LH44 Still I Rise

LH44 fangirl

[lh44girl]

I am head over heels for this man (I know I only know a scratch of him )but these eyes are of a kind & warm heart , even if I just go to a GP just to see him(wish is out of my budget) I know he will not notice me & it would a miracle if he did . I know am not the only girl

I just pray to God to meet a guy like him or him himself 🤭Amen

[hamilton-here]

I know requests are closed but if it’s possible, if you don’t mind, to write Lewis Hamilton with his inexperience shy girlfriend (only younger than him 8 years apart ) took her to a nude beach, I don’t know but I can feel this man is a nude beach type of person,just as a second experience to help her be more free around him, and you know smutty and flirty. The man is a wild card

𝐹𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐻𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝑜𝓊𝓁

Authors Note: Hi all! I tell you my jaw dropped seeing this request. I was not expecting it🤯. Hopefully I did okay in meeting the demand. Have a lovely day/night. Lots of love xx

Summary: A surprise nude beach date with Lewis Hamilton leads to playful freedom, deeper connection, and viral fan chaos.

Taglist: @piston-cup @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes

Warnings: mentions of sexual content

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It was still early, the kind of early where the sun was just a sleepy streak of orange at the horizon, the air crisp with the last vestiges of the night.

You felt the gentle weight of Lewis’s arm around you, pulling you closer as you lay against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The warmth of his body was a comfort; one you hadn’t realised you’d needed until you found it. Something so simple, yet so soothing.

You breathed in, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the salt from the ocean breeze drifting through the open window. The world felt soft and quiet, and you wished time could just stand still.

“Good morning, baby,” Lewis murmured against your hair, his voice still thick with sleep but laced with a warmth that made your heart flutter. You felt the vibrations of his chest as he spoke, the words a low, tender hum.

“Morning,” you mumbled, blinking your eyes open, lifting your head slightly to look at him. His gaze met yours instantly, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter in a way they always did when he had something up his sleeve.

“You’re in a good mood today,” you observed, your lips curling into a smile as you gazed at the man who always seemed to bring out the best in you. He raised an eyebrow and winked, his smile widening in that way that was all charm and confidence. You could tell he had something planned, something that had you intrigued but also a little nervous. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Surprises from Lewis could be anything from a quiet, intimate dinner to something more spontaneous.

He had a way of sweeping you off your feet with little to no warning, but today, there was something about his tone, the way he said it, that made your nerves tingle with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The kind of anticipation that makes you want to hold your breath.

“A surprise?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but your mind was already racing through a million possibilities. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see.” His voice was playful, teasing, with just the right amount of mystery to keep you on edge.

He brushed a strand of your hair back behind your ear, his fingers lingering there longer than necessary, tracing the soft curve of your jaw before pulling back. You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling his touch against your skin, the warmth of his hand sending a little shiver down your spine.

When you opened your eyes again, Lewis was already moving, sitting up in bed with an easy, fluid motion stretching his long body with a slow, deliberate grace. The soft golden light of the morning filtered in, catching on the lines of his muscles, highlighting the definition in his arms and chest.

You watched him, feeling a rush of affection and then some a sudden surge of heat as you registered just how lucky you were to have him in your life. His presence felt like home, grounding you, making you feel safe in a way no one else ever had.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful tone fading into something a little more uncertain. There was always that feeling when he planned these surprises like walking into a world of the unknown where the rules didn’t quite apply and all you could do was trust him to lead you through.

“Nope.” His grin widened, that mischievous gleam never leaving his eyes. “But I’m gonna need you to trust me. It’ll be fun, I promise.” He turned toward the closet, rifling through clothes with a practiced ease that only made him look even more effortlessly put-together.

You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved so confident, so unbothered by the world, a man who was used to taking charge. You didn’t have to ask what he was doing. You knew him well enough by now.

It wasn’t long before he pulled on an outfit that was casual but stylish, the perfect mix of relaxed and purposeful. You tried to focus on that, on how he was already making decisions, but your mind was still racing, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves. He looked so confident. But you were still unsure.

You glanced down at your swimsuit options, hesitating as you held one up to the mirror. You’d been with him long enough now to understand his playful nature, but this was different. You had no idea what to expect and while a part of you was excited, another part was intimidated by the idea of what he had planned for you today.

You were still shy about certain things, and your body - well, you didn’t feel as confident as him in this area. It wasn’t that you didn’t love yourself, but there were things you had yet to embrace fully.

“You okay?” he asked, turning toward you, his brow furrowed in concern. His eyes, always so tender, scanned your expression as if trying to gauge how you were feeling.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go along with whatever surprise he had in mind. It was just new. Different. And a little scary. But at the same time, he made it feel safe. He always did.

“Yeah,” you said softly, offering him a small smile. “Just not sure what I’m in for.”

“Good.” His grin was back, playful and teasing, and it made your heart race. “That’s the point. Come on, let’s go. We’re already running late.”

The drive was mostly quiet, save for the occasional teasing comment from him. He asked if you were excited, if you were feeling ready for whatever came next, and each time, his voice was light, but you could hear the excitement in it. He kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye, catching your nervous smiles, and giving you an occasional wink as if to reassure you.

You felt yourself relax a little as you found yourself drifting between excitement and uncertainty. You were with him, and that alone made everything feel like an adventure. But still what was the surprise?

It wasn’t until you reached the coastline that it started to click. The road began to narrow as the trees parted, and you could hear the soft rush of the waves against the shore in the distance. That was when the realisation dawned.

“Lewis…” you said, a mix of disbelief and excitement in your voice. “This better not be what I think it is.” He shot you a glance, that grin still there, but now with a knowing edge to it, the kind that made your heart skip a beat. “What do you think it is?”

Your eyes widened as you saw it, a stretch of golden sand just ahead, sparsely populated with a few figures in the distance. Your throat went dry as you recognised the scene unfolding before you a beach, completely untouched, with no barriers, no clothes. Just people, bare and free, like they belonged to the earth.

“No way,” you whispered, your voice suddenly hoarse. “We’re not - are we?” He laughed softly, a sound full of teasing and something deeper, almost like a promise. “Welcome to your surprise, baby.” Your heart skipped another beat, and your stomach tightened as you tried to form words, but they wouldn’t come. A nude beach? This was the surprise.

You felt the flush creep up your neck, and your body went hot. This was beyond anything you’d expected, beyond anything you’d ever even thought about doing.

You wanted to hide, to curl up in your clothes and forget about the whole thing. But then you saw him Lewis, so confident, so at ease in his own skin. There was something in his eyes that made you want to be just like him.

“Lewis,” you said again, this time your voice quieter, more vulnerable. “I’ve never…”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off gently, his tone soft, sincere, and full of understanding. “And that’s exactly why we’re here. I want you to feel free around me. Really free. No clothes, no judgment, no one telling you what you should or shouldn’t do. Just us.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to process what he was saying. His words were calm and steady like there was no pressure, no rush. Only love, only care. He wanted you to trust him in a way that felt deep, even intimate.

He wasn’t just asking you to shed your clothes. He was asking you to shed your insecurities, your hesitations. He was asking you to trust him, fully and completely. You swallowed, the anxiety still bubbling inside you, but something else rose too excitement, a feeling of liberation, of possibility.

“Okay,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “Okay. Let’s do it.” A smile spread across his face then, a look of pride and approval that made your heart flutter in your chest. He didn’t rush you. He didn’t push. He was just there waiting, patient and encouraging you to take that step. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth.

The two of you got out of the car, your bare feet sinking into the soft, warm sand. You glanced around, your body still hesitant, your hands trembling as you slowly began to undress. The world felt surreal, the beach stretching endlessly around you. You could feel the cool breeze on your skin, the heat of the sun on your face and then him.

You glanced at Lewis, watching as he shed his clothes with the same effortless confidence he wore every day. His body, always toned and defined, moved so naturally that you couldn’t help but admire him. He was free. And as you stood there, exposed to the world around you, you noticed that was what he was giving you. Freedom.

His eyes met yours as he turned, a soft, appreciative smile curling his lips. “See?” he said softly, his voice a low murmur as he took a step toward you. “You look incredible. I knew you would.”

You blushed, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but his gaze wasn’t judgmental. It was full of admiration, of warmth. You weren’t just exposed in body but you were exposed in spirit, in a way that made you feel safe with him, even if it was a little scary.

You smiled, feeling a slow release of the tension in your body, the weightlifting as the sun warmed your skin. It wasn’t just about being naked. It was about letting go. It was about him, and you, being free.

The sun had risen fully now, casting a golden glow across the beach that made everything feel more vivid, more alive. The waves had become a constant hum as a soft background to the silence between you and Lewis as you both lay side by side on the warm sand.

You were still naked, your body feeling like it was basking in more than just sunlight but in his presence an almost electric sensation that was hard to describe, yet undeniable.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart racing a little as you took in the sight of him. Lewis, with his effortless confidence, his strong physique catching the light, his face softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

He was lying next to you, his arm draped lazily across your waist, his fingers tracing small patterns on your skin, the touch light but purposeful. The slow movements of his fingers stirred something inside of you an ache, a longing you hadn’t realised was there until now.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice low, the question almost playful but laced with genuine curiosity. His eyes met yours, a soft smile on his lips and in that moment, you felt completely seen. It was like he could look right through you, touching the deepest parts of you, even without saying a word.

You swallowed, your heart skipping a beat. It was hard to describe. You felt exposed in a way you never had before not just physically, but emotionally too.

It wasn’t just the fact that you were lying next to him on a beach, skin exposed to the sun, but it was the way he made you feel so safe, so accepted, even in your vulnerability. But in his eyes, you didn’t feel judged. You didn’t feel the pressure to be anything other than yourself.

“I feel slightly nervous,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what had come over you there was this overwhelming mix of freedom and vulnerability, the kind that made your pulse race and your chest tighten all at once.

His gaze softened, and you could see the tenderness in his eyes as he smiled warmly, his hand gently squeezing your side as if to reassure you. "Good nervous or bad nervous?" he asked, his voice teasing, but there was something deeper in the way he said it something that told you he wasn’t going to let you feel bad, that his intention was only to lift you up, to ease the tension you were feeling.

“Good nervous,” you whispered, your breath catching as he leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from yours. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke again, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Then you’re exactly where you need to be,” he said softly, his voice sending a wave of heat through your body. His words weren’t just comforting they were a quiet assurance that you were allowed to be vulnerable, to be yourself in this moment. And that, somehow made you feel braver than you ever had.

Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his lips on your skin, his tattooed hand shifting gently over your back, pulling you in closer to him. He kissed the side of your neck, the softness of his touch sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Every move was slow, deliberate, like he was savouring each second with you. You could feel the heat between you both rising slowly, your body reacting to him in a way you hadn’t anticipated but welcomed all the same.

You closed your eyes, your fingers grazing his golden-brown skin, lightly running over the muscles in his arm. His body was warm against yours and the contrast of the cool breeze and the heat of the sun only intensified the sensations.

You could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your palm. You could tell he was focused on you. On every little shift, every subtle movement you made. It was as if he were learning you in real-time.

“You’re doing amazing, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection, the words making your heart swell. “I love how free you’re letting yourself be with me.”

His praise made you feel a rush of warmth. It was more than just physical; it was a sense of trust building, a connection deepening between you two. Slowly, hesitantly, you moved closer, your lips brushing his in a soft, tentative kiss. The moment was tender, full of warmth and softness, a simple brush of lips that made you feel vulnerable but safe at the same time.

When you pulled back, you saw the glint in his eyes a mixture of affection and something more. A desire. It was like a spark had ignited between you two, and suddenly, the world around you felt distant and irrelevant.

All you could focus on was the warmth of his body beside yours and the way his eyes held yours, full of hunger and tenderness all at once. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world and for a moment, you forgot everything else.

It was just the two of you, in this quiet place, completely exposed in every way imaginable near other nude couples.

“You’re breathtaking, you know that?” he whispered, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw, the touch so light it felt like a promise. “You make me want to lose myself in you.”

