came inside you. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”

She reached up, her hand resting on his cheek to calm him. “It’s okay,” she assured him, her voice steady. “I’m on the pill. You don’t have to worry.”

His shoulders relaxed, though his eyes still held a trace of guilt. Slowly, he pulled out of her, and she whimpered at the sudden emptiness, her pussy clenching around nothing. His cum dripped from her, the sight of it making his breath hitch. He couldn’t help but stare, the visual proof of their connection stirring something primal in him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe. “You look so fucking beautiful like this.”

He moved quickly but carefully, climbing off the bed and heading to the bathroom. She watched him go, her body still tingling, her mind trying to process how tender he was being. Lando returned moments later with a warm, damp towel in hand. He knelt beside her, his touch impossibly gentle as he cleaned her up, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re so soft with me,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t expect that. Not after… everything.”

He paused, his hand stilling for a moment as he looked at her.

“You deserve this,” he said simply, his voice filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

She felt her throat tighten, her heart swelling at his words. It was such a stark contrast to the arguments, the tension, the distance that had defined their relationship until now. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it, this version of Lando who looked at her with such tenderness, who cared for her with such deliberate softness.

As he finished cleaning her, he set the towel aside and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’re okay?” he asked again, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes closing briefly as she savored the warmth of his lips against her skin. “I’m more than okay,” she repeated, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lando settled beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms with a gentleness that continued to surprise her. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. The silence between them was comfortable, a stark contrast to the charged tension that had defined their relationship for so long.

"You know," he said finally, his voice soft in the dimly lit room, "I had this whole speech planned out when I came here tonight. All these things I wanted to say about us, about what happened that night, about the lake house."

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "And instead we ended up like this."

"Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair from her face. "But I did actually want to talk to you."

She nodded, sensing the importance of the moment. This wasn't just about physical connection anymore—though that aspect was undeniably powerful between them. There was something deeper developing, something neither had been willing to acknowledge until now.

"So talk," she encouraged softly. "I'm listening."

Lando took a deep breath, his fingers still tracing gentle patterns on her skin as if drawing courage from the contact.

"I've been thinking about you non-stop since that first night," he admitted. "At first I told myself it was just physical—amazing sex with someone I couldn't stand. A one-time thing to get out of our systems."

"But it wasn't," she finished for him when he paused.

"No," he agreed, his eyes serious as they met hers. "It wasn't. And then at the lake house, seeing you again, being around you but not being able to touch you, to talk to you about what was happening between us... it was torture."

Y/N understood perfectly. Those days at the lake house had been a special kind of agony—hyper-aware of his every movement, catching his eyes across rooms, the brief moments alone that had crackled with unspoken tension.

"I thought distance would help," she confessed. "That's why I kept avoiding group things, making excuses. I thought if I didn't see you, these feelings would fade." She gave a small, rueful laugh. "That didn't work out so well."

"No, it didn't," he agreed, a hint of his usual smirk returning. "Because here I am, and here you are, and I'm pretty sure neither of us regrets what just happened."

"Not even a little," she confirmed, her hand coming to rest over his heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her palm.

Lando's expression grew more serious. "The thing is, Y/N, I don't think this is going away. Whatever this is between us—it's real. And I'm tired of fighting it."

The simple honesty in his voice made her throat tighten with emotion. She had been fighting it too—fighting the attraction, the connection, the growing realization that her feelings for Lando went far beyond physical desire.

"Me too," she whispered. "I'm tired of pretending I don't feel something for you."

His arms tightened around her, holding her closer as if afraid she might slip away. "So where does that leave us?"

It was the question she'd been avoiding for weeks, the one that had kept her awake at night, tossing and turning with possibilities and fears. What did you call this thing between them? How did you define something that had begun in anger and evolved into... whatever this was?

"I don't know," she admitted, honesty seeming the only option now. "I just know that I want to be with you. Not just like this; though this is definitely amazing." Her cheeks flushed at the memory of what they'd just shared. "But I want to know you. The real you, not just the version I convinced myself I couldn't stand."

Lando's smile was soft, his eyes warm with an emotion she'd never seen there before. "I want that too," he said quietly.

"All of it. The fights we'll definitely still have because let's face it, we're both stubborn as hell. The makeup sex afterward." His voice grew more serious. "The quiet moments like this. Everything."

"Are you saying you want to date me, Lando Norris?" she asked, a teasing note in her voice to mask the vulnerability of the question.

"I'm saying I want more than dating," he replied, his honesty taking her breath away. "I'm saying I think I'm falling for you, Y/N. And it scares the hell out of me because you're the last person I ever expected to feel this way about, but here we are."

Y/N felt her heart swell, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with physical desire and everything to do with the man holding her.

"I'm falling for you too," she whispered, the admission both terrifying and liberating. "God help me, but I am."

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest beneath her ear. "We're a disaster waiting to happen, you know that, right? You with your planning and overthinking, me with my impulsiveness."

"Or maybe we balance each other out," she suggested, feeling strangely hopeful. "Maybe that's why this works."

"Maybe," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I guess we'll find out."

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, each processing the seismic shift that had just occurred in their relationship. It wasn't just sex anymore—they'd acknowledged feelings, real feelings that went beyond physical attraction. They'd crossed a line there was no going back from.

"Pietra's going to be insufferable," Y/N murmured eventually, a smile in her voice. "She's been trying to tell me for weeks that our fighting was just unresolved sexual tension."

Lando groaned, though she could feel him smiling against her hair. "Max too. He kept making these comments about how I always brought you up in conversation."

"Did you?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him.

"All the time, apparently," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Usually to complain about something you'd said or done, but still."

She laughed, settling back against his chest. "When do we tell them? About us?"

"That's up to you," he said, his fingers tangling gently in her hair. "We could wait, see how things go for a while. Or we could show up to the next dinner holding hands and watch their jaws hit the floor."

The image made her laugh again, the sound light and free in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. "Maybe something in between? Give ourselves a little time to figure this out, then tell them?"

"I can work with that," he agreed. "Though I should warn you, I'm not great at hiding how I feel. If I see you across a room, I'm going to want to kiss you. It might be a little obvious."

"I think I can handle that," she murmured, tilting her face up for a kiss that he readily gave, soft and sweet and full of promise.

When they broke apart, Lando gazed at her with such tenderness it made her heart ache. "Stay the night?" she asked softly, not ready to be separated from him yet.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," he assured her, shifting to pull the blankets over them both. "Though fair warning—I've been told I steal covers."

"And I hog the pillows, so we're even," she replied, settling more comfortably against him, her body fitting perfectly against his as if they'd been sleeping together for years instead of hours.

As sleep began to claim her, Y/N marveled at the unexpected turn her life had taken. From antagonism to attraction to this—genuine affection, real connection, the beginning of something she hadn't even known she wanted until it was already happening.

"Lando?" she murmured, already half-asleep.

"Hmm?" he responded, his voice equally drowsy.

"I'm glad you came over tonight."

His arms tightened around her, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Me too," he whispered. "Best decision I ever made."

And as they drifted off to sleep together, Y/N knew that whatever challenges lay ahead—telling their friends, navigating their differences, building something real from this unexpected beginning—they would face them together. Because some connections, once acknowledged, were impossible to deny. And what had sparked between her and Lando that night on the balcony had finally blazed into something neither of them could ignore any longer.

Not the end of their story, but a beginning—unexpected, complicated, and more real than anything either of them had ever known.

1K notes · View notes