after five races in a row, kimi antonelli feels like he’s on top of the world. at the end of the day, though, he might just be on top of you — and, if we're being honest, absolutely determined to stay there.
genre: smut.
warnings: explicit sexual content, fluff, emotional intimacy, established relationship, praise kink, breast play, hair pulling, face sitting, fingering, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, light crying, teasing, competitive behavior, and strong language.
word count: 5.7k
a/n: 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 honestly, i have no words. and this isn't proofread, so there are probably mistakes and other nonsense lurking around in here. anyway. ANYWAY. enjoy.
Kimi makes things especially difficult for you because throughout the entire day of celebrations, he only ever gets close enough to brush against you before being whisked away somewhere else. You don't mind, of course. This is an important moment — not just for him, but for the entire team. Everyone is celebrating. Everyone is happy.
That doesn't stop you from shivering every time he gets close enough to touch you. Or from feeling like your knees might completely give out whenever he throws one of those looks your way, eyebrow arched and grin already forming.
Damn him. That damned boy. He's doing this on purpose.
Everything gets infinitely worse when, because he's an idiot, he throws himself into the Monaco harbor to honor the winners' tradition and comes back looking like Mr. Darcy emerging from the lake. Well. A slightly sillier Mr. Darcy. And a much hotter one.
His Mercedes shirt is absolutely soaked, clinging to him in a way that should probably be illegal. Every line of his stomach is suddenly visible beneath the fabric, and your brain immediately starts thinking about—
No. Absolutely not. You are trying to be supportive. You are trying to be normal. You are trying very hard not to stare.
"Oh, come on," you mutter to yourself as he runs a hand through his dripping hair.
Because honestly? There should be regulations against looking like that. Especially when he keeps catching you staring and smiling about it.
“I'd give all my money to know what's going on inside this head,” he says, tapping your forehead with his index finger while biting his lower lip.
Your cheeks immediately burst into flames. Your hand drops to his shoulders, to the soaked fabric of his shirt, and you shake your head.
“I'm not thinking about anything. Nothing at all,” you insist, pointedly avoiding his gaze.
Kimi narrows his eyes.
“Thinking about those five times I'm going to make you come later?” he asks.
Evil. Absolutely evil. Your eyes go wide, and you immediately slap a hand over his mouth.
“Kimi! We're in public! Shut up!” you hiss.
He only laughs against your palm.
Slowly, you pull your hand away. Somewhere nearby, someone from the team notices the two of you and snaps a picture. A second later, Kimi wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.
Completely soaked.
Which means you're completely soaked too.
You want to complain. You're wearing a brand-new outfit, after all. But then his mouth is on yours and suddenly, there isn't a single coherent thought left inside your head.
The moment you get home, everything goes to hell.
Kimi doesn't even give you a chance to think before sliding his hands beneath your shirt and steering you toward the couch. He kisses you with so much enthusiasm that all you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. It's one of those kisses. The kind that make your toes curl and leave you feeling like you might actually float away. The kind that fill your stomach with butterflies while awakening something warm and restless deep inside you.
Unfortunately, somebody has to be the rational one here, and you know for a fact it won't be the man who's still floating on a cloud of post-victory euphoria. So, reluctantly, you pull back. Just a little. Kimi doesn't understand. He immediately tries to follow you, but you stop him by pressing a finger against his lips.
A deeply offended sound escapes him.
“Baby. Baby. I—” He moves your hand away and kisses you. You try again. “The door.” Another kiss. “Baby.” Kiss. You grab his face between both hands and wrinkle your nose. “Baby!”
He tips his head back with an exasperated huff, rolling his eyes. Then he lets go of you, turns on his heel, and literally runs to the front door. He slams it shut and locks it like a man with a personal vendetta against doors before turning back around. You're already waiting for him, arms open. The sight makes him stop for half a second.
“Well, now we can finally…— Hey!” You were about to kiss him, for God's sake.