His words sent a surge of heat to your core, and you felt your body respond to him, to the softness of his voice and the intensity in his eyes. The pull between you was undeniable. The air between you both had thickened, heavy with a desire that neither of you were willing to ignore anymore. You could feel it building between you, like a slow-burning fire. Every second that passed only added to the intensity.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started slow, teasing, but quickly turned deeper, more desperate.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer as he deepened the kiss. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the heat building between you both, the tension palpable. You could taste the desire on his lips and it made your head spin, your pulse quickening.

You broke away for a moment, gasping for air, your chest rising and falling with the rhythm of your breath. His eyes searched yours, his gaze dark with want, but there was still a softness there a tenderness that balanced the raw hunger you both felt.

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes. There was a hunger there now, a hunger that matched the growing desire in you. His lips found your neck again, trailing kisses down toward your collarbone, his hands sliding down your back to rest on your hips, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

And suddenly, you felt it the electric charge between you two that had been building since the moment you’d undressed on the beach. Every kiss, every touch, was drawing you both closer to a place where nothing else mattered. It was just him. Just you.

"Are you sure your okay with me doing this?" he asked, his voice low, almost a growl against your skin. He paused, waiting for your answer, his hands gently caressing your skin, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You looked into his eyes, feeling the trust you had for him flood through you. There was no hesitation now. No fear. You had shed your insecurities, bit by bit, with every moment, every touch. You had let go of the walls you had built so carefully over the years, and now, in this moment, with him, you were ready to embrace everything he was offering.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice steady, the word more of a confirmation than a question. Your body was already responding to him, a longing building that you didn’t even try to fight.

With that, Lewis leaned in again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was filled with an intensity you hadn’t expected. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if he were memorising the feel of you. His touch was a slow burn, igniting every part of you, every nerve ending that tingled with anticipation.

The sensation of his lips on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, was intoxicating. You lost yourself in the rhythm of his touch, in the way his kisses moved from your lips to your jaw, to your neck and lower still, until you were both gasping for air, the world spinning around you.

It felt like you were being consumed by him, in the best way possible. His body, his hands, his lips everything about him was pulling you in, deeper and deeper.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt your body flush with heat. The tension between you two had reached a breaking point and now, there was nothing else but the pull of each other’s bodies.

Every kiss, every touch, felt like it was pulling you deeper into him, until all you could focus on was the feel of him - his hands, his lips, his body moving against yours.

You were both on the edge, and there was no turning back now. The world outside of the two of you seemed to fade away as the moment stretched, the air thick with the desire building between you.

"Let go with me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his lips trailing over your skin as his hands moved to trace the soft lines of your body. “I want to feel all of you.”

The kisses lingered for what felt like an eternity, soft and slow, as if neither of you were quite ready to pull away. Each moment that passed felt like it deepened the connection between you, drawing you closer in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

But eventually, the heat that had built between you both followed by the warmth from the sun, the heat of his body against yours became too much to bear in the quiet of the beach. You felt a rising warmth in your chest, but it had nothing to do with the sun above you.

It was a heat that came from within, spreading through you, suffusing your very soul, making every part of you feel alive. Every touch, every movement seemed to ignite something deeper in you, a flame that had been waiting to be lit.

Lewis was the first to pull back, his breathing deep and ragged, his chest rising and falling with the exertion, but his eyes never left yours. They were locked onto you, pupils dilated with desire, the intensity in them making your heart race.

His fingers slid gently over your skin, tracing the delicate lines of your shoulders, his touch lingering in ways that made your pulse quicken. The tension in the air between you both was palpable, thick, almost suffocating in its intensity.

He didn’t say anything at first but the soft, knowing smile that curled on his lips spoke volumes. It was a smile that told you he felt the same. He was just as affected, just as caught in this connection as you were.

“Wanna cool off?” he asked, his voice low and playful, his words still heavy with the unspoken things between you two.

It was like he was trying to ground you both, to shift the heat from the air to something lighter, more carefree, something that would ease the tension without breaking the moment completely.

You blinked, your breath still coming in shallow gasps, caught up in the electric charge of his presence. “Cool off?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, the air between you thick with longing.

Lewis laughed softly, a sound that was a mixture of amusement and affection, as if he found your reaction endearing. His voice was still playful, but there was a warmth to it, a gentleness that reassured you. “Yeah,” he said, his gaze flickering to the ocean as the waves crashed against the shore with a rhythmic sound, like nature’s heartbeat.

“It’s too hot for all this tension to just stay here.” He looked back at you, his eyes filled with mischief, and that familiar twinkle that made your heart skip a beat. “Come on, let’s take a swim. It’ll help. And you have to get in the water. It’s a rule, love.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the lightness of his tone, at how effortlessly he was trying to reset the mood. And just like that, the weight of the moment shifted.

The thought of stepping into the cool embrace of the ocean, with him beside you, felt like the perfect way to unwind - to take the intimacy you’d shared on the beach and transform it into something freer, something that felt more playful and less intense.

You slowly stood up, feeling the soft sand shift beneath your feet. The cool ocean breeze brushed across your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

You were still tangled in the aftereffects of his touch, the warmth of his body, the kiss. But the sun now felt softer, kinder, as it bathed your skin in a gentle light. It was as if the universe had aligned just for this moment a quiet peace after the storm of emotion that had passed between you.

Lewis stood up beside you, his hand finding yours again, his fingers curling around yours in that familiar, reassuring grip.

With a gentle tug, he led you toward the water, and as you walked, you could feel the sand beneath your feet becoming firmer, the pull of the ocean drawing you in with its steady rhythm.

The air around you seemed charged with something electric a silent understanding between you and him, an unspoken promise. There was no need for words; you both knew that.

The water shimmered before you, its surface sparkling in the sunlight, reflecting the endless blue sky above. The waves lapped at your ankles as you stepped into the ocean, the coolness of the water surprising against your sun-warmed skin.

The sensation of the water was like a cleansing, a refreshing contrast to the heat that had built up moments before. You could feel the cool waves swirling around your feet, and with a sudden burst of excitement, you took off toward the edge of the water, the rush of the waves splashing against your legs.

You laughed, feeling a sudden surge of freedom, your laughter ringing out against the backdrop of the ocean.

Lewis followed right behind, his footsteps swift as he caught up to you with that mischievous grin you adored. His laughter joined yours, the sound blending with the rush of the ocean and the wind.

“Bet I can get there first!” he teased, his voice playful, but there was an undeniable hunger in it, a desire for the moment to last, for the connection between you two to stay.

Without thinking, you matched his pace, your heart light as you raced through the surf, the ocean water crashing against your skin. You could feel the rhythm of your bodies syncing, the playful competition turning into something more.

It was as if, for just a moment, everything else faded away - no cameras, no prying eyes, no expectations. Just the two of you, in your own world, running toward something that felt like freedom.

You reached the water’s edge first, laughing breathlessly as the coolness of the waves swallowed your feet. The sensation of the water surrounding you made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in so long, as if the ocean had stripped away any last remnants of self-consciousness, leaving you feeling raw and free.

Lewis stayed close behind you, his hand still wrapped around yours, his thumb gently caressing your skin. He turned to face you, the droplets of water on his skin sparkling in the sunlight, his hair tousled by the wind, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down.

His intense gaze met yours, and in that instant, it felt like the entire world had disappeared. There was only you, and him, and the connection that had only deepened since you’d stepped onto the beach.

“You look incredible,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves, but the sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat.

The compliment wasn’t just about the way you looked; it was about who you were in that moment. The real you. The parts of you that you had kept hidden, unsure, shy. But with him, in his gaze, you felt seen in a way you never had before.

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard, but his words melted any uncertainty. You squeezed his hand gently, a smile tugging at your lips. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, your voice soft but playful, mirroring the way he made you feel.

Before you could say anything else, Lewis tugged you deeper into the water, the cool waves rising higher against your bodies.

The sensation of the water on your skin was freeing it was like the ocean was washing away any lingering tension, any doubts, any insecurities you’d been holding onto. You were here, in this moment, completely. And it felt perfect. You laughed, letting go of any remaining reservations, feeling the weight of everything else fall away.

As the two of you splashed around in the water, your laughter mixing with the rhythm of the waves, the playful intimacy between you deepened. It was as if the ocean had created a space just for the two of you, a bubble where nothing else mattered but the connection you were building. You felt lighter, freer, more at ease than you’d ever felt before.

At one point, as you both floated on your backs, letting the current gently rock you in the water, the silence between you was comfortable, peaceful.

The sun warmed your skin, but the water kept you cool, and for the first time in a long time, you felt completely at peace. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation of floating relax you, your body weightless in the cool embrace of the ocean.

“You know,” Lewis murmured, breaking the silence with his voice, which was soft, but full of something deeper now, something that made your heart swell. “This is my favourite part.”

You turned your head to look at him as he floated beside you, his hand finding yours. “Not just being here, but seeing you like this. Free, happy, open.” He paused, his fingers tracing patterns over your hand, his voice lowering with emotion. “That’s all I want for you. To be yourself with me. No walls. No barriers.”

His words, so soft and sincere, hit you like a wave. The way he saw you, how he really saw you not just the woman on the outside, but the one who had always been afraid to shed her layers, to let herself be free.

But now, in the ocean, with him, it felt like you were being stripped bare in the best way possible. You could feel yourself opening up, just for him. And that scared you a little, but it also felt right.

“I feel it,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze. The words felt like a truth you hadn’t fully realised until now. “With you, I feel like I can just be me. And I love that.”

Lewis’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world seemed to disappear. He smiled, that same gentle smile, and tugged you closer once more. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

But then, something tugged at the back of your mind, and you pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing as you glanced around the beach. You couldn’t help but ask, “What if someone sees us? What if the paparazzi -”

Lewis cut you off with a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your hand in reassurance. “Baby,” he said, looking you dead in the eyes, “if they catch us, let them. I don’t care. I’m not hiding this. Not with you. Not anymore.”

The warmth of Lewis's words lingered in the air, a promise of something deeper, something more than just the carefree moment you were sharing. You felt your heart flutter at his reassurance - “I’m not hiding this. Not with you. Not anymore.”

The weight of those words sank in slowly, sending a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just about the physical act of being naked together, though that was a big part of it. It was about exposing yourself in every way, emotionally and mentally.

You didn’t realise just how much you had craved this kind of acceptance until now. The idea of being seen really seen without any masks, no layers of pretence, made you feel both vulnerable and empowered in equal measure.

You had always been cautious, always so aware of the way people looked at you, whether you were fully clothed or not. Being in such an open, exposed state with someone especially in the public eye, on a beach with only the ocean and a few distant figures as witnesses made you feel raw in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

But then, there was Lewis. His gaze met yours, steady, filled with warmth and suddenly the terror you’d felt before started to subside. In his eyes, you didn’t feel judged. You didn’t feel small.

You felt seen in a way that made everything else disappear. The world around you of the press, the possible prying eyes didn’t matter because in that moment, the only thing that existed was the space between you two. And it felt like home.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost nervous as it escaped your lips. “You’re crazy,” you said, the playful tone in your voice barely masking the undercurrent of anxiety still swirling in your chest.

“I know,” he responded with that signature grin of his the one that had you weak at the knees every single time.

His mischievous glint returned, and without missing a beat, he leaned in to brush his lips against your cheek. The contact was light, almost like a whisper of a kiss, but it ignited a fire inside you that sent your pulse spiking.

“You love it,” he teased, the words slipping from his mouth with such ease, you couldn’t help but smile in return.

You tried to retaliate with a splash of water, sending droplets flying toward him, but it only made him laugh, the sound rich and free. His laughter had always been something you loved the way it felt so effortless, so genuine. There was nothing held back in it, nothing rehearsed. And at that moment, neither of you had any reason to hide.

For a long stretch of time, there was nothing but the quiet, the sound of waves crashing, and the gentle rhythm of your breathing. The world seemed to slow down, the noise of everything else fading away. You felt a kind of peace you hadn’t realised you were missing.

There was something in the way he looked at you, in the way his touch was so deliberate, so gentle it made you feel like you had all the time in the world to let go of the parts of yourself that still held back. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel like you had to be anyone but you.