But now one of his arms is hooked beneath your legs, and somehow you're suddenly in his arms without having the slightest idea when that happened.
Apparently, Kimi has given up on the couch. He's also given up on conversation.
As you cling to his neck, eyes slightly wide — because, fuck... that's hot — he marches straight toward the bedroom with the kind of determination usually reserved for race strategy meetings. Not a single word. Not a single ounce of hesitation. Just a very clear objective.
“So... what's going on?” you ask, peering over his shoulder.
Kimi shrugs.
“That door cost me about ten seconds,” he replies without missing a beat. “I can no longer afford to give you the quick make-out session I originally had planned.”
“Oh? There were plans?”
“Well, obviously.” He gives you a look. “You see, I've been half-hard ever since I kissed you at the harbor.”
Oh, fucking fuck.
He tosses you onto the bed, earning a surprised squeak from you. Kimi doesn't even bother taking off his shirt. His mouth is on yours before you can ask another question, stealing a heated kiss from you as his hand slips beneath your shirt once again without an ounce of shame. None!
You let your fingers tangle in his hair, and Kimi lets out something dangerously close to a groan against your lips because he likes feeling your nails scrape against his scalp.
Likes it so much it's almost ridiculous.
You remember the first time you discovered it by accident — the way you'd instinctively grabbed at his hair after he'd done something particularly unfair with his hands and mouth, only to feel him freeze beneath you for a split second.
That had been all the confirmation you needed.
Unfortunately, discovering Kimi's weakness also means learning about retaliation. And right now, his hand drifts beneath the fabric just below your bra without ever quite touching your skin. Close enough to make your breath hitch. Not close enough to satisfy. So fucking unfair.
You let him. You let all of it happen because today is his day.
“What happened to my little complainer?” he asks between kisses, his mouth moving from yours to your cheek and then down to your jaw.
A soft laugh escapes you, and you drag your nails a little deeper through his hair. Kimi nearly melts.
“Don't do that...” he purrs, though there's absolutely no conviction behind the words.
You smile.
“I don't have a single complaint today, Grand Slam.” The smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide. “Besides, don't you have a promise to keep?”
His kisses trail down to the exposed skin near your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt dips lower. Small nips against your skin send a shiver through you, anticipation curling low in your stomach.
He nods.
“I do,” he murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine.
His mouth brushes over the curve of your covered chest before trailing lower, over your shirt, down and down until he reaches your stomach. Then Kimi lifts his head slightly… And stops. You can see his breathing deepen, his chest rising and falling as though he's bracing himself for something significant.
His hands find the hem of your shirt, and his first instinct is simply to pull it upward.
The movement is slightly unsteady. Kimi doesn't quite know what to do with the sheer amount of want coursing through him. Still, he lifts the fabric slowly, exposing your skin inch by inch.
Your breathing turns uneven.
Another wave of shivers follows, sparked by the friction of the fabric against your skin. Kimi lowers himself again, settling comfortably between your legs before pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your waist. Your eyes flutter shut. He keeps going… A kiss to your stomach. Then another. Slowly, unhurriedly, he traces a path from one side to the other, following the line of your waist as though he has all the time in the world.
He lifts your shirt a little higher, and you have to shift to help him, but Kimi never stops pressing kisses to your skin. Every inch of it. And when your hand finds the back of his neck, it feels almost like a plea. Please don't stop. He isn't going to. Not yet.
Kimi lifts himself up again only to help you pull the shirt over your head, carefully guiding it past your hair. The sight alone seems to steal the air from his lungs. He doesn't toss the shirt aside. He sets it down. A little wrinkled, maybe, but set down all the same.
Then he looks back at you.
That's what destroys you. The way he looks at you. The way his gaze lingers on your partially bare torso as though he's staring at the trophy waiting at the top step of the podium.
You bite your lower lip. Kimi swallows hard.
The choice is yours.
You push yourself upright, sitting on the bed as you hold his gaze. Your hands move behind your back and undo the clasp. The straps slide slowly from your shoulders until you can take the garment in your hands.