“I never thought I’d feel like this,” you murmured, the words slipping from your mouth before you could second-guess them. Your fingers trailed through the water, watching as ripples expanded outward. “So free.”

Lewis tilted his head, his gaze softening. He was looking at you like he could see the very essence of your soul. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice warm, curious, like he was truly listening, like he wanted to understand every piece of you.

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts, trying to figure out how to put this feeling into words. It wasn’t easy.

The vulnerability of the moment was still there, but it was different now more like an invitation. It was as if all the things you were usually afraid of the judgment, the rejection no longer mattered in this space you shared with him.

“I’ve always been so cautious,” you began, eyes fixed on the water as you spoke. “I’ve spent so much time second-guessing myself, worrying about what people think, about everything.” You glanced up at him then, smiling softly. “But with you? I feel like I don’t have to hide. You make me feel like I can just let go of all the walls I’ve built.”

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he reached out, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear.

His fingers lingered there for just a moment, a small but meaningful touch that sent a wave of warmth through you. It was the kind of gesture that spoke of understanding, of care like he knew exactly what you needed without you even saying it.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Because you don’t need to hold back with me. Not ever. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

The sincerity in his words, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world made your chest tighten with emotion. His words hit you like a soft breeze, comforting and yet stirring something deeper.

In that moment, you felt the weight of everything you had carried for so long begin to melt away. You felt like you could finally exhale, like you didn’t have to be afraid anymore. Not with him.

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him just how much that meant to you, when your gaze flickered to the far side of the beach. For a split second, your heart stopped.

There, in the distance, you could see the unmistakable flicker of camera flashes. The subtle sound of voices carried faintly in the wind.

And suddenly, the serene moment you had shared felt fragile. Vulnerable. The truth hit you all at once...the paparazzi. They had found you. They had found you both.

Your stomach dropped, and the initial thrill of the moment turned to a cold rush of panic. You instinctively began to pull away, your mind racing with thoughts of what this could mean.

It wasn’t just about being naked in public anymore it was about the reality of your relationship being exposed to the world in a way that felt too raw. Too unguarded. You didn’t know if you were ready for that.

But before you could even begin to back away completely, Lewis’s hand found yours again, his grip firm and steady. His touch was grounding, a reminder that he was right there with you, no matter what.

He pulled you against his inked body. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice calming, soothing like a balm against your rising panic. “I told you. I don’t care. If they want to snap pictures, let them. We’re here, together, doing what we want. Nothing’s changing that.”

“But what if -” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You weren’t sure what to say, how to express the sudden rush of anxiety that had overtaken you. You weren’t ready to be exposed to the world like this. Not now, not yet.

Lewis gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he locked eyes with you, his expression soft but resolute. “Love,” he said, his tone light but full of sincerity, “they’ll talk no matter what. Whether we’re here or behind closed doors, they’ll find a way. So let’s give them something to talk about.”

His words were filled with a cocky kind of confidence that made your heart flutter. He wasn’t running away from this he was embracing it. And in that moment, you realised how much you wanted to embrace it too. With him. “But you don’t care? If people see us like this?”

He shook his head, his smile playful now, as he brushed his thumb over your cheek again. “I don’t care. Not with you. Not anymore. It’s just us. And that’s all that matters.” The weight of his words seemed to calm you.

Slowly, the anxiety that had been flooding you began to recede, replaced by the warmth of his presence. In his eyes, you saw no judgment, no fear. Only a quiet strength that made you feel safe.

You exhaled deeply, your breathing steadier now. “I guess I can try,” you said, your voice small but firm. With that, he leaned in, his lips gently pressing against yours in a soft kiss slow and reassuring. It wasn’t long, but it was full of everything you needed to hear. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with affection.

“Feel better now?” he asked, his voice teasing, but underneath it, you could hear the genuine care. You smiled, nodding slowly. “Yeah. A little.”

“Good,” he said, winking at you. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” His voice dropped lower, a playful edge returning to it. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Your stomach fluttered with nervous excitement. “Another surprise?”

Lewis’s grin deepened. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said, his voice thick with promise.

He gave your hand a final squeeze and started leading you farther into the water. With each step, you felt the last remnants of doubt slip away, and as you swam with him. And nothing else mattered.

As the two of you swam farther into the water, the moment felt almost surreal. The sunlight shimmered off the surface of the ocean, turning the vast expanse of water into an endless field of gold.

The gentle rhythm of the waves seemed to mirror the steady beat of your heart, syncing in perfect harmony. There was nothing between you and Lewis now not just the water, but every barrier that had ever kept you cautious, unsure, or guarded. The beach, once an open stage for a performance, now felt like a quiet sanctuary, just the two of you, stripped of everything else.

Lewis led you deeper into the sea, where the waves were playfully tugging at your bodies. The cool water swirled around you, but his touch kept you anchored. His fingers brushed against yours, and for a second, you marvelled at the simplicity of the connection.

His gaze turned toward you, eyes sparkling under the sunlight, and you saw a glint of mischief there. “So,” he began, his voice still light but with an underlying seriousness, “ready for that next surprise?”

Your heart skipped, a rush of excitement mixing with nerves. What could he possibly have planned now? Part of you was anxious about what lay ahead, but another part of you couldn’t help but feel the pull of whatever it was.

With Lewis, everything had been unexpected, thrilling, and at times, terrifying. But those moments had led you here to a place of growth, discovery, and a vulnerability you’d never allowed yourself before.

“What now?” you asked, trying to keep the edge of nervousness from your voice, but failing as curiosity danced in your eyes.

He grinned, a playful twinkle lighting up his face. “Follow me,” he said, his fingers wrapping around yours with a gentle tug.

You swam side by side, your movements more confident now, each stroke a step closer to letting go. The water embraced you, and with each passing second, you felt a little freer, a little lighter.

For a while, you swam in silence, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore growing fainter as you ventured further out. The calm was almost surreal, like you were in your own world, far removed from the worries that had once weighed so heavily on your heart.

The gentle pull of the current kept you moving forward, and with every passing moment, the tension that had accompanied you earlier started to dissipate. Here, with him, in the vastness of the ocean, everything felt peaceful.

Eventually, Lewis stopped and you followed suit, treading water as your feet barely brushed against the sandy bottom. The sun warmed your skin, but there was a coolness to the water that kept you grounded. He turned toward you, his face illuminated by the soft light, a calm smile playing on his lips.

“I just wanted you to see something,” he said, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I want you to know that this us it’s not just about the fun moments. It’s about all of it. Even the difficult parts. You've already let go of so much, but you don’t have to hold on to anything with me anymore.”

His words took a moment to sink in, their weight pulling you in. He wasn’t just talking about the physical intimacy, the nudity, or the vulnerability of being seen. He was speaking of the deeper layers the parts of yourself you’d been guarding for so long. The emotional walls you had built, brick by brick, to protect yourself from the world.

You reached out to him, pulling yourself closer, the swell of gratitude in your chest overwhelming. “I think I’m starting to understand,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent so much of my life hiding, holding parts of me back. But with you I feel like I can just be. All of me.”

The moment stretched, and then he kissed you. It wasn’t a passionate kiss there were no desperate urges, no hurried motions. It was slow, deliberate, a kiss that held all the unspoken things you’d yet to say.

The taste of saltwater lingered on his lips, and when you pulled back, you saw something in his eyes that made your heart flutter a deep, abiding affection that wasn’t bound by words.

“I’m glad you’re seeing that,” he whispered, his forehead resting gently against yours. “And just so you know, I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

“So…” you said, your voice now calm, “What’s the final surprise? Because, after all this, I think you’ve earned the right to make me nervous again.”

Lewis chuckled, a deep, easy laugh that reverberated through the stillness of the water. “I think you’ve earned a break, baby,” he teased, his grip tightening around your hand as he began swimming back toward the shore. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The swim back felt different, quieter more relaxed. The playful energy that had defined the day shifted into a quiet, shared understanding between you both. There were no walls now, no barriers. Only trust, vulnerability, and the freedom of being completely you.

When you reached the shore, the golden light of the late afternoon bathed the beach in a soft, peaceful glow. Lewis looked at you, his eyes mischievous once more, but there was a new warmth to them, one that made your heart swell.

“I think,” he said with a grin, “we’ve earned a quiet evening. What do you say?”

You smiled, the exhaustion of the day finally starting to hit you, but it was a good kind of tired. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered, your fingers intertwining with his as you walked toward the sand.

And for the first time in your life, you felt like you didn’t have to hide. You didn’t have to worry about the expectations of the world or about what anyone else thought. In this moment, with him, you were exactly where you needed to be.

He pulled you close, his hand cupping your face, and kissed you once more slow, deep, and full of all the promises that had been made. A promise of freedom, of love, and of a future where you could always be yourself. A future where you no longer had to fear the exposure of your heart.

The next morning, the world seemed to have woken up to your little escape. Photos from the day before flooded social media, and it didn’t take long for the paparazzi to catch up with you two.

A few photos surfaced of you and Lewis laughing, swimming together in the ocean. The images were undeniably intimate, but there was an air of playfulness in the way the two of you looked at each other.

One particular image stood out an overhead shot of you both in the water, smiling at each other, surrounded by a beautiful expanse of blue.

The angle of the shot made it appear you were both completely naked, your skin glistening with droplets of water as you leaned into each other.

The headline was cheeky:

"A Day in the Sun: Lewis Hamilton and His Mystery Woman Get Close, VERY Close!"

Fans quickly caught on, many of them making jokes about the intimacy of the shots, speculating whether you two were, in fact, naked. The comments flooded in, and you couldn’t help but laugh at some of the hilarious reactions.

One tweet read:

“Is it just me or did Lewis and his ‘mystery woman’ just break the internet...and maybe a few other things? 😂🌊 #CaughtInTheAct #WaterNudes?”

The responses quickly piled on:

“Lewis, we knew you liked to make waves but this is next level! 🌊”

Another fan tweet said, “When you’re both so in love, even the ocean’s got no time for clothes 😂 #NoClothesJustVibes #Goals.”

One user, in an apparent mix of admiration and disbelief, wrote:

"I thought I was seeing things, but nope, it's just Lewis and his girl making the ocean their personal runway. The true naked truth of love 🏖️ #FreeTheSwimwear"

It wasn’t long before F1 drivers and their teams had their say, and of course, things got spicy in the F1 grid.

Max Verstappen tweeted:

“So, Lewis, when did naked beach outings become part of the race prep? That's next level training”

Charles Leclerc was quick to add:

“I’m trying to figure out what’s more shocking: the fact they’re swimming like that, or the fact Lewis beat me to the most scandalous headline of the year 🤨😉”

Carlos Sainz, always quick with a cheeky comment, posted:

"I hope you two used sunscreen, or is that just another bare necessity? 😏 #TanLinesAreForTheWeak"

But the comment that really got attention came from Daniel Ricciardo, who, never one to shy away from a good joke, posted:

“If Lewis wins this weekend, we’ll know who REALLY deserves the credit. 👀 #CaughtInTheTide #TeamNoClothes”

Back in the comments, fans were living for it. “Lewis is definitely the most unpredictable driver on the grid, but this takes the cake. Can’t wait for the ‘lap times vs. tan lines’ debate in the next drivers' meeting. 😂”

The conversation kept escalating, with fans wondering whether the “mystery woman” (you) would soon make an official appearance at a race or if this was going to remain Lewis’s wild secret.

But your favourite tweet of the day came from Lewis himself, where he responded to the chaos with:

“It’s funny how everyone’s obsessed with the pics, but what they don’t see is the peace we found together in that moment. That’s what matters most to me.😎💙”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the whirlwind of attention, knowing full well that what the world was seeing wasn’t the whole story and frankly, you didn’t mind at all.

It wasn’t just the playfulness of the day, or the freedom you’d found, but the quiet moments, the real connection, that made all the difference.

Still, you were glad to see that the F1 grid was taking it in stride. You had a sneaky feeling they’d be laughing about this for a while. And just like that, your weekend with Lewis had gone from an intimate escape to the talk of the racing world.