You're about to say something. Kimi doesn't let you. Again.
He kisses you like a starving man, one hand finding your waist once again with the apparent goal of pulling you even closer. As if that were possible. How could you possibly get any closer than this?
Oh, Kimi has an idea.
Without breaking the kiss, he grabs your bra and tosses it in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. Whether it actually lands anywhere near them is anyone's guess. Kimi isn't looking. He's far too distracted for that.
Instead, he shifts your positions. Suddenly, you're sitting in his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist while he pulls back just long enough to drag his own shirt over his head.
You don't get the chance to properly admire the strong line of his arms or the abs you've always been far too fond of. Your lips are already together again. Your tongues are a mess, the kiss so sloppy it feels almost impossible to keep up with, but you don't care. Your hand finds its way to his back, your nails dragging lightly across the expanse as though searching for yet another way to get even closer.
Then he stops kissing you.
His mouth travels lower.
Back to your neck. He leaves a bite there, as though he's trying to carve himself into your soul, and a soft sound escapes you. He's not satisfied. Kimi bites a little harder. This time, the sound he draws from you is louder, and your arms tighten instinctively around him.
His hand moves upward. He doesn't linger. He doesn't hesitate.
He simply cups your breast in his palm, your nipple slipping between his fingers before he gives it a gentle tug, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. The sensation alone is almost too much. He squeezes a little harder, and somehow that still isn't enough for him.
Kimi pushes you back just enough to create some space, then immediately closes the distance again, his mouth taking the place his hand had occupied only moments before. Your head falls back helplessly, your eyes squeezing shut so tightly that you can't remember how you'd ever managed to keep them open in the first place.
The thing about Kimi is that he's never in just one place.
While his tongue flicks over your nipple, effectively obliterating the last surviving fragment of your sanity, the hand that had been resting on your waist tightens enough for you to know there'll be finger-shaped marks there tomorrow.
“I thought you were planning on doing other things...” you manage between a breathless laugh and a gasp, mostly because you enjoy distracting him.
Critical error.
Kimi sucks harder, the sharp sting making your nails rake across his skin. He lets out a low laugh before lifting his head and brushing his lips against your chin.
“Could you be quiet for a second?” he says, his voice muffled against your skin. “I'm having a very serious discussion down here. Quiet.”
“With that strategy,” you say, the words requiring considerably more effort than they should have, “you're not getting anywhere close to those five times.”
His hand closes around your throat, and a second later your back hits the mattress. There goes your ability to breathe.
“You want those five times? Fine.” he says, dark curls falling into his eyes as he hovers over you. “You're going to get your five times.”
A nearly wicked smile spreads across your face because you know exactly what you've just set into motion. Your entire body burns with anticipation, and your legs instinctively try to draw together in search of some kind of relief.
Kimi notices immediately.
“Open.”
His hand moves to the button of your jeans, undoing it without taking his eyes off yours. You actually obey, parting your legs a little wider, only to watch his jaw tighten, his self-control hanging by a thread.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, exposing a glimpse of the fabric beneath. For a moment, it almost looks like he's trying to be patient. Almost. Then he abandons the effort entirely. He drags both garments down in one motion, letting them slide along your legs. And damn it, he'd like to treat them with the same care he'd shown the clothes he'd taken off before. He really would. But Kimi can't take it anymore.
He lets everything fall to the floor.
With his hands wrapped around your ankles, he lifts your legs slightly and leans forward at the same time. The movement is simple. His hands glide up your calves until they reach the backs of your knees. His lips find the top of your left knee, leaving a gentle kiss against your skin.
Finally, his eyes land exactly where they've wanted to be ever since he stepped down from that podium.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
“See something you like?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, that smile still hiding behind your bitten lower lip.
Kimi looks up at you. Flat. One eyebrow rises. You raise yours right back. Then, completely catching you off guard, he slides two fingers inside you and curls them just right, forcing your eyes shut as your back arches off the mattress.