The day continued with a new level of hilarity. The fans, the memes, and the constant “leaked photos” were enough to keep you both in stitches. Lewis didn’t seem bothered at all, instead he found humour in the whole thing, often pulling up random fan accounts to show you the memes.

After scrolling through a few more ridiculous comments, you looked up at Lewis with a playful grin. “So, what’s next? You planning to break the internet again, or do we actually get to go to your surprise location now?”

Lewis chuckled and, with that mischievous glint in his eyes, winked at you. “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

And just like that, you were both off on yet another adventure.

[lh44girl]

Intro: you and Lewis were at the beginning of your relationship, taking it slow & privet. After a triple header during the tuff season with Ferrari. Lewis had gone to Maranello and you joined him as he wished to try to spend time together.

Wild , Free & mine

It was supposed to be just a mid-week getaway — a break between his sessions at the Ferrari factory, tucked in the hills of Maranello. But Lewis had other plans.

He drove you through winding roads on his motor bike mid day , sunglasses low on his nose, hand lazily resting on your thigh. You had no idea where he was taking you. When the bike finally stopped at a gated path near the coast.

“Where are we?” you asked, squinting toward the horizon.

Lewis only smirked, grabbed a picnic basket from the back, and offered his hand, guided you down the winding road.

“Somewhere… you’re going to thank me for.”

The beach was stunning — a hidden cove with golden sand, waves that whispered, and cliffs that cradled the sun kissing the water warming it . But then you noticed something…a sign said private

No one was wearing anything.

You froze.

“Lewis…”

Your voice cracked with embarrassment.

“Is this a nude beach?”

He turned to you, utterly calm.

“Technically? Yes.”

A beat passed. His grin widened.

“But don’t worry. It’s just us. I reserved it for the day”

You blinked.

“You what?”

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping close, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “I just wanted you to experience this with me..freedom.you always told me how you admired my free wild spirit and how you wanted to enjoy life to the max like me. So I guessed this is ..just Perfect”

You hesitated, you were wearing a light Lenin creamy dress with just your panties underneath, he was the one at breakfast just beafore stealing you away picked up for you to wear it.you rapped your arms crisscrossed shyly.

“I’m not like you, Lewis. I can’t just… strip and walk around like a Greek god.I even don’t have ..the body of one.”

He leaned in, his voice lower now.

“Babe, I don’t want you to be like me.”

His fingers traced lightly down your arm.

“I want you to feel free. Comfortable in your skin. You’re… breathtaking..you are way better like the statues of Michel Angelo”

You gave him a half-nervous look, and he kissed your shoulder.

“Tell you what,” he whispered, “you can be whatever you want to be,just loosen up & I’ll take care of the rest.”

He slipped off his shirt, then his shorts, walking into the sea like it was his element.The sun shimmering on his godly sculpture body, golden brown tattooed, with that perfect round ass. It was a sin not to stair . He turned back, standing in the shimmering waves, hand stretched toward you.

“Come to me.”

You sighed — part of you melting. The other still shy. But Lewis had that way about him. That trust he gave so easily, that love that never judged.

You undid the your warped dress slowly. His gaze softened. No hunger. No pressure. Just… awe.

When you stepped into the water, he was already there — arms wrapping around you, pulling you gently into his chest.

“There she is,” he whispered, forehead against yours, “my Aphrodite.”

In the water, his hands held your waist. You laughed nervously, burying your face into his neck.

“You’re staring.”

“I will never stop.”

You splashed him — he laughed. You swam away — he chased you.

When he finally caught you again, it was with his lips pressed against yours. The waves rocked you gently, your bodies hidden under the warm sun , your laughter turning into silence, then into kisses. You could feel him growing under you, he hoisted your legs around his waist to anchor you to him. Your bodies were like two peaces of puzzle reunited.

Back on the beach, as the sun caressed your bodies to dry and kiss it for tan, you were laying on your stomach Lewis laid next to you on his side on one arm, just teasing with his fingers the lines of your curves.kissing each part of your back & curves mesmerized by your beauty.

You whispered, half-asleep:

“I can’t believe you brought me here.”

And he whispered back, brushing his lips to your hair:

“I’ll take you anywhere… just to see you like this. Wild, free, and mine.”

The beach was all yours, Lewis couldn’t hold back , never taking his hands off of you. Making out in the water wasn’t enough, His lips never parted from yours and his hands roamed south your body between your thick thighs. “LEW !!”you protested, but he just “HMMmm”.. “says the woman who can’t stop starring at me and is the main cause of my growing problem”

His erection was laid there out in the open, proudly wondering how will you be of help. You were never that girl, but with Lewis he made you bolder and free. You opened your legs to him, your hands guiding him to your softy sticky pussy. There he was… home, he entered you, out in the open, in the sun on that soft sun bed. Lewis started moving as if, the lights off on race day, never stopping with a rhythm that suited you. The heat between you increased, you rolled him on his back & straddle him, the sun was now setting down and the sky was different colors of red, pink & orange. Lewis had had the ultimate view, you on top of him & the colorful sky. You both came together, the moaning sounds dying into a heated make out kiss. Their bare nude rapped into each other , legs tangled in the sand , the waves caressing them and the sky above you covering you both in beautiful colors.

That day,Even on the way back on the bike you held into him like it was your life, wind blowing your dress away and never your smile or his smirks. It was a day written in the books, you both were wild and free.

[hamilton-here]

Heyyyy ! how are you doing? Feeling better? I hope the move went well. 🥺

I know your orders are closed, but I had to ask you before I forgot, lol

Please don't rush or feel obligated to write anything yet 🙏🏻 Get yourself together first, take your time, and feel better. ❤️‍🩹

I was wondering if you could write a story about what Lewis and the reader's first time together would be like. Something like they've just officially started dating and are starting to experiment and discover what they each like in sex, and Lewis unknowingly hurts her.😅 I honestly feel that Lewis is too (too😮‍💨) experienced a man🤭😂. And for that reason he gets a bit carried away.

If you don't feel comfortable going into sexual detail, that's fine, no problem. It's more how Lewis makes the reader feel, always thinking only of her well being and fulfilling what she likes.

Thank you in advance and I hope you make a full recovery very soon. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

𝐹𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

Authors Note: Hi lovelies! Thank you so much for all the kindness. I’m still sick somehow (it’s been rough), but the move went well. Don’t worry at all about sending this request in, I’ve been working on something else but I was more than happy to do this. This is my first ever smut hopefully it’s okay! Lots of love, xx

Summary: A tender, emotionally charged exploration of intimacy and trust unfolds between you and Lewis.

Warnings: sexual content, swearing

Taglist: @piston-cup @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The rain doesn’t just fall it cascades, a silver veil wrapping the city in a liquid hush. From this rooftop vantage, the storm feels alive, each drop a whispered secret against the sharp edges of vents and antennae.

You watch the slick pavement below glisten, neon signs blurring into long, trembling streaks of electric colour. Somewhere beneath this watery curtain, the city breathes: engines roar, muffled cheers rise, but up here, the sound is a distant pulse, a muted heartbeat beneath the storm’s symphony.

Inside the suite, a sanctuary from the storm, the glow is soft and golden. A single amber lamp casts a pool of warmth, spilling honeyed light across the deep grey sofa you sink into. The walls, glass and steel, reflect the lightning’s dance each flash setting the rain-dotted windows aglow like tiny stars caught in a prism.

The low hum of a vintage record player fills the room with cherry-red jazz the breathy wail of a muted trumpet, the sultry scrape of a stand-up bass like a lover’s heartbeat just beneath your skin.

The air smells like cedar smoke from the fireplace mingling with the subtle tannins of the Cabernet resting in your glass. It’s rich, dark, and alive - an anchor in your hand, cool with beads of condensation that you trace absentmindedly as you steal a glance at Lewis.

He’s across from you, relaxed but alert, a study in contrasts. His white tee clings damply to muscles you’ve come to know, and his posture - legs stretched out, one elbow resting on the back of the sofa exudes casual confidence.

But his eyes don’t rest. They study you in that quiet, intense way that makes your skin tingle, like he’s memorising the subtle curve of your smile, the way your fingers wrap around the glass, the slight dip of your collarbone when your cardigan slips just enough.

“This is nice,” you say softly, the words almost swallowed by the soft percussion of the cymbals in the jazz track.

He smirks, a slow, knowing tilt of his lips. “Nervous?”

You laugh a sound a little too sharp, breaking the spell. “A little.”

He swirls the wine with a lazy flick of his wrist, watching the liquid catch the light like a small galaxy. “Me too,” he admits, voice low. “Not usually. But this - you, it’s different.”

You blink, surprised by the bare honesty.

“Usually, I’m all control, all calm,” he says, voice dropping further, like a secret meant only for you. “But with you... I want to be honest. I want you to know the real me, not the guy behind the helmet or the headlines.”

The space between you seems to grow, but it’s a good space a breathing space.

You curl your legs under you, your cardigan slipping from one shoulder, exposing warm skin. The wine glass feels heavier, grounded, steady in your hand. “I’ve been thinking about this night. About us. What comes next.”

Lewis nods, inviting you to go on.

“I want it,” you say, voice stronger now. “But I’m scared too. I haven’t…done this before. Not like this. Not with someone I care about.”

He reaches out, his hand brushing the cushion near yours an unspoken offer. You place your glass down, your fingers trembling just slightly before you slide your hand toward his. The space between your hands shrinks, knuckles brushing. His palm is warm, steady, reassuring.

“Let’s be honest,” he says, eyes searching yours. “No pressure. Just truth.”

You draw in a deep breath, letting the words fill you.

“I haven’t been with many people,” you confess, voice barely above the rain’s rhythm. “And when I was, it was always rushed, never real. I want slow, discovery. Connection. I want to feel every moment.”

His gaze softens, the tension easing from his frame.

“I’ve had partners,” he begins carefully, “but it never felt like this. I want to know you. Not just your body, but your mind, your fears, your desires. I want to give, not take.”

His fingers twitch lightly, as if craving the connection.

“I like to lead, but gently,” he continues. “Like steering a dance, not forcing a step. I want to hear your breath catch, see your skin flush, feel your heartbeat quicken. I want trust, the kind that makes you forget everything else except us.”

Your pulse quickens. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks warming. “I like kisses that take time slow and searching. I like being touched like every inch of me matters. And I like hearing what’s happening. Words keep me present.”

He smiles, a tender, knowing smile. “Noted.”

You study the faint scar near his eyebrow, the curve of his jaw dusted with stubble, the veins along his forearm. Your fingers itch to explore, to memorise.

“I don’t want to rush,” you say. “I want to explore. Feel everything, every whisper, every heartbeat.”

His hand moves to yours, fingertips barely grazing skin but setting your nerves alight.

“Me too.”

The silence between you thickens, full and alive.

He asks, voice barely more than a murmur, “Is there anything you don’t want?”

The respect in his question wraps around you like a shield.

You breathe out, steadying. “Nothing too rough. If I’m uncomfortable, I’ll tell you.”

“Promise me you will,” he says, eyes locking with yours.

“I promise.”

“I’ll stop the moment you say,” his voice firm and gentle. “Tonight is about you - your comfort, your pleasure.”

His sincerity breaks something open inside you. You lean in, lips brushing his soft, tentative, tasting of wine and something new. His hand comes up, cradling the back of your head, thumb tracing your hairline.

The kiss deepens, slow and patient, every movement an invitation. You feel the heat of his body draw closer; your knees part, settling on either side of his hips. One arm encircles your waist, pulling you gently against him: the other anchors behind your back, fingers spreading like roots.

Your cardigan slips further, baring your collarbone to his lips. He trails a feather-light kiss there, breath warm against your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.

A thrill races through younot fear, but raw, aching anticipation.

“I want you,” you whisper.

He presses his forehead to yours, breaths mingling, unspoken promises passing between.

“Then let’s make this ours.”

Outside, the rain continues its endless dance. Inside, the world contracts to this moment of soft lamplights, jazz notes curling around you, two hearts learning to move as one.

Time stretches, slow and pliant, as you explore every new inch of trust, every whispered yes, every soft boundary met with care.

This was not the kind that crashes over you in a rush or sweeps you away in a wild storm. This was a slow unraveling, deliberate and controlled like he was reading your body’s every secret, peeling you open breath by breath, layer by layer.

You’re still perched on his lap, his weight steady beneath you, your fingers tangling into the tight braids at the back of his neck. His hands rest on your lower back, spreading wide, grounding you, even as your pulse quickens under the weight of his touch.

His lips move over yours with a softness that holds so much promise not frantic or desperate, but deep, filled with intention. The way he kisses you makes your breath hitch, your heart stutter, and every nerve ending scream. He’s here. Right now. And it’s enough.

Your thighs squeeze instinctively around his hips, a silent plea, a signal that you want more - want to feel him fully, close, pressing into every inch of you. He’s hard beneath you, the proof of his own restraint and need.

When he pulls back, the flush on his cheeks is unmistakable. His eyes are heavy-lidded, lips swollen and parted, as if savouring the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

“Bedroom?” he asks, voice low and rough, a quiet question that doesn’t need answering because you’ve already nodded, your heart pounding so loudly it feels like it might betray you.

He lifts you carefully, wrapping his arms around your waist, and the warmth of his body against yours makes your breath catch again. The door shuts softly behind you, sealing out the rest of the world, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this charged silence.

Once inside, something shifts not in the mood, not in the respect he shows, but in the weight of the moment. He sets you gently on the edge of the bed and stands, looming just in front of you, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants, eyes dark with anticipation.

He leans in, his voice dropping to a husky murmur that seems to wrap itself around you like silk and fire all at once.

“Undress for me.”

It’s not an order, not a demand. It’s an invitation soft, intimate and threaded with something raw and magnetic you can’t quite put into words. His gaze holds you captive, burning with quiet reverence and desire.

Your fingers tremble just the slightest bit as you reach up, your pulse thrumming through your veins, a mix of anticipation and shyness tingling across your skin.

You pull the hem of your shirt slowly over your head, savouring the way his eyes follow every movement, tracing the lines of your body as the fabric slips away. You catch the way his breath hitches subtle but unmistakable and it makes you want to pull back and forth between boldness and vulnerability.

His hands hover near your hips but don’t touch. He’s letting you own this moment, this act of revealing yourself to him, piece by piece, in your own time. The power is yours. The control is yours.

You let your bra come next, your fingers deft and gentle as the delicate lace slips down your arms and falls away, exposing the soft swell of your breasts. You catch the almost inaudible intake of his breath, and your skin flushes, warmth blossoming low in your belly.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he breathes, voice low and thick with emotion, a reverence bordering on worship that sends a shiver sliding down your spine.

His lips find yours again this time rougher, hungrier, more insistent. His mouth presses against yours with a fierce need that ignites a wildfire in your chest. His hands slide up your waist, cupping your breasts with care, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin, sending sparks of heat swirling low and wild.

Your knees weaken, breath hitching, every nerve screaming for more. More touch, more closeness, more of him.

“Lie back,” he says softly, voice a command wrapped in velvet.

You obey without hesitation, sinking into the cool, soft sheets beneath you, every inch of your body alive with anticipation. Your pulse races, heart pounding against your ribs like a wild drumbeat as his body leans over you, the heat radiating from his skin a contrast to the fresh chill of the sheets.

His lips trail a path of fire down your throat, soft and teasing, each kiss a spark that sets your skin ablaze. His fingers find the waistband of your shorts, gentle but purposeful, and he looks up at you, eyes dark and searching.

“May I?” he asks, breath warm against your cheek.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice barely audible, but no less certain.

Slowly, reverently, he pulls your shorts down, following the curve of your hips with his lips. Kissing every inch of skin exposed - the delicate lines of your hipbones, the tender inner curve of your thighs, the sensitive crease where your body already begins to burn with need.

He settles between your legs, his eyes locking with yours, intensity shining like a beacon in the dim light.

“If at any point it’s too much, you stop me. Okay?” he murmurs, voice soft but unwavering.

You nod, voice fragile and small but sure: “Okay.”

His mouth descends on you with a worshipful tenderness that steals your breath away. It’s slow, deliberate with each movement filled with purpose, reverence, and a hunger that’s more than physical.

His lip's part to reveal the warmth of his tongue, which traces delicate, teasing circles along your sensitive skin, mapping out every curve and hollow as if you were the most precious secret in the world.

The first gentle flicks of his tongue send jolts of pleasure rippling through your body, spiralling from your core to your limbs, setting nerves alight with electric fire.

You clutch the sheets beneath you, fingers digging into the fabric as your hips twitch involuntarily, trying to meet the rhythm of his mouth without thinking. Every nerve in your body hums, alive with sensation sharp, soft, urgent and sweet all at once.

His tongue moves with practiced grace, swirling and flicking in patterns that speak of both deep desire and profound reverence. It’s like he’s learning you, memorising your every reaction and teasing out pleasure with a gentle, almost sacred patience. He explores the sensitive ridge of your folds, the slick warmth that welcomes him, lingering on the places that make you shiver and moan softly.

You arch toward him, pressing yourself closer, breath coming in ragged gasps that fill the quiet room. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest, so wildly, you’re certain he can hear it beating just for him.

The taste of you sweet, salty, utterly intoxicating fills his senses. His mouth deepens its exploration, lips parting to engulf more, tongue flicking faster now, but never losing that careful worshipful attention.

His fingers slip inside you then, slow and gentle, pressing against the soft warmth that welcomes him. A sharp gasp escapes your lips raw and needy, electric and urgent.

The combination of his skilled mouth and tender touch sends waves of pleasure rippling and building inside you, cresting higher and higher until your whole-body trembles with the force of it.

He holds you through it all, lips soft against your skin, eyes half-lidded and glazed with something fierce and tender at once - a mixture of admiration, hunger, and pure devotion. His hand moves in sync with his mouth, curling and stroking inside you, drawing out every moan and shudder.

Each time you think you can’t take any more, he slows down, grounding you with gentle kisses along your inner thighs, a whispered promise lingering in every touch.

Then he starts again slow, teasing, patient coaxing you back from the edge and up again, higher and higher, until you’re trembling in his arms, a shuddering wave crashing through every fibre of your being.

You’re lost in him, in the way he makes you feel seen, worshipped, utterly desired. You realise there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, under the weight of his mouth, his hands, his fierce, tender love.

“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes against your skin, voice thick with desire and awe.

You reach up, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

“Come here,” you whisper, voice rough with want.

He climbs onto the bed, his lips claiming yours hard and hungry, hands cradling your face, thumbs tracing lazy circles beneath your jaw in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

“Still good?” he asks, searching your eyes for any sign, any hesitation.

“So good,” you breathe back, your voice thick with need. “I want you inside me.”

His forehead presses against yours, breath warm and steady as he murmurs, “Let’s take our time. We’ve got all night.”

You watch him undress with deliberate care, and its torture, the sweetest kind. Each motion is slow, unhurried, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. The shirt is the first to go, peeled off in one fluid motion that reveals golden-brown skin stretched over hard-earned muscle, a body carved by years of control and precision.

And you can’t look away.

Your mouth parts slightly without meaning to not in surprise, but in pure, helpless awe. Your lips go dry, eyes fixed, hungry.

There’s a heat low in your belly, coiling tighter with every new inch of skin he reveals. His shoulders roll back as he tosses the shirt aside and the motion sends a ripple through his chest, through the sculpted muscles of his arms.

That lion tattoo on his pec bold, regal, defiant stares back at you like it knows exactly what it's guarding. You’re drawn to it, to the way it rests over his heart, like a mark of pride and strength and something untamed. Your gaze lingers there too long, and he notices. He always notices.

But then your eyes drift lower, and that’s where your breath catches.

The compass tattoo inked in sharp, clean lines sits just low enough on the centre of his chest that your imagination races to fill in what’s hidden just beneath the waistband of his briefs. It draws your attention like a magnet, like a secret map that only you are meant to follow. The ink is stark against his skin, a piece of him etched so close to where you already burn for him.

You swallow hard. Your thighs press together without thinking.

“Jesus,” you whisper, barely audible.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He heard you. Of course he did.

He steps toward you slowly, and it’s like watching something inevitable come closer gravity itself bending to him. His hands move to his waistband, and you can’t tear your eyes away. You’re practically drooling now, breath shaky, pupils wide with anticipation.

But it isn’t just lust. It’s reverence.

Because the way he looks at you steady, dark, focused makes your chest ache. Like he sees everything. Like he wants everything. And he’s not in a rush. Not tonight.

He drops his briefs and your breath stutters. He stands before you, unapologetic, bare and beautiful and strong. His skin glows under the soft lamplight golden, warm, like sun-kissed bronze and the sight of him makes something deep inside you clench and flutter.

But still, it’s the way his eyes lock onto yours that undoes you. Steady. Focused. Like your hunger doesn’t scare him like it feeds him.

“I can feel you staring,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice like velvet over gravel. “You like what you see?”

You can’t speak. Can only nod. He smiles slow, cock and so achingly warm. He leans in close enough for your breath to hitch against his.

“Good,” he murmurs against your lips. “Because I’m yours.”

He settles between your thighs again, completely bare and slick with heat, every inch of him alive beneath your fingertips. The weight of his body presses down, solid and grounding, yet somehow featherlight in the electric tension that crackles between you.

His lips find yours once more and the taste of him, a little salty with sweat and sweet with longing, floods your senses. When he pulls back just enough to whisper into the quiet space between you, his voice is low, unwavering.

“I’ve got you.”

The promise lands inside you like a steady flame, warm and certain, anchoring you in this moment where everything else falls away.

His arms brace on either side of your head, framing your face like pillars of strength. You can feel the taut muscle beneath his skin, every sinew controlled and ready, yet patient as if his whole being is focused solely on you, on this perfect, fragile moment of union.

His gaze pins you, intense and fierce, but filled with something softer too something that reveres you, worships you, even as desire burns hot in his eyes.

Slowly, reverently, the head of him nudges your entrance, a tentative question without words. The heat of him presses gently against your slick skin, humming through your nerves, waking every inch of your body.

His breath fans across your cheek, warm and intoxicating as he asks quietly, “This, okay?”

Your voice trembles with need and certainty, barely a whisper but full of invitation.

“Yeah…I want you.”

And with infinite care, inch by inch, he presses inside you deliberate, unhurried, the exquisite stretch, memorising the subtle flutter of resistance and welcome beneath him.

The fullness of him inside you is overwhelming, a thick, pulsing heat that steals your breath away and sends an electric current racing through your core.

“Fuuuuck…” he groans, jaw clenched tight, veins pulsing along his neck as he fights to keep himself grounded.

He stops midway, forehead resting gently against yours, eyes squeezed shut as a subtle tremor of restraint ripples through his arms. It’s a raw, aching tension, the kind that screams how badly he wants to lose control but won’t not yet.

He doesn’t want to rush. He wants to give.

The feeling of him filling you is intense and alive warm, pulsing, like you’re both suspended in a private universe where nothing else exists but the breath between you and the press of skin against skin. Your fingers dig lightly into the taut planes of his biceps, nails tracing delicate crescents, grounding yourself as he sinks deeper.

He holds you there, still and utterly connected, every slow breath between you charged with unsaid promises and fierce devotion.

His lip's part against yours again, breath shuddering softly in the space between you, trembling with everything left unspoken.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, voice shaky but sure. Your hand rises to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the edge of his beard in a gentle, grounding caress. “You can move, Lew.”

He pulls back just enough, then begins to move slow, steady, deliberate each deep thrust dragging molten heat through every fibre of your being. Every stroke is a slow, relentless pull that coaxes waves of pleasure to ripple and curl inside you, making your back arch instinctively, skin crawling beneath his touch.

His mouth leaves yours to find your neck, lips brushing, sucking softly each kiss a spark that ignites the fire burning low in your belly. The taste of him, the warmth of his breath, the scent of sweat and something more intimate wrap around you, shrinking the world to the space where your bodies collide.