Your lips part around a soundless gasp. One hand tangles in the bedsheets.
“Asshole...” you breathe.
Now it's his smile hiding behind a bitten lip. He leans over you, his hand remaining exactly where it is.
“What were you saying?” he murmurs, bringing his mouth closer to yours.
“I was saying tha—” You don't get to finish.
He curls his fingers the same way again.
A helpless sound escapes you, and you wrap one arm around him for support while the other remains trembling against the bed.
The bastard laughs. Actually laughs.
Fuck.
“You're so sensitive,” he says, stealing a quick kiss. Down below, he pulls his fingers back just halfway before sliding them inside you again. The sound that leaves you is positively obscene. “And you're so wet it's almost ridiculous…”
“Kimi... love...” you moan, involuntarily rolling your hips against his hand in search of more.
That's when his thumb finds your clit, and your legs threaten to close because, fuck. He moves slowly. Painfully slowly. So slowly that it makes you shiver.
“I know, love. I know...” he murmurs, sounding almost apologetic.
The kiss he gives you is just as slow as the movement of his fingers. In and out. At the same time, his teeth graze your lower lip in a gentle bite that draws a whimper from you.
“You want it faster?” he whispers against your mouth.
All you can manage is a breathless nod. Once again, he laughs. And then he gives in.
His fingers speed up, driving deeper, curling in that maddening way that has you grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him closer. Because when you come, you want to be kissing him.
He knows that.
“Come on, love. You can come for me,” he murmurs, his thumb moving with a practiced confidence.
He knows exactly what works.
You come apart from the combination of everything — his fingers, his voice, the permission… Fuck. Your vision goes white. Your breath vanishes. It feels like being struck by lightning. Your legs tighten around his hand as the world slowly begins to make sense again, your body struggling to remember how to function.
Kimi keeps you suspended in that feeling for a little longer, until you're far too sensitive to let him continue. Then, slowly — earning a soft sound from you in the process — he withdraws his fingers. He brings them to his mouth and runs his tongue between them.
“That’s one,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.
“Hm?” you ask, still breathless.
“The first one.” Another kiss lands on your cheek. “I still have four more to get out of you.”
Kimi drops onto the bed beside you, his head sinking into the pillow. All you can do is follow the movement with your eyes, seemingly incapable of moving much yourself. Your legs feel like jelly, and for a moment, you genuinely think you might not have the strength to continue with the rest of your day. And he says there are still four left...
You're so boneless you can barely process the thought.
“Are you just going to lie there?” he asks, poking your shoulder with his index finger.
“What exactly do you expect me to do?” you reply, covering your eyes with your forearm. “I'm dead.”
He pokes you again.
“So dramatic. We haven't even started yet. Come on. Come here. You've got this.”
You lower your arm and meet his gaze.
Kimi wiggles his eyebrows at you.
You immediately shake your head, finally attempting to push yourself up onto your elbows.
“There she is. Hi,” he says, the idiot, holding his arms out toward you.
With considerable effort, you drag yourself toward him and let your body collapse on top of his. Kimi immediately reaches up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“You okay? Yeah?” he asks. When you nod, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Very good.” Another kiss. “Now sit on my face.”
You blink.
“What?”
“You heard me. Come on. We don't have time to waste.”
And now he's nudging you gently, as though encouraging you to do exactly what he just suggested. Your mouth falls open in disbelief because… What an absolute menace. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time. But the context of the conversation somehow makes it worse. You let out a slow breath and finally pull back enough to look at him properly.
“I am not taking responsibility if you suffocate,” you warn, pointing a finger at his chest.
The smile he gives you could probably power the entire universe.
“I'd die a very happy man if I were suffocated by your thighs.”
And somehow, after everything that is what makes you blush. You roll your eyes and look away.
“I'd argue with you,” you say, swallowing hard as you adjust your legs around him, settling onto his stomach, “but I think it's probably better if you stay quiet.”