“You feel…” he moans, voice ragged and raw, nearly breathless. “Fucking unreal.”

His words fall like worship against your ear, soft affirmations that make your heart swell with a tenderness you never expected.

“So beautiful.”

“You take me so good.”

“I’ve dreamed about this…”

Heat coils deep inside, spreading outward in slow-burning waves, making you shiver in his arms. You’re caught between vulnerability and desperate need, the tension between needing to be seen and utterly losing yourself in him.

You move with him legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling him closer hips rising to meet every slow, sure stroke, every pull and push. Your bodies speak without words, in a silent language of rhythm, trust, and shared surrender.

The pace builds relentless but patient like a tide rising and falling with perfect, inevitable precision. You feel something deeper than mere pleasure, something forged in quiet moments and whispered promises, something raw and true beneath the skin.

His hands find your waist again, thumbs drawing lazy, teasing circles over slick, heated skin, grounding you even as every sense ignites. His lips trail from your neck down to your collarbone and shoulder, leaving a trail of fire and claim in their wake marking you as his in the most intimate way possible.

You catch his gaze again wild, vulnerable, utterly yours. In that fierce look, you see everything: desire, devotion and the quiet certainty that no matter what comes next, you face it together.

And in the shared heat of that moment, the outside world falls away, leaving only the slow, burning rhythm of your bodies moving as one breath mingling with breath, skin sliding against skin, heart beating wild and sure in the timeless dance you share.

It’s perfect.

Until it isn’t.

You feel the shift before it fully settles a subtle change in the angle, almost imperceptible, but enough to turn what had been a slow, delicious fullness into something sharp, twisting unexpectedly inside you. The pleasure flickers and then vanishes, replaced by a sudden, jarring discomfort that coils tightly around your nerves, making your breath catch in your throat.

Your body stiffens, muscles tensing as a rush of sudden pain flares.

His eyes snap open wide, startled, searching your face as if trying to read the shift in your expression. For a moment, panic flashes across his features, raw and unfiltered.

“Shit. Shit did I—? Are you okay?” His voice is urgent, breath ragged.

Before you can say anything, he pulls out quickly, leaving you feeling empty, aching in a way that wasn’t there before. The sudden absence of him only sharpens the ache.

“I’m okay,” you manage to say, voice shaky but steady. “It just…hit the wrong spot. It didn’t feel good.”

He backs up slightly on his knees, hands hovering uncertainly over you as if afraid to touch, eyes wide and searching like he’s trying to make sure you’re really alright.

“Baby…fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise. I thought fuck - I thought you were still okay.” His voice cracks under the weight of regret, thick with frustration at himself.

You reach up, placing your hand gently on his cheek, grounding both of you. “I was,” you say softly, voice tender but firm. “Until I wasn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just didn’t say anything soon enough.”

He lowers his gaze, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, thick with sorrow and self-reproach.

“No. I should’ve known. I should’ve felt it.”

You lean into his warmth, thumb brushing softly along his jawline, soothing the tension etched into his face.

“Hey. You stopped. The second I said something. That’s what matters.”

His whole body seems to sag with relief and remorse mingled together, the intensity in his eyes softening as he leans down slowly to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally the hollow between your collarbones each touch featherlight, as if trying to erase the sting of that moment.

“I never want to hurt you,” he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with emotion. “I never want you to feel like you have to push through something for me. That’s not what this is. Not ever.”

You close your eyes briefly, tasting the sincerity in his words, the steady beat of his heart against your skin. “I know,” you whisper back. “I trust you. I still trust you.”

When you open your eyes again, his gaze meets yours dark, shimmering with unspoken promises and raw, aching tenderness.

You shift beneath the sheets, reaching out to trail your fingers along his collarbone, then whisper, “Maybe we try something else?”

His brow furrows for a brief moment, hesitant, searching. “Are you sure?”

You nod, thumb brushing his jaw once more in a slow, deliberate gesture of reassurance. “Let me ride you. I’ll control the depth.”

The change in him is subtle but profound. The tension that had gripped his body loosens, replaced by a softness that melts into reverence and complete surrender.

He reclines back against the pillows, arms opening wide like a silent invitation, eyes full of nothing but adoration and trust.

“Come here, baby,” he says gently. “We go at your pace.”

You straddle him slowly, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you guide him inside this time with a careful, deliberate tenderness. The moment he fills you again, the sensation is full and encompassing, a contrast to before.

There’s no rush, no jagged edges just a warm, satisfying stretch that settles deep inside you. His breath hitches, a low, guttural groan vibrating through his chest as you lower yourself fully onto him, inch by slow inch.

You feel every inch, every contour, every subtle movement of his body beneath you. It’s intimate, sacred almost, the way your flesh molds to his.

You’re stretched, sensitive, but this time it’s a good kind of full better than good, like the ache of a perfect muscle burn after a long run. The kind of ache that speaks of effort and reward.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers spreading wide to grip you gently. There’s heat in his touch, but no pressure. No urgent need to take over. Instead, he holds you close, his palms firm but patient, steadying you without a word.

“Take what you need,” he whispers, voice low and rough, thick with desire and trust.

You start to move, rocking your hips in small, slow circles a shallow grind that builds heat without pushing, coaxing pleasure in soft waves instead of crashing tides.

The friction between your skin, the slick warmth of your bodies pressed together, sends sparks of fire trailing along your nerves. The scent of his skin, faintly musky and intimate, fills your senses, grounding you in the moment.

You catch the tension etched in his face the tight line of his jaw, the twitch of his fingers that want to claim control but don’t. He resists, letting you lead, and in that surrender, his desire burns even fiercer.

“That’s it that’s my girl,” he breathes, voice raw and reverent. “Just like that. You’re perfect.”

You lean down, pressing your lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss. Your hands settle on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palms. The rhythm of your bodies aligns entirely your own. Every movement, every breath, every shared sigh becomes a silent language spoken only by the two of you.

His hands slide to your ass, cupping and squeezing gently, guiding you with a tender insistence. They never force, never rush; instead, they invite you to explore the space between pleasure and patience.

Your second orgasm builds gradually, a deep, pulsing heat blossoming from your core like a slow-burning flame. It gathers strength, radiating outward until your thighs tremble with the tension, your breath catching and spilling into a moan pressed against his mouth.

He holds you through it all steady, unwavering. His lips trace a soft path along your jaw, then your neck, as you come down from the wave, shivering in his arms. When your body stills, he brushes your damp hair back, eyes shining with something fierce and tender all at once. Then, with deliberate care, he flips you beneath him, hands never hurried, every touch sacred.

“I need to come,” he says, voice rough and aching with need. “I need you.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. You nod, breathless but sure.

“I’m ready,” you whisper.

This time is different.

His thrusts are deep but gentle measured with a tenderness that makes every motion feel like a vow. His forehead rests against yours, eyes locked onto your face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every subtle smile, every breathless gasp. There’s an unspoken conversation in those dark, searching eyes a promise that he’s here for you, completely and utterly.

You feel the smooth slide of his skin against yours, the slick warmth of your combined heat, the subtle tension in his muscles as he moves with a slow, aching rhythm. The taste of salt and desire lingers on his lips when you kiss, a reminder of how close you are how much you belong to each other in this moment.

When he finally groans your name, raw and trembling, and comes deep inside you, his whole body shudders with the release. It’s not just physical; it feels sacred, as though you’ve woven your souls tighter with every movement, every shared breath.

He collapses beside you, arms wrapping around your trembling frame, holding you like the most precious thing in the world. And you rest your head against his chest, heart pounding in sync with his, knowing that this moment raw, tender, vulnerable is exactly where you belong.

It’s not just sex, it’s something more. Something true.

The afterglow wraps around you both like a warm, protective cocoon. His body presses against yours, steady and grounding, like an anchor in a swirling world. His arms come around you slowly, gently, pulling you close as if to make sure you’re really there, really safe. Your legs tangle naturally around his waist, the fit so familiar it feels like coming home.

He moves with deliberate care, his hands steady and tender as he cleans you both a soft touch here, a careful wipe there. It’s not hurried or clinical; it’s intimate, sacred even, a quiet ritual that speaks volumes without words. Every stroke of his fingers against your skin feels like a vow, a silent promise that he’ll always cherish and protect this space you share.

When he finally folds you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest, you feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It’s a rhythm that seeps into your bones, making every breath easier, every worry quieter.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs softly into your hair, his voice thick with sincerity and something deeper a kind of fierce devotion. “I’ll learn you. Every inch. Every sound. Every want. Everything that hurts. I’ll never stop listening.”

His words curl around you like a warm breeze, soothing and exhilarating all at once. You tilt your head up, eyes shining with unshed tears and fierce trust. “I know.”

Outside, the storm has faded. The rain’s last heavy drops tap softly against the windowpane, a gentle rhythm that blends with the quiet sighs and murmurs between you. But inside, the warmth doesn’t fade. It lingers soft and fierce, a quiet blaze that fills the room with light and promise.

You trace lazy circles on his chest, fingertips lingering where your skin brushes against his. He shivers slightly under your touch, as if your presence alone sets him alight.

“This,” he says, voice low and sure, “this is only the beginning.”

You press your forehead against his, breath mingling, hearts beating a steady duet. In this silence, in this perfect closeness, you both know it’s true — something rare and precious is unfolding between you. Something that goes far beyond the physical, beyond the fleeting.

It’s trust. It’s hope. It’s a promise whispered in the stillness; a vow carried on the softest breath.

And as the first hints of dawn begin to lighten the edges of the night sky, you hold onto that promise tightly, knowing it will guide you both through whatever comes next.

morning light broke slowly across the room, brushing in like a whisper rather than a shout. It didn’t rush or demand attention. Instead, it seeped gently through the sheer curtains, folding itself around the edges of the furniture, pooling softly on the polished floorboards, and tracing delicate honey-gold patterns that danced with the quiet rhythm of the waking world.

The bed was a tangle of linen and warmth, the sheets twisted and half-forgotten kicked down to the foot, clinging lazily to a leg here, slipping off a hip there.

They smelled of heat and something intimately yours, the scent of skin meeting skin in that sacred place where barriers dissolve. Sweat mixed with the faint trace of his cologne, musky and comforting, weaving with the residual traces of passion and whispered promises that had filled the night.

There was something else beyond the physical. Something less tangible but no less profound.

Closeness.

You were the first to stir. Not because of a sound, not because the sun’s touch was harsh or urgent. You stirred because of the warmth pressed against your back a steady heat that felt like a tether to the world, a heartbeat just beneath your skin. His warmth.

Lewis was curled behind you, one long arm wrapping protectively around your waist, the palm resting just beneath your ribs. His body was steady, grounding, the slow rise and fall of his chest pressed intimately to yours like the ocean’s tide keeping time with the moon.

His breath ghosted over your neck in slow, even pulses warm and faintly damp with sleep and every so often, almost unconsciously, his thumb twitched, rubbing soft, half-forgotten circles along your side. It was a small gesture, but it said everything: you were his. You were here. You were safe.

You didn’t move right away. You let yourself feel the lingering ache deep in your muscle -thighs, lower back, and hips that whispered reminders of the night before. It wasn’t pain. Not really. More a soft echo, a carved memory, a testament to what had been given and taken, shared and held.

Eventually, you turned toward him, moving slowly so as not to disturb the fragile bubble between you. You shifted onto your other side, your eyes locking with his before your bodies fully settled. His eyes fluttered open almost instantly, heavy-lidded, those dark pools still swimming in the haze of sleep.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and roughened by hours spent speaking in sighs and gasps. That scratchy rasp should have sounded raw, maybe even gruff but on him, it was something intimate, something that slid under your skin and made your heart catch. Like the remnants of every moan, every whispered name, still echoed in the gravel of his throat.

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips lifting without hesitation because just looking at him felt like a balm. “Hey.”

Lewis blinked slowly, as if seeing you again was both expected and impossible all at once. His gaze searched your face - your eyes, still heavy with sleep but bright with something tender, the flushed bloom on your cheeks, the soft curve of your lips and for a flicker of a moment, something unspoken crossed his features. Worry. The silent check-in of a man who carries more than just himself.

You reached out without thinking, brushing your thumb over the edge of his beard, feeling the rough stubble beneath your skin. “I’m okay, Lewis,” you whispered.

His shoulders visibly eased, the invisible knot of tension loosening in his chest like it had just been unwound. He leaned forward, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your lips.

It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t urgent it was deliberate, a silent thank you spoken through soft pressure and the warm slide of his mouth. When he pulled back, his thumb traced the line of your jaw with infinite care.

“You’re sore?” His voice was low, a careful question.

You hesitated a moment before nodding, cheeks warming with a shy, small laugh. “A little. But not in a bad way.”

Lewis’s brows furrowed, concern knitting into his expression instantly. His hand slid down from your jaw to rest on your hip, fingers spreading like he wanted to feel for any hidden hurt himself. “I can run you a bath. Warm water, Epsom salts. I’ll even sit right here, on the floor, while you soak.”

You laughed quietly, curling your hand around the thin gold chain that hung from his neck, tugging gently until he stilled and looked down at you. “I don’t want to move yet. I just want to lie here. With you.”

That soft smile the one that cracked open something guarded and deep behind his eyes spread slowly across his face. “Yeah. Okay.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping you tighter into his chest and tucking you beneath his chin. His hand moved slowly across your back, tracing lazy, intimate circles on your shoulder blade. There was no rush. No noise but the faint hum of the city below and the air conditioning whispering softly through the suite’s vents.

Silence held you both for a long time, wrapping around your bodies like a protective cloak.

Then his voice came, low and hesitant, as if he was not sure if he dared speak the truth out loud.

“Thank you for telling me to stop.”

You lifted your head, searching his face.

He wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, jaw working silently, the quiet battle of something unsaid twisting behind his eyes.

“I would’ve hated myself,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper, “if I’d kept going and you got hurt.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you said softly. “You listened. That mattered more than getting it perfect.”

His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “I’ve had partners,” he said after a pause, “plenty. But this is different. I’ve never cared like this before. Not just about how it feels but how you feel. If I’m making you feel safe. If you’re enjoying it, not just putting up with it. I used to think I was good at this. Sex. Being attentive. But that was just rhythm. Technique. This—” He exhaled slowly, “—this is something else.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently, coaxing his eyes back to yours. “You got it right,” you whispered. “Even when it wasn’t perfect, you got it right. Because you heard me. Because you stopped.”

His lips parted, as if to say more but swallowing the words. You could see the weight of what you said settling inside him, softening the tightness in his chest.

“Tell me again what felt good,” he asked, voice husky, eyes flickering down to your lips.

You blushed, but you nodded.

“When you didn’t rush me. When you kissed me after. When I was on topI felt so in control, and you were just watching me like I was…” You trailed off, heart pounding.

“Like you were mine,” he breathed.

You swallowed hard.

“And when you called me your girl.”

His smile broke slowly, warmth spreading like sunrise across his face. “You are.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned in, your nose brushing his, legs slipping between his under the sheets. When you pulled back, your voice was quiet, vulnerable.

“We’re not done figuring it out, are we?”

“Not even close,” he said softly. “But we’ve got time. No pressure. No rush.”

Then more seriously: “Before we ever do anything again, we talk. What you like. What you’re curious about. What’s off limits. I don’t care how good it feels if it’s not good for you.”

Your heart thudded not from lust, but from something more profound. Love, or maybe something inching toward it.

“Can we keep asking each other stuff?” you whispered. “Even weird things?”

He nodded, eyes bright with quiet joy. “That’s how we get good at it. Us. That’s how we build this right.”

A pause.

“Do you want to know what I want next time?” His voice dropped lower, the teasing edge making your skin prickle with anticipation.

You lifted an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “Do I?”

He met your eyes, blunt and raw and utterly unfiltered. “I want you to ride my face.”

The words hit you like a sudden burst of heat, your breath catching in your throat. His honesty was disarming, vulnerable in its directness.

“Take your time,” he continued, voice thick with desire and something tender beneath it. “Grind down until you come. I want to see how you look when you’re the one in control again.” His eyes darkened with longing. “I want to be under you. Helpless.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity and openness the sheer weight of how much he wanted you.

“That’s…a lot,” you whispered, heart pounding, voice barely audible.

He leaned in, kissing you slowly. His lips were warm, certain, asking permission in every inch of that kiss. It was an unspoken promise that this desire wasn’t just physical it was about trust, about connection, about being seen.

“That’s how much I want you,” he said softly, breath warm against your skin.

You wrapped your arms around him instinctively, burying your face in the nape of his neck, feeling the steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips. “Then maybe…next time.”

His voice was steady, sure, a quiet vow you felt deep in your bones. “Next time.”

Later, you let him run the bath, but it was anything but rushed. He moved with deliberate care filling the tub with steaming water, the scent of lavender oil drifting through the air like a soft caress. He added Epsom salts, watching as they dissolved slowly, the surface rippling gently.

He rolled a plush, oversized towel and nestled it behind your neck, offering you a sanctuary of softness the moment you settled into the warm water. Then, with a gentle smile, he handed you a glass of water, a thin slice of lemon resting on the rim. “For hydration,” he said with a playful wink that made your cheeks warm.

But he didn’t leave you alone. Instead, he sat beside the tub on the cool tiled floor, one knee bent, his fingers trailing lightly along your shin.

His touch wasn’t hurried or lustful it was a steady presence, a quiet reassurance. Watching you relax, breathing in the warm, scented air, he seemed to find something healing in your peacefulness, as if your ease soothed some unseen ache inside him.

The water lapped softly against your skin, steam curling around you like a protective veil. Outside, the city hummed faintly, the distant sounds of life fading into the background as the two of you existed in this small bubble of calm.

When you finally slipped from the bath, chilled slightly as the warm water drained away, he was waiting with his oversized T-shirt, soft and worn, the fabric falling loosely around your body. He wrapped it gently around your shoulders, his hands steady and warm.

Then, taking the hotel towel, he dried your damp hair with an unhurried tenderness finger carefully combing through curls, mumbling something about heat damage and how beautiful you looked just like this.

You caught the softness in his eyes, the way he saw you in that moment bare-faced, hair tousled and damp, cheeks still flushed from sleep and the traces of last night’s closeness.

Without a word, he led you back to bed. The room was dim, the rain tapping a soothing rhythm against the windows. The city lights beyond the thick glass were muted, distant.

No distractions. No noise. Just the two of you.

He pulled you close beneath the covers, limbs tangling naturally, your skin warm against his. His fingers found yours beneath the sheets, their gentle squeeze grounding and familiar.

You breathed in the quiet, the comfort of the moment the steady cadence of his breath, the soft warmth of his body, the shared space between your hearts learning to beat in sync.

“Warmth,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Learning,” he answered softly.

“Love,” you breathed.

And in the hush of the room, wrapped in the quiet intimacy that only came from being truly known, you dared to believe in something more.

Forever.

[lh44girl]

https://www.instagram.com/stories/paulnicklen/3601351658938352367?utm_source=ig_story_item_share&igsh=MXZvaTc4NmswZ3k0dA==

[lh44girl]

I know , I am just speaking my mind off but with the rumors of Lewis and raye and speculations, I am a little heart broken bcz maybe I was manifesting it believed it too much that I might get a chance or be with him, but I know it’s all in my delusional world, but why am I crying ?

If it’s true and I can’t not see the signs, I will try to be happy for them, and actually face the fact that I am losing my mind hahaha 😭🥹🥲

[lazysoulwriter]

Yes, it's her. - Lewis Hamilton.

Summary: Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have always been spotted together, hand in hand, leaving people to speculate about their relationship. While they found the rumors amusing, Lewis wanted to make it official. It was just a simple request to date—no big deal—so why was he so nervous? With his usual charm and a lot of cheesy jokes, he takes a leap, hoping she’ll say yes.

The evening had started like any other. The two of you had ordered takeout and were sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through Netflix to find something neither of you would actually pay attention to.

“Rom-com?” Lewis asked, scrolling past 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Too predictable.”

“Action?” He paused on a Marvel movie.

“Too loud.”

“Horror?”

You shot him a look, and he smirked. “Too scary for you, babe?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t feel like spending the night listening to you scream.”

He laughed, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Fine. No movie. Let’s just sit here and bask in each other’s presence.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you teased, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

Lewis shifted beside you, his knee bouncing ever so slightly. You noticed but said nothing. It wasn’t unusual for him to fidget—he was always full of energy—but tonight felt different.

“You okay?” you finally asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, his voice just a tad too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Lewis…”

He turned to you with a grin that was a little too wide. “What? Can’t a man enjoy some quality time with his favorite person?”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding something? You’re acting weird.”

“Me? Weird? Never.” He reached for his wine glass, taking a sip that lasted just a little too long.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about something? Did you crash another car?”

He nearly choked on his wine. “What? No! Why would you even say that?”

“Because the last time you acted like this, you accidentally ran over my potted plant with your electric scooter.”

He groaned, covering his face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He chuckled, but the nervous energy didn’t leave him. Instead, he leaned back, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and you could feel his heart beating faster than usual.

“You know,” he started, his tone lighter now, “the paparazzi think we’re already dating.”

You smiled, recalling the many headlines you’d seen: ‘Lewis Hamilton and Mystery Woman: Romance or Friendship?’ or ‘Spotted Again: Are They or Aren’t They?’

“They’re pretty creative,” you said. “Remember the one where they said we were secretly engaged?”

“Oh, and the one about us having a secret baby?”

You both burst out laughing, the tension in his body easing slightly.

“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” he said. “They’re all desperate to figure it out.”

“Well, let them keep guessing. It’s more fun this way.”

“Yeah… but what if we didn’t make them guess anymore?”

You froze for a moment, lifting your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “I mean… what if we, you know, made it official?”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Lewis, are you asking me out right now?”

His cheeks flushed, and he laughed nervously. “Okay, this is not going how I planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Kind of. But then I got nervous, and now I’m rambling, and I don’t know why because this should be easy, right? It’s just… I like you. Like, really like you. And I know we’ve never called it anything, but I want to. I want to call you mine, officially. So… will you?”

For a moment, you just blinked at him, trying to process his words. Then, a grin spread across your face. “You’re such a dork.”

“Is that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

The relief on his face was palpable, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank God. I was about to start sweating.”

“You were already sweating,” you teased.

“Okay, rude.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you said yes, so I’ll let it slide.”

Later that night, after the excitement had settled and you were both curled up on the couch again, Lewis grabbed his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“Posting something,” he said, his tone casual.

You groaned. “Lewis…”

“Relax, it’s nothing big.”

He showed you the screen. It was a photo he’d taken of you earlier that evening, laughing mid-bite of your dinner, entirely candid. The caption read: “Yes. It’s her.”

You covered your face with a pillow. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinning as he hit post.

You couldn’t argue with that.

[lh44girl]

Oh to be his controversial younger girlfriend that he is secretly texting, while on set getting ready.

[lh44girl]

I want to ask, someone was writing a fanfic story about Lewis Hamilton with friends in Brazil but it was never continued. If anyone can help tag me or would love that the fic to be continued.

[lh44girl]

A rare one .

It’s late at night, the city alive outside the window, but in the space with Lewis feels like a world of its own—quiet, intimate, and humming with an energy you can’t quite name. It was just after several casual dates that he had invited you over for a more low key drinks at his place. You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies that swallows your frame over your sundress , the scent of him clinging to it making your heart race.

He’s beside you, his body angled toward yours, arm draped over the back of the couch, his attention locked on you. There’s a spark in his eyes tonight, something playful but tender, as though he’s looking at you like you’re the most intriguing thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” he teases, his voice low and warm. “What happened to the girl who can’t go five minutes without trying to outsmart me?”

Your cheeks warm at the teasing lilt in his tone, and you tuck your hair behind your ear, unable to hold his gaze for too long. “I’m not quiet,” you mumble, feeling flustered.