From where he's lying, Kimi licks his lips, his gaze traveling slowly over your bare body with a devotion that sends another shiver through you, as though he were touching you already.
Naturally, that familiar feeling returns immediately. That restless ache. That impossible desire to pull him closer still, until he becomes an inseparable part of you.
“Better for who?” he asks, his hands finding your hips.
“For my sanity,” you answer softly, already beginning to lift yourself.
Kimi helps guide you, his hands pressing gently against your hips until you're positioned exactly where he wants you, your legs on either side of his head. He bites his lower lip and lets out a slow breath. The warm air brushes against your skin, drawing a quiet sigh from you.
With a little more pressure, his hands tighten around your hips before sliding farther back. That way, he can lower you slowly until… Until his mouth is there.
It's only a touch. Just the first contact. And Kimi knows he made the right decision saving this for number two, because your legs are already weak enough that supporting your own weight feels like an impossible task. In fact, the moment his tongue slips out and traces along you, so close that there's nowhere left to escape the sensation, all you can do is let out a helpless sound and pitch forward, forcing yourself to brace against the headboard for support.
Oh, and Kimi is in heaven. Kimi is absolutely in heaven.
If you knew how good you tasted, you'd never leave his mouth again. Never be selfish enough to let him wander off and live a life anywhere else when he could remain permanently attached to this particular part of you.
Because, fuck.
His tongue finds a rhythm. The way he manages it, he lets it slip inside you once, twice, three times before dragging it back up again. You're trembling above him. And Kimi is so hard it hurts. It takes an almost inhuman amount of self-control not to completely lose himself over how good you are.
He circles that sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue, slowly at first. That's when one of your hands finds its way into his hair. Kimi lets out a low sound that vibrates through you, and somehow that only encourages him further.
His pace quickens.
The room fills with the evidence of his enthusiasm, and you— God. You don't stand a chance. Drawn forward by the sensation, you roll your hips against him without thinking.
Kimi groans again. Your fingers tighten in his hair. Something in his expression changes. He suddenly stills, one hand gripping your thigh a little tighter.
“O-Okay?” you ask, glancing down.
His hands tighten around your thighs. One second passes. Then another. No answer.
The answer comes in the form of renewed determination. You look toward the ceiling, your breath catching as he resumes, and before long that relentless rhythm is threatening to steal every coherent thought you have left. Kimi only needs a few more seconds before you completely fall apart.
This one hits harder than the last.
The force of it leaves you shaking, collapsing fully against the headboard as you struggle to catch your breath, sensitive and overwhelmed.
For a moment, you think Kimi is finally going to stop. He doesn't. He stays exactly where he is. Both arms wrap around your waist, holding you firmly in place while he continues at the same relentless pace, even as you try to remember how to function.
“Love... love...” you complain, a tear threatening to spill over. “It's too much...”
He doesn't stop. Your fingers tighten around the wood of the headboard, and a cry escapes you when he doubles down.
You're so sensitive. So unbearably sensitive.
By the time another wave crashes through you, all you can do is press your forehead against the wood and let it carry you away.
Finally. Finally, he stops.
You hear the sound of his head dropping back against the bed and the heavy breathing of someone who's just run two marathons.
“Two and three...” he murmurs, his lips glistening.
What is he even talking about?
Your brain is little more than a faint buzz at this point. You're so out of it that you barely notice when he gently lifts you off him and settles you back onto the bed. Kimi runs a hand through his hair and rolls closer until he's practically pressed against you, burying his face in your neck.
“I'm listening to your heartbeat. Alive,” he whispers.
And somehow, incredibly, you manage a tired little laugh.
“These trophies are really getting to your head, babe...” you murmur.
He wrinkles his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips, and lifts his head just enough to look at you from up close. A groan escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a long sigh.
“What?” he asks, brushing his nose against your cheek.
“You look so pretty...” you admit without opening your eyes.
“And that's why you closed your eyes?”