He grins, leaning a little closer. “You’re not exactly loud either. What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, hmm? You thinking about me?”

His playful tone sends heat racing to your cheeks, and you quickly avert your eyes, chewing on your lip. “You’re so full of yourself,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis chuckles, the sound deep and smooth, and then he shifts closer, his knee brushing against yours. “You’re not denying it, though.”

The proximity makes your pulse race, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. You want to say something witty, something to deflect, but the words catch in your throat when he lifts a hand to brush his thumb gently across your cheek.

“You’re nervous,” he says softly, his teasing edge softening into something deeper, more curious. “Why are you nervous around me? You’re usually so good at putting me in my place.”

You swallow hard, your hands twisting in the fabric of your hoodie. “I’m not used to… this,” you admit, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice.

His brows furrow slightly, his hand still resting against your cheek. “This?” he echoes, his voice low and careful, as though afraid to push too hard.

You take a shaky breath, your eyes darting down to the space between you. “I just… I’ve never really done this before. Any of it.”

It takes a moment for your words to sink in, but when they do, you see the realization dawn in his eyes. His grin falters, replaced by something softer, something that makes you feel both safe and incredibly exposed.

“Wait,” he says, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and wonder. “You mean… never?”

You nod, your face burning, and you quickly look away, feeling too vulnerable under his gaze. “It’s probably weird, I know. Everyone you know is so… experienced and confident, and I’m just…”

“Stop,” he interrupts, his hand gently tilting your chin so you have no choice but to look at him. His expression is nothing like you expected—not mockery, not judgment, but a kind of awe that makes your chest ache. “Don’t do that. Don’t downplay how special that is.”

You blink at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Special?”

He grins then, his cheeky side peeking through. “Yeah, special. Do you know how rare it is to meet someone like you? Especially in my world?” He pauses, his grin softening into something more sincere. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I feel kind of… lucky.”

“Lucky?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his thumb brushing your cheek again, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Yeah, lucky. And it makes me want to get this right. For you.”

Your breath catches as he leans in, his movements slow, giving you every chance to pull away. When his lips finally brush yours, it’s like the world stops. The kiss is feather-light, soft and unhurried, as though he’s savoring the moment.

He cups your face with both hands, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against your skin. His lips move against yours with such care, it feels less like a kiss and more like a promise—gentle, patient, and filled with a depth that makes your knees weak.

It’s everything you imagined your first kiss would be, but so much more, because it’s him.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, his voice is barely audible. “You okay?”

You nod, your heart still racing, and he smiles, that boyish, slightly smug grin you’ve come to adore. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your nose. “Because I could do that all night.”

You laugh,bite your lower lip, the tension easing as his arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, your face buried against him, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

“And you’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost miss it. But the way his arms tighten around you tells you he meant every word & more.

The 4 letter word wasn’t said but it was mutually felt by the two of you.

[lewisrises]

sir lewis hamilton.

[lewisrises]

[lh44girl]

I am speechless, dum,num ..(sex on legs)

[alexturntable]

lewishamilton and ScuderiaFerrari FIRST TIME IN RED

[lh44girl]

We are living in Lewis’s dream !! We’r live within his dream coming true

[lh44girl]

Don Lewis Hamilton , Mob boss

[fangirlfuel]

Timeless

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst

Plot: A budding romance between Lewis Hamilton (38) and the reader (25) is tested by the pressures of fame, the scrutiny of an age gap, and the lingering doubts of belonging in each other's worlds.

Warnings: Mentions of insecurities, fame-induced stress, emotional vulnerability, and a heavy dose of fluff at the end.

---

You hadn’t planned on being at the Monaco Grand Prix, let alone in the paddock among the glittering elite. When your best friend begged you to join her, swearing it would be an unforgettable experience, you caved.

“C’mon, how often do you get to be this close to Formula 1?” she’d argued.

Your response had been a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t even follow it. What am I supposed to do there?”

Apparently, the answer was meet Lewis Hamilton.

You hadn’t recognized him immediately. It wasn’t his fame that struck you first—it was his presence. There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, a calmness that felt out of place in the chaos of the paddock. And when his eyes met yours for the first time, it was as if the noise around you dimmed, leaving only the two of you.

It started with small talk about the chaos of race day. You joked about feeling out of place, and he smiled, saying he understood that feeling better than you’d think. His laugh, deep and unguarded, lingered in your mind long after the conversation ended. So when he asked for your number, you gave it to him without hesitation.

---

What followed was nothing short of magical, though not without complications.

Your conversations were endless, spanning across time zones and countries as Lewis balanced his relentless schedule with a growing connection to you. He introduced you to the world of Formula 1 with patience, laughing at your many questions but always answering them thoughtfully. You, in turn, introduced him to your quieter world—one free of flashing cameras and constant scrutiny.

But as months passed, doubts crept in. Not about him—you’d never felt more seen, more loved—but about whether you could truly fit into his life.

The first crack appeared one night when you were scrolling through social media.

“‘Lewis Hamilton spotted with mystery young woman,’” you read aloud, the headline making your chest tighten. The comments below it stung even worse.

“She’s probably just another fling.”

“Honestly, he should date someone on his level.”

“Who even is she?”

You didn’t notice Lewis enter the room until he gently took your phone from your hands.

“Why do you read that stuff?” he asked softly, sitting beside you on the couch.

You avoided his gaze, feeling foolish. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see what people thought of us.”

“And?” His voice was calm, but his eyes searched yours.

“They think I’m not enough for you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis let out a heavy sigh, his fingers brushing over yours. “Listen to me. The only opinion that matters is mine. And I know exactly who you are—smart, kind, beautiful, and more than enough.”

His words made your heart ache, but the doubts didn’t vanish overnight.

---

The turning point came at the next Monaco Grand Prix.

Lewis had insisted you come, this time as his guest. You’d hesitated, knowing how much attention it would draw, but his quiet reassurance won you over.

“Come with me,” he’d said. “I want you there. With me.”

Walking through the paddock hand in hand, you felt the weight of countless eyes on you. The whispers were there, faint but undeniable.

“Who is she?”

“Isn’t she a bit young for him?”

You squeezed Lewis’s hand, trying to steady your nerves. He looked down at you, his expression softening when he saw the tension in your shoulders.

“Hey,” he murmured, stopping to face you. “You okay?”

You nodded, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I just… feel out of place here.”

Lewis stepped closer, his free hand cupping your cheek. “You belong here. With me. Don’t let them make you doubt that, okay?”

The sincerity in his voice melted your insecurities, if only for the moment.

---

That evening, as you sat together on the balcony of his Monaco apartment, the city lights casting a golden glow around you, you finally voiced the question that had been haunting you.

“Do you ever wonder if this is… too much? The age gap, the pressure, everything?”

Lewis was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Then he turned to you, his expression both tender and resolute.

“I won’t lie to you,” he began. “This isn’t easy. But the best things in life never are. And you? You’re worth it. Every challenge, every doubt. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

Tears stung your eyes as you leaned into him, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

“I’m scared sometimes,” you admitted.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “But we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this.”

---

When race day arrived, you found yourself back in the paddock, this time with a newfound confidence.

Lewis had qualified on pole, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, your heart swelled with pride. You watched as he climbed out of the car, his grin wide and unapologetically joyous as he sprayed champagne over the crowd.

When he finally found you in the chaos, his arms pulled you into a tight embrace, heedless of the cameras.

“I told you,” he murmured against your ear, his voice full of emotion. “You’re where you’re meant to be.”

And as you looked up at him, the doubts that once clouded your mind faded away, replaced by the certainty of his love.

---

A/N: Hi lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this longer, fluffier one-shot with just a sprinkle of angst for emotional depth. Lewis has such a warm, grounding presence, so writing this dynamic felt really special. Let me know your thoughts or if you’d like to see more stories like this! <3

[lh44girl]

: A Winter Night with Lewis

The winter wrapped your little chalet in a blanket of snow, the soft glow of moonlight pouring through the curtains. You were snuggled into bed, wrapped in your favorite cozy flannel pajamas and clutching your plushy bunny like a child guarding their treasure. Beside you, Lewis sprawled under the thick duvet, as bare as the day he was born, grinning at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Y’know,” he began, his deep voice low and teasing, “sleeping in all that… stuff… isn’t exactly how people stayed warm back in the day.”

You rolled your eyes, burrowing deeper into the covers. “Back in the day, people didn’t have central heating or plushy bunnies. Your argument is invalid.”

He chuckled, scooting closer, the warmth of his body seeping into your layers of fabric. “I’m just saying, you’d be much warmer like me. No barriers between us and all that.” You always felt a little shy knowing well his naked under the covers playing footies with you.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you teased, hugging your bunny tighter. “But I’m fine, thanks. You do your thing; I’ll do mine.”He has a way of creeping into you tickling you.

But Lewis wasn’t one to give up. As the night wore on, you felt his fingers playfully tug at the hem of your pajama top. “Just this,” he whispered. “You don’t need it. I promise you’ll be warmer.”

You sighed, half-annoyed but mostly amused, and let him lift it off. Before long, the pants followed, his hands gentle yet determined. “See? Isn’t that better?” Your bare bodies stuck to each other soft and warming up. He was soft as velvet.

You couldn’t deny it. The press of his skin against yours, the way he wrapped his arms around you like a human furnace—it was better. But you weren’t about to admit defeat so easily.

“Fine,” you muttered, pretending to glare at him. “But Bunny stays.”

Lewis arched a brow, his fingers inching toward the plushy. “Do they, though?”

“Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, don’t you dare.”

He laughed, pulling you—and the bunny—closer. “Alright, alright. Bunny can stay. For now.”

And as he buried his face in your neck, you couldn’t help but smile, the cozy warmth of love and winter wrapping you both in its embrace.

Over time, the habit of sleeping in the nude became your special thing, but only with Lewis. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it alone, and certainly not when his family visited. But on those nights when it was just the two of you, his bare warmth against yours felt like home.

Lewis was cheekily thrilled with this arrangement. “See? Told you it’s better my way,” he’d whisper with a smirk, pulling you closer.

Sometimes, during the harsh winter night, even with the all this, Lewis suggests a different way to worm you up, he leveled up his game. “Lewis what are you doing?!!”you felt his hard cock near your soft pussy lips. He just grinned”trust me,you’ll warm up” he hoisted your leg on top of his hip anchoring himself from behind you,entering your soft delicate pussy slow, making sure you were comfortable, holding your hip so tight , and just start moving slow,extremely slow, your body numb..he cocked warm you from the inside out, his free hand around you slip to your clit in circular motion, making moan and melt into him. “You warm me amor, love it when you melt into me, good girl .. let it out ..aaah”the only sound you could bring out even overwhelmed by the pure sensation of slow pleasure & heat just a simple “Mhmm..yes..AAAH LEWIS !!”

These night, you both loved it the most,feeling as one& you slept the best sleep ever. A very therapeutic way to just distress and zone out of reality.

As the months passed, your beloved plushy bunny started making fewer appearances in bed,only present when both of you being tired & sleepy . It wasn’t intentional; it just naturally happened. Bunny was only left out of bed when things between you two were particularly lustrous euphoria & romantically playful & flirty . On those nights, you’d mischievously grab Bunny, cover its little eyes, and tuck it under the bed or a pillow as if shielding it from the scene about to unfold.

Lewis always found this utterly hilarious. “Babe, seriously? Poor Bunny. What’s he done to deserve exile?” he’d tease, chuckling as he leaned over to steal a kiss.

“It’s not exile,” you’d argue, feigning seriousness. “It’s protection. Bunny’s innocent.”

“Mm-hmm,” he’d murmur, pulling you against him. “I’m starting to think Bunny’s just jealous of me.”

You’d laugh, smacking his chest lightly. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. Bunny and I go way back.”

“Well,” Lewis teased, grinning as his lips brushed your ear, “I think I’m doing a pretty good job replacing him.”

You couldn’t deny it. Bunny might always have a place in your heart, but in Lewis’s arms, you found a new kind of warmth, safety —one that was deeper, richer, and undeniably yours.

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton on itv's pre-race show, china - october 7, 2007