You nod.
“I can't stand looking at you.”
He laughs.
“And what's so pretty?”
“Everything.”
His smile grows. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the tip of your nose. Slowly, you open your eyes, and a soft sigh escapes you because he's right there.
So close.
Your hand drifts up to his face, resting briefly against his chin before your fingers brush over his cheekbones.
“Your cheeks are red,” you murmur. “And your mouth... really, really red...”
Your gaze drifts upward lazily toward his curls, and you laugh again.
“Your hair...” You shake your head fondly. “Beautiful. An absolute mess.”
Kimi settles into your hand, leaning into the touch while never taking his eyes off you. His tongue drags slowly across his lower lip.
“I saw you looking at me earlier. Up on the podium.”
“Did you?”
He nods.
“What were you thinking?”
“Hm...” You purse your lips, pretending to consider the question. “That you're the best driver on the grid. And that if anyone was going to break records at your age, it should be you.”
Kimi blinks. Then bites his lower lip.
“I thought I'd never been so proud of someone in my entire life.” Your thumb brushes lightly across his cheek. “And that you deserve every second of this.”
Now it's his hand that rises to your face. His palm cups your jaw, and with gentle pressure, he draws you closer once again. He presses a soft kiss to your lips and brushes his nose against yours.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
You smile, your hand finding the back of his neck as you lean in for another kiss. The contact is firmer this time. Kimi isn't teasing anymore. But neither is there any trace of his usual provocation.
No.
He's simply kissing you. Careful. Gentle. Like someone who knows exactly what he's doing. A love letter in the form of a kiss. You remember what it was like in the beginning, when you shared that first kiss. He'd always been careful. Always been a very good kisser. But somewhere along the way, something changed. It stopped being about technique and became... this.
Became this warm, safe feeling that wakes up inside you every single time.
His hand is warm against your back as it slides down to the base of your spine. You know he's been holding himself back until now. You know he's been savoring the moment. You also know it probably hasn't been particularly comfortable for him. So, even as you're kissing him, your hand drifts down to the fastening of his jeans, still far too tight, growing less forgiving with every passing minute.
Kimi doesn't question it. He doesn't make a joke. He simply lets you undo the button and zipper, helping with his own hands as he pushes the fabric lower. With his feet, he finishes pulling everything off, dragging the fabric down his legs until it ends up somewhere on the floor, leaving him completely bare.
You hook a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, and feel him brush against you — warm, hard, and almost feverish with anticipation. Kimi hisses. Your hand slips between the two of you, and when you touch him, a shaky groan spills against your mouth.
You swallow the sound.
Like you've done this a thousand times before, you guide him where he needs to be, and Kimi takes care of the rest. He rolls his hips forward, and the familiar feeling has you tightening your arms around him, holding him close. You stop kissing him only to hide your face in the curve of his neck.
Then he starts to move.
“Ah, fuck...” he murmurs, breathless.
“What?” you ask, brushing your nose against the skin of his neck before a helpless sound escapes you.
Kimi's arms tighten around you, drawing you even closer.
“You,” he says, still short of breath. “Us. Today. Fuck, it's the best day of my life.”
A rough laugh slips from your throat. You kiss him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. Then you press a kiss to his forehead too, but the sweet moment is quickly interrupted by his movements, and you're forced to cling to him again.
This time, it's Kimi who laughs softly. But you tighten around him, and he immediately grits his teeth, going completely still.
“Hey!” you complain.
“Don't do that. You're going to kill me.”
A smile spreads across your face as you rest your forehead against his.
“Start moving again, Grand Slam.”
And he does. The motion draws a quiet sigh from you.
“That nickname is so ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
“Yeah,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “I'm a champion.”
A laugh bursts out of you, and a second later your lips are on his again. And you're so happy. And he's so happy. And everything feels so warm and wonderful that you can hardly believe this is your life. That you get to hold this boy in your arms while he—
While he—
The thought never quite finishes forming.
His hand slips between the two of you once more, and the sudden sensation has you clutching at him instinctively, your vision threatening to blur.
“Love... fuck. That feels so good...” you mumble, the words running together.
He speeds up just a little. Just enough. The combination of everything, the warmth, the closeness, the way he's holding you, sends another wave crashing through you.
Your breath catches. The room tilts. You have to hold on to him tighter.
“Four,” he declares, arching an eyebrow as his head drops onto your shoulder, one hand spread wide across your back.
Gentle once again, he rolls you back onto the bed, easing you down onto the mattress before adjusting the pillow beneath your head to make sure you're completely comfortable.
Even though your body feels almost numb, he still takes care of you, making sure you're alright.
His eyes meet yours, and you nod.
He settles himself between your legs, and when he lowers his head to rest his forehead against yours, you know you don't have to do anything else. Kimi will take care of everything.
The boy who won five races in a row. The boy who has won your heart more times than you could ever count. The boy you love so much that sometimes it feels like your chest might burst from it. You know he'll take care of everything.
Even though you're still incredibly sensitive, your eyes drift shut the moment you feel him again. This time, Kimi doesn't make any effort to hold himself back. The moment is quiet, almost as though he's searching for something. He moves slowly at first, and your eyes squeeze shut.
His pace isn't frantic.
If anything, for the first time all day, it feels like this is just a little bit about him, and he's trying to reach something specific. Your lips purse, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek.
Kimi brushes it away with his thumb and presses a kiss to your forehead.
“My love, I'm sorry... I need... I...” he says, the words falling apart before he can make sense of them.
Then the rhythm breaks. His movements lose their careful order. A little faster now. Gradually.
“It’s okay, love. It’s okay,” you say, your hand finding its way into his hair, right to the spot he can never resist.
Right there. His favorite place. Kimi knows he’s not going to last. Kimi knows he can’t keep holding on much longer. But there’s one last thing...
He can only do what he did before. His mind, drained of coherent thought by the overwhelming haze of pleasure, leaves him running on instinct alone.
His hand trembles.
A groan escapes him when he hears one slip from you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s trying. And the sight of his face drawn tight because of you, the way his thumb moves with determined precision, the sweat trailing down his neck toward his chest...
God. You lose yourself all over again. A soft cry escapes you. Another tear slips from the corner of your eye. And while you cling to him, Kimi manages only a couple more movements before he groans too.
Desperate.
Finally reaching the peak he’d saved for the very end.
And then— He falls apart on top of you.
“Holy fuck...” he murmurs, completely wrecked. “Five.”
Your eyes are closed, your arms spread out, your hair fanned across the pillow when your leg suddenly twitches in a rather embarrassing spasm.
He smiles and wrinkles his nose.
“Still feeling it?”
“Shut up,” you mumble, completely without strength.
“I’m going to get some water in a second...” he says, swallowing hard as he pulls you into a hug.
“Love, you don’t have to...”
“Shhhh,” he complains.
You fall silent. Kimi hugs you a little tighter, and with a sigh, he does his best to lift his upper body, a task that seems to require every last bit of strength he has left.
You don't complain. You don't stop him. Not because you want him doing all these things for you, but because… Because...
Uh.
Why, exactly?
Your head lolls to the side, your eyes already closed, and you vaguely get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you're falling asleep. The sound of a glass being set down on the nightstand doesn't register at all.
But you do hear Kimi's quiet little laugh. The cool sensation of a damp towel against your skin doesn't wake you either. Nothing does. But you remember hearing the air conditioner click on. And you remember the moment you instinctively cling to Kimi when he lies back down beside you. You remember the soft blanket he pulls over both of you. And you remember mumbling something along the lines of:
does anybody else get crazy gender envy from kimi antonelli??? like the way he’s so slim yet got nice muscles and he drives an f1 car and has nice brown eyes and curly hair whatever bro. this photo is crazy
discoholicmusic
amandla
stormborns
blakekathryn